Do we let them speak?
Too often, even when "he" is no longer a child, we speak for him.
Too often, we speak about "him," even in his presence, in the third person.
Too often, our "go on, speak up!" only deepens his anxiety that he cannot keep pace with us.
Too often we rush to talk and talk about "him" and his affairs, cutting short, smothering, preventing the words on "his" lips from ever coming out.
With "him" we cannot let ourselves get caught in the fever that always drives us—the hurry, the impatience. With "him" we need patience, patience, no rushing. And we are always in a rush.
What we often lack is this: the conviction that "he" has something to say, something to tell us, something that matters to us and that deserves time—his time, not ours—to be said.
His presence
We should never think it pointless to speak when a mentally handicapped young person is present. Quite the opposite: we know well, and he shows us again and again, how much he enjoys being with us, being there when we talk, even with other people around, even when we discuss things that seem difficult for him.
Our judgment about his ability to understand is often turned upside down. The truth is, he often understands—more or less as a whole, or intuitively—far more than we think. So let us not rush to declare, neither in excess: "He understands everything!" nor in deficit: "He understands nothing!" or: "He understands it all backward!"
Speaking to him
It is not enough to speak in his presence. We must speak to him: not merely address him, turn toward him, converse with him.
Speaking to him means adopting a certain slowness (without affectation, as we would wish someone to speak to us when we are learning a foreign language): enunciating words clearly, avoiding uncommon or too-foreign words, without impoverishing our language excessively and above all without robbing him of that symbolic richness which is, on the contrary, one of the best paths to his understanding—and without falling, absurdly, into an artificially childish style.
Simple vocabulary, then, that will let him build his own: rather than avoid a new word, it is better to gently explain it to him.
It is worth remembering that—as when learning a foreign language—the number of words he understands passively far exceeds the number he uses actively in conversation.
"He" is able to understand from our lips many more words than he will use in speaking.
Giving him the desire to speak
It seems obvious, yet it is not: we must remember to help "him" feel the urge to speak, to create the occasion for speech, to allow him the time to speak.
A attentive listener will catch a half-finished word on the wing, pick up a sentence mumbled under his breath, wait for "that to happen," encourage repetition and explanation—not as mere exercise, but by showing that what "he" wants to say matters to us.
And we must learn to go further: give him the floor at meetings, especially at conferences about his own affairs—we have seen it done, and the audience seemed to learn far more from him than from the long speeches of those third parties who are inevitably the non-handicapped.
Knowing how to listen
It is important to emphasize the effort we must absolutely make to truly "listen" to the person called "weak" when he speaks; to perhaps precede his words with questions but above all with genuine interest in what he says, what he may say, his opinions, what matters to him.
All the more important is it to receive well any question he may ask—and if he does ask, it is rare enough to deserve welcome, to be taken seriously, genuinely considered, and encouraged.
The best encouragement is to answer it.
Knowing when to be silent
If it matters to know how to listen, silence comes right after. If listening calls for silence "during" and "after," it will be equally hard to resume the conversation—out of discretion, out of respect for our listener and for the words he has spoken.
Too often we think that words from "him"—whether because they seem unimportant or because they amuse us—can be repeated elsewhere.
In doing so, we fail in respect for a right of the person: if we think about it, we do not behave this way toward so-called normal people when they confide in us.
It is up to us to earn "their" trust and to push back against the disrespectful behavior we often witness toward them—behavior that humiliates them and may, in some cases, silence them altogether.
Knowing how to answer
Finally, we must answer.
This is not always easy—first of all, because to answer truly, we must have listened truly and understood. Often we have not.
And because the question can embarrass us, even if that may seem strange: questions from the so-called "weak" are not always weak questions.
An effort must be made to ensure our answer is truly comprehensible.
We must be careful to use language that is simple, that is understood, digested, "taken in" by "him," avoiding floods of words. Instead, we should remember—and this is a fine exercise for everyone, always, in all circumstances—that the clearer we hold the answer in our own minds, the better it will be expressed and therefore understood.
For these educational insights we have drawn on the book "L'Adulte handicapé mental" by Henri Bissonier, ed. Fleurs—Paris