Tag Archives: autism

Jocelyn Cutie: Non-Speaker Finds Her Powerful Voice

At 18 months old, Jocelyn Cutie was diagnosed with autism. That was over 30 years ago.

In terms of what was known about the disorder, it might have been 300 years.

Much has been learned since then, says Jocelyn’s father Jim, a longtime Westport resident.

But what he and his wife Chris have learned — about autism, and what was locked inside Jocelyn for nearly her entire life — is breathtaking.

Jocelyn’s condition — apraxia — involves motor function, not cognition.

“She understands every word you’re saying,” Jim explains. “She just can’t respond verbally, vocally.”

Jocelyn Cutie (right) and her parents, at a party.

Until 2 years ago, Jim and Chris had no idea what was going on in their daughter’s brain.

But when she began to use a spelling board to communicate at the Mouth to Hand Learning Center in Mount Kisco, New York, her world has joined theirs.

In that short span of time Jocelyn has taken college-level poetry, literature and biology classes. She started a blog.

And she has become an advocate, speaking on panels about the use of spelling to communicate. Her words are insightful, smart — “even sarcastic,” Jim says.

Jocelyn’s story is not unique. Jim and Chris now know more than 50 spellers.

“They suffer from motor impairment, not language skill impairment,” Jim says.

“Their bodies are so greatly dis-regulated that they cannot physically execute what their cognitive brains tell them to do. Speech is physical; language is cognitive.”

Jocelyn Cutie (center) using a spelling board, with Mouth to Hand director Judy Chinitz (left) and her mother Chris.

Jocelyn’s story is similar to Wynston Browne’s, another Westporter. “06880” has reported regularly on his journey, from a non-speaker “presumed incompetent” to a teenager who can multiply three-digit numbers in his head, understands Mandarin, stars in a movie, and wants to become a neuroscientist. (Click here for several stories about Wynston.)

Jim knows there are spelling skeptics. He and his wife had a number of false starts and met some “phonies,” during their 30-year quest to help their daughter.

They even waited a year, after friends told them about spelling devices — simple devices with letters arranged alphabetically, not like a keyboard — before agreeing to give it a try. (Eye commands are used, because apraxia makes motor tasks difficult. The brain knows what to do, but the body cannot execute those commands.)

Mouth to Hand founder/director Judy Chinitz showed Jocelyn 3 boards (fewer letters makes eye tracking easier than only one), then read her a story about Stephen Hawking and disabilities. As Judy asked questions, Jocelyn answered.

“Chris and I wondered, ‘how did she know all this stuff?'” Jim recalls. “She’d been listening all those years.”

Jocelyn immediately flourished. As she poured out her thoughts — via the letter board — she joined Mouth to Hand’s blogging community.

In “Then and Now,” she wrote:

Before spelling there was nothing. There sometimes was the slightest glimmer of light in whatever hell I inhabited. The light was mainly emanated by my parents.

But the world was mainly dark: I had no way of telling them that I was in this body. I had no means of communication.

But I was totally one of the lucky ones. Had Mom and Dad not taken me to se Judy, the nightmare would never have ended. I am getting so teary now, just thinking about then and now.

Jocelyn Cutie, spelling with her father Jim.

On her blog, Jocelyn expressed herself eloquently. Describing her “self-improvement kick,” she wrote: “I am really going to try to become more of what I should have been if autism hadn’t happened. I would have been a great student and I would have been popular. Having the opportunity to do both is what M2H is all about.”

She cited “Hallmark Moments”: having friends, and thinking about life before and after Mouth to Hand.

Jocelyn with her mother. Chris is an art instructor at Mouth to Hand, teaching art history, painting, printing and photography.

She has become particularly close to another non-speaker, Judy’s 32-year-old son Alex. She wrote about inviting him and Judy to dinner. (“I will cook. Mom can be my sous chef.”)

She also went to Alex’s bar mitzvah.

I loved that service more than I can express. Everything about it was beautiful, from the singing to Alex reading Hebrew prayers and the Torah, to Judy chanting what he typed.

The rabbis were amazing, and my part in the service was lovely. Seeing Alex up on the stage for 2 hours was happiness itself; he awed all of us.

And, she wrote:

Maybe miracles can happen.

On Saturday I sat on a panel of nonspeakers at the M2H ribbon cutting ceremony. I am still riding the high. A year or so ago I couldn’t even talk. Now I am sitting on public panels, talking in front of dozens of people. I got to meet the mayor of Mount Kisco.

Can you believe this is the same Joss Cutie?

I am still in shock. Definitely, letting me talk on that panel was the greatest thing to ever happen to me.

The whole event was great. I am living the dream these days.

Jocelyn uses her spelling board, while speaking on a panel.

Jocelyn spends 3 days a week at the center. (She wishes she could go even more.) She takes poetry writing, songwriting and dance classes.

She’s in a book club there too (they just finished discussing a Robert Heinlein novel).

Looking back at Jocelyn’s previous life — including her years at Giant Steps in Fairfield, which she attended until she was 21 — Jim says, “Chris and I get pretty emotional. We can’t get certain things back. We talked ‘child talk’ to her even when she was an adult, and she called us out on it.

“Jocelyn is taking 8 serious courses. She’s talking about college courses.

“For us, we’re trying to do what she wants. She’s really a different person. Obviously, we have regrets. But we’re so glad we found Mouth to Hand. She’s harping on the ‘now,’ not the ‘then.’ And so are we.”

Jocelyn is also looking ahead. With a voice that rings out now — after 30 years of silence — she is determined to advocate for those who cannot yet speak.

(“06880” is “where Westport meets the world” — in all its complexity and wonder. If you appreciate stories like this, please click here to support our work. Thank you!)

Wynston Asks Nina: “Would You Be My Valentine?”

Wynston Browne has won Westport’s heart.

The Staples High School junior has non-speaking autism. But over the past 2 years — thanks to a communication device, a communication specialist, and the strong advocacy of his parents — he has found his voice.

His brilliant mind — locked away for years, when he was presumed to have an intellectual disability — is on display in many ways, thanks to his keyboard.

His kind, loving spirit will be seen soon in a film by Cynthia Gibb and Jill Johnson Mann. He stars in “Presumed Incompetent,” about a nonspeaking autistic teenager whose life mirrors his own.

Apraxia causes Wynston’s body to move erratically. He appear agitated and unfocused, though he is not. But he hears and absorbs everything. 

Wynston Browne, during a break from the filming of “Presumed Incompetent.”

At last, he is able to express his intelligence. He wants to be challenged in school — not presumed to be stupid or incompetent, because he can’t speak out loud.

He wants to have friends. He wants to sit in the cafeteria and laugh with them, not be laughed at.

Nina Meehan is another one of the 30 million or so non-speaking autistic people in the world.

She is 18. It took her until last year to find a way to communicate. Now — through the Nina Foundation she started — she is on a mission to prove that autism is not a cognitive disability.

It is actually a motor skill disability. There is a disconnect between the brain, the mouth and jaw, and fine motor skills like writing with a pencil or typing easily on a computer.

The brain/body disconnect makes many movements for those affected by apraxia to appear erratic. It is difficult for them to have their brain make purposeful movement.

Nina lives in Fairfield. She and Wynston know each other.

On Sunday — Super Bowl morning — she asked her older sister Natalia (a trained communication partner) if she could see Wynston later that day.

Nina Meehan, with her sister.

Her father picked Wynston up in Westport. The teenagers hung out for a couple of hours, as Natalia assisted their conversations.

When Wynston’s father David arrived to pick him up, Wynston made it clear — gently, but forcefully — that he’d prefer not to go.

David said that dinner (and the Super Bowl) were waiting. He asked if Wynston wanted to say anything else before leaving.

Natalia raised the letter board. Wynston decisively and precisely poked at the letters.

“Would you be my valentine?” he asked.

Nina grinned from ear to ear, and rocked back and forth on the couch.

Natalia brought over the spelling board. Nina poked at the letters: “I would love to.”

Wynston Browne and Nina Meehan, on Sunday.

Wynston then made clear to his father that he really did not want to go. But he would.

Nina’s mother Raquel asked the teenagers if they wanted to FaceTime on Wednesday. Their body language made their delight emphatically clear.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Wynston and Nina!

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Wynston’s mother, Lynda Kommel-Browne, adds: “As we have heard from Wynston, we realize how important it is for autistics to have friendships, love and companionship.

“This is another aspect of autism that we must concede we all got wrong.

“Human beings are social beings. Even though non-speakers’ socialization may look different than neuro-typical socialization, that doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy and crave friendship, companionship and love.

“Many families with non-speakers feel like their children have a 6th, 7th and 8th sense. Wynston is so gentle and loving most of the time.

“It makes me feel so sad that he and his cohorts have spent such a big part of their lives largely segregated from communities. I hope this shows that non-speaking autistics indeed want very much to be part of the community.”

Special “06880” Podcast: Wynston Browne

A year ago, “06880” introduced Wynston Browne to Westport.

He was a non-speaking autistic 15-year-old. But in the previous month — using a spelling board — he’d made stunning advances.

Suddenly, his parents Lynda and David realized, he was not only not intellectually disabled — he is very intelligent.

Very, very intelligent.

Wynston and Elisa Feinman, with his spelling board last year.

That was just the start. A year later — now using a QWERTY keyboard — Wynston continues to amaze. His goal is to become a neuroscientist.

Wynston’s story is remarkable. But don’t take my word for it.

See for yourself.

Today’s “06880” podcast is just 13 minutes — the shortest I’ve ever done.

Yet it may well be the most powerful, important and inspiring of all 62.

Wynston, his mother Lynda Kommel-Browne and trained communication partner Elisa Feinman joined me last week at the Westport Library.

I visited him at home a few days earlier. We chatted for nearly an hour.

Because of his motor control issues, typing is not easy. But every word was his. Watching them emerge on screen was profoundly moving.

The podcast shows him typing answers to the first couple of questions. Verso Studios producer David Bibbey edited the rest, for ease of viewing.

I hope you’ll take 13 minutes to watch the video below.

You won’t hear Wynston’s voice.

But you will never forget his words.

Weston Girl Speaks Loudly For Disability Rights

Sabrina Guerra is a non-speaking autistic 10-year-old Weston girl.

But — like everyone — her life is far fuller and richer than a few dry facts.

Just over a year and a half ago, Sabrina began communicating by typing with one finger. She became a passionate advocate for disability rights.

Now she is one of 15 winners statewide, in Senator Chris Murphy’s 7th annual MLK Day essay challenge. 

Sabrina Guerra

Nearly 2,000 elementary, middle and high school students from across Connecticut reflected on King’s dream, and their own aspirations.

Sabrina has channeled all of her experiences into her writing. It is insightful, powerful and sophisticated.

In just 200 words — the essay limit — she teaches all of us about life, and our common humanity.

Sabrina wrote:

Martin Luther King Jr. aspired to bring peace and equality to an oppressed people. I share this dream. I am of a marginalized group fighting for our right to be heard, the right to define ourselves, and the right to belong. I am an autistic non-speaker and I’ve been subjected to mistreatment and segregation because of prejudice and ignorance. Like MLK Jr., I have an inextinguishable flame for justice.

Ableism is a damaging force in society, destroying souls and sowing division. Ableism looms over America’s education system, saturates our medical institutions, and shrouds our media. In my lived experience ableism usurped my right to an equal education. MLK Jr. made history by a tireless campaign toward progress. He refused his challengers’ insistence he and his people patiently wait for justice. As was right and bold then, our revolution is now. Disabled voices must be amplified over those who have no authority to speak for us, define us, nor deny us access.

On countless occasions my mind has sailed to feats of unyielding courage of Martin Luther King Jr. and his peers. Many stinging, similar offenses and parallel dreams tie my aspirations to their journeys and leadership. My advocacy is a fire that burns within my damaged yet proud and beautiful soul.

Sabrina Guerra, in the fall.

Sabrina and her fellow essay winners will be honored at a reception this Saturday.

Senator Murphy has agreed to chat with her. She looks forward to advocating for the disabled community, while she has his ear.

And her finger on the keyboard.

(Sabrina Guerra has a Facebook page, with 3,500 followers worldwide. Click here to see.)

(Senator Murphy says: “The best way to honor Dr. King is to continue his fight for equality and justice. Every year, I’m blown away and inspired by the thoughtful reflections on Dr. King’s legacy from students all across Connecticut. Their hope and determination should remind us all that young people are changing the world.” Click here for more information on his essay contest.)

(“06880” is proud to honor the accomplishments of youngsters in Westport, and our 06883 friends in Weston. Please click here to help us continue our work. Thank you!)

 

This Halloween, Keep In Mind …

WestportMoms is our town’s go-to multi-platform destination for upcoming family and kid events, merchants and helping professional news, and and school and camp advice.

The head moms — Megan Rutstein and Melissa Post — always have every child in mind. They know “it takes a village,” and they always support ours.

The other day, they posted this advice. It comes from Dr. Ali Griffith, and is worth repeating for the (few) folks who don’t follow WestportMoms:

Wynston Browne: Autism Does Speak

Helen Keller lived for many years in Easton.

A few miles away in Westport, Wynston Browne is a 21st-century Helen Keller.

The Staples High School rising sophomore is severely autistic. He does not speak.

From his diagnosis before he was 2 years old, to just a year or so ago, everyone — including his parents and 4 siblings — thought he was intellectually disabled. His IQ was believed to be 60 or so. The books read to him were 1st-grade level.

With his detached look and inability to focus, he was assumed to be off-the-charts disabled.

Last week I spent a couple of hours with Wynston and his parents, Lynda Kommel-Browne and David. It may have been the most astonishing, eye-opening afternoon of my life.

Research shows that for Wynston and others, the inability to speak is not cognitive. It’s muscular.

He cannot make connections between his brain, and his mouth, jaw and tongue. But Wynston’s brain is spectacularly active.

And it always has been.

Using a spelling board — a simple, low-tech device with letters and numbers he points to — and working with an extremely gifted, dedicated and professionally trained communication partner named Elisa Feinman, Wynston has made great progress in the past year.

Wynston’s low-tech spelling board. Pointing to letters is easier than typing, for someone without fine motor skills.

But in the last month, his parents say, his growth has been phenomenal — about 10 years’ worth of progress. They now know he can graduate from high school, and go on to college.

He might even follow the path blazed by Dan Bergmann, a non-speaking Harvard Extension School graduate, who gave his school’s commencement address.

Or the co-valedictorian at Rollins College, Elizabeth Bonker,

Wynston might follow 2 top University of California-Berkeley undergraduates, one of whom graduated with a 4.0 GPA. He’s headed to Vanderbilt, to earn a Ph.D. in neuroscience.

Or UCLA’s first non-verbal graduate,who earned summa cum laude honors.

During the pandemic, Lynda and David heard about organizations promoting the idea that non-speakers had motor — not intellectual — differences. Wynston began working with the letter board about a year ago.

He points to the letter he wants, to spell out words. It’s easier than typing. Because of motor difficulties, when non-verbal people make typos, it’s assumed they lack intelligence.

Elisa holds the board for Wynston. But what he does with it is amazing.

It’s inspirational. And life-changing.

Wynston and Elisa, at work with his spelling board.

In the past month, Wynston’s parents have watched in wonder as he not only answers questions and does math problems, but demonstrates abstract thinking. He expresses his emotions — something it seemed he was never able to describe — and answers open-ended, personal questions.

On Fathers Day, Wynston spelled out, and Elise wrote down, a card to his dad.

“I like to give my dad hugs,” he said. He wanted to honor his father by being “the best person I can.” He vowed to work hard “to increase my skills like communication.”

His spelling board, he added, makes him feel “happy.”

Wynston’s Fathers Day card. He spelled out the answers to Elisa Feinman’s questions; she wrote them down.

Suddenly, Wynston’s world has been unlocked. It’s not unlike Helen Keller spelling “water” for the first time with Anne Sullivan.

There were several books on Wynston’s table. I chose a biography about Temple Grandin — the scientist, animal behaviorist and autism advocate.

I read a few pages out loud. Wynston did not make eye contact; it looked like he was not even listening.

But he sure was.

Wynston Browne learned — and remembered — everything about Temple Grandin.

When I was finished, Elisa asked him some questions. Where did Grandin earn her master’s? (Arizona State). What was her major? (Animal science.) What was her highest degree? (Ph.D.).

He did the same with a book about the atom bomb, which Elisa had read to him a couple of days earlier. He remembered Lyman Briggs (head of FDR’s Uranium Committee — a name and group I’d never heard of), He spelled every word correctly — including “physicist,” which trips up many people.

And he did it all despite never having had a formal spelling lesson.

For years, Lynda says, “He was learning basic math. Because he couldn’t express how easy it was, he exhibited extreme behavior” — rocking and other motions. “That reinforced for others that he did not understand basic math. Bur really, he knew much more than that.”

Elisa held up a board with numbers. Wynston quickly went through addition, subtraction, multiplication and division problems well beyond “basic math.”

Then it was time for a chess lesson. The game demands many types of intelligence: pattern recognition, thinking ahead, analytical skills, long-term memory.

Wynston made his moves quickly and confidently.

Scenes like these excite and hearten his parents — and make them angry and wistful too. They rue the nearly 15 years they held low expectations for him. They wonder what he felt all those years, with so much intelligence bottled up inside, and no way to express it.

Wynston Browne (3rd from left), with his parents and 4 siblings.

“I get goosebumps,” Elisa says, her voice breaking. “I feel we wasted so much time. But now he will excel. and we will push him as far as we can.”

“Wynston is not non-verbal,” Lynda emphasizes. “He is non-speaking.”

She notes one small sign of Wynston’s abilities to think deep thoughts, and express them well. The other day, she asked him which dog he preferred: his service animal, or the family pet.

He chose the one with “a calm temper.”

On the outside, Wynston may not seem calm. He rocks, makes repetitive motions, and is in constant motion.

It took nearly 15 years for the people closest to him — his parents — to realize that his brain was moving just as rapidly. He had thoughts, ideas and feelings — but no way to “speak” them.

Now he does.

Wynston Browne is non-verbal. But he’s not unintelligent.

Far from it. He’s learning how to communicate well. He’s learning many things people thought he never could.

And the rest of us are learning that he may very well be gifted.

(Hat tip: Jill Johnson Mann)

(“06880” posts stories like these, thanks to reader support. Please click here to contribute.)

Evan Stein: “I’m A Very Lucky Father”

Evan Stein is a native Westporter, a 1992 Staples High School graduate, and a proud father.

He now lives in Manhattan, and works as a neuroradiologist in Brooklyn. But he, his wife and boys will be at Compo all summer long. (They ponied up for an out-of-town beach sticker.)

On this Father’s Day, he reflects on the challenges — and joys — of a special type of fatherhood. The piece was posted this past Thursday on “The New Normal.”

Sometimes I feel bad about being a father of a child with autism. And then something crazy happens.

This week it was something tragic. A little boy who was born the day before my son, in the same hospital 10 years ago, died in a tragic accident while on a joyful visit to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. And now, I can’t sleep.

I don’t think my son could enjoy the Baseball Hall of Fame. He doesn’t really like baseball. I think he thinks he’s supposed to like it. He even tried a Challenger League (Little League for kids with special needs) last year.

Josh Stein

When he said he wanted to try it, I ran to a sporting goods store to buy him a lefty mitt. They asked if I wanted to donate $2 to help children with autism. I said, “this whole purchase is to help a child with autism!”

He wore the mitt twice. He stood in the field and waved his bat at the ball. He ran to first. He ate 2 hot dogs.

It’s always 2 hot dogs. He prefers CitiField to Yankee Stadium. It’s not the Mets or the better sight lines. It’s Shake Shack. CitiField has it. Yankee Stadium does not. 2 hot dogs. Always 2 hot dogs. Shake Shack because he’s a hot dog snob.

But he’s mine. If he wants to repeat 10 jokes or skits from Sesame Street with Ernie and Bert or Neil Patrick Harris as the Fairy Shoe Person or Lin Manuel Miranda as Freddy Flapman or a bit with the Good Cop and the Bad Cop from the LEGO Movie or from some other video on YouTube that I can’t stand but he loves, I’ll do it.

I’ll let him do the sequence of jokes and skits 10 times in a row. Sometimes 20. When I’m supposed to do it alone or it’s a team act, like Abbott and Costello, I’ll let him correct me until I get the accent just the way he wants it and say it with the inflection he prefers. I’ll do it over and over because when I get it right he smiles and giggles and laughs.

Josh enjoys Compo Beach.

He’s falling behind his grade level because it’s hard to get him to pay attention to his lessons. His academic progress seems to be slower and slower while the therapists and teachers focus on keeping him focused.

I would work on his homework with him but he won’t let me. I’d teach him multiplication and math tricks I’ve learned but it’s pointless. His memory lets him memorize arithmetic in a way that often surpasses my skills. And he’s starting to get fractions now — at least that’s what I see in his reports from school. He doesn’t do that with me. Mostly, he leaves school in school and only acquiesces to homework with his therapists but not with me. Maybe someday.

He likes when I take him to run short distances at New York Road Runner events and he runs 400 yards with a smile burned onto his face. He loves the cheering and the medal around his neck. And then he wants the 2 hot dogs at Shake Shack. And he wants to pick the Shake Shack. Even if it’s one that’s 45 minutes away without traffic. And I’ll take him because I just want to see him smile.

The Stein family

I give him almost whatever he wants whenever he wants. I’m pretty sure it makes me a bad dad but he has the short end of the stick and I’m not sure the stick is ever going to get any longer. I’ll usually give him whatever I can to make him happy.

Except when he makes me crazy.

I’ll try again tomorrow to not yell when he makes me crazy. When he asks one too many times for me to do it again. When he says something mean to me or his mom or his brother for no reason other than that he likes the way it sounds to say idiot or moron or jerk. He doesn’t mean it and I think he knows it’s wrong but it’s just one more thing that he can’t seem to control. And getting upset is stupid (another favorite word of his) because then he knows he got me and that’s really his goal so when I get upset I’ve lost twice.

But he’s here and he’s mine and I don’t ever want to lose him.

Josh, as a newborn

My son has autism. Being a father isn’t what I thought it would be but maybe it’s the same father I would have always been.

I’ll never know. Can’t really compare it to being a father to my son without autism because he’s still the son to a father who is the father of a boy with autism. It will always be an uncontrolled experiment.

I love being his father. Being father to both of them. Separately and together.

I’m very lucky. Really, I am. Sometimes I just need a reminder of just how lucky.

Ethan And Billy Joel Go Viral

Ethan is a 6-year-old kindergartner in the Westport Public Schools.

He’s on the autism spectrum, as a very high functioning child.

He’s also a very talented musician. After hearing a song 2 or 3 times — pop, classical, whatever — he plays it perfectly on the piano. It’s a full mind and body experience for him — he’s totally into each piece.

Recently, his mother Allison — who, with her husband Michael, is the top fundraiser in Fairfield and Westchester Counties for Autism Speaks — filmed a video of Ethan playing piano, and singing, “Piano Man.”

Ethan’s speech teacher, Shari Goldstein, uploaded it to YouTube. Shari’s friend saw it and sent it along to Reddit. They put it on their “Featured Videos” page.

In less than 2 days, it’s gotten over 55,000 views. Over 300 people have posted great comments.

Ethan loves audiences as much as he loves music. Last year he performed in front of a huge crowd at an Autism Speaks benefit.

But that was nothing compared to this.

Today, Ethan has an international audience.

And it grows every minute.

(To make a pledge toWalk Now for Autism Speaks on Ethan’s behalf, click here.)