Language acquisition is, of course, not just about learning to talk. Non-verbal communication is another confusing realm that autistic people must enter if they wish to interact appropriately.
Initially, Nigel’s non-verbal communication skills were limited to how he could make his needs known non-verbally, since he was not functionally verbal until about age 7. He could talk prior to that age, but most of the words that he spoke were echolalic. If he wanted me to get him something out of the refrigerator, he would take hold of my hand and lead me to the refrigerator and put my hand on the door handle. I would have to guess what he wanted, and a wrong guess would be met with a scream. This was the extent of his non-verbal communication at the time.
He progressed to using PECS, both for his expressive and receptive communication, which was a blessing for both of us, reducing the screaming at least while at home (in public, with his extreme sensory issues, the screaming continued). Once he started uttering one-word need-based requests, his use of PECS at home decreased, and then he moved on to two- and three-word combinations. At that point, the concept of non-verbal communication changed from expressive to receptive.
He started making eye contact. It was fleeting, of course, at first, and only reserved for family members and the most familiar of therapists, but it was there. He started to notice and interpret facial expressions, mostly limited to smiles, but gradually he could interpret the more obvious manifestations of sadness and anger. His favorite one to interpret, still to this day, is tiredness with its unmistakable yawn. “Go sleep?” he would say at age 6. Now, at 13, we hear the beautifully correct and appropriate, “Are you tired?” and even “Why are you putting your head on the desk?”
Nigel’s greatest accomplishment with interpreting non-verbal communication still astounds me, and always will. It happened about six months ago, when his NT friend Riley was at our house for a sleepover. Earlier that week, Nigel had seen me taking my daily birth control pill and asked what it was. I told him in simple terms that it prevented babies from forming in my uterus. Riley’s mother had had a baby a year and a half ago, and now Riley was telling us that his mother was going to have another baby. My sixth sense kicked in, or mother’s intuition, and I knew that the wheels were quickly turning in Nigel’s head. I was seated at the other end of the dinner table from him, and I looked at him fiercely, willing him to look at my wide eyes telling him Don’t say it! Don’t say what you’re going to say! And he started to say, “She should’ve –” and abruptly stopped as soon as he saw my face. It was the first time he caught himself before making an inappropriate comment because he had successfully interpreted non-verbal communication! I was so relieved, and equally amazed. Later I talked with him about the fact that I was glad he stopped himself from saying, “She should’ve taken birth control pills!” I told him that would not have been a polite thing to say. “But I don’t like ‘polite,'” he said, which is what he says when he doesn’t understand something’s purpose. At least if he can continue to interpret non-verbal communication (and not just his mother’s), he stands a chance of learning what’s not polite, and avoiding it.