By Andryce Andres / June 2026
Getting an AAC device is not the destination.
It’s one step on the winding journey of a labyrinth of communication.
It’s an exciting step, an overwhelming step, and a step filled with possibility.
A robust system arrives with thousands of words and a keyboard to generate even more words.
A portal into everything a child might say.
It’s like handing someone a dictionary to a new language. Gifting the child a tool full of words, yet without the lived experience of speaking them.
When the AAC device arrives, it brings along an unexpected guest: an expectation that the child will suddenly say all that they’ve longed to say. It’s a long-awaited communication tool. It’s a lot of pressure.
I’ve seen what that pressure can do.
Families in tears, feeling the weight layered in hope.
Team members pointing fingers when IEP goals aren’t met.
Children hurling their brand‑new device across the room.
A moment meant for celebration erupts instead into a volcano of disappointment, disagreement, disconnection.
Yet a dictionary is not fluency. A device is not a demand.
It is an invitation to learn a language – together.
But this step is still sacred. It deserves celebration, spaciousness, breath.
So how do we reclaim it?
By remembering that communication grows through language immersion – through modeling, creating space and pause, and sharing joy to explore, to play, to learn together, to build an environment where communication grows in partnership, not pressure.
