Comunicaciones Industriales Utilizadas en el Sistema

Zion was a quiet, solitary child. He seemed especially somber for a four year old. When I think about our first sessions together, I cannot recall hearing him speak or seeing him smile. When seated in his designated spot on the classroom’s community rug, Zion appeared oblivious to even those children nearest to him. I knew that he lived across the street from school in a subsidized housing complex that contained apartments and duplexes. I also knew that his family included his mother, maternal grandmother, and a younger brother. All were African American. Zion’s mother worked full time at a local thrift store. During the day, while his mother was at work, his grandmother cared for him, his brother, and one of the neighbor’s children.

Because he lived less than a mile from school, Zion was not eligible for bus service. Every day, his mother walked him to school and accompanied him all the way to the classroom door. Their route took them past my office; when I arrived early, I often saw them pass. When this happened, I always made it a point to go to the doorway and say “Good morning” to both of them. Zion did not return my greeting. One morning, after greeting Zion and his mother, I told his mother about my research study and asked if she would permit Zion to participate. She gladly filled out the permission forms and told me that she thought the one-on-one attention “would be good for him.”

Most of the time, when Zion and his mother arrived at school, I was already in the 4–K classroom, waiting for Zion and the other children to arrive. On those days, I

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noticed that Zion’s mother remained outside the classroom door, peeking through the glass window. She appeared to be watching Zion as he performed the initial

housekeeping tasks his teacher required. I had seen parents doing this in the past; however, they stopped when they were satisfied that all was well. Zion’s mother, on the other hand, was still there after two weeks. Her face registered concern and anxiety. Because Zion entered the classroom willingly and successfully followed classroom procedures, this puzzled me. I decided to focus more of my attention on Zion—I wanted to know why his mother seemed so concerned about him.

When I sought Zion out, he would not meet my eyes and he turned his head in another direction. When I greeted him, he would ignore me and walk away. I did not see him talk to other children, nor did I see him approach his teacher or her teaching

assistant. I began to wonder about including him in my study. Would he refuse to talk to me about books? What if he wouldn’t come with me to my office?

In the meantime, I asked his teacher, Ms. Taylor, to tell me what she thought about Zion. “How is he doing?” I asked. “Does he ever talk to you or Mrs. Golden [her teaching assistant] during class?” Ms. Taylor told me that Zion did not enter

conversations or make comments. In fact, she could not remember him ever saying anything. When I asked about his interaction with peers, she said that, during small group activities, he usually ignored the children at his table. She said that, when given a choice of activities, Zion preferred to play alone, but did sometimes engage in parallel play.

Zion’s teacher also disclosed that Zion seemed “out there” and “kind of spacey.” She said that, although he did not exhibit behaviors such as flapping or rocking, she

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wondered if his lack of communication, coupled with his flat affect, indicated that he was mildly autistic. Her teaching assistant agreed with this opinion.

A few days later, Ms. Taylor told me that she received some paperwork informing her that, the year before, Zion had been in a class for children with pervasive

developmental delay (PDD). The information did not include the reason(s) why the school had placed him in special education; his teacher guessed that it was based on Zion’s language delay. I told her about his mother and how she watched him through the classroom door’s glass pane every day. Zion’s teacher and I guessed that Zion’s

inclusion in special education might be the reason for his mother’s concern. Highlights of Session One

In our first session, Zion showed a strong interest in my greetings to various students on our way to my office. He would not select a book until I encouraged him and gave him explicit permission. He used complete sentences that were grammatically correct and echoed each word I read. He experienced and seemed to understand nuanced language.

In November, when our sessions began, I was still somewhat apprehensive about Zion’s participation in my study. Since the beginning of school, I had observed little change in his behavior; his teacher and her teaching assistant agreed. The day before our sessions began, I asked Zion if he was ready to come “read books with me.” Zion replied “Yah.” The next day, he woodenly followed me down the hall and I found myself

walking ahead of him. I stopped and let him catch up. I thought about holding his hand but remembered that he and his mother did not do this when they walked down the hall. I theorized that Zion did not like this practice or was not used to this kind of physical

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contact, so I did not attempt to do it. As Zion walked, he did not look to the left or right. However, I saw him look at me with a glimmer of interest when I greeted several

children and some parents. “Good morning!” I said with a smile. Usually, the children reciprocated and many of the children hugged me. Zion continued to watch. His expression seemed to change when one child I spoke to did not respond. Because the social act of greeting seemed to attract Zion’s attention, I decided to comment on this child’s behavior. “Oh, my! I guess that little boy doesn’t feel very happy this morning or maybe he doesn’t know how to greet people yet.” I kept talking as we continued to walk. “A greeting is when you say ‘hi’ or ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ and it is always a polite, uh, a nice and good thing to greet someone back. But I’ll bet you already knew that, didn’t you?” Zion did not respond. Just then, we arrived at my office.

I invited Zion in and watched his eyes as they methodically scanned the perimeter of the room. Then his eyes circled the room again. When he seemed satisfied with his look about, I explained the book tubs on the floor in front of him. I told him that one contained books with pretend stories and the other contained books about “real things and animals.” I assured him that he could choose whatever book he wanted “every single time.” Zion stood very still and looked at the tubs. “You can choose,” I repeated. Zion bent down, grabbed the first book in the non-fiction tub and exclaimed, “I want this one ‘bout porkypines!” I was very surprised that he not only spoke, but also used a complete sentence. I also noticed that he was assertive about his book choice.

The book he chose was large and contained colored photographs. It was about hedgehogs. I was hesitant to correct Zion because I was worried that he might stop talking. I asked, “What do you know about porcupines?” He was quiet for a couple of

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seconds and he fixed his eyes on the front cover of the book. It showed a hedgehog with a blade of grass in its mouth. Zion nodded his head and stated, “Porkypines eat grass.” I agreed responding, “Yes, they do. The picture shows one eating grass.”

I continued, “Well, guess what? This is the porcupines’ cousin.” I then

pronounced it slowly by syllable, “Hedge—hog. Hedgehog.” Zion immediately put his finger on the front cover under the title, Hedgehogs (Dunn, 2011), and cautiously

repeated, “Hedgehogs.” I wondered what prompted his talking. My observations and his teacher’s input seemed to contradict Zion’s current behavior. I made a great show of praising both Zion’s knowledge concerning the location of the title and his spontaneous repetition. Then I suggested, “Why don’t we learn some stuff about hedgehogs? Would that be ok?” Zion nodded, but made no move open the book. “Why don’t you go

ahead?” I prompted. Zion made no move that signaled he might initiate sharing the book. I tried again: “Why don’t you go ahead, Okay?” “Okay,” answered Zion.

Zion spread the book on his lap. I asked him if we should “see what the words say.” He gave me an affirmative nod. I began to read the text: “At dusk”—that means when it gets dark—“hedgehogs—” Zion interrupted and echoed the word hedgehog. When I completed the sentence and read, “leave their nest to find food,” he echoed each individual word. “Good job, you read it, too!” I cried. Zion turned the page and looked at me. I took this as my cue to continue reading:

Virginia: “They [hedgehogs] have thick coats” . . . uh, that doesn’t mean like the coat we wear when it’s cold, it means their fur. But, you know, their fur is really like a coat for them! [Laughing] I never thought about that! See, teachers learn things just like kids! [Zion looks at me and nods] Okay. It says that they can have black or brown spines. Do you have on black today? [Zion is wearing black jeans, black shoes, and a black and white-striped polo shirt] What’s black?

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Zion: Yah, what’s black?

Virginia: [Thinking Zion did not understand my question] Look at your clothes. [Pointing at his shoes and then his pants] What’s black?

Zion: I know that my skin’s black!

Virginia: [Looking at Zion’s hands] H-m-m-m. Is your skin black or is your skin brown?

Zion: [Putting his hands in front of his face] Um, my skin is brown! [Appearing incredulous]

Virginia: That’s really weird, isn’t it? You’re a Black boy, but your skin is brown. [Touching a white stripe on Zion’s shirt] I’m a White woman, but is my skin white like this? [Zion shakes his head] No way, Jose! It’s light brown. It’s a shade of brown. Some people call it tan. That’s a good one! We’re both really brown! [Zion and I start laughing] Well, we were talking about your pants. What color are they?

Zion: Uh, uh, this color is blue!

Virginia: How ‘bout black? Black. Look at your shoes.

Zion: Black!

Virginia: [Touching a black stripe in Zion’s shirt] And oh, you’ve got stripes! I love stripes! [Pointing to a black, then a white stripe] These are called stripes!

Zion: Black and white stripes!

Virginia: Yes, your shirt has black and white stripes! Just like a—[Zion interrupts]

Zion: Zebra!

Virginia: Bingo! You are right, right, right!

That night I read the transcript of our first session repeatedly. Zion used many complete sentences and, most of the time, they were grammatically correct. I wondered why he didn’t talk in class. Further, when he did communicate, instead of his usual “Yah,” why didn’t he use sentences as he did during our session? Then I tried to think—why would

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Zion’s language use be different in his classroom? I hypothesized that the number of children (20) in his class might intimidate him. I also speculated that his classroom’s short, half-day sessions did not give his teachers enough time to spend with individual children.

During this session, Zion also told me some things about porcupines that appeared to demonstrate higher-level thinking. For example, he explained that porcupines had quills, but that these “were bigger than spines [the text stated that hedgehogs had spines] and probably sharper, too.” In another comparison, he said that hedgehogs ate ants (he saw an ant in one of the photographs), but quickly added that porcupines ate acorns. He then reasoned that acorns might make hedgehogs sick because they were a “different kind of animal and can’t eat the same kind of food.” I found these comparisons logical and given his age, even ventured to guess they were astute.

Last, I thought about the experience Zion and I shared during our comparison of race and skin color. He seemed to understand that physical characteristics (namely, skin) determined race. During our interchange, however, he discovered that the color used to describe his race did not actually describe his skin. Did Zion’s incredulous expression indicate that this was his first exposure to the many nuances of the English language?

Highlights of Session Two

Although Zion did not walk beside me on our way to the session (he followed behind me), he appeared enthusiastic about coming with me. In the session, he made a text-to-self connection to his family, expressed his desire to be a “big boy,” and interchanged there (Standard English) with dere (a dialectical or developmentally influenced pronunciation).

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When Zion came into class, I told him that it was his day “to go to my office and read books.” He did not comment, but he seemed to find his name tag and put away his folder more quickly than usual. His mother was outside the door and I waved. By the time Zion and I left, she was gone. I wondered whether her departure was deliberate because she did not want Zion to see her.

As we walked, I again greeted children and parents with a smile and “Good morning!” As we made our way down the hall, Zion watched me carefully. He

continued to walk behind me and I continued to wait for him to catch up. Once again, we repeated this pattern all the way down the hall. When I thought about this later that day, I realized that, in his class, Zion was required to form a line and follow his teacher

whenever they left the classroom. I was a teacher and we were outside of his classroom. I theorized that Zion transferred his classroom procedures to our situation. I guessed that, if I wanted this behavior to change, I needed to explain explicitly to Zion what he could and could not do when he was with me.

Zion again selected his book quickly. It was an informational text about bears. He seemed to remember last week’s routine and I did not need to prompt him to sit down in front of the tape recorder. Zion waited patiently for me to see if the recorder was working correctly and he remembered to say, “Testing, testing, one, two, three. When all was ready, I began our session by saying, “The title of this book is Bears (M. Berger & G. Berger, 2010). Can you open the book so that we can get started?” As he did so, I recalled what I had perceived at the time to be Terrell’s hesitancy to ask questions. I told Zion that, as we read the book, he could ask questions. “You know, like ‘What’s that?’ or ‘What’s the bear doing?’ You can also say ‘I don’t know’ if Mrs. Miller asks you

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something and you don’t know the answer.” Zion looked directly at me and seemed to be paying attention; still, he did not respond.

Zion did not seem nervous when he was in my office, nor did he exhibit any behavior that might indicate he did not want to come with me. Earlier, I even guessed that he very much wanted to join me as I watched his hurried completion of classroom tasks. Now, however, he sat down and immediately put both hands in his mouth. I had not seen him do this before and theorized that, for some reason, Zion felt insecure. His hands remained in his mouth until we began to share our book of the day:

Virginia: [Gently removing Zion’s hands from his mouth] All right. Remember that what you say is important and I want to hear it, so we can’t put our hands in our mouths. I can’t understand what you say if you do that.

Zion: Okay.

Virginia: [Opening the book] Look! Here’s the first picture. What do you see?

Zion: A big bear and a little bear [Photo shows a female bear and two cubs; Zion points] Dat da big bear and dat’s da baby.

Virginia: Oh, the little one is the baby? [Zion nods and I point to the other cub] So who do you think this bear is?

Zion: A daddy one.

Virginia: Daddy? Do you? [Zion nods] Why do you think that’s the daddy bear?

Zion: [Adamantly maintaining his opinion] Dat da daddy bear! He go

right in dis way.

Virginia: [Photograph shows female standing at the foot of a tree, watching her cubs climb into its limbs] He goes right in this way? Okay.

Well, could it be the mama bear?

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Virginia: So you don’t think that this might be the mama bear? [Zion shakes his head] Well, do you think this could be the mama bear and her two children? Her two kids?

Zion: [Smiling as if in recognition] Yah!

Virginia: Your mama has two kids, right?

Zion: Yah.

Virginia: You and your what?

Zion: A big boy.

Virginia: Big boy? Who is a big boy?

Zion: Me!

Virginia: I’m sure you are! Well, do you think the two baby bears are like you and your brother?

Zion: Yah.

Virginia: Yes, you and your brother. [Pointing to one of the cubs] So could this be Zion?

Zion: [Breaking into a wide grin] Yah!

Virginia: [Laughing] What’s your brother’s name? I can’t remember it right now.

Zion: [Undecipherable]

Virginia: Please say that again for me.

Zion: Cayden

Virginia: [Pointing to the other cub] So that’s Cayden and is the big one your mama?

Zion: Yah!

Virginia: And maybe she took Zion and Cayden out to play?

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Virginia: And you know what? Maybe that mama is teaching her kids, her cubs to climb that tree! Do you think so?

Zion: Yah!

Virginia: Just like your mama might take you out to play? Don’t you have a playground where you live? [Zion nods] Mrs. Miller can’t