When you first start AAC, you get a lot of advice. SLPs, Facebook groups, blog posts, YouTube videos. Everyone has an opinion. Some of it is helpful. Some of it is contradictory. And some of the most important things never get mentioned at all.
This post is about those things. The stuff we wish someone had said clearly, up front, before we learned it the hard way.
"It's going to feel pointless for a while"
Nobody warns you about the silence. You set up the device, you model religiously, you tap symbols during every meal and every bath and every car ride. And your child does... nothing. They don't look at it. They don't reach for it. They keep communicating the same way they always have.
This phase can last weeks. Sometimes months. And during that time, you will question whether you're wasting your effort.
You're not. Your child is in the input phase. They're absorbing language the same way they absorbed spoken language for months before their first word. The difference is that with AAC, you can see the device sitting there unused, and it feels like evidence of failure.
It's not. Keep going.
"You are the most important part of this, not the device"
We spent weeks researching apps. Comparing symbol sets. Debating grid sizes. Agonizing over which voice to use. Those decisions matter, but not nearly as much as we thought.
The single biggest factor in AAC success is how consistently the people around the child use the system. A mediocre app with dedicated modeling will outperform a perfect app that sits in a drawer.
If you're spending more time customizing the device than actually using it with your child, stop customizing and start modeling at home.
"Don't hide the device"
Early on, we made the mistake of treating the AAC device like a therapy tool. We'd bring it out during "practice time," use it for 15 minutes, and then put it away. This makes intuitive sense. You don't leave therapy materials lying around, right?
Wrong. AAC isn't therapy. It's a voice. You wouldn't put duct tape over your child's mouth between therapy sessions. The device should be accessible all day, every day, in every room.
On the kitchen counter during meals. On the couch during TV time. In the stroller during walks. In the car. At grandma's house.
Communication opportunities don't follow a schedule. Neither should the device.
"Other people's opinions will be loud"
Family members, strangers, sometimes even professionals. "Isn't he too young for that?" "If you give her that tablet, she'll never learn to talk." "In my day, kids just figured it out."
This is the hardest part that has nothing to do with AAC itself. You'll second-guess yourself every time someone raises an eyebrow. You'll wonder if they're right.
They're not. Decades of research show that AAC does not hinder speech development. The people questioning your decision likely haven't read a single study on the topic. You have.
That doesn't make it easy. But it does make it clear.
"Start with fewer words than you think"
The temptation is to load the device with every word your child might ever need. 200 symbols on the home screen, organized by category, covering every topic from food to emotions to places.
Your child will be overwhelmed. You'll be overwhelmed trying to model. Nothing will stick.
Start with 4 to 6 words. Seriously. "More," "stop," "want," "go," "help," and "all done." Model those across every routine for two weeks. Then add a few more. (If you're not sure which words to pick, our guide on core words to teach first breaks it down.)
The families who try to do everything at once usually burn out within a month. The families who start small and build gradually are the ones still going a year later.
"Progress doesn't look like what you'd expect"
We waited for the big moment. Our child pressing a button, looking us in the eye, and clearly communicating a want. A movie scene.
The actual first signs were much subtler:
- Glancing at the device when we modeled
- Reaching toward the tablet during snack time
- Pressing a button and looking surprised at the voice output
- Tapping "more" during a totally unrelated activity (but tapping it)
These small moments are easy to miss if you're looking for dramatic breakthroughs. Pay attention to the quiet shifts. They're the real progress.
"You'll model wrong, and that's fine"
You'll tap the wrong symbol. You'll forget to model during an entire meal. You'll spend three days barely touching the device because life got busy. You'll feel guilty about all of it.
None of it matters as much as you think. Consistency over months is what drives progress. A few off days, or even off weeks, don't erase what your child has already absorbed.
The parents who succeed at AAC aren't the ones who model perfectly. They're the ones who keep coming back to it after the imperfect days.
"Your child's SLP might not know AAC well"
This one is uncomfortable but important. Speech-language pathologists are trained in a broad range of topics, and AAC is just one of them. Some SLPs have deep AAC expertise. Others have minimal experience with it.
If your SLP seems uncertain about AAC recommendations, doesn't model during sessions, or suggests waiting to see if speech develops first, seek a second opinion. Ask specifically for an SLP with AAC experience. The difference in guidance quality can be significant.
This isn't a criticism of SLPs generally. It's a recognition that AAC is a specialization within the field, and specialization matters.
"Celebrate function, not form"
Early on, we got frustrated when our child pressed "more" to mean "I want that thing" instead of its literal meaning. It wasn't "correct." They were using the wrong word.
Except they weren't. They were communicating. They found a symbol that got them what they wanted and used it intentionally. That's a massive achievement.
Correctness comes later. Function comes first. If your child is pressing any button on purpose to get a result, they've figured out the fundamental principle of AAC: this device can get me what I need.
Don't correct that. Build on it.
"It changes more than just communication"
We started AAC to give our child words. What we didn't expect was how it would change everything else.
Meltdowns decreased because frustration decreased. Our child could say "stop" instead of screaming. They could say "want" instead of grabbing.
Family dynamics shifted. Siblings started using the device to talk to their brother. Grandparents who had been distant started engaging more because they finally had a way to connect.
Our own understanding of our child deepened. We learned what they thought was funny, what they were afraid of, what they preferred. Things we'd only guessed at before.
AAC didn't just give our child a voice. It changed the whole family.
"Start today, not next Monday"
The biggest regret we hear from AAC families is the same one: "I wish we'd started sooner." Not because the early weeks are easy. They're not. But because every week you wait is a week your child doesn't have access to communication.
You don't need the perfect app. You don't need to finish reading every blog post about core vocabulary. You don't need your SLP to give you a formal plan.
Download SabiKo. Put "more" and "want" on the screen. Model during dinner tonight.
That's enough to start.
Download SabiKo free and begin today, not next Monday.