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cla@umn.edu
612-624-9839
Talking the talk
By Deane Morrison
Jack Avery
Photo by Bridget Brown
Jack Avery
Assistant clinical specialist
Education
B.A., English; M.A., communication disorders, U of M
Professional activities
Chair of the Twin Cities Speech-Language Pathologists continuing education forum and co-adviser to the U of M chapter of the National Student Speech-Language-Hearing Association.
In his spare time he enjoys…
Travel and theater. In his student days, Avery traveled for years in Europe.
Memorable professional gig
Consulting on a play about aphasia (the loss of language following a stroke) staged by a Twin Cities theater company.
You'd never guess…
He worked in the marketing department of a bank. There he watched people manipulate language in advertising and saw them as one end of a continuum. He wondered what it was like at the other end—where the “marvelous tool of language" had been lost.
What he loves about his job is…
The complex interplay of “everything behind communication." The shades of gray one sees in brain injury and people. “I love that unpredictability.”
Big project
He's a member of a national task force (chaired by assistant professor Mary Kennedy) writing evidence-based practice guidelines for the cognitive-linguistic treatment of survivors of brain injury.
Favorite success story
Coaching a severely aphasic survivor into being able to say his name, address and phone number.
Confronted daily with the challenge of helping survivors of stroke and brain injury communicate, speech-language pathologist Jack Avery works with clients to maximize their success and independence.
People who have difficulty communicating following a stroke or a brain injury may find family and friends to be impatient and uncomfortable. They may feel isolated and misunderstood. But speech-language pathology services can help, says Jack Avery.
Avery confronts the impact of changed lives every day. His clients are adults who have lost communication skills following brain trauma. They may have trouble understanding what others say, have difficulty finding the right words, or even be unable to speak. Whatever the injury, it's Avery's job to help clients recover what abilities they can and compensate for those that are gone for good.
Over the last three years, Avery has built a leading-edge clinical program to educate speech-language pathology graduate students to work with adults with brain injuries. The Department of Speech-Language-Hearing Sciences hired him to strengthen this area of clinical education—and strengthen it he has, in part through clinical relationships with the Minnesota Stroke Association and the Minnesota Brain Injury Association, as well as with social service agencies in the 7-county metro area.
“Jack is a tireless advocate for individuals with brain injury,” says Leslie Glaze, director of clinical programs in the department. “If an individual can't achieve a certain standard, he'll work with the caregiver or the environment to support whatever communication skills are still there and make the most of what the client has.”
For his part, Avery finds great satisfaction in breaking through a person's disabilities to find a path to communication. His clients come to the Julia M. Davis Speech-Language-Hearing Center in Shevlin Hall, where they receive low-cost help dealing with some of life's unexpected tragedies. The help is personalized to fit each person's situation.
“A huge part of what we do is helping clients acquire their greatest level of independent functional communication,” says Avery. “Spoken language is great when it can happen. If it doesn't work, though, we have to figure out what can be done for people to express themselves and understand what others are saying to them. We practice talking and listening, but we also practice what to do when those skills don't support their needs. We may coach a client to ask for repetition or a written version of the message if they don't understand. If words don't come, we coach them into writing, drawing, gesturing, or even acting out a concept they are trying to express.
Avery also works with family members, teaching them “to be more supportive of the clients' communication efforts." He recalls observing a stroke survivor and her adult daughter become increasingly frustrated over their failed attempts to communicate. “With some coaching from us,” he says, “the woman was able to use a photo to correct her daughter's misunderstanding, and the rest of the conversation was easier. It's amazing how people with very little speech can be effective communicators with people who know them.”
Equally satisfying, Avery says, is the thrill of watching graduate students shed their insecurities and become skillful novice speech-language pathologists. Avery teaches students to understand and appreciate what clients were like before their injuries and to try different treatments. The only rule is: Do what works for the client.
Two of Avery's clients are men in their late 20s who lost speech and language communication skills following assaults. It's especially difficult for students when the clients are so young and their injuries so grave, says Avery. But under his tutelage the students overcome their qualms and bring “great creativity in treatment design" to their therapy tasks.
Avery's commitment to his work is fueled by society's treatment of people with brain injuries. “When a balloon got loose during the Macy's parade and a woman suffered a brain injury when she was hit by it, her tragedy was talk show humor,” he says. “And there's a profound lack of awareness of the severity of brain injury. In cartoons, sitcoms, and movies, people are always getting knocked unconscious with no lasting injury.
“I'd like to see people with brain injury get the same compassion and understanding as those with other chronic injuries or diseases.”
