As a teacher I was never beyond using any creative, unusual, unorthodox and flat out one of a kind system to help a child learn to communicate. Duke was a just turned four year old in my preschool class who had a generally cheerful disposition, a brilliant smile, an absolute love for music and anything with wheels, and significant delays due to autism. He did not imitate, he did not vocalize speech sounds, he did not use signs or picture symbols and he did not take kindly to anyone who tried to place these demands upon him. And when I say he did not take kindly to it, I mean that this four and a half foot tall four year old who was built like a line backer went into full combat meltdown. He once attempted to break my classroom window, and I was astonished by the durability of window panes from the 1960s.
I noticed that Duke would sit transfixed during music activities, especially activities that involved instruments. So I began a "make it up as you go along, but take data to save your arse" language program. During direct instruction sessions, I would have him sit with me, and between us would be a drum. I would say a word that I wanted him to imitate, and then tap the rhythm of the word out on the drum. Then I would say the word again and guide him through tapping out the rhythm. If the word was a feasibly small object I then went through tapping the real object on the drum to the rhythm of the word and having him do the same. This worked best with highly preferred objects like toy cars and trucks, a spoon (to get a bite of pudding), a cup (for a drink of chocolate milk), and for fun sing song turn taking activities ("Hello Duke" "Hello Teacher"). I honestly had no idea if this would work or if I would have a proven failure of a communication education system. For Duke, it clicked. He heard the rhythm and music of the words and associated them with the objects.
After about a month I could hold Duke's most favorite item, a toy car, out of his reach and wait for a vocalization without the drum (we had practiced and learned it there). He would try every behavior pattern possible to wear me down and convince me to just surrender and give him the car. At first it took an average of 10 minutes of a tantrum before he would make eye contact and in what I can only imagine was pure disgust say "car". This soon spread to bubbles, light (for a light up toy), cookie, and so many more words. His vocabulary grew steadily, and the average time of negative behaviors before he would vocalize a word got down to as low as an average of 15 seconds with many spoken words without any negative behaviors.
The drum then became a way of introducing language in a social turn taking situation. I speak/drum first and then you answer/drum back. The rhythm of speaking to another person. I had never appreciated the music in a conversation before, but as we tapped out the beat I heard it in all my conversations and in the rhythm of my every day language. I could give him all the words in the world, but it was not until I found the beat that he was able to utilize them and discover language. Now even when I listen to classical music, or jazz, or any music without vocal accompaniments I still hear a language and speech in the talking drums.

* Photo courtesy of istockphoto

I have decided to start to share some of the many, many multitudes of stories and lessons that I have stored away from my years as a teacher both because they are incredible meaningful to me and they might be of some small assistance to someone else. I decided to start with one of my favorites.  I learned early on that I refuse to negotiate with any child who still needs their rear end wiped after going to the bathroom or who still wears diapers. The classroom is not a democracy, it is a dictatorship and I am in charge. I offer plenty of opportunities for choices, but I never make no an option when it is not an option I am willing to accept. Instead of asking "will you please clean up the toys" I might ask "do you want to pick up the blocks or the toy cars". I may ask a child "can you walk to the table by yourself or do you need some help to make the right choice?" or "Do you want to sit in the red chair or the blue chair?". This does not mean that my delightful, inquisitive, stubborn children did not routinely put me to the test in negotiations.
During my first week of student teaching we were transitioning from center play time to lunch and Desiree had been using the computer to play an alphabet/phonics game. When I informed her it was time to wash her hands and come sit at the table she stared me in the eyes and said "No". I gave her an opportunity to make the right choice and she informed me that she was not finished on the computer and was not going to come eat lunch. A hostage negotiation situation was quickly emerging. I very calmly walked over to the computer where Desiree was working, reached behind it to the wall outlet and unplugged the computer. I then informed her "Computer time is over. Do you want to wash your hands by yourself of do you need me to help you?" Completely shocked that I would follow through and actually disconnect the computer, Desiree very calmly washed her hands and sat down as requested. At no point did I have to raise my voice, or bargain with her, or physically engage with her.
Ella was a highly precocious 2 1/2 year old who never failed to keep me on my toes. A peer had a highly desired toy camera, and Ella decided that the best way to get this toy was to cry and have a dramatic tantrum. I informed her that her choices were to wait patiently for a turn, or to go without playing with the camera for the day because crying and screaming were not going to work. At that moment her very sympathetic peer delivered the camera to her in an effort to make her feel better. With a wicked grin, Ella looked at me and said "Well it worked for me!" I replied "Not so much. The camera is going in time out for a while until you can show me that you know the right way to ask for it and to wait your turn. Crying and screaming is not how you get the things you want in this classroom."
For some reason my three year olds loved to run laps around my classroom like it was a track course instead of a classroom filled with obstacles and equipment. Rather than repeatedly asking them to slow down or surrendering to the chaos, the rule became a simple choice that laid out the consequences and avoided any negotiations. "Show me walking feet or show me sitting bottom". I did get the occasional adorable response along the lines of "my feet just won't walk, they HAVE to dance!". Then we might resort to a few rounds of shaking out sillies out at circle time so our walking feet could come back out. :)
Never did I make no a choice unless I was willing to have a child give me no as an answer and respect that choice. No could be a choice for choosing materials in an activity, for activities during free play, for choosing reinforcers, for deciding if a child wanted a turn during a special activity and in those situations I respected it. No could not be a choice in following directions, obeying rules, and participating in academic activities so instead of negotiating and entering into plea agreements I simply offered choices where either one was still an appropriate choice and a victory. Often this meant doing the task independently or requiring help to do it, but either way the task got done without arguing over it.