The Power of Connection: How Typing Changed Our Lives

The words Asaf wrote for Maya for her 18th Birthday. I enjoy our talks, a flower for you.

Before I share our mind-blowing, phenomenal rollercoaster journey, I want to clarify something.

When I tell people that Asaf has started communicating with us through typing, they often ask, “So what, he’s typing like you and me? He can just open his iPad and send messages through WhatsApp?”

Ah, if only it were that simple. I truly wish it was and I hold onto the hope that one day it will be. One day, I believe Asaf will be able to type completely independently. For now, as is the case for many individuals who communicate through typing, one facilitator is essential.

As someone studying to become a facilitator, I can tell you that the process of typing is utterly exhausting. For Asaf, it begins with deciding what he wants to say. He must hold that thought in his mind, break it down into sentences, then into words and finally into individual letters. He then has to locate each letter on the keyboard and painstakingly press it. Unlike neurotypical people, whose typing originates in the fingers, his movements come from the shoulder, requiring his arm to stretch and his finger to press each key.

This process demands immense concentration and requires him to be free from sensory overload. Sensory overwhelm severely limits his ability to focus and type. If Asaf is tired, hungry, or uncomfortable in any way, his ability to type is significantly diminished or impossible.

In one of my first classes as a therapy student, our instructor Yael, asked us to use a keyboard to type a message to the person sitting next to us. The assignment was to share how our day had been. It took me ages to write three simple sentences and I found the effort utterly exhausting. That experience gave me a profound understanding of the sheer effort Asaf puts into every single word he types, making me appreciate his communication even more.

You might wonder, how this journey began?

For that, I have COVID and his phenomenal sister Maya to thank. During the first lockdown when we were all spending endless hours together, Maya spent a lot of time with Asaf on his iPad. One day, she ran into my room, excitement radiating from her. “Mum, Asaf knows his letters!” she exclaimed.

I’m embarrassed to admit I dismissed her. “What are you talking about? That’s impossible. How could Asaf know his letters? He’s never been taught them,” I replied.Maya was persistent. “Mummy, HE KNOWS his letters. He can write his name. Come and see.”

She was right! I was stunned and honestly had no idea what to do with this newfound knowledge.

As if the universe heard my confusion after the lockdown ended, I attended a parent support group. (I firmly believe in seeking every form of support available.) There I met a teacher from a special education school who described a course she was studying about communication through typing. I asked her to work with Asaf as part of her project.

To say this process was challenging for all of us is an understatement.

Asaf’s dyspraxia made it incredibly difficult for him to control his movements. Dyspraxia affects motor coordination, making controlled movements like typing a Herculean task. At first, he would hit the keyboard instead of pressing a single key. It was agonizing to watch him struggle to arrange his body, overcome his disabilities and attempt to press a single letter.In addition to that, his apraxia presented another hurdle. Apraxia is a neurological condition that impacts the brain’s ability to plan and execute voluntary movements. Even when Asaf looked at the correct letter, his hand might press a different one. Each time this happened, I had to resist the urge to guide his finger to the right key. The frustration bubbled inside me, but I knew I had to let him figure it out by himself. This was painful for me to watch.

Sensory overload was another challenge for Asaf. At first, he couldn’t sit and type for more than a few minutes at a time.

Tammy, his facilitator, was phenomenal. Her patience and encouragement were instrumental in helping him gain control. At first much of what he typed seemed like gibberish but gradually, glimmers of language started to emerge.

A Milestone Moment

For Maya’s 18th birthday, I asked Asaf to write her a greeting.

It took him an entire hour and all his strength to type just four words: Enjoy Talking, flower you.

I was blown away.

Four simple words that said so much, words that contradicted everything I’d been taught about autistic individuals.

His four simple words were manifestations of his thought process which meant: I see you. I appreciate you and the time you spend with me. I want to give you something meaningful.

I printed those words onto a beautiful photo of an interaction I’d captured between Asaf and Maya. Asaf presented it to Maya as a gift, along with the words Asaf gave Maya a yellow flower, her favorite color.

We were all deeply emotional. It was the first time Asaf had communicated directly with one of his siblings, and it meant the world to us.

This moment was a breakthrough — a powerful reminder of what’s possible when we presume competence and help non-speaking individuals find their voice.

Yes, the journey has been challenging, but it has also been profoundly rewarding. Every small step forward is a testament to Asaf’s strength, determination, and potential.

I share this story not only to celebrate Asaf’s progress, but to encourage others to believe in the abilities of every child, even when their communication isn’t traditional.

Presume competence. Believe in their capacity. And never underestimate the power of connection.