The Training I Wish I'd Had: Why Educators Need to Understand Autism as a Movement Difference

I need to be honest about something.

For over 15 years, I called myself a special education teacher. I was passionate, dedicated, and genuinely believed I was making a difference in my students' lives. I fought for them, advocated for them, and loved them deeply.

For some students, I was exactly the teacher they needed. But for my nonspeaking autistic students, I can see now, how much I got wrong.

Not because I didn't care. Not because I wasn't trying hard enough. But because the system that trained me – the very system we're all still operating within – failed to give me the most fundamental understanding I needed to truly serve my nonspeaking autistic students.

I wish someone had told me that autism isn't primarily a behavioral issue to be managed and caused by an intellectual disability. It's linked to movement and motor challenges - often something called apraxia. When Nick, one of my students, writes about his brain being "stuck in a continuous loop" of scripts he can't stop, that's not a choice. That's a motor planning difference.

I wish someone had explained that when Mike was making loud noises or moving his body in ways that looked disruptive, his nervous system was telling me something crucial about his regulation state. Instead, I was trained to see these as behaviors to extinguish rather than communications about his internal experience.

I wish I'd understood from day one that my own nervous system state directly impacts my students' ability to regulate. Dr. Mona Delahooke's work on neuroscience and regulation would have revolutionized my practice if I'd had access to it from the beginning.

But here's the thing – I didn't get this training. And chances are, you didn't either.

The Cost of Our Ignorance

Let me paint you a picture of what this looks like in practice.

I spent years assuming that if a student couldn't prove they could read, they needed watered-down, picture-based materials. Boardmaker was my best friend. I created countless adapted worksheets with clip art and simplified text.

Meanwhile, students like William were sitting in classrooms, capable of engaging with Shakespeare, but we were handing him materials designed for a preschooler because he couldn't demonstrate his understanding in ways we recognized.

It's 2008. I'm teaching a class of fifth graders "Ten Apples Up on Top." The passion was there. The understanding of a presumption of competence wasn't. The student on the left ran away from the lesson multiple times. I never once thought he might be bored.

I operated under the assumption that students needed to "earn" access to robust communication systems by first mastering simpler ones. So while other nonautistic nonspeaking students had access to the full expressive power of language through rich, multi-layered dynamic devices, my nonspeaking autistic students were limited to requesting basic needs through pictures and low-tech, one-touch buttons.

I believed that if students weren't sitting quietly, looking at me or the board, and appearing to pay attention in neurotypical ways, they weren't capable of learning what their peers were. So I spent valuable instructional time trying to get compliance instead of delivering the rigorous academics these students were capable of accessing.

The Brutal Truth About Our System

Here's what no one wants to say out loud: we're sending teachers into classrooms to support some of our most complex learners without giving them even basic knowledge about how autism actually affects the nervous system and motor planning.

We train teachers in behavior management rooted in compliance. We teach them to use first-then boards and reward systems. We focus on making students appear more neurotypical rather than supporting their authentic selves.

And then we act surprised when inclusion "doesn't work."

It's not that inclusion doesn't work. It's that we haven't properly prepared educators to make it work.

The Students Who Changed Everything

The students I was privileged to work with taught me what I should have known from the beginning.

Nick taught me that brilliant minds can be trapped behind unreliable speech. His scripts about Thomas the Tank Engine had nothing to do with his actual interests or capabilities – they were motor patterns his brain couldn't stop, while his real thoughts remained locked inside.

Mike taught me that a student can be jumping out of their chair and still be fully engaged with learning. He wrote, "The teachers and students have come to understand that I am not intentionally misbehaving but rather temporarily losing the battle between mind and body. They know I'm always listening."

William taught me that a student can go from a segregated autism classroom to graduating with his diploma and pursuing college – when we finally give them access to appropriate education and communication.

Mike sits behind my computer, one of his many joking attempts to take over the company. On the image is the entirety of his quote. It reads, "Yes, controlling my body is sometimes too hard and I jump out of my chair or vocalize loudly. But the teachers and students have come to understand that I'm not intentionally misbehaving, but rather losing the battle between mind and body. They know that I am always listening. I can be jumping up and down and if the teacher asks me a question, I hear it and answer."

What We Actually Need

The training I wish I'd had would have included:

• Understanding autism as a neurological difference affecting movement and motor planning, not just a behavioral condition.

• Knowledge of nervous system regulation and how trauma responses show up in educational settings.

• Training in co-regulation strategies that support students' authentic nervous system needs rather than demanding neurotypical presentations.

• Deep understanding of text-based, multimodal communication and why students shouldn't have to "earn" access to robust language systems.

• Genuine presumption of competence, not just lip service to the concept.

Why This Matters Right Now

Every day, students like the ones I worked with are sitting in classrooms with well-meaning teachers who simply don't have the knowledge they need to support them effectively. These students are being underestimated, segregated, and denied access to the education they deserve.

Not because their teachers don't care. But because the system has failed to prepare those teachers for the reality of neurodivergent students.

The Solution Is Here

This is precisely why Communication for Education exists, a partnership between Reach Every Voice, the Autism and Communication Center at California Lutheran University, and Autistically Inclined. Our comprehensive online training program fills these critical gaps, providing educators with evidence-based understanding of:

• Sensory-motor differences and how they impact learning

• Nervous system regulation from a neuroscience perspective

• Implementing robust, text-based multimodal AAC systems effectively

• Creating truly inclusive environments that support all students

But access to this training shouldn't depend on your school's budget or your individual initiative to seek it out.

That's why we're offering scholarships to teachers and teacher candidates this summer. Because every educator working with nonspeaking autistic students deserves access to this crucial knowledge, regardless of their financial circumstances.

No More Excuses

We can't keep sending teachers into classrooms unprepared and then blaming them when inclusion struggles. We can't keep expecting educators to figure this out on their own through trial and error while students' educational opportunities hang in the balance.

The knowledge exists. The research is clear. The training is available.

What's missing is the commitment to making sure every educator has access to it.

As Gordy, one of my former students, wrote: "If I could change just one thing about education before I die, it would be the idea that non-speaking people can't handle real academics. Do better."

We owe it to our students to do better. And it starts with more honest conversations about what we don't know and a commitment to learning what we should have been taught from the beginning.

The question isn't whether our nonspeaking autistic students can succeed. The question is whether we're finally ready to give educators the training they need to support that success.

Because every student deserves a teacher who understands their neurological reality, can support their regulation needs, and never doubts their capacity for brilliance.

It's time to stop making excuses and start making change.

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To learn more about Communication for Education's comprehensive training program and apply for summer scholarships for teachers and teacher candidates, visit this page. Because the training you wish you'd had shouldn't remain a wish – it should be a reality for every educator.

This blog is cross-posted at Communication For Education.

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Lisa Mihalich Quinn, M.A / M.Ed. is a licensed special educator with more than 15 years of experience making academic content accessible for neurodiverse students and learners who use Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC). She is a former Maryland Public Schools teacher and the founder of Reach Every Voice, an organization dedicated to empowering individuals with communication access needs, and cofounder of Communication for Education, an online training program for people who support students using text-based multimodal communication in educational settings. Most recently, she has been working to lift the burden of content adaptation on parents and educators with the new transformative lesson adaptation tool, Adaptiverse App.

Lisa's passion for inclusion and equity runs deep, driving her work to help educators, learners, and families think creatively about how to reimagine systems that are historically resistant to change. She pushes folks to shift mindsets from "this is just how we do things..." and "we can't because..." to embody a spirit of "what if we tried..."