No failure to communicate

Bruce CotlerSpeech therapist Kristen Mulia helps a student communicate at the Hungerford School's site at IS 24 on Staten Island. Kristen Mulia had long been fascinated with spoken language. But when she was a linguistics major, that small inner voice said the study of languages might not be meaningful enough.

There were other voices, too: her mother’s and her cousin’s. Both said she’d make a great speech therapist.

“I was introduced to the idea when my cousin became a speech therapist in the New York City public school system,” Mulia said.

Because Mulia’s university didn’t offer speech courses, she registered at a college that did, attending both schools to fulfill her prerequisites.

“I broke my back but I got it all done, then went on to graduate school,” she said. “My cousin pushed me to do that.”

It was a push she’s been grateful for ever since.

She loves her work, which entails eight therapy sessions a day, ranging from one-on-one sessions to groups of three, at the Hungerford School’s site at IS 24 on Staten Island.

“Speech and language are amazing,” said Mulia, now in her second year. “I use both low-tech and high-tech devices, depending on whether the children have hearing or visual problems, or have compromised cognition with both receptive and expressive language delays.”

The low-tech devices include a “Big Mak,” which enables Mulia to record a simple utterance such as “yes.” She asks the child questions that she knows have yes answers. The child hits the device, starting the process of communication.

With the high-tech Dynavox, a kind of mini-computer, Mulia can create thematic communication pages with words and pictures.

No matter the device or level of ability of the student, “it’s all about access,” she said, “finding something that will work for them every day, not just with me, but with the teacher, the para, the occupational and physical therapists and with the parents. They need to communicate with everybody.”

Her biggest challenge is to keep from getting too emotionally involved.

“It took me awhile to be able to leave my work at work and not be at home worrying about everybody,” she said. “And I do have stressful days, like anyone in the school system, but there are always those ‘wow’ moments when you realize this is why you do what you do.”

The rewards of those moments are endless, she said, “with the opportunity to teach a child how to speak, often from scratch, like a parent or caregiver to a baby.”

Mulia’s work became doubly important to her after the cousin who encouraged her was killed in an accident at age 26.

“That motivated me even more, feeling I needed to continue the work she was doing, to carry on for her,” she said. “It’s bittersweet.”