Communication: Stop Saying “Use Your Words”

We are in the middle of a busy classroom. It is loud. The lights are humming. A student, let’s call him Sam, is getting red in the face. He is clenching his fists. He is making that low growling noise that every special needs teacher knows. He stomps his foot. He reaches out and shoves the table.

And what did I say? For years, what was my automatic, programmed response?

“Sam, use your words.”

I cringe when I think about it now. Honestly, I do. Because in that moment, Sam was using his words. He just wasn’t using his mouth. He was screaming with his body. He was shouting with his behavior. And by asking him to speak, I wasn’t helping him. I was probably making it worse.

We need to talk about this phrase. We need to look at why we say it. And, more importantly, we need to stop saying it.

The Myth of the “Good” Communicator

Here is the thing. We live in a world that loves speech. We prize the chatterbox. We give awards for public speaking. We measure intelligence by vocabulary lists.

In schools, we are obsessed with it. We track how many words a child can say. We write targets about “expanding sentence structure.” We feel like we have done a good job when a child says “please” and “thank you.”

But speech is just the icing on the cake.

Communication is the whole cake.

When we tell a child to “use their words,” we are ignoring the 90% of communication that happens below the surface. We are ignoring the eye roll. The heavy sigh. The stiff shoulders. The pointed finger. The grab. The push.

We are telling them that their natural way of expressing themselves isn’t good enough. We are telling them that unless it comes out as spoken English, it doesn’t count.

And that is a dangerous message to send. Education: Rethinking Assumptions About Autistic Communication

The Anxiety Spike

Let me explain what happens inside the brain during a meltdown.

Imagine you are terrified of spiders. I mean, phobia-level terrified. Now, imagine I lock you in a small room with a massive tarantula. It is crawling on your leg. Your heart is pounding. You are sweating. You can’t breathe. Your brain is in full “fight or flight” mode. You are in survival mode.

Now, imagine I stand outside the door and yell: “Hey! Explain to me in a full sentence why you are upset! Use your adjectives!”

You couldn’t do it. You literally couldn’t do it. The part of your brain that handles logic and language (the prefrontal cortex) has shut down. The emotional brain (the amygdala) has taken over. You are offline.

This is what happens to our students.

When a child is overwhelmed, dysregulated, or anxious, speech is the first thing to go. It is a high-level skill. It takes a lot of processing power. When the brain detects a threat (and for our kids, a loud noise or a change in routine is a threat), it cuts power to the speech center to save energy for running away or fighting.

So, when Sam is kicking the table, he is in survival mode.

When I stand over him and demand, “Use your words,” I am asking him to do the impossible. I am asking him to perform a complex cognitive task while he is drowning.

And because he can’t do it, his anxiety goes up. He feels like a failure. He feels unheard. So, he kicks the table harder. He screams louder. Not because he is “naughty.” But because I didn’t listen to the first message.

Behavior Is a Language

I have two autistic children. I have taught hundreds more. And if I have learned one thing, it is this: Behavior is communication. Always.

It is never just “bad behavior.” It is a message.

• The Push: Often means “I need space” or “You are too close.”
• The Bite: Can mean “I am frustrated” or “My mouth hurts” or “I am excited.”
• The Drop to the Floor: Often means “I can’t do this anymore” or “I am tired.”
• The Throwing: Can mean “I don’t want this item” or “Look at this happen!”

If a student pushes a worksheet off the desk, they have told me something. They have told me, “No.”

If I ignore that push and say, “Pick that up and tell me what’s wrong,” I am ignoring their “No.” I am teaching them that their physical boundaries don’t matter. I am teaching them that they have to jump through a hoop to be heard.

You know what happens then? They stop trying to tell us nicely. They go straight to the big behaviors. They go straight to the meltdown. Because they know that subtle communication gets ignored.

Validating the Non-Verbal

So, what should we do instead?

We need to validate the message, regardless of the method.

If a child points to the juice, give them the juice. Don’t hold it hostage until they say “juice.” They asked. They pointed. That is great communication!

If a child pushes a toy away, take the toy away. Say, “I see you don’t want this. Okay, let’s put it away.”

By doing this, we build trust. We show them that we are listening. We show them that they have power. And when a child feels powerful and heard, they are less likely to hit, kick, or scream.

I remember a student named Leo. Leo didn’t speak. He hummed. When he was happy, he had a high-pitched hum. When he was stressed, it dropped to a low, vibrating growl.

For weeks, staff tried to get him to use PECS (picture cards) to say he was upset. He would get frustrated and rip the cards.

One day, he started the low growl. I looked at him and said, “Leo, I hear that growl. You sound upset. Let’s go for a walk.”

He stopped. He looked at me. His shoulders dropped. He didn’t need to find a card. He didn’t need to sign. I spoke his language. I honored his growl. The meltdown never happened.

The “Wait” Countdown

This brings me to a tool I use in my head. I call it the “Wait Countdown”

We are so quick to fill the silence. We ask a question, and if we don’t get an answer in two seconds, we ask it again. Or we rephrase it. Or we answer it ourselves as the gap gets more awkward,

• “Do you want a snack?”
• (1 second silence)
• “Sam, do you want an apple?”
• (1 second silence)
• “Use your words, Sam. Apple or Banana?”

Poor Sam is still processing the first question. Now he has three questions in his head. It is a traffic jam.

When you ask a question, wait. Count to ten in your head. Seriously. Ten seconds feels like a lifetime. It feels awkward. But give them time.

Often, at second eight or nine, the answer comes. Maybe it is a word. Maybe it is a nod. Maybe it is a glance.

If we jump in too soon with “Use your words,” we interrupt their processing. We derail them. We need to shut up and let them think. Get Comfortable with the gap.

When Words Are Just Noise

There is another side to this coin. Sometimes, our kids do use words. Lots of them.

But they aren’t communicating.

We have students who can recite the entire script of Toy Story. They can list every train station in London. They can repeat what you just said back to you perfectly.

This is often called echolalia.

It is easy to think, “Oh, he can talk! He is fine!” But just because a child can say words, doesn’t mean they can use language to get their needs met.

A child might be able to say, “To infinity and beyond!” clearly. But when they are hungry, they might not be able to say, “I need food.”

If we say “Use your words” to this child, they might just panic and start reciting a script. They might start singing a TV theme song. That is their safety net.

I once had a student who would yell, “Swiper, no swiping!” whenever he was scared. He wasn’t worried about a fox stealing his stuff. He was saying, “Stop! I am scared!”

If I had corrected him and said, “That doesn’t make sense, tell me what is wrong,” I would have missed the point. I needed to translate his script. I needed to understand that “Swiper no swiping” meant “Help me.”

The “Total Communication” Classroom

We need to move towards a “Total Communication” approach. This means that all forms of communication are equal.

• Speech is great.
• Sign language (Makaton) is great.
• Picture cards (PECS) are great.
• Tablets with voice output are great.
• Gestures are great.
• Facial expressions are great.
• Behavior is great.

In my classroom, I don’t care how you tell me. I just care that you tell me.

If a student drags me to the door, that is a clear request. I will say, “Oh, you want to go outside? Okay, let’s go.”

I model the language for them. I put the words to their actions. But I don’t demand they say them back.

“You want outside. I see. Let’s open the door.”

This takes the pressure off. There is no demand. There is no test. There is just connection. And ironically, when you take the pressure off, speech often comes.

When a child feels safe, relaxed, and understood, that is when they start to babble. That is when they start to experiment with sounds. Not because they have to, but because they want to.

But Don’t We Want Them to Talk?

I know what you are thinking. “But Joe, surely we want them to learn to speak? If we don’t push them, will they ever learn?”

Of course we want them to communicate as effectively as possible. For many, that will include speech.

But you cannot force a flower to grow by pulling on it. You just pull it out of the ground.

You create the right environment. You give it water. You give it sun. You give it rich soil. And it grows when it is ready.

By validating non-verbal communication, we are watering the soil. We are building the foundation of “turn-taking.” We are building the concept of “cause and effect” (I do something, and you respond).

These are the building blocks of language.

If we force speech before the foundation is ready, we create a shaky structure. We create anxiety. We create a child who hates communicating because it is hard and scary.

Scripts for Teachers and Parents

So, if we ban “Use your words,” what should we say instead? Here are a few swaps I use every day.

Instead of: “Use your words.”

Try: “Show me what you need.”

Instead of: “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Try: “I see you are upset. I am here.”

Instead of: “Stop crying and talk to me.”

Try: “It is okay to be sad. Take your time.”

Instead of: “I can’t help you if you don’t speak.”

Try: “I am trying to understand. Can you point?”

Instead of: “What do you say?” (The classic manners trap).

Try: “Thanks!” (Model it yourself and move on).

Connection Over Compliance

At the end of the day, this job isn’t about creating obedient robots who speak perfect English. It is about connecting with human beings.

My son, the one who didn’t speak until he was five? We had whole conversations without a single word. He would bring me a book. I would read it. He would laugh. I would laugh. He would lean his head on my shoulder.

That was communication. Pure, honest, beautiful communication.

If I had spent those five years nagging him to “say book,” I would have missed the moment. I would have missed the connection.

We need to meet our children where they are. Not where we want them to be.

If they are speaking, great. Listen.

If they are signing, great. Watch.

If they are pushing, kicking, or screaming, great. Pay attention.

They are sending a message. And it is loud and clear. We just need to stop talking long enough to hear it.

So, do me a favor. Take “Use your words” out of your vocabulary. Put it in the bin.

Replace it with “I hear you.”

Because honestly? That is all any of us really want. To be heard. No matter how we say it.