Thursday was my first day of speech therapy. Mom drove me there and walked me in. The therapist introduced herself as Macy. She was pretty young, I guess. She asked me questions about speaking, having me write the answers, and tried to help my jaw.
Macy had me make the alphabet sounds with my jaw. I didn't really make sound, but I put my jaw into the shape it would be if I were talking. My jaw felt sore after the exercises, and I was anxious to go home.
In the car, Mom handed me her phone with the speech app open.
She downloaded that app so that I could type in what I wanted to say and the phone would speak it for me, and that way we could have conversations in the car.
"Did you like Macy?"Mom asked.
"She was okay," I tapped in.
"Do you feel more confident in speaking?"
"No."
Mom didn't seem to talk much after that. When we got home, she took me straight to school. I'd already missed two hours of school, and Mom didn't like when I skipped it.
The rest of my day was okay. I wanted to go home. The words to describe me now would be frustrated, upset, hateful, and wanting.
At the end of the day, when I was supposed to be asleep, I decided that maybe speech therapy would be a good thing. It might not actually help my talking, but I could learn more about words!
YOU ARE READING
Megan Unspoken
General FictionMegan is unusual. She's not like the other kids--she sees the beauty of words, she understands the meaningful way in which they can be put. There's only one problem--she's never spoken before. Read the story to learn what happens to Megan and how...
