Prepare and Thrive

By Brandy Jezernik, Colorado H&V

One of the parenting skills I am most proud of developing is preparing my son for new experiences! It all started with appointments, medical, audiology, dental, haircut appointments—ugh. An appointment adds dreaded transitions, new people, new things happening to my child, his feelings and behaviors about all that, and of course the potential for communication issues between my deaf son and the almost always hearing English-speaking providers. I need to juggle paperwork, manage his behavior, communicate with specialists, and handle all the incidental variables (long waits, face masks, etc.). Oh, and then I’m supposed to be self-regulating during all that stress. Early on, I did the responsible thing and asked our early intervention team to add a bartender or masseuse to my son’s IFSP—happy, coping mama means happy child, right? They declined, laughing, but offered suggestions for preparing my son for appointments.

After some experimenting, here’s what worked.  Starting at age two, I’d search online for “how to prepare my child for __” and skim articles. This helped me know what to expect and what my son’s knowledge gaps were. Next, I would search my library’s catalog and reserve a handful of children’s books on the topic. A whole genre of children’s literature called “new experience books” introduces characters like Daniel Tiger, Maisy, etc. doing things for the first time. We’d spend a few days reading these books together. I look up signs I don’t know in Handspeak or Lifeprint websites and use the picture books to help explain.  Then we’d roleplay using toys, dolls, and stuff at home, practicing our new vocabulary in both English and ASL! Closer to the appointment, we’d watch a few relevant “new experience” YouTube video clips. The day before, I’d excitedly tell my son that he gets to go to the dentist “just like Daniel Tiger did.” He would get so pumped!

Now that he is four and a veteran of appointments, our preparation is much quicker. We discuss his visual calendar at the beginning of each week. We might do one experience book or video the night before. Instead of roleplaying, we discuss memories from his last visit.  Sometimes he incorporates the appointment into his play— like drawing or building a “dentist office” as a stop on his train tracks.  For regular visits, we enjoy beloved rituals for “after”. We always walk on our favorite bridge after audiology and hit up a specific playground after ENT appointments. If he’s whiny about a “non-preferred activity,” I remind him of the fun thing we will do after his hard work.

This preparation (also known as pre-teaching) has been a huge win for us. My son has been excited, engaged, and included in his appointments. If we’ve developed a concept that helps him through the visit, I remind him in front of the specialist to get them on the same page using our terminology or sign. For example, my son won’t hold his mouth open unless I remind him to “do the quiet roar like Daniel Tiger at the dentist!” I request visual and hands-on learning. Letting my son see and touch tools before they touch him is a favorite. He also likes when providers model a procedure on a doll. To me, it seems like our preparation has fostered a more direct relationship between my son and his specialists. He presents himself as confident and speaks/signs for himself. The specialists take care to speak directly to him and ask him questions. They usually offer him tons of praise, and my son soaks it in! Of course, I am always there to interpret (between English and ASL, but more so between specialist and child) if either of them is misunderstanding the other. At the end of visits, most specialists offer a cheap plastic prize that makes my son infinitely happy and seals the deal on a positive experience that will be remembered fondly. That evening, we review how the visit went with his Papa, and I leave our experience books and role-playing toys around for a few days. If my son wants to further process the experience, we can jump right in.

Sometimes Life is Hard

We’ve had a few appointments go poorly. Either we didn’t know what would happen (and thus couldn’t prepare for it) or my son was anxious to avoid the pain he knew was coming. I am learning to be more assertive with providers to ask for extra time when a procedure is sprung on us. I ensure my son understands the how’s and the why’s of the plan, I acknowledge his feelings, and in a matter-of-fact tone I let him know I’ll hold him, and if he wants to cry that’s totally okay. Afterward, I help him process, talk up his bravery, resilience, and the awesome treat we’re going to go get because “Yay, we did a hard thing!”

It wasn’t until recently that I understood the significance of preparation. Surviving appointments is great, but every new experience (even a day trip to a new place) presents a huge growth opportunity. My son’s vocabulary and knowledge base soar. He practices pragmatic language skills and absorbs that he is worthy of respect. I’ve helped him develop a foundation for self-esteem, advocacy skills, and independence. We’re minimizing trauma and keeping his world big. You know what else I’ve stumbled into? This “pre-teaching” in the jargon of educators and early interventionists is the gold standard. Educators pre-teach concepts, vocabulary, and skills so that a child can fully access the main lessons of their curriculum. I feel more confident and optimistic knowing that pre-teaching is already a strategy that works well for us. My son will assuredly continue to blossom at home, at school and onward! I’m very thankful for the early intervention providers who listened to my stress and taught me some tools I now wield with pride! ~

Editor’s note: Jezernik is a hearing mama of a deaf 4-year-old who usually wears cochlear implant processors. The family tries their best to raise him bilingually with English/ASL. He attends Rocky Mountain Deaf School and biweekly appointments with (their favorite) auditory- verbal therapist through The Listen Foundation. Her son tells her he is an expert on trains and train tracks. He “shops” library books with the same zest as his mama.

H&V Communicator – Spring 2022