Wednesday, September 8, 2010

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind; . . .

Okay, so I see my boy really interested in a set of buttons. It's a toy for the really young; letters of the alphabet, push A, it says, "A." Simple. Not good enough for his brain. So, I hear about a keyboard that can be adapted for 2 buttons, 4 buttons, 8, and so on. Intellikeys, it's called. I send a message to the folks who have contacts; equipment, therapists, etc. I say, "Do you have one of these I could give a try? Can you tell me where I can buy one?"

What's the answer? Get me a referral, let's do an assessment; see what might work for him. Get the SLP involved, e t e c e t e r a. . .Find out what sort of communication thing-a-ma-bobs would be best for him. If I brought my car in for an oil change,and they told me to go get a referral from a mechanic to see what I really needed; well, you might imagine how that would transpire.

There is a word for this: bureaucrap.

2 comments:

Andrew Sutton said...

Keep kicking against the pricks...

...and telling the world about it.

Andrew.

Viktoria said...

My (humble) prophecy is that this mentioned device and the numerous similar ones will soon become obsolete since there is virtually nothing that an iPad can't do. I know that the whole iPad craze is starting to become a bit old now since a multitude of parent and professional blogs have gone haywire since May with everyone singing its praises, but a regular parent can't be happy enough to discover that a few hundred dollar, lightweight and "cool" device just replaced certain heavy, bulky, 10,000 dollar, hard to get communication devices and that is just a small part of what it can be used for, and that is just the start.
I'm not saying iPads or any gadgets offer life-changing solutions for disability or education, but they may offer solutions in certain cases for the parental frustration the bureaucracy causes.