Education: Rethinking Assumptions About Autistic Communication

Do Teacher Assumptions Undermine Autistic Communication in Class?

You’ve likely heard that autistic children struggle with communication. It’s baked into training materials, diagnosis criteria, and staffroom chat. But what if that assumption is wrong?

New research challenges the idea that autistic communication is broken. It shows that the real issue isn’t ability, it’s misalignment. When autistic people communicate with each other, they share information just as effectively as non-autistic people. They also report strong rapport, comfort, and understanding in those interactions. So, where does the breakdown happen? In mixed groups, where autistic and non-autistic people communicate across neurotypes.

That’s not a flaw in the child. It’s a mismatch.

The Problem Isn’t the Pupil

Classroom communication often centres on indirect, implied, or socially nuanced language. Think about how often you say things like:

• “Is that where your pencil belongs?”
• “Can we use indoor voices?”
• “Let’s think about our choices.”

These are everyday instructions. But they depend on shared cultural and social assumptions. Autistic pupils may take these words literally or pause to process them differently. That delay or confusion can look like defiance, rudeness, or delay. In reality, it’s none of those things.

Autistic communication is often clear, honest, and direct. It’s not a lack of skill, it’s a different skill. But when teachers expect neurotypical norms, they risk misreading confidence as bluntness, focus as disinterest, or silence as withdrawal.

This creates a double barrier. The child communicates but isn’t understood, and then the teacher assumes they didn’t try or couldn’t do it. See the double emapthy problem.

New Evidence, Old Habits

A 2025 study by Crompton and colleagues tested how well autistic and non-autistic adults passed on information through a structured chain (Think Chinese Whispers with each person being a link in the chain). When the group shared the same neurotype, they performed equally well. Autistic participants weren’t impaired, confused, or lost track of the details. They simply communicated differently with each other.

The issue? Mixed neurotype pairs struggled more. Rapport dropped. Understanding faltered. But this wasn’t because one person lacked skill. It happened because each expected others to follow their own social style and didn’t adapt.

Sound familiar?

In school, autistic pupils face the same challenge. The classroom expects one mode of interaction. When they bring a different—but valid—mode, it’s treated as a problem. That bias sits under behaviour policies, teacher feedback, and even safeguarding concerns.

You might have heard a colleague say:

• “He doesn’t listen.”
• “She needs to learn how to speak nicely.”
• “He just stares at me.”

These are real observations. But the interpretation is often skewed. Teachers interpret behaviour through a neurotypical lens. When a child doesn’t make eye contact, they assume disinterest. When a pupil gives a blunt answer, they assume disrespect. But what if those cues mean something else?

Why It Matters

When you misread communication, you build support plans on sand. You assume the child needs help with “social skills” or “confidence” when they may already communicate clearly in their own way. This leads to unnecessary interventions, negative school experiences, and worse outcomes.

Worse still, autistic children learn that their way of speaking is wrong. They start to mask, to copy neurotypical communication at great cost to their mental health. That might smooth over the classroom exchange, but it leads to burnout, anxiety, and loss of identity. You won’t see the damage straight away. But it builds.

If we shift the question from “Why can’t this child speak like their peers?” to “Why don’t we understand each other yet?”, everything changes.

What You Can Do

1. Rethink what “good communication” looks like
   Stop looking for eye contact or small talk. Start looking for clarity, honesty, and intent. If a child says, “You are wrong,” they’re not being rude. They’re giving you direct feedback. Handle it.
2. Ditch the deficit lens
   Don’t assume autistic communication is broken. It isn’t. It’s different, and in the right setting, it works better than you think.
3. Adapt your language
   Say what you mean. Avoid idioms, sarcasm, and indirect instructions when they confuse. If you need something, ask for it directly.
4. Push for better training
   Neurodiversity-affirming practice isn’t a bolt-on. It’s foundational. If your school’s autism training focuses on eye contact and token boards, demand better.
5. Listen to autistic people
   Not autism experts. Autistic people. Read what they write. Invite them to train your staff. Let them speak for themselves.

Final Thought

The biggest barrier autistic children face isn’t inside them, it’s in the assumptions we make about them. When teachers assume brokenness, they respond with fixes. When teachers recognise difference, they respond with respect.

You can’t build a connection if you don’t understand how someone communicates. But once you stop expecting one ‘normal’ way, you open the door to better learning, stronger relationships, and genuine inclusion.

Stop teaching autistic children to speak like you think they should. Start learning how to listen to them.

Citations

Crompton, C. J., Foster, S. J., Wilks, C. E., Dodd, M., Efthimiou, T. N., Ropar, D., Sasson, N. J., & Lages, M. (2025). Information transfer within and between autistic and non-autistic people. Nature Human Behaviour, 1-13. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41562-025-02163-z