CFY (Coming For You)!

stage

I’m a big fan of musical theater (I was so excited Jessie Mueller won a Tony this year.  She was wonderful.). I’m in awe of the performers who seem to sing, dance and act with equal aplomb.  And then they go out and do it in front of a live audience.  Every day.  Twice on Wednesday and Saturday. Where do they find the endurance?

Well, baby, I’ve got news for you.  You’re about to star in your own show.

There is no denying the difficulty of grad school. You’re taking classes in everything, even the stuff that might not be your cup of tea.  Ideally, your clinical fellowship year is in an area you particularly enjoy and the everyday implementation of book learned skills will certainly give you many ah-ha moments. What can be difficult is the frequent observation, knowing, or maybe not knowing, that someone is on the other side of that two way mirror.  There is a feeling of being constantly “on.”  Even paperwork remains a performance. I would drop into bed at night, completely spent.

I actually had two CFY experiences.  The first was my dream job. I was a preschool therapist in a local school system and my job included home visits/evaluations, lessons within the preschool handicap classroom, individual pull-out therapy for many of those same kids, other children that came only for speech, and screenings–lots and lots of screenings.  I’d been working at my school practicum the previous spring in the same location so I knew the staff, some of the kids and had a relationship with my supervisor.

Then life intervened.  My husband and I married in early August which gave us time to honeymoon before the first day of school.  But as the saying goes, “the best laid plans of mice and men….”  Within the first month my husband was transferred to Atlanta, a five to six hour drive from where we were living, and needed to move immediately.  I gave notice that I would leave at the Christmas holiday, started packing our wedding gifts and began to look for a new placement.  (Yes, my husband left a couple months before I did.  Not an auspicious start to married life, but we made it work.)

My second placement was equally as dreamy–out-patient rehab for a large children’s hospital with lots of experienced therapists, including OT and PT, to learn from and watch. The experience I gained there truly shaped the clinician I am today.  So much so, that if I were to give one bit of advice to a new therapist starting out it would be to work where you have lots of interaction with more experienced clinicians. I know you’re sick of being watched, guided, and yearn to start doing your own thing, but…for me, it was the best possible thing that could have happened. (This is where I spent two years exhausted.  I was finally starting to get my feet under me, doing some mentoring myself, and feeling less stressed by the whole process when, guess what, transferred again.)

I share this because I think we get so close to a situation we aren’t seeing it anymore. My situation was unique, but these things come up for lots of reasons.  Sometimes CFYs take place in more than one location or setting.  There might be a short “pause” right in the middle. It’s ok.  Show close and new ones open.  Break a leg!

 

Kim Lewis is a pediatric clinician in Greensboro, NC and blogs atActivityTailor.com.  Attendance at the ASHA convention this fall qualified her for an ACE award (7.0+ CEUs in a 36 month period).

 

In Appreciation: Jeri Logemann

In Appreciation II

Jerilyn (Jeri) Logemann, ASHA 1994 and 2000 president and a world-renowned researcher in speech-language pathology, died at age 72 on June 19, 2014, in her home surrounded by friends.
Logemann_web

After obtaining her bachelor’s, master’s and doctoral degrees from Northwestern University, Logemann joined the faculty and became one of the most influential leaders in her field. A prolific scholar, she contributed groundbreaking books, journal articles, workshops, conference presentations and seminars on the management of voice disorders, normal swallowing physiology, and the assessment and treatment of speech and swallowing in patients with head and neck cancer and those with neurological impairments.

Logemann was the Ralph and Jean Sundin professor of communication sciences and disorders at Northwestern University, and professor of otolaryngology and neurology at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine, where she directed the Voice, Speech and Language Service and Swallowing Center.

A pioneer in the development of techniques for effective assessment and treatment of speech and swallowing disorders, she—with Hilda Fisher—developed the Fisher-Logemann Test of Articulation Competence, and she developed the modified barium swallow test. Regarded as the leading authority in swallowing disorders, her research was continuously funded by the National Institutes of Health and other agencies for more than 30 years. Always concerned with improving speech-language pathology clinical service, Logemann formed the Clinical Sciences and Disorders Clinical Trials Research Group in 1995 to assist in the design and conduct of large-scale treatment studies of speech, language, learning, voice, swallowing, hearing and balance disorders.

Logemann was a Fellow of ASHA and the Chicago Medical Society, and received ASHA Honors, the association’s highest award. She served the university as chair of the department, and twice as chair of the Northwestern University Faculty.

Logemann’s relentless passion and commitment to her work; skilled leadership; inventive, indomitable and optimistic spirit despite relentless physical challenges; and her loyalty and generosity will be sorely missed by her patients, students, friends and colleagues.

She is survived by her cousin, Ruth Fruland, of Sheridan, Ill.

Gifts in her memory can be made to the Communication Sciences and Disorders Clinical Trials Research Group:

David Lilienfeld, Treasurer
CSDRG
13412 Pantera Road
San Diego, CA 92130-1022

Checks should be made payable to CSDRG. Should you wish to receive a tax deductible receipt, please indicate your return address.

Tanya M. Gallagher, PhD, is a professor in the Department of Speech and Hearing Science at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

“In Appreciation” is an occasional ASHASphere feature highlighting the lives and accomplishments of leaders in communication sciences and disorders.

In Appreciation: Glenda J. Ochsner

In Appreciation II

Glenda J. Ochsner, 2003 ASHA president, died May 29, 2014, at age 72.

Ochsner_web

An Oklahoma native, Glenda earned her bachelor’s, master’s and doctoral degrees at the University of Oklahoma. A speech-language pathologist, she started her long career in academics at the University of North Texas (Denton) in 1968.

Glenda returned to Oklahoma in 1969 to accept a position in the Department of Communication Sciences and Disorders at the John W. Keys Speech and Hearing Center at the University of Oklahoma Health Science Center, where she taught for the next 25 years and served asdepartment chair from 1987 to 1994. She then served as dean of health, social sciences and human behavior at Oklahoma City Community College (1994–1998). She began teaching in the Honors College in 1996 and the College of Liberal Studies in 2001 at the University of Oklahoma Norman Campus, and continued to serve both programs until her death.

Glenda received numerous teaching awards, including the prestigious David Ross Boyd Professorship, given to recognize teaching excellence at the University of Oklahoma. Her classes were widely sought by students on both the Norman and Health Sciences Center campuses.

Her teaching skills were not limited to the formal classroom. She served for more than a decade as coordinator of interdisciplinary diagnostic and treatment planning teams dealing with orofacial anomalies and language development on the Health Sciences Center campus, which have served as models for similar teams.

Despite demanding teaching and clinical service commitments, Glenda was active in research and in the training of student researchers. During her tenure at the university, she directed doctoral dissertations, numerous master’s theses and senior papers, and served on many planning and examining committees. In addition, she has mentored doctoral students who have participated with her in ongoing research projects, many of which have been grant-supported.

A consummate professional, Glenda served on major committees and boards relating to training and provision of services to people with communication disorders at both the federal and state levels. She was a leader in the profession, serving as president of the Oklahoma Speech-Language-Hearing Association and as president of the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association in 2003. Her dedication to high standards is shown in her service as chair of the Oklahoma Board of Examiners for Speech-Language Pathology and Audiology.

Glenda’s ability to attract federal and private support for the department programs in communication sciences and disorders contributed materially to their rise in national standing, enabling the university to compete with other programs for high-quality students and provide access to emerging technology.

Throughout her long career, Glenda had a strong commitment to quality patient care. She gave her support to the first licensing law in speech-language pathology and audiology in Oklahoma. She was appointed to chair that board and was regarded as highly effective in her term. Glenda Ochsner’s expertise and dedication is a testament to the high quality of leadership she gave to the profession.

Glenda also was a strong supporter of the arts, so much so that she earned a second master’s degree in 2005 in theatre and museum management to become better equipped to serve her community. She expended much time and energy working with and providing financial backing to various fine arts and performing arts groups in Yukon, Okla.

Survivors include her mother, Mary Jane Ochsner; life partner, James G. Schmaelzle of Yukon, Okla.; adopted son, Ryan B. Tigner of Yukon, Okla.; cousins; and a host of colleagues and friends.

James G. Schmaelzle, MCD, CCC-A is an audiologist in Yukon, Okla.

jims@flash.net

 

“In Appreciation” is an occasional ASHASphere feature highlighting the lives and accomplishments of leaders in communication sciences and disorders.

Seven Lessons for Newly-Minted SLPs

graduation

It’s graduation season and I can’t help but notice all of the brand new speech-language pathologists coming out of graduate programs across the country. What’s more is that I can’t help but be so happy for them! Here’s why: It seems as if it was just yesterday that I was a free spirited sophomore who decided to take a random class in phonetics. Little did I know this class would influence my life’s work. The class was taught by a young Ph.D., Gloria Weddington, who helped to focus me and, much to my mother’s delight, give me a purpose.

As a senior, Dr. Weddington took me to my first ASHA Convention where she introduced me to all the leaders in our profession.  What impressed me most was how well liked and respected she was by everyone. She would introduce me to her colleagues  as her “little student”  who was going to be a great addition to our profession.  She believed in me and I believed in myself. Once I received my master’s degree, I was ready to set the world on fire!

I vividly remember my first experience as an itinerant SLP in Los Angeles Unified School District. I was so eager and excited to have my first real job with my first real paycheck. I loved my schools and my kids and had a great master teacher who served as my CF supervisor.  I enjoyed my work and continued to grow seizing every new opportunity that came my way.  I absolutely loved my job! A few years later I left my very secure job to strike out on my own and opened a small private practice. I was the secretary, the receptionist, and the SLP,  but most importantly, I was happy again.  That was 35 years ago and I have never looked back.  In fact, I discovered another side of myself, that as an entrepreneur who was able to develop and sustain a thriving private practice in Los Angeles.

Today, many of my friends and colleagues are happily retiring. I have to admit, I feel a little conflicted when I think of what it must be like to wake up each morning and to not having any professional responsibilities.  However, I also can’t imagine life without my professional responsibilities, especially since there is so much more for me to do. The truth of the matter is that I feel as passionate today about our esteemed profession as I did when I was 24.

Young staff often ask me what’s my secret?  It’s no secret–it’s living and learning from life’s experiences. I am approaching 40 years “young” in our great profession and here are seven lessons learned along the way that continue to feed my spirit and nourish my soul:

  1.  Find a role model, a hero whom you admire, respect and trust. Listen, watch, and learn from him or her. If you are lucky they will be your mentor.
  2. Make your CF year count. Get the clinical supervision and support that you need to grow strong and healthy in our profession.
  3.  Be willing to rebuild your dreams.  Protect the joy and excitement that you experienced upon entering the profession. Remember there are no victims, just volunteers.
  4. Continue to grow, learn, and maintain high standards.  Make it a priority to attend ASHA conventions or at the very least your state conferences.  Learning is critical in our ever-changing profession
  5. Keep plenty of mirrors around.  Look closely at whether the person you see is the person you really want to see.  And, when in doubt refer to our ASHA Code of Ethics.
  6. Don’t burn bridges. You never know who you will need to give you that last cup of water.
  7. Have fun.  There is always work to be done!

Congratulations and welcome to our great profession!

Pamela Wiley-Wells, Ph.D., CCC-SLP, is the president of the Los Angeles Speech and Language Therapy Center, Inc. and the founder of The Wiley Center, a 501 (c)(3) organization dedicated to providing direct services and support to children with autism spectrum disorders or other developmental disabilities. The practice includes early intervention programs located in South Gate, Lawndale, Los Angeles, and Culver City as well as two satellite speech therapy clinics in Studio City and Downey. Wiley is a frequent lecturer on how to effectively deliver services to the increasing number of children diagnosed with ASDs who have social cognitive deficits.  She has written several professional articles and has co-authored two therapy workbooks; Autism: Attacking Social Interaction Problems for children 4-9 and 10-12 years of age as well as a separate parent resource guide available in English and Spanish. You can follow her private practice on Facebook.

 

Avoidance Reduction Therapy: A Success Story

true colors

I was interviewing for assistant positions at our summer speech and language camp when I first met Ben Goldstein.  Ben is a graduate of the University of Maryland and was in the midst of taking his pre-requisite courses to apply for graduate school to become a speech-language pathologist.  Ben also happened to be a person who stutters (PWS).    As the interview continued he shared that he was introduced to avoidance reduction therapy by Vivian Sisskin at the College Park campus of UMD.  I had already been applying aspects of avoidance reduction therapy with my clients,  however Ben helped solidify my feelings on this approach.  Ben was kind enough to answer some questions and walk me through his experience with avoidance reduction therapy, which is included below.

Avoidance reduction therapy is an approach to stuttering therapy that can be used with both school-aged and adult clients.  This approach views stuttering as an approach-avoidance conflict; a theory that states that a PWS experiences the desire to speak and interact with others while simultaneously experiencing an urge to hide their stuttering.   The result of these competing desires culminates in the maladaptive secondary behaviors that interfere with communication (ex. eye blinking, leaning forward, use of fillers, etc.).  These competing desires also result in a feeling that one can not partake in certain activities and situations due to their speech.

Avoidance reduction therapy works toward reducing these maladaptive behaviors, leaving in its place a more comfortable, forward moving form of stuttering.  It also works toward reducing the handicap of stuttering, whereby increasing a person’s willingness to participate in various activities and situations, whether or not they show some stuttering.   Unlike other approaches that focus on fluency, this particular approach views a person’s strong desire to be fluent as perpetuating the problem and ultimately what contributes to their word and situational avoidances, as well as much of the struggle behaviors you see in their speech.  Avoidance reduction therapy does not put an emphasis on fluency, but rather on improving a person’s ability to successfully communicate in the “real” world.

How do you incorporate avoidance reduction therapy into your sessions?  Start by helping your client to identify their own stuttering patterns and assist them in recognizing how much of their pattern is “true” stuttering and how much of what we see is actually habits they formed in an attempt to mask stuttering.  Challenge clients to allow themselves to show true stuttering (or perhaps use voluntary stuttering), beginning in the safety of the therapy room and eventually branching out to different “real-life” situations.  As you work through these challenges, clients will often discover ways in which their stuttering was holding them back that they may not have realized before.   Read on to learn about Ben Goldstein’s first-hand experience with avoidance reduction therapy.

Before jumping into avoidance reduction therapy, how would you describe your speech intervention experience leading up to it?

Ben: Prior to avoidance reduction therapy, I saw two SLPs as a private client. Both focused primarily on common fluency shaping techniques (easy onset, breath control, continuous phonation). My parents felt that the therapy helped me sound better, but I don’t remember sounding better. I also don’t remember feeling better about myself or my stuttering through therapy.

Can you describe your stuttering pattern prior to beginning avoidance reduction therapy?  Do you feel like stuttering impacted your quality of life?   

Ben: When I showed my stuttering I usually blocked for long periods of time, contorted my lips and mouth, tapped my leg to release a block, used fillers such as “umm” and “you know,” and closed my eyes. There was little actual stuttering going on. It was mostly secondary behaviors.

In particularly scary situations, I would avoid talking altogether if I felt that I was going to stutter.  If somebody asked me a question and I felt a disfluency coming on, I would often pretend that I didn’t hear the person. I would constantly change words that I thought I was going to stutter on. I would not go to parties and avoid hanging out with friends sometimes.

All of that avoiding had a huge impact on my life. For one, I never showed my real personality. If I had a joke I wanted to tell or a comment I wanted to say, I usually wouldn’t say it. My mindset everyday was “Let’s get through today without showing stuttering. Say only what you absolutely have to say.” That kind of mindset suppresses one’s personality and it can lead to a lot of feelings of shame, guilt and feeling less than others.

How were you introduced to avoidance reduction therapy?  

Ben:  After my first semester freshman year at the University of Maryland, I found my way to the on-campus Hearing and Speech Clinic.  It was there that I was introduced to avoidance reduction therapy.

How would you define avoidance reduction therapy and the rationale behind this approach?  

Ben: I think the most basic definition of avoidance reduction therapy is to reduce one’s avoidances related to stuttering, speaking, and really, in life.  In other words, the goal is to reduce how often one actively avoids stuttering, avoids various speaking situations, and avoids different opportunities in life. The rationale behind the therapy is that stuttering is perpetuated by habit and fear.  If I have a fear of speaking in class, every time I keep silent in class, I reinforce that behavior and the fear of speaking in class grows. Avoidance reduction therapy is about reversing that process.  If you face your fear head on and with a different attitude of what is a success and what is a failure, the fear eventually dissipates, and once the fear of speaking weakens, you can start to make choices to stutter in a more comfortable and effective way.

Most clients seek therapy to try and reduce or eliminate stuttering and may be initially concerned with the premise of avoidance reduction therapy. How long did it take for you to “buy in” to this approach?  

Ben:  Great question. For me, I bought in pretty quickly. No one before in my life had explained to me the cycle of avoiding stuttering, the feelings and thoughts that I had, and how those feelings and thoughts perpetuated and worsened my speech.  Once these ideas were laid out for me it was almost like a lightbulb went off in my head. “Yes, finally what I’ve experienced my entire life makes a little sense.”

Can you explain what a typical therapy session would look like?

Ben:  A typical therapy session usually begins with the client talking a bit about how their week went. The client might talk about a speaking-related success they had the previous week (talking about my successes helped me feel good about myself as a communicator), a situation that is really bothering them (these always helped me relieve some anxiety and develop a plan), or a topic unrelated to speech altogether. While the client is speaking, the SLP is taking note of the client’s speaking pattern and assessing how successfully they are hitting their target from the previous week.

After the client has spoken for a bit, he or she usually receives feedback from the SLP. This feedback can be related to the thoughts and feelings of the client (dependent on what the client was saying) and/or his /her motor pattern (dependent on how the client was saying it.) Following feedback, the client and SLP engage in some specific practice where the client has the opportunity to put the SLP’s suggestions into action in a safe speaking environment. This allows the client to play around with the new assignment (whether motor-based or cognitive-based) and allows the client to begin to reinforce the new behavior.

Following target practice, the client and SLP finalize the client’s assignment or plan for the week. The client is told what the rationale behind the assignment is, and how that target or goal fits into the client’s longer-term plan.

What aspects of avoidance reduction therapy do you think are most beneficial to you and to the individuals in your group? 

Ben:  I can’t speak for everyone in my group, but to me, the lessons I’ve taken from avoidance reduction therapy are that it’s OK to stutter, it’s OK to be vulnerable and it’s OK to not be perfect everyday. Contrary to what I used to think, stuttering is not some giant, evil monster that I need to run away from for the rest of my life. It’s a part of me and not a negative thing. Perhaps most importantly, my goals have changed since starting avoidance reduction therapy. In the past, my priority was to avoid stuttering at all costs regardless of how it affected the way I connected with others and how I felt about myself. Today, my goal is to be true to myself, connect with other people, say what I want to say, and enjoy life as much as I can. If stuttering wants to come along for the ride, that’s OK.

How do you think your stuttering has changed?  Does stuttering affect your life in the same way it did prior to receiving avoidance reduction therapy?

Ben:  A lot has changed since starting avoidance reduction therapy. For one, my stuttering pattern has definitely changed. Now, I keep eye contact during disfluencies. The habit of tapping my knee is gone. I no longer use interjections with the same degree of frequency. I still contort my lips and mouth sometimes, but hey, it’s my next goal to tackle.

In terms of life impact, it’s night and day. Now, I say most of what I want to say. I show my personality. I also have a completely different perspective of what constitutes a success for me at this point and time and what is a failure. I recently gave a short talk in front of 600 people and stuttered a great deal. Four years ago, I wouldn’t have even thought of doing it, and if I had been forced to, I would have viewed my immense amount of stuttering as a failure. Today, I recognize what an accomplishment it is for me to voluntarily speak in front of that many people. I’m slowly chipping away at avoidances and those are my successes.

Do you think that there are individuals who would not benefit from this approach?  

Ben:  I think one really has to be motivated to change to undertake avoidance reduction therapy. It’s not easy work. Doing things that petrify us is so counterintuitive. If one has never talked in class before, talking in class that first time is going to be really scary. But talking the second time is going to be a little easier.

My experience of diving right into the therapy isn’t the common one. (And my initial experiences with avoidance reduction therapy probably weren’t as smooth as I’m remembering them). It takes time to truly change one’s attitudes and beliefs. This isn’t an intensive, short-term kind of therapy. But in my experience, and the experience of many of my peers, it’s a therapy that leads to real, meaningful, long-term change.  The motto “short-term pain, long-term gain” really applies here. I do think everyone is capable of receiving meaningful benefits from it, but they’ve got to put a lot in as well.

If you want to learn more about Avoidance Reduction therapy, I highly suggest Vivian Sisskin’s video Avoidance Reduction Therapy in a Group Setting, available through the Stuttering Foundation of America.

Brooke Leiman, MA, CCC-SLPis the fluency clinic supervisor at the National Speech Language Therapy Center in Bethesda, Md. She is an affiliate of ASHA Special Interest Group 4, Fluency and Fluency     Disorders. This blog post is adapted from a post on her blog, www.stutteringsource.com, which focuses on      fluency disorders and their treatment

 

Ben Goldstein is a graduate of the University of Maryland. He will begin work toward a master’s degree in Speech Pathology in the Fall of 2014.  Ben is a member of the Rockville Chapter of the National Stuttering Association and formerly served as it’s co-chapter leader.  He can be reached at bagoldstein@gmail.com.

On Becoming an Interprofessional

teamwork

According the authors of “The Interprofessional Healthcare Team: Leadership and Development,” interprofessionalism refers to the active participation of different professionals, which may include persons with professional licensure or certification in nursing, occupational therapy, physical therapy, speech-language pathology, social work, and other health-related professions who are collaborating to provide quality services to the patients they serve. Through a steadfast commitment to collaboration, interprofessional practice among healthcare professionals seeks to enhance the quality of health and medical services, which lead to improved patient outcomes. Developing synergy between through shared knowledge and decision-making promotes positive change in work settings and builds meaningful relationships with patients and their families. But, say the authors, shaping efficacious teams depends upon fundamental knowledge of the represented field, the use of evidence-based practice, interprofessional leadership, and members who are prepared to collaborate effectively in a team, which we believe can be accomplished through interprofessional education (IPE).

 
The Institute of Medicine Committee on Health Professions Education provides recommendations for developing a strong team: “health professionals should be educated to deliver patient-centered care as members of an interdisciplinary team, emphasizing evidence-based practice, quality improvement approaches, and informatics.” Because of ongoing changes to the U.S. healthcare system, including insurance policy initiatives, technological advances, and innovative service delivery models, it is imperative for all professionals, including speech-language pathologists and audiologists, to embrace a new spirit of interprofessional collaboration and cooperation. Leading health organizations, such as the Pew Health Professions Commission, the Institutes of Medicine, and the World Health Organization, support the concept that health professionals have received adequate education to work in healthcare settings only if it includes experience participating in interdisciplinary teams to collaboratively solve complex problems.

 
Due to changes in service delivery models that have resulted in an increase of members within healthcare teams, interprofessional practice is rapidly becoming an expectation in most healthcare settings. Universities and training programs in speech-language pathology and audiology are only recently beginning to embrace models of IPE. In some universities, students from several disciplines are enrolled in the same courses, teamed for practicum experiences, participate in field-based experiences, and ultimately learn to work as effective, interprofessional teams. A unique way for IPE to be learned has recently occurred though simulation-based education in the College of Health Professions at The University of Akron.

 
Simulation-based education is an innovative process for creating authentic situations in which groups of IPE students learn to collaborate. Specifically, this technique can assist in overcoming some of the challenges that exist in healthcare: inadequate communication among professionals, focusing on specific needs rather than the whole patient, lack of knowledge of other professionals’ roles, the inability to work as an effective team member, and a lack of conflict-resolution skills. IPE conducted as a simulation activity may supplement traditional classroom strategies to enhance the performance of healthcare providers, ultimately resulting in reduction of errors in the workplace and an increase in the quality of care provided to patients. Although this strategy has been recognized by various international professional societies, including the World Health Organization and Institute of Medicine, as foundational to achieving safe, high-quality, accessible patient-centered care, not many healthcare training programs are on board.

Fortunately, as graduate students in speech-language pathology at The University of Akron, we were given the opportunity to participate in an IPE simulation activity. It included more than 90 students studying in the fields of nursing, nutrition/dietetics, social work, medicine, and pharmacy. Groups of five or six students from each discipline worked together to treat a specific, simulated patient. This particular simulation portrayed a young female combat veteran primarily diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury, with secondary diagnoses of depression, binge eating, insomnia, post-traumatic stress-syndrome, and cognitive deficits. Working as a team, our goal was to assess, diagnose and create a treatment plan for this patient to help alleviate her daily struggles, such as her inability to maintain a healthy diet, pay attention during class, and communicate effectively with loved ones. To develop an effective treatment plan, these challenges needed the knowledge and skills of each of the disciplines that participated in the simulation activity.

As the simulation began, we quickly recognized the need for strong interpersonal skills. It was a challenge figuring out when to speak, when to listen, and how to deliver opinions appropriately. Common observations of group dynamics included students promptly stating their opinions on how the patient should be treated before discussing a rationale or their role; students aggressively prioritizing needs of the patient without consultation; and many students reported they were unaware or had misconceived ideas about the roles of other professionals, especially speech-language pathologists. From these experiences, the need for this type of training was even more apparent. We learned that professional roles, especially speech-language pathologists, may be unclear to others, and we found ourselves advocating for our field and its importance in making treatment decisions. We also found that many students were very knowledgeable about their discipline but lacked good communication skills. This challenge resulted in a struggle to connect constructively with other students in other courses of study. We now recognize how vital  interpersonal skills are to delivering optimum patient-centered care.

 
From this exercise we now believe an IPE approach to teaching and training can have a tremendous impact on the preparation of speech-language pathologists and audiologists. With this training, students will enter the workforce with experience collaborating with other professionals and will understand the power of teamwork to accomplish a task. When students practice interprofessionalism and see the power in collaborating with other professionals, greater progress can be achieved in the workplace. Participating in the IPE simulation has boosted our confidence by showing us how to apply our clinical knowledge and skills in a safe but functional learning environment, but most importantly, it has given us a sense of how to work as a team to improve the life of our patient, which is the essence of patient-centered care. We have definitely taken our first critical steps toward becoming truly interprofessional!

Crystal Sirl, BA, is a graduate student in the School of Speech-Language Pathology and Audiology at The University of Akron.
Grace Bosze, BA, is a graduate student in the School of Speech-Language Pathology and Audiology at The University of Akron.

 

 

How to Navigate the Profession One Binder at a Time

Binders

 

My entire professional career can be summarized by what binder I was holding, and where I was while holding it. I waltzed into my interview for graduate school with a small binder, and a ton of nerves; I entered the current school I’m working in (my first job, ever!) holding my giant binder containing my portfolio. However, the most important binder in my very “speechy” timeline is the one I took to my school practicum.

Many departments offer different variations of clinical experience, whether they’re in a clinic, school, or hospital setting. Everyone gets their hours, but sadly to say, some either have poor experiences or don’t make the best use of their time. When I entered into the first day of my school practicum, I was chock-full of bulletin board ideas, and holiday-themed crafts. I almost exploded with Velcro and stickers! Then it hit me–I was going to have five faces staring at me every day as I navigated teaching them everything they needed to know. All while attempting to be as entertaining as their Xbox or iPhones. I began to panic.

That’s when I recalled the power of supervision. I had almost forgotten the wonderful woman who showed me around the building on my first day. Oh yeah–that nice lady is going to hold my hand through the first few weeks of this! Thank the Speechy Powers That Be!

Not only did my supervisor support me through my practicum, but she let me fly. Our first sessions with the students from the self-contained classroom left my head spinning. Were we shaking maracas and throwing scarves? Did I need to invest in Velcro’s stock? How many times can we sing that song? Oh, and when will this song leave my brain!? By the third week, I was singing, shaking, and velcroing with the best of them. We had an intense caseload with fantastic kids. Everything my supervisor uttered, handed me, sent me, all went in my binder. I knew I only had this window of opportunity for so long and I had to keep it all. binder1 I left my cozy clinical experience and now have embarked upon my Clinical Fellowship Year. I went to pick up one of my first students, and was met with a non-verbal child with autism spectrum disorder. He, of course, did not have his AAC device. I grabbed his hand, said a small prayer to the Speech Gods, and we went to the classroom. It was scary, sure, but I had this; I knew what to do. Not only did I have the materials from my binder, but I had the training to go with them. Skills I learned in a classroom are necessary and invaluable (especially when I pull out those technical words in a meeting to prove a very Speechy point!). However, the knowledge I gained from my supervisor, and my school practicum, is what makes me a good speech-language pathologist.

So my advice is this: Take the time to cherish, learn from, and stumble during your school practicum. Rewrite things, ask questions, and most importantly, make sure you’re in the placement where you will learn best. I’m now navigating my CF in a new building, with new students, new faculty, and a new non-graduate student version of myself. I’m surviving and, even better, also learning something every second (or so it seems). However, I always say that if I had not had the practicum experience that I did, or my handy binder that absorbed it all, I most likely would be crying in a corner hugging my Praxis book!  

Alexis Gaines, MA, CF, is a speech-language pathologist for the New York City Department of Education. She is using Instagram to document her clinical fellowship and you can follow her @practicallyspeeching and #instacfy! You also can follow her blog “Practically Speeching.” She can be reached at practicallyspeeching@gmail.com.

Taming the Wild Editor: How to Get Published in The ASHA Leader

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All around the world, wherever their presence is tolerated, editors are notoriously cranky and unreasonable. Some are so ill-tempered, they’re like wild animals. Can you blame them? They would rather be writers to begin with. Instead, these stunted authors toil in bumpy office chairs, sip stale coffee, and cultivate eye strain and stooped shoulders … while they pore over a seemingly endless pageant of manuscripts. Their profession is based almost exclusively on spotting others’ errors—in short, being insufferable curmudgeons. And this wretched life stamps its mark all over a person’s demeanor.

Right about now, you may be thinking: Thank goodness I’m not an editor. Most reasonable readers would agree and share your relief.

But here’s the bad news: If you’re a prospective author for The ASHA Leader, editors not unlike the ones we described above will decide whether your carefully crafted proposal is accepted or rejected. Like hungry (and angry) lions locked in a cage too long without Starbucks coffee, these ferocious editors seek out any signs of weakness in your proposal … and pounce. Call it instinct.

On the other hand, nothing is as soothing to these savage editorial beasts—nothing shines so bright a ray of light into their cluttered lives—as a well-crafted, compelling story proposal. Editors feel satisfied when they find an error, but finding a storyteller fills them with joy. It’s like catnip for editor lions.

So how can a prospective author brighten a downtrodden editor’s life? How can you find a path to safety—and publication—through the famished, circling lions? We’re about to arm you with the chair, whip and confidence you’ll need to tame a pack of wild editors.

In the Leader’s general guidelines, we ask prospective writers to submit a proposal form before they spend time completing an entire manuscript. This is designed to save everyone some time, rather than writing an entire story that may not be suitable for the Leader, or for its upcoming content. And the proposal form includes a checkbox for authors to affirm that they’ve read the Leader’s writer’s guidelines.

The catch, however, is that reading the guidelines typically isn’t sufficient. The Leader’s editors look for proposals that exemplify the guidelines: lively, entertaining stories that provide practical advice or enlightening information about communication sciences and disorders. Every story needs a “hook” to draw the reader in, and should be conversational enough to keep them reading. Write sentences in an active voice. Avoid technical terms, jargon and overuse of acronyms. And per the Associated Press Stylebook, don’t include parenthetical citations in the text.

In short, if an author checks the box affirming he or she has read our writer’s guidelines, we expect the proposal to demonstrate the guidelines. If it doesn’t, the author’s chances of being invited to submit a manuscript are greatly diminished.

Some have wondered whether the Leader is still a science magazine. It absolutely is. But it is not a scholarly journal. As far back as April 1962, James Jerger declared in Asha Magazine his belief that scientific writing can be readable—that it can inspire and inform while appealing to a wide audience. (The full article [PDF] is worth a read.) The Leader’s editors share Jerger’s belief. Instead of presenting concepts only to fellow clinicians, using specialized language and tangled verbiage, we see the redesigned Leader as a vehicle for clinicians to show the public and other professionals (those in CSDs’ many and varied areas) what they do—in language most readers can understand.

So what are the most important things you can do to ensure your proposal’s best chance for acceptance? The first four come straight from Jerger’s article:

  • Write short sentences. Use a new sentence for each new thought.
  • Avoid artificiality and pompous embellishment. Write it the way you would say it.
  • Use active verb construction whenever possible. Avoid the passive voice.
  • Use personal pronouns when it is natural to do so.

Most important, craft your proposal so its inspiring, informative qualities jump off the page. Use a hook. Include sample content that whets the appetite for more. Make the Leader’s editors sit up, take notice and demand to know where your story is going. At the very least, take pains to follow the writer’s guidelines in your proposal.

After all, when you’re fending off wild animals it’s usually best to throw them a bone.

Matthew Cutter is a writer/editor for The ASHA Leader.

How One Bold Adventurer Survived the Opening of Exhibit Hall at Convention (We Think)

running of bulls

At approximately 8:35 pm on the evening of Thursday, November 14, a sheath of papers and an undeveloped roll of film were recovered by a custodian working in the Posters section of the Exhibit Hall at McCormick Place in Chicago. Tucked snugly under a (still warm) seat cushion, the yellowed, tattered handwritten manuscript and frayed film were rushed to the Leader’s office in Rockville, where they were subject to the most intense scrutiny and interrogation. Satisfied with the integrity of contents, astonished at the revelations contained therein, and aflame with ardent desire to share a unique eyewitness account of a quintessential ASHA convention event, the Leader presents the discovered manuscript in its entirety. For intelligibility, we’ve translated from the original Most Distant, Really Dullest, and Certainly Deadest Tongue.

DEAREST READER: Months of arduous sojourn across twilight epochs and treacherous terrain have brought me to this place, this moment, to this gathering of likeminded intrepid explorers poised to shatter the boundaries of convention and assail terra incognita. Mine is a wandering soul consumed by curiosity and troubled by siren calls beckoning through forbidden entryways. Standing and milling with hundreds of students and professionals outside the Exhibit Hall before it opens on the first day of ASHA convention, I am at last after all these long years among my own kind, again. We all want in, through that entrance blocked by McCormick Place staff. Right now. We’re just not always sure of the reason.

Someone pray tell—why are we here, waiting?

Huddled on the carpet some 20 feet away from the others, three students rapid-fire last night’s anecdotes and today’s possibilities while flipping through convention programs. Purses, askew tote bags and half-drunk cups of coffee ring them. Hmmm…perhaps their obviously keen attention to detail lends insights into why hundreds of us are all just, well, standing here ready to spring into whoknowswhat beyond yonder guarded entranceway.

After a lengthy, cross-city quest for a men’s restroom to change from elegant breeches and ruffles into roughen jeans and a too-plain button down shirt, I approach, ever hopeful, pen poised.

“So, are you waiting to get into the Exhibit Hall?”

Two nods, one dismissive glance back to the program.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why?”

Smiles and a chorus of replies. “I hear there’s lots of cool stuff in there—giveaways.” “My friend’s in charge of a poster session.” “I want to visit the bookstore.”

The latter speaker pauses, leaning forward. “We didn’t realize,” she hiss-whispers, “that there’d be so many people here when it opens!”

“Um…” I try to reassure. “You do know it’s open for all of convention, right?”

Shrugs. Blank stares. Heads return to programs and chatter resumes.

gary1

I next squirm, dodge, and dart my way mightily to the front, hoping to converse with those possessing a vast reservoir of experience with such opening day events. One of the security staff is more than happy to chat.

(Me out of breath after crowd-tunneling extravaganza) “Why…in the world…are there so many people waiting… to get in?”

(Chuckle) “It’s always this way, sir.”

“Any reason for it?”

(Slight shake of head and sigh). “It’s just the way these things go.” (Mt. Vesuvius yell eruption) “MAKE SURE YOU ALL HAVE YOUR BADGES READY FOR INSPECTION!!!”

I scuttle-crawl away, none-the-wiser and God help me, somewhat deafened.

gary2

It’s now about 10 minutes before the opening of the Exhibit Hall, and a most fascinating ritual is occurring. The crowd without prompting or dispute is self-organizing into a single, momentously long, serpentine line that curls and stretches into the distance across the palatial hall. Sitters and standers fall into place; no disputes, just a low murmur of expectancy rippling up and down the line. Calling upon fifth-column skills well-honed for decades in His Majesty’s Most Glorious Topsy-Turvy Revolution, I slip into line, one-third back, without incident.

There’s still time to uncover the answer.  Hmm…perhaps another direction. My laborious research en route here did uncover the venerable Black Friday tradition of frenzied mob trampling while seizing limited time deals. Maybe exhibitors likewise promise opening hour deals?

“Hey, is anyone here to nab a bargain?” I call forward and back.

Universal acknowledgment of query but a stunning silence of reply. A few shakes of heads; one roll of eyes.

Dearest reader, I…still don’t understand. But, what the heck, let’s go along for the ride.

gary3

11 am, zero hour. The line begins moving into the Exhibit Hall past security staff…steady…steady…the quick-stepping of hundreds of feet…we’re a millipede slowly picking up steam…and then the hounds unleash. Back segments of the line press forward and come alongside; we’re now four—nay, eight—across and coming on strong.

Faster. Faster. Oh boy.

A backpack-toting student a few millipede steps in front turns to me, brown eyes flashing and giggling. “Hey mister, you know why we’re here?? Because…it’s FUN!” Bursts of laughter.

We’ve just zipped past security and through the entranceway…rows upon rows of exhibits (staffed by some who seem rather startled by the human torrent) flash by to the right.

Goodness—most of us are surging left, a millipede in mad pursuit of the Poster sessions. Or NSLHA. Sustenance, perhaps? Wafts of downright delicious offerings pour in from 2 o’clock.

Pant. Pant. Fasterfasterfaster.  Woops–someone’s foot. Ouch—stand back, good sir. I must confess it’s most difficult to pen this narrative and properly capture visuals while honoring the press and pace of the crowd.

Oh my God, I can’t believe it! There’s hundreds of–

The narrative unfortunately breaks off at this point. The Leader has no reason to suspect that the author came to a grim, bone-crunching, nasty little end. We suspect that the tantalizing offerings of the Exhibit Hall were enough to draw him away from his sordid tale.

Gary Dunham, PhD, is the director of publications at ASHA. He can be reached at gdunham@asha.org.

Collaboration Corner: Supervision 101

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As a school-based clinician in the Boston area, I’m grateful to have access to some of the greatest learning institutions in the country. As an off-site clinical supervisor, I feel particularly obligated to make all that learning translate into something meaningful. In a public school placement, the school day can become insanely busy. This month I’ve decided to share a few tips that guide me both as a clinical supervisor and a professional.

Create a clear contract of expectations: Provide a copy of the school calendar with holidays, early release days. Provide a week-by-week schedule of expectations, including which specific clients your student will see, and how much supervision will be provided. Include any evaluations, reports and meetings your student will be expected to attend. Provide a mid-term check-in (even if the institution does not require it) and review academic expectations, this way you can give structured and specific feedback.

Know your learner, know thyself: Figure out early in the game, how she or he prefers to get information to you, including email or text messaging. Establish up-front what kind of feedback your student finds helpful, and how/when it is most helpful.  Generally, this seems to work if the student has pretty good insight as to how they function real-time. If they aren’t sure, provide examples. For example, do they mind if you jump in during a session, or do they prefer notes afterward?

Don’t assume anything: I usually get a list of the student’s academic resume and personal experiences. This doesn’t provide me with much information, so I go into the relationship assuming nothing. First, even if my graduate student has experience in a school, each school runs different, and has a unique culture. Second, I can’t assume they have any experience (or minimal experience) working with students like mine. Third and perhaps most importantly, don’t assume reading translates easily into application. A very clever mentor of mine once said, “Remember, you are only as smart as the last thing you read.” This is an important perspective, because not only are you teaching methodology, which brings text to life, but as a supervisor, you are setting the foundation for students’ clinical skills. Show them what they need to learn.

Encourage your student to journal: Reflective learning is the most important part of clinical growth. There is a ton of research supporting opportunities for reflection and professional development. I don’t ask students to show me their journal. I do ask them to take 10 minutes out of their week to sit down and write about two things: something that they learned that week, and something that they need to work to improve. I also encourage them to think larger, not just clinical skills, but interpersonal skills, and how they handled a difficult situation. Then, every other week or so, I have a heart-to-heart on how they think they are doing, and what they think their biggest accomplishes and challenges are thus far.

Leave at least 15 minutes twice daily for check-in: Once in the beginning before school starts to review lesson plans, and then once around lunch or at the end of the day. The first opportunity provides guidance on how to run the lesson; the second should be a chance to discuss how your student perceived the lesson-in-action.

Don’t take the little things for granted: Your students are always learning from you; this includes the good and unfortunately, the not-so-good-but-human moments. How you approach a conflict with a student or co-worker is a lesson. How you are able to comment on your mistakes (a good thing) is a lesson. So remember you are always a role model, not just as an SLP, but as a successful professional. Here’s the best part, I find students make us be the clinicians we want to be; even after a long week of parent conferences, a full moon of behavioral outbursts, or after one too many caffeine-fueled moments, they keep us accountable.

After all, after 16 years, I’m still learning, too.

Kerry Davis, EdD, CCC-SLP, is a city-wide speech-language pathologist in the Boston area. Her areas of interest include working with children with multiple disabilities, inclusion in education and professional development. The views on this blog are her own and do not represent those of her employer. Dr. Davis can be followed on Twitter at @DrKDavisslp.