At just eight years old, Carr Brackett knows himself very well. His top future career choices – firefighter, police officer, construction worker and Washington State ferry worker – perfectly match his adventurous spirit. That spirit prompted his recent attempt to leave school early and walk home alone. In a matter of minutes, a school employee redirected him back to school from the streets of Coupeville, Washington, his quaint hometown on Whidbey Island on Puget Sound.
Both a delight and a handful to the adults in his life, Carr is enjoying a surge in self-confidence as he overcomes communication barriers stemming from Down syndrome, the congenital condition causing his often unintelligible speech. He once withdrew from others, fearing he would be misunderstood. Keys to Carr’s turnabout are the constant support surrounding him at home and school, and his knowledge of sign language. So is the DynaVox V, his newly adopted voice.
“He’s definitely becoming more social with the other kids” since he started to use the portable speech communication device (which he affectionately calls “V”) earlier this school year, said Stephanie Gebhard, who has taught Carr at Coupeville Elementary School for two consecutive grades. “The difference is gigantic.”
Carr beams during sharing time in Gebhard’s second grade class. While in the spotlight, he has used “V” to play a sound clip recorded from a favorite TV show, convey details of a morning doctor visit and call on classmates with questions by name. He sits attentively while classmates describe meaningful objects or events. His fluency in asking open-ended questions (“Where did you get that?”, “What is it for?”) with the device is impressive, Gebhard said.
“It allows him to participate in the listening part of sharing.” For Gebhard, part of the joy of working with Carr is passing along the care others showed her as a child with epilepsy. Carr’s family, including his sister Beth Ann, a fifth grader and his partner in the reading buddy program at school, also make it a pleasure.
“Mom and dad are phenomenal,” Gebhard said.
Laura Brackett is forever customizing pages or creating new ones on “V” to reflect her son’s growing vocabulary, using the interAACT page set for children who are context-dependent communicators that comes with the device as a foundation. Carr has a “playing inside” page with vocabulary for Hide ‘n Seek and Wii games (he is a champ at tennis) and a “playing outside” page he uses to ask questions about construction projects (“How does it work?” is a favorite) when strolling with his father, Randall, an engineer. There’s vocabulary for ordering cheese pizza, cheese tortillas or plain noodles (his restaurant fare of choice) and for making people laugh – such as “Don’t make me snap my fingers in a Z formation,” current slang for “Don’t bug me.”
Carr, his family and friends keep communication lively using “V”’s visual scenes for holiday celebrations, a doctor’s office, the interior of a vehicle and rooms coincidentally resembling the interior of the Brackett house. Carr instinctively turns to “V” when others do not understand his natural voice, as he did while discussing the intricacies of building a robot with a friend and telling his father that a substitute teacher taught his class.
With less familiar conversation partners, Carr is slow to build trust but extremely loyal when he knows they listen, said Margaret Nerison, who teaches his special education math class. In the last two years, she has witnessed his transition from repetitive vocalizations (“play tag” – a reference to his favorite game – was a frequent one) to more versatile forms of self-expression. Carr obliged happily when she asked him to teach her sign language. The math page on “V” helps him learn addition, subtraction, and the relationship between tens and hundreds.
Carr likes using the V for school assignments, even tough ones.
“It gives him a little extra confidence,” said Alice Widdison, the paraeducator who assists him throughout the day.
“His friends are fascinated by it. Who would not be?”
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