W

hen Zevy walks in his body language is clear: He does not want to be here.

I point to a target on the wall and hand Zevy a dart. “Can you hit the bull’s-eye?”

On his first try Zevy hits the wall. On his second try he hits left of center and on the third the dart strikes a hairbreadth from dead center.

“You have good aim” I tell him. “Think you could be a sharpshooter for the army?”

Not one to take false flattery Zevy shakes his head.

“That’s true” I say. “To work for the army you can’t miss the target. You have to be exact. It’s the same with language. If you want to ‘get it’ it’s not enough to have ‘almost’ skills. They have to be exact. So the army takes guys like you with good aim teaches them techniques and practices with them until they are sharpshooters.

“Just like you can learn to improve your aim you can learn to improve your language skills.” I make eye contact with Zevy. “We’re going to work on improving your skills until you’re a sharpshooter.”

During our first few sessions we tackle the concept of main idea.

Zevy and I sit across the table from each other. “Look at this table” I tell Zevy. “It’s made of several parts. What are they?”

“Legs” Zevy mutters. He’s cooperating but not happily. “Top.”

“Great! Which do you think is the main part?”

A pause. “Top.”

“Right. What would happen if it didn’t have legs?”

Zevy looks at me like I’m crazy. “It would fall.”

“Yes the legs support the top. With stories or information it’s the same thing. There’s a main idea — the tabletop — and details to support it.” I sketch a picture of a table. “Let’s talk about school” I suggest. I draw the answers out of him: what school he attends who the staff is where it is. “Let’s fill in the table ” I say.

On the tabletop Zevy writes “Yeshiva Ahavas Torah.” On each leg he writes a detail: the principal his rebbi the location of the school and the number of grades. Using the table picture we read selections together and tease the main idea out of a full paragraph.

As the sessions progress and Zevy improves we move to the next skill set: verbal expression and negotiation.  “Say you’re choosing between a convertible and an SUV.”  I draw on an area of Zevy’s interest. “What are the pros of a convertible?”

“Needs less gas” Zevy says.

“Good.” I write it down. “What else?”

No response.

“Can you think of another ‘pro’?”

After a moment: “I don’t know.”

Being forced to think on his own is new for Zevy. “Think about it” I encourage him. “Just one more thing?”

Zevy’s face darkens. Abruptly he stands up. “This is stupid” he says. “I don’t have to do this dumb work.” Shoving his chair he storms out of the room. His mother looks shocked. “Let’s go home” Zevy says roughly. “I’m never coming back!”

Mom

I’m sending Zevy for language therapy because I want him to feel happy in his own skin and be successful. He’s missing tools that others have naturally and I’m davening that therapy will help.

Rebbi

Zevy’s attitude is due to his lack of success. He’s not succeeding because he can’t understand what he hears can’t express his thoughts and can’t think critically. Once he thinks and communicates better he’ll experience success and be happier.

Zevy

Mrs. Himy doesn’t let me get away with anything. I’m not used to thinking so hard.

 

To be continued…

D. Himy M.S. CCC-SLP is a speech-language pathologist in private practice for over 15 years.