Click

by Kristina Chew, PhD on April 13th, 2007

After six years of holding our hands over his on the mouse, trying computer programs like Mouse Skills, giving up for a while, pointing to the screen, buying a touch screen, more HOH (hand over hand) prompting—-after six years of all these—Charlie just started to use the mouse on his own about a month ago. There are computers in his classroom (and many of his classmates are eager to use them) and Charlie’s teachers directed him, and us, to The Kidz Page and to its online jigsaw puzzles. And one day, Charlie was moving the mouse on his own and moving around pieces until they clicked together (his teachers congratulated him so effusively that Charlie started to cry; he soon stopped and went back to another puzzle).

When Charlie was around seven years old and every other child, on and off the spectrum, seemed to be calling for computer time with various software programs and working the buttons on their Game Boys, Charlie tapped at the keys and squirmed and ran off. I came to the conclusion that, whatever Simon Baron-Cohen might say, computers were not for Charlie, at least not right now. The outdoors clearly called him—Charlie likes to walk barefoot in the grass and sand, or to push the toes of his shoes through pine needles and gravel, to climb atop play structures and look around, to look up at a tall tree’s branches. He always preferred wooden toys–blocks, puzzles, cars, trains—and the cold plastic of the computer did not seem to appeal. We kept trying and encouraging Charlie, but stopped when it seemed it was becoming more of a chore to use the computer.

In the meantime, I was reading Tito Mukhopadhyay’s The Mind Tree: A Miraculous Child Breaks the Silence of Autism and especially noted his descriptions of the disconnect between his mind and body. In more than a few passages, Mukhopadhyay seemed almost surprised that a body part, such as his hand, is actually connected to his person: “The hand had made a strange relationship with its shadow, and he fluttered it and spent his hours, contented with the long company of his shadow” (2). Indeed, the lack of connection between Mukhopadhyay’s mind and body leads to him cutting his fingers on a fan; while he knows in his mind that the fan is dangerous to touch, his hand still moves to touch it:

“Once a table fan had attracted him and he went to touch it. He cut his fingers, of course, but could not caution himself, though he had full knowledge of current, electricity and the dangers involved with it. The two stayed in their own selves, isolated from each other.” (77-78)

How many times, I thought, had I seen Charlie marking our words—”catch the ball!”—only to see the ball land in his face as his raised his hand a few seconds too late. No wonder he could not use the mouse: Not only did he have to coordinate hand and eye, but he also had to understand that the blinking cursor on the screen was where he was supposed to “point and click,” while the mouse was actually, physically, on the table. (And isn’t there something else that we kept calling a “mouse,” too……..)

In my own mind, I stopped saying “he’s got to learn this or else!” I started saying, “getting there, whenever.”

So how do I think Charlie “got there”?

First, Charlie is going to be ten years old in just one more month: With growing older has come readier understanding, and also improved coordination, both of his long fingers and of his hand-and-eye (and mind) coordination.

Second, the school OT has designed exercises to help strengthen Charlie’s fingers and he works on these everyday.

Third, playing the piano has called for Charlie to use all of his fingers on both hands. When he started to play, I realized that Charlie had been barely using his ring and little fingers on both hands. I also could see that he seems to use his index finger when he might use his thumb instead. Playing the piano has subtly helped Charlie’s dexterity with his fingers.

Fourth, seeing the other kids in the class enjoying their time on the computer may well have suggested to Charlie, why not him too.

There are probably some other reasons including, sometimes it’s just time.

Charlie has started to use a software program called Type to Learn. He still needs some help to finish an online puzzle: Charlie tends to try to move a whole block of pieces to fit the one piece that is left, rather than moving the one piece to fit into the big section of many pieces. (I think he is doing this because this replicates the order in which he does a regular puzzle: Charlie puts as many pieces together as he can into one big piece, and then moves it some, moves the smaller pieces a little, to fit everything together.) Charlie runs to sit at the computer now and looks right at the screen, and reaches for the mouse.

This website on Devices of Wonder has provided us with some moments of delight and a bit of wonder—not that I need more beyond seeing Charlie pointing, and clicking.

b5media.com

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