My AAC Story
You know it. You love it. Here it is.
Right, so.
If you’ve ever seen me speak, you’ve heard this story.
If you haven’t — welcome. This explains a lot about why I am the way I am.
I’ve told it at conferences, turned it into speeches, written it down a million times, and explained it to random people who asked one too many questions.
It’s kind of my thing.
But this is the Substack version.
The full one.
From the animal signs… to accidentally becoming one of the best Minspeak users in the world.
When I was a baby, Mum and Dad took me to Sydney for a week of therapy, where I started learning sign language.
And apparently — this is my favourite part — the only words they taught me were animal names.
Which, even as a baby, was not helpful at all.
So when we got home, I just started making up my own signs and hoped they’d figure it out.
I went through a phase where I’d put my right arm in the air, confidently invent a sign, and stare at my parents like:
Come on. This is obvious.
Eventually, they figured out one of them meant balloon.
And apparently I gave them a look that can only be described as:
thank fuck.
That was the beginning of what I like to call Siobhan Speak.
A few years later, I learned how to sign letters so I could spell things out.
But before that, I was using picture books — basically a DIY version of what we’d now call a PODD.
I couldn’t even turn the pages properly, but I’d try anyway.
And that’s how Mum knew I knew there were more words.
Then came the Big Mac buttons.
You know the ones — someone records a phrase, and when you press it, it speaks.
I refused.
Absolutely not. Not happening.
Because — and I stand by this — I don’t think many people enjoy communicating in someone else’s voice.
Even as a kid, I was like… no.
Then I got a Bob the Builder game.
Tiny buttons. About the size of keys on a DV4.
And I got really good at pressing them.
That’s how Mum realised I could actually access a communication device properly — isolate one finger, hit a target, do it consistently.
That changed everything.
Mum went to a course with my speechie and OT, learned how to program a device, and they organised a trial with a DV4.
She programmed a few things.
And without anyone really teaching me how to use it…
I just worked it out.
I knew where things were. I could have conversations. I got it.
I used that device all through primary school.
And honestly? It worked.
Everyone around me knew how to program it.
If I needed something, it got added.
I did school plays, assemblies — everything.
I wasn’t sitting on the sidelines.
Then came Year 6.
New device.
New system.
And this is where everything changed.
This is where I met Minspeak.
And I hated it.
Immediately.
I’d gone from a keyboard I knew, to a screen full of icons that made absolutely no sense.
Smaller buttons. More of them. No obvious logic.
I couldn’t just type anymore.
I had to find words.
Which, at the time, felt like a personal attack.
I was like… this is bullshit.
I had a few sessions with my speechie.
Some help from my Boccia friends.
And then… nothing.
No one really teaching me.
So Mum told me to explore.
Get stuck.
Look things up.
Figure it out.
And slowly — very slowly — I did.
Not in a nice, linear way. Just… over time.
Because it was faster.
Like, way faster.
At some point, I realised something else.
Mum wasn’t going to keep programming everything for me.
Not because she didn’t care — because she was busy.
And also because… this was becoming my responsibility.
So I waited.
And waited.
And then eventually went:
…right. Fine. I’ll do it myself.
I was using an eco2 at the time, and the programming tools were actually pretty decent.
So I taught myself.
No big moment. No formal training.
Just… needing something and not wanting to wait anymore.
And I just didn’t stop.
Fast forward fifteen years.
I’m now one of the best Minspeak users in the world.
Which sounds dramatic, but also… it’s not wrong.
I was invited by Bruce Baker — the guy who literally invented Minspeak — to speak at an international conference.
(It didn’t happen because of the pandemic, which is still rude, but the invite existed.)
I now work with Liberator Ltd as an ambassador.
I’ve worked on projects that let people control an iPhone through their communication device.
So yeah.
When I say I know Minspeak…
I mean it.
Since then, I’ve done all the normal life things.
Finished school.
Moved out.
Started uni.
Dropped out.
Built a career.
And now?
I run a business.
I speak.
I write.
I build things.
All because I have AAC.
Not in spite of it.
Because of it.
If you’re a parent reading this in the middle of the night, googling everything you can think of…
You don’t need all the answers right now.
You just need to give your child access to communication
and believe them when they show you what they’re capable of.
Because I promise you —
there is a version of your child you haven’t met yet.
And they’re probably going to surprise you.
If this is your world — AAC, disability, communication, or just figuring life out in a body that doesn’t cooperate — that’s what I write about here.
You can subscribe if you want more of it.