Story from Crow’s IEP last week:
Crow filled out an All About Me worksheet the first week of school, with help from his new aide. It’s the usual stuff, I’m blah years old and I like to blah and here’s a drawing of my family and of course,
Question: When I grow up, I want to be…
His aide asked the teacher if she should try to drill down and get a more typical answer. The teacher said, no, Six means something to him and it’s not a wrong answer just because we don’t know what it means.
If you’re not grasping how huge this is, she’s letting Crow speak in Crow’s number-language and realizing that her inability to understand him doesn’t make him wrong. I explained the number language to her when we met last Spring, and included a recap on my User’s Guide to Crow back-to-school intro flyer, so she knew she was seeing a language barrier and not a lack of effort or ability.
Huge. Simply huge.
I suspect that somewhere there’s a picture of a person doing a cool job while wearing the number 6, and that was the picture in Crow’s head, and the most important thing about that picture in his head is the number, so Six is how you’d talk about it. We’ll figure it out later.
One of the shorthands I use for my life is, it’s Darmok all the time around here.
I’m referring to the Star Trek:TNG episode Darmok (I mean, OBVIOUSLY). It’s the one where they meet the aliens who only speak in metaphor, and they can’t communicate until they have a shared foundation of stories.
If you haven’t seen it, or haven’t seen it since 1991, here’s a nice edit with a distillation of the communication theme from the episode. The joy on the face of the alien in the last scene in this edit, when Picard has FINALLY understood him for the first time makes me tear up a little. I know that look.
In my experience, communication is a matter of patience, imagination. I would like to believe that these are qualities that we have in sufficient measure. — Capt. Picard
Yeah, I just quoted Picard in a blog post.