After years of fluency-shaping speech therapy, I finally found a different approach when I learned about desensitization and stuttering acceptance. It was a huge relief to learn that there was another option for people who stutter: one that didn't necessarily involve fluency. The idea that I could be content with the way I talked while still stuttering was never an option to me before, and it honestly changed my life. Since then, I've managed to overcome a lot of the frustration that I used to feel every time my speech wouldn't cooperate.

There's so much I value about desensitization, but lately I've been thinking about the inevitable risks we face in self-help and speech therapy, even when the goal is self-acceptance. For me, the notion that people who stutter can be good communicators was incredibly exciting. I continue to feel empowered when I list all the options I have while speaking: even if I'm not fluent, I can make "good" eye contact, listen well, express excitement about whatever I'm talking about, and communicate openness about my stutter. But the idea of a "good communicator" seems risky, and it's become important for me to remind myself not to overvalue "good communication." I worry that this phrase promotes a normalized idea of speech: one that makes room for stuttering, but only if it's surrounded by other qualities of good communication, some of which may be out of reach for many speakers.

So how can we push back that inevitable narrative of speech therapy--and disability-- that values overcoming? How can people who stutter keep from aspiring toward some model of speaking, without looking at the forces that shape the idea of "good communication?" I love many things about the idea that good communication doesn't mean fluency, but it's easy for this notion to go from being empowering to being another way that we tell ourselves that our speech is inadequate. Instead of failing at being fluent, I was failing at communicating well, failing at adequately owning my stutter, or failing at maintaining eye contact.

That's why it's so important for all people who stutter to become educated about disability theory: to consider the forces that normalize speech, and that require us to appropriately handle our stutter-- whether that means concealing it, regulating it with fluency-shaping techniques, or treating it with the proper amount of levity and openness. Without this dimension added to speech therapy or to self-help, the techniques we learn for "good communication" are just another form of easy onset. Both work toward standard speech without considering the forces that reject and stigmatize "bad communication"-- or disabled communication.

I'm still in speech therapy, and I still want to do all the things I wrote about above: stutter more easily, maintain eye contact, communicate openness. A lot of speech therapy, for me, is about fighting back against the techniques-- and shame-- I learned during fluency-shaping speech therapy. But, at the same time, I want to love my speech at all times: when I'm stuttering, when I'm blocking, when I'm using filler words, when I'm avoiding certain sounds. These habits may have come from a history of anti-stuttering therapy, but they're still a part of my voice, and a part of me. I went from hating myself when I stuttered to hating myself when I wasn't being a "good communicator": different scenarios, but the feelings that come afterward are eerily similar.

In both cases, I was failing the expectations of my listener: being awkward, vulnerable, visibly embarrassed, and, above all, unable to make them comfortable-- whether by achieving fluency, maintaining eye contact, or "communicating well." Is there a way to let go of the idea that people who stutter have an obligation to make their listener comfortable? To make these techniques an option, without making them an obligation? Along with openness, and easy stuttering, and eye contact, I want to look closer at "bad communication" and how it works-- because, even though it's "messy" (as Zach puts it in his blog post from September), it still communicates.

-Emma

Our son, Eli, was around 2 ½ when he began to show excessive tension in his speech.  Over the next seven years he received therapy that focused primarily on minimizing or eliminating that tension using speech tools and techniques.  He finally decided that talking less (way less) was a much easier path to no speech errors.  Was it possible that the therapy he was receiving was contributing to an even greater disability – silence and withdrawal?  Six years of research and writing led me to answer that question with a resounding and alarming YES in my book, “Voice Unearthed: Hope, Help, and a Wake-Up Call for the Parents of Children Who Stutter.”  The overarching messages in Voice Unearthed is to first do no harm and keep your eyes on what really matters in a child’s world, what they really need to ensure their well-being and sense of self.

Over the past several years I have shared stories on my blog and in my book around the importance of listening – real, genuine listening – for all children including children who stutter.  Having taken so much time to reflect on this practice of listening, you’d think I’d be pretty good at it by now.  Apparently I’m not.  Just the other evening Eli, now 18 years old (and still stuttering), told me he was never going to talk to me again because EVERY TIME he comes in the room to say something, I make him do stuff like dishes, laundry, vacuum, clean the cat box, take out the trash, put the laundry away, mow the lawn, etc.  EVERY SINGLE TIME he claims.  Clearly he’s prone to exaggeration, but maybe my listening skills could still use some tweaking!

When we, as parents, think of being a good listener we most often think of good eye contact, thoughtful questions, and of course, shutting our mouths and opening our ears.  I’ve come to believe that with children who stutter it’s best to forget about those first two suggestions and focus on shutting our mouths and opening our ears.  I also have come to believe that this is good advice for speech therapists. 

If a child has a speech therapist, that person is probably one of the few in their life that really has time to listen.  Research-based evidence claims that having one adult who will listen without passing judgment can be the one most important factor for a kid who is struggling.  Moms and dads are apparently busy worming their way out of housework, teachers are swamped with the needs of their students in overcrowded classrooms, grandparents are working well past their retirement age, and counselors are expensive! Speech therapists -- you have a golden opportunity to really make a difference through listening.   

I started researching peer-reviewed journals to find quotes and numbers to prove my point, but Lorraine kept popping into my mind.  Pall Mall puffing, potty-mouth Lorraine.  I decided to run with it…

When I was a teenager, we had one small bathroom in our farmhouse and had to literally walk through our parents’ bedroom to use it.  Combining that with an ancient septic system and limited water supply, the old outhouse back by the grove of trees was often called into service, especially when extended family came to visit. Often, probably at round 3 a.m., cousin Lorraine would sock me in the arm to wake me up so I could accompany her to the outhouse.  She was 12 years older than me which made this a huge honor.  This adult wanted to spend time with me!     

Lorraine would light up a Pall Mall for the trip and we’d tip-toe down the steps, giggling our fool heads off.  Once out the back door, we’d grab each other’s hands and bolt through the cold wet grass, Lorraine swearing a blue streak.  My job would be to hold (and puff on) Lorraine’s Pall Mall and keep a look-out for men with axes.  Apparently the corn fields of southern Minnesota were full of them in those days.

Lorraine and I bonded over those trips to the old outhouse.  Once back in the safety of our bed, too wound up to sleep, we would talk.  Well, I would talk and Lorraine would listen.  I could say anything to Lorraine, she would never pass judgment.  She listened to my troubles and my hopes and dreams. 

No one in the world would have positioned the Pall Mall smoking, potty-mouthed Lorraine as being a good role model for a struggling teenager.  But she was.  She made me feel confident, valued, worthy, and heard.  My voice, what I had to say, was important to her.  She made a difference.

To all the hard-working compassionate current and soon-to-be speech therapists out there – be the Lorraine in your clients’ life.  You have that golden opportunity – one-on-one uninterrupted time to just listen – no assessment, no judgment.  Just listen (Pall Malls and potty mouth optional). 

Work with parents to help them recognize when their child talks the most and recreate that environment as often as possible.  Work with teachers to help them make talking more comfortable in the classroom setting.  Help them all to become better listeners without making a child feel they are being interrogated. 

Remember, research-based evidence claims that having one adult who will listen without passing judgment can be the one most important factor for a kid who is struggling.  Don’t pass up the opportunity to be that factor in a child’s world – every single time!

 -Dori