As educators we often find ourselves reflecting on the moments we miss—those critical windows where a child is reaching out, in their own way, for connection, for help, for understanding. And too often, those moments are prolonged into frustration, stress, and learned helplessness, all in the name of waiting for communication to naturally develop.

Let me tell you about a young student—we’ll call him Jaden. Each day, he stands at the classroom door, desperate to go outside and play. He knows what he wants, but the door is closed, and he can’t express it. In frustration, Jaden hits the door, his hands banging repeatedly as he cries. He doesn’t have the words or tools to communicate what he needs.

His teacher, a well-meaning adult, models a complex sentence on his speech-generating device (SGD): “I want to go play.” It requires a series of intricate button presses. It’s far beyond what Jaden can say independently right now. And while the adult is patiently modeling, Jaden is struggling, still unable to make his needs known. Still waiting.

This isn’t compassionate.

This isn’t beneficial.

This isn’t effective teaching.

It’s a heartbreaking example of how our students can endure prolonged periods of distress and unmet needs when we hold back on direct, effective communication instruction. We model, we wait, we hope—but what we often forget is that without the right support, without active teaching, modeling alone may not always be enough. Especially not in the early years when individuals with delays are already behind and need skill development to be prioritized immediately.

Communication Is a Right, Not a Privilege

Communication is more than words. It’s autonomy. It’s connection. It’s problem solving. It’s being understood. And for our learners—especially those with complex communication needs—it’s too often delayed, withheld, or inadvertently denied in favor of ideologies that prioritize "natural" development over effective learning.

Children are exposed to thousands of words every day. They don’t need just exposure, they need access. Access to tools, strategies, supports—and yes, sometimes that includes teaching methods that may not be currently trendy, but are evidence-based and effective. Strategies that involve prompting such as physical guidance, scaffolding, error correction, can be implemented safely, ethically, and with respect for the learner. To write them off entirely is to write off the needs of the students who benefit from them.

When “Gentle” Becomes Gatekeeping

The rise of gentle parenting and the extension of these philosophies into education has brought many benefits—empathy, connection, and emotional safety being chief among them. But when these philosophies become rigid doctrines that exclude effective teaching strategies we must ask—who is this really serving?

If a child is left without communication for years because we refused to teach using physical prompts because we feared being “too hands-on,” then we have not been gentle. We have been passive. We have allowed a philosophy to override our clinical responsibility because we have ignored what works best for each individual learner.

Prompts are not punishments. Hand-over-hand is not abuse when done with consent, compassion, and purpose. Learners have the right to be taught in ways that meet their individual learning profiles. We would never expect a child to read without teaching letters and sounds. Why then, do we expect students to communicate fluently without teaching the foundational skills?

Individualization Is Ethical Practice

No two learners are the same—and our teaching should reflect that. To assume a single approach works for every learner isn’t just ineffective, it overlooks the diversity of how students grow and learn. We must meet each student where they are, assess what they need, and implement strategies that work for them.

If we truly believe in autonomy, dignity, and inclusion, then we must offer more than just passive access—we must actively teach. We must respect each learner enough to give them what they need, not what makes us feel good.

We Can—and Must—Do Better

The early years are not a waiting period. They are a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If we wait too long to teach communication effectively, we risk our learners falling behind not just academically, but socially and emotionally. They miss out on friendships. On play. On telling us what they love, what they hate, and what makes them laugh. They miss out on being known.

And we, the adults in the room, miss the chance to do our jobs fully and ethically.

So, let’s stop holding back. Let’s stop gatekeeping. Let’s stop prioritizing ideology over impact. Let’s give our students the communication strategies they need now—because they deserve to be heard, understood, and empowered every single day.

Every learner has the right to communicate. It’s our job to help them get there—not someday, but today.

Written by Krysten Spottiswood, M.A., BCBA

© Pyramid Educational Consultants, LLC. 2025

 

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