Non-verbal

The slides kept coming; numerous points were made. The education director was sharing all of the most recent studies on non-verbal autism, sensory overload, and gestures approximating language; the statistics kept rolling onscreen. "I'm going to keep Abraham in the art room until his mom comes today," Chama whispered at her boss' elbow. "He's indicating that he wants the noise in the learning room to stop." Her boss turned and stared, surprised. "Indicating? How?" she asked, hushed. "He's non-verbal." "He's not, really," Chama replied. "He speaks rocks. His pockets are always full of them - puts the small and smooth ones out for 'hello' or 'yes' or 'happy/excited' and the big sharp ones for 'no' or 'scared/stop'. You just have to pay attention differently." Her boss stared, open-mouthed. "This CEU class costs $500 per person," she eventually whispered. "I'm sure it's a good class," Chama replied (in a comforting tone), "but I'd rather learn from the person than speculate about them. Just wanted to let you know about the art room thing. Abraham likes colors, even when he's not drawing." "Smooth rocks on the desk?" the boss asked carefully. "Smooth rocks on the desk," Chama nodded encouragingly.