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In Autism Therapy, Kasey Giordano Uses Silence to Connect with Students

Kasey Giordano, a student in the Katz School's M.S. in Speech-Language Pathology, is currently completing a clinical rotation at Children鈥檚 Specialized Hospital.

By Dave DeFusco

In a bright therapy room filled with toys, Kasey Giordano waits with quiet determination. She doesn鈥檛 speak. She doesn鈥檛 prompt. She doesn鈥檛 rush to fill the silence. She waits鈥10 seconds, 12 seconds鈥攗ntil the young boy across from her, a child with autism and minimal verbal skills, meets her gaze, looks at the bubbles in her hand, then back at her again. He doesn鈥檛 say the word 鈥渕ore,鈥 not yet. But his body speaks for him. And for Giordano, a student in the M.S. in Speech-Language Pathology, that small exchange is nothing short of profound.

鈥淭hat wait time鈥攊t鈥檚 everything,鈥 she said. 鈥淲hen I slowed down, I created the space for him to communicate. That鈥檚 a win.鈥

For Giordano, who is currently completing a clinical rotation at Children鈥檚 Specialized Hospital, each of those 鈥渨ins鈥濃攁s tiny as they may seem to an outsider鈥攁re reminders of why she chose speech-language pathology in the first place. And why, of all the hospitals in the state, this one in particular means everything to her.

Kasey Giordano is helping a student improve articulation by combining speech therapy with sensory integration, using hopscotch and target words to practice specific sounds.

Long before she ever stepped into a therapy room, Giordano grew up watching her mother hustle through long shifts as a social worker at Children鈥檚 Specialized Hospital. Whether it was early mornings, late nights or weekends, her mom showed up鈥攁lways鈥攚ith energy, empathy and an unshakable commitment to helping families navigate some of the hardest moments of their lives.

鈥淪he busted her butt every day,鈥 said Giordano. 鈥淪he had this impact on people. You could feel it. And I remember thinking, 鈥業 want to be like her. I want to make a difference like she does.鈥欌

Her mother鈥檚 ability to switch seamlessly between the loving warmth of 鈥淢om鈥 at home and the composed, confident presence of a social worker at the hospital left an indelible mark. 鈥淪he鈥檚 such a great communicator鈥攕o bubbly and loving,鈥 said Giordano. 鈥淲atching her operate in both roles, I realized the power of communication, of presence. That was inspiring.鈥

It鈥檚 no surprise, then, that when it came time to choose a career path鈥攁nd later, a clinical rotation site鈥擥iordano had her sights set. 鈥淚 told myself, 鈥業鈥檓 going to get to Children鈥檚 no matter what it takes,鈥欌 she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 where I belong.鈥

Giordano enrolled at the Katz School not just with a dream but with a mission: To become an advocate for individuals with complex communication needs. Her belief in communication as a human right is deeply rooted.

鈥淣o matter your shape, size, color or ability鈥攅veryone deserves a voice,鈥 she said. 鈥淚 want to help people find theirs, even if that voice comes through gestures, facial expressions or technology.鈥

At Children鈥檚 Specialized Hospital, the nation鈥檚 leading provider of inpatient and outpatient care for children with special health challenges, Giordano is turning that mission into practice. With 14 locations across New Jersey, the hospital treats children from birth to 21 years of age facing everything from chronic illness and brain injuries to behavioral and developmental disorders.

鈥淜asey鈥檚 work at Children鈥檚 Specialized Hospital is a testament to the importance of human connection in patient care,鈥 said Dr. Marissa Barrera, assistant dean of health sciences at the Katz School. 鈥淓ffective clinical care is not about fixing or forcing鈥攊t鈥檚 about creating space, honoring each patient鈥檚 pace and believing that every form of communication is meaningful."

Her daily caseload includes children with expressive and receptive language deficits, articulation challenges and joint attention difficulties鈥攃hildren whose brains developed differently and who may struggle with even the most basic communication tasks.

鈥淪ome of the kids I work with don鈥檛 speak much at all,鈥 she said, 鈥渂ut that doesn鈥檛 mean they鈥檙e not communicating. My job is to figure out how.鈥

In one recent session, Giordano worked with a young client on the autism spectrum who was largely nonverbal and resistant to traditional play. 鈥淗e doesn鈥檛 enjoy toys. He doesn鈥檛 engage naturally. And I鈥檓 this big, bubbly person,鈥 she said. 鈥淏ut I realized I couldn鈥檛 expect him to match my energy鈥擨 had to match his.鈥

That meant adjusting her tone, her pacing, her expectations. It also meant honoring silence as part of the therapeutic process. 鈥淲e take communication for granted. Most people respond in a second or two,鈥 she said. 鈥淏ut for some kids, they need 10 to 12 seconds just to process. When I give them that space, they surprise me.鈥

In the case of her quiet client, Giordano used bubbles as both a toy and a tool. Blow, pause. Cap the bottle. Hold it up with a smile. Wait. Eventually, the child looked at the bubbles, then at her. A flicker of understanding. A desire. A connection.

鈥淭hat鈥檚 communication,鈥 she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not about words鈥攊t鈥檚 about engagement, intention, and understanding. These kids don鈥檛 need to come up to where I am. I need to meet them where they are.鈥

Giordano鈥檚 journey is just beginning, but the seeds were planted long ago watching her mother serve others with patience and heart. Now, standing in that same hospital, she鈥檚 learning to do the same.

鈥淥ne of my professors said, 鈥榃e鈥檙e not just teaching kids how to talk. We鈥檙e teaching them how to connect with the world,鈥欌 she said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what I want to do. That鈥檚 why I鈥檓 here.鈥

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