Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The Diving Bell and The Butterfly Trailer (Friday November 30)
City Cinemas Angelika Film Center (add to My Theaters)
(City Cinemas) 18 W. Houston St., New York, NY 10012, 212-995-2000
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
PG-13 1 hr 54 mins 8.1/10 (650 votes)
Showtimes: 12:15pm | 2:45 | 5:15 | 7:45 | 10:15 | 12:30am
Lincoln Plaza Cinemas (add to My Theaters)
(Independent) 1886 Broadway, New York, NY 10023, 212-757-2280
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
PG-13 1 hr 54 mins 8.1/10 (650 votes)
Showtimes: 11:05am | 1:15pm | 3:30 | 5:50 | 8:10 | 10:30
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
AAC: Augmentative and Alternative Communication
Until recently, people with complex communication needs have had no access to professional interpreters. The Swedish Speech Interpretation Service (SSIS) is attempting to address this problem. This qualitative study reports on how 12 persons with aphasia experienced the services of a professional interpreter from the SSIS. The results are presented in two themes: (a) The purpose of using an interpreter, which addresses issues relating to autonomy, privacy, and burden on family members; and (b) perceptions of quality of service, which addresses issues relating to the skills and professionalism of and accessibility to interpreters. Results highlight the ongoing need for the SSIS and its importance to the participants. The professional interpreter as an augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) “tool” that could be used to enhance the participation of people with aphasia in the community-at-large, is also discussed; as is whether relatives and other non-professionals or professional interpreters should interpret for people with aphasia.next....
Sunday, November 18, 2007
henrik ibsen and aphasia
During his long illness Ibsen was troubled by aphasia, and he expressed himself painfully, now in broken Norwegian, now in still more broken German. His unhappy hero, Oswald Alving, in Ghosts, had thrilled the world by his cry, “Give me the sun, Mother!” and now Ibsen, with glassy eyes, gazed at the dim windows, murmuring “Keine Sonne, keine Sonne, keine Sonne!” At the table where all the works of his maturity had been written the old man sat, persistently learning and forgetting the alphabet. “Look!” he said to Julius Elias, pointing to his mournful pothooks, “See what I am doing! I am sitting here and learning my letters —my letters! I who was once a Writer!” Over this shattered image of what Ibsen had been, over this dying lion, who could not die, Mrs. Ibsen watched with the devotion of wife, mother and nurse in one, through six pathetic years. She was rewarded, in his happier moments, by the affection and tender gratitude of her invalid, whose latest articulate words were addressed to her—“min soede, kjaere, snille frue” (my sweet, dear, good wife); and she taught to adore their grandfather the three children of a new generation, Tankred, Irene, Eleonora. Next....
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