Why does my child ask so many questions?

I was reading an email from a parent today who mentioned that the key feature of her child's expressive language is questions. It reminded me of the first time I came across this. Around 1988, I was working in a Primary School 4 mornings a week supporting a child who had left a language unit but still required intensive support. While in the classroom, I observed another child, James aged 8. He was autistic and continually asked, "Is it home time yet?" His teacher was understandably very frustrated as it started from very early in the morning and lasted all day. By lunchtime she was sending him out of the classroom. She felt he was deliberately winding her up. If she asked back "Is it hometime?" He would say "No." She had tried yelling, warning, banning.....nothing worked. I asked if I could assess him. It turned out that his verbal understanding was really poor and his expressive ability wasn't much better. He had alot of sesniry seeking behaviurs too (OTs didnt do sensory in the NHS at that stage). It wasnt as simple as he just didnt want to be there because everything was too hard, he was using the question/phrase for a variety of reasons. Many children espcially autistic children go through phases (or long-term patterns) of talking almost entirely in questions, sometimes asking dozens or even hundreds per day. This can feel confusing or exhausting for adults, but it’s usually communication, not “testing boundaries”. ✅ Why an autistic child may ask so many questions (and it may be more than one!) 1. Anxiety regulation (“If I know what's happening, I feel safe”) Questions are often a way to reduce uncertainty. Instead of small social reassurances (“It’s okay”, a glance, a gesture), autistic children use verbal checking: “Are we going now?” “What time will we get there?” “Will it rain?” “Are you sure?” “Is that right?” The questions act like an anxiety release valve. 2. Monoprocessing + need for predictability If the world feels unpredictable or overwhelming, questions help create structure. They anchor the child: * What’s the plan? * What’s next? Even questions they already know the answers to (like James above). Repeated questions = predictability-seeking behaviour, not defiance. 3. Language development – especially gestalt processors Some autistic children use questions as their preferred sentence shape. If they are gestalt language processors, they may echo: “Is that a digger?” “What are you doing?” “Are we nearly there?” Sometimes they know the answer; the question is just the “frame” they use to speak. 4. Social connection attempts Questions can be the easiest way for the child to: * start interactions * keep an adult engaged * avoid silence * express interest It’s social communication, even if it doesn’t look like typical back-and-forth. 5. Processing delay Questions come in a stream because the child may be: * thinking aloud * processing information externally * checking their understanding Question = processing tool. 6. Demand avoidance For some children (especially PDA profiles), questions serve to: * delay a demand * create control * feel safe before complying The child isn’t trying to be difficult; they’re trying to stay regulated. ✅ How to manage it without shutting the child down A. Meet the underlying need first If it’s anxiety-driven, the solution is predictability + co-regulation, not “fewer questions”. Try: * visual timelines * “first–then–next” sequences * environment previews (“We’re going into Tesco. It will be busy. We need milk and bread.”) Often this reduces the flood of questions on its own. B. Give “pre-answers” Before an anxiety-provoking activity, give the key information up front: “We’ll leave in 10 minutes. When I say ‘shoes’, that’s the 5-minute warning. In the car, we’re listening to your music.” This stops the child needing to ask everything. C. Use a “question bank” or “ask card” system For children who ask rapid-fire factual questions: * “That’s a great question—let’s write it down to explore later.” * Use a notepad or tablet. * At an agreed time, choose 1–3 questions to answer properly. This teaches containment, not suppression. D. Offer “comment models” If the child communicates in question-shaped sentences, you can gently model: Child: “Is that a big lorry?” Adult: “Yes—it’s a big lorry! Really loud too.” Child: “Are we going to Nanny’s after school?” Adult:“Yes, after school we’re going to Nanny’s.” No correction, just giving a declarative model. E. If the questions are repetitive Respond with a consistent, predictable phrase, for example: * “Same answer as before.” * “You’re thinking about that again—I get it.” * “The plan is still the same.” * “You’re checking—everything is okay.” This removes the reward loop of multiple detailed explanations, but still meets their need for reassurance. F. Use sensory or emotional regulation strategies When the questions spike, it often signals dysregulation. Try: * a movement break * deep pressure input * a quiet space * headphones * a regulating activity (lego, drawing, sorting) If the nervous system calms, the questions drop. G. For PDA profiles Shift from answering to sideways scaffolding, e.g.: * “Hmm, I wonder…” * “Let’s figure that out together.” * “You’re curious about the next bit.” * “Good thinking.” This reduces demand while still engaging. When I meet the little boy we were discussing this morning, it might be something completely different!

✅ When to be concerned Consider extra support if: * questions cause significant distress * they interfere with daily life * questions are accompanied by rising panic * the child becomes aggressive when you cannot answer * they're asking literal medical/emotional safety questions repeatedly (“Will I die if…?”) I love working in an MDT for these ones as we can brain-storm together!

A Different Seat Is Not Enough

I popped into a coffee shop for brunch today. Two carers came in with their young disabled clients — both lovely young people, probably in their late teens. They sat nearby, one ordered drinks with the staff, and then… nothing. For the next half hour, not a single word was exchanged — not between the carers, not between the young people, not between the carers and their clients. The young people sat quietly, looking around, clearly aware of their surroundings but disengaged. It struck me how little they were actually getting from the experience. Yes, technically, they were “out in the community.” But were they included in the experience? Were they supported to enjoy it? To communicate, to choose, to connect? From where I was sitting, it seemed like it was just a change of scenery — just a different seat. It reminded me of my time working in a residential school for autistic children with complex communication needs. When we took the students out for a coffee or a meal, we made sure it was a genuinely meaningful experience. We used photos, symbols, or signs to help them choose what they wanted. We chatted — to them, to each other — modelling natural communication. We celebrated their choices, their attempts to connect, and yes, sometimes their chaos too! Of course, it wasn’t always easy. There were ketchup-squirting incidents, spontaneous food grabs, sudden exits, and all the unpredictable moments that come with real-life learning. But through all that, our young people were participating. They were experiencing the joy, the messiness, and the connection that comes with sharing a meal or a drink out in the world. That’s what inclusion looks like. Not quiet compliance. Not just “being there.” Real inclusion means communication, choice, and shared experience. Because everyone deserves more than just a different seat.

When Behaviour Is Misunderstood

I'm writing a report about a 4 year old autistic boy I saw a couple of weeks ago. We had discussed that he was being completely misunderstood by his mainstream school but reading the reports and the behavior logs is making

me feel really angry. Harry is a four-year-old boy who started school in September. He is autistic, with high sensory sensitivities. School is too noisy. Too crowded. Too unpredictable. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. So — he bites. He hits. He kicks. He spits. He’s not being “naughty”. He’s trying to survive. His world at school feels overwhelming. The lights are bright. Chairs scrape. Voices echo. Children rush past him in a blur. His brain can’t filter or prioritise — everything comes in at once. And because he experiences the world through monotropism — that intense, focused way of thinking and feeling — sudden transitions feel unbearable. When he’s deeply immersed in one activity, being told to stop and move to another is like being yanked out of a warm bath into a snowstorm. His body reacts before his words can form. That’s not defiance — it’s distress. Yet adults might say, “He needs to make good choices.” Or, “He has to apologise for hurting people.” But how can he “make good choices” when his nervous system is in survival mode? When he’s overloaded, confused, and scared? Expecting logical reflection from a dysregulated child is not fair — it’s like asking someone to swim while they’re drowning. Hs behaviour is a nueral response, not under hos cognitive control. He doesn’t need consequences. He needs connection. He doesn’t need a lecture. He needs safety, understanding, and co-regulation. When we start from compassion — when we understand why behaviour happens — we stop seeing a “problem child” and start seeing a child with problems he cannot yet express.

Stop the parental-blame culture: A call for kindness to parents this World Kindness Day

In the run-up to World Kindness Day (13 November), and in my role as a speech–language therapist working with children with SEND and their families, I want to draw attention to a deeply troubling phenomenon: the institutional and systemic culture of parental blame. The research of Luke Clements (Cerebra Professor of Law and Social Justice, University of Leeds) and colleagues highlights that many local authorities act as if parents are the problem, rather than the system failing the family. ([Cerebra][1]) In this blog post I’ll explain what the research shows, why this matters for families — especially those I see in my clinic — and why government and local authorities must adopt kinder, more supportive practices. What the research shows Clements and Aiello’s study — Institutionalising Parent-Carer Blame (2021) — analysed 143 local authority children’s services assessment protocols and surveyed 92 parent-carer led groups. ([lukeclements.co.uk][2]) Their findings are stark: Many local authority protocols do not distinguish between families seeking support for a disabled child and families where there is suspicion of neglect or abuse. In effect, all are subjected to a “child protection” lens, regardless of need. ([lukeclements.co.uk][3]) * For example: 80 % of the protocols required assessors to confirm if the child’s bedroom has been seen, regardless of any evidence of neglect. 87 % required the child to be interviewed alone, regardless of any evidence of abuse. ([lukeclements.co.uk][2]) * Surveyed parent-carer groups reported that 86 % considered the assessment process “extremely unsatisfactory and intrusive”. Many parents described it as “humiliating”, “bullying”, “devastating” or akin to “the police turning up at your door with a warrant”. ([Special Needs Jungle][4]) * The research concludes that national and local social care policies create a default assumption of parental failings when disabled children and their families engage with services. They term this “institutionalised parent-carer blame”. ([Cerebra][1]) In short: parents seeking support for their child’s additional needs frequently feel treated as if they are doing something wrong. The system appears to assume fault, rather than starting from a place of support. Why this matters -- and what it looks like in the clinic As an SLT working with children who have communication needs, autism, selective mutism, demand-avoidance profiles and sensory differences, I see families who are exhausted, anxious, and worried about being judged. The research shines a light on structural practices that amplify these pressures. Here’s how it shows up: * A parent brings a child for support. The child is working hard but still struggling. The parent is doing their best. Yet the local authority’s default assessment sets the tone: “Why isn’t this working? What are you doing wrong?” * Families feel they must defend themselves, rather than feel heard. The process becomes adversarial, and energy is spent on survival rather than progress. * Parents may avoid seeking help in the first place for fear of being judged, labelled “ineffective” or having their parenting scrutinised. That delays intervention, which we know is time-sensitive for communication and language outcomes. * The psychological toll matters. When families feel blamed, their capacity to co-regulate, support and advocate is eroded. For children with complex needs (language, sensory, executive function), the family environment is key. A blaming stance undermines trust and collaboration. On World Kindness Day, the call is timely. Kindness in professional-system interactions isn’t a fringe “nice to have”; it is essential for effective partnership and for safeguarding the wellbeing of both children and their parents. What needs to change: A kinder, more effective system Drawing from Clements’ research and my own experience in therapy, here are key shifts needed from local authorities and government: 1. Shift from blame to support * Assessment protocols must clearly distinguish: disabled children needing support ≠ children in need of protection. Many protocols do *not*. ([lukeclements.co.uk][3]) * Guidance should emphasise *what the child and family need* rather than *what the parent did wrong*. 2. Ensure assessors have appropriate expertise * The research found that national guidance (e.g., Working Together 2018) does not require assessors of disabled children to have disability-specific expertise. ([essl.leeds.ac.uk][5]) * Local authorities must train assessors in disability, communication needs, sensory processing and neurodivergence, so families aren’t treated generically. 3. Revise local protocols to remove intrusive default practices * Practices like unannounced home visits, bedroom inspections, interviewing children without parent present (when no safeguarding concern) create trauma and distrust. ([Cerebra][6]) * Protocols should only authorise these steps when there is credible evidence of safeguarding concern, not as a default. 4. Embed parent-carer voice and partnership * Families often feel excluded or infantilised. The system must engage parents as partners, recognising their expertise about their child. * Parent-carer needs assessments (as required under Children and Families Act 2014, section 97) are being denied in too many cases. ([UK Parliament Committees][7]) 5. Embed kindness as system value * Kindness here means: respectful language, recognising stress and effort, acknowledging systemic barriers, offering clear pathways, timely support, and reducing fear of blame. * On World Kindness Day and every day, local authority communications, policies and frontline staff should reflect a stance of help not judgement. Why this matters for children’s outcomes When parents feel supported rather than blamed, children benefit: * Engagement in therapy and services is better. * Families are more likely to ask for help early. * Co-regulation and trust at home improve, enabling children’s progress in communication, interaction and emotional regulation. * Reduced stress in the family system means resources can go into *learning*, not *defending*. In other words: kindness is not soft; it is strategic. A call to action So, to local authorities, regional children’s services, government, and to all of us in allied professions (SLTs, social workers, educational psychologists, OT etc): * Acknowledge the problem: that parental blame is institutionalised. The evidence from Luke Clements and team is clear. ([Cerebra][8]) * Review your policies and practices today: Are they assuming parenting fault? Are they treating families of disabled children like they are under suspicion, rather than support? * Replace standard assessment-pathways with support pathways: one for families requesting routine support, another (distinct) for safeguarding/child-protection where concerns exist. * Engage with parents, ask them what they experience, involve them in redesigning assessment protocols. * Make kindness explicit: embed it in training, supervision, policy documents, front-line practice. In my clinic: What I’ll be doing As an SLT, I pledge to: * Use language in my reports and conversations that reflects a supportive partnership with parents: “How can we help together?” rather than “What’s wrong with how it’s being done?”. * Advocate for families when I see assessment pathways that feel punitive or intrusive. * Share with parents the research by Clements & Aiello so they feel validated and understood that the system may be working against them, not with them. * Encourage local authority teams and school-based colleagues to adopt kinder practices, and offer evidence of the impact of parenting-blame on therapeutic outcomes. Conclusion On 13 November, as we celebrate World Kindness Day, let’s extend kindness where it matters most: to the parents and carers of children with additional needs — the ones who often carry a heavy burden, who show up each day, who fight for their child’s communication, connection and learning. Kindness from the system means recognising that **parents are not the problem**. The problem is a system that treats families as if they are under suspicion rather than deserving of support. The research by Luke Clements and colleagues gives us the evidence; now it’s time for the policy-makers, local authorities and professionals to act. Let’s stop the parental blame. Let’s start genuine partnership, genuine support, and genuine kindness. References Clements, L. & Aiello, A. (2021). *Institutionalising parent-carer blame: The experiences of families with disabled children in their interactions with English local authority children’s services departments.* Cerebra Legal Entitlements & Problem-Solving (LEaP) Project, School of Law, University of Leeds. Clements, L. (2021, July 22). “Urgent change is needed to stop the institutional culture of parent-carer blaming.”Special Needs Junglw. [1]: https://cerebra.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/Final-Parent-Blame-Report-20-July-21-03.pdf?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Institutionalising parent carer blame" [2]: https://www.lukeclements.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Institutionalising-Parent-Blame-webinar-PP-handout.pdf?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Institutionalising parent blame" [3]: https://www.lukeclements.co.uk/institutionalising-parent-carer-blame/?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Institutionalising Parent-carer Blame" [4]: https://www.specialneedsjungle.com/urgent-change-needed-stop-institutional-parent-carer-blaming/?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Urgent change is needed to stop the institutional culture of ..." [5]: https://essl.leeds.ac.uk/download/downloads/id/923/challenging-parent-carer-blame-interim-research-report-1-disability-and-human-rights-training-and-guidance-for-disabled-childrens-assessors-2022.pdf?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Challenging Parent Carer Blame: Interim implementation ..." [6]: https://cerebra.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/Final-Parent-Blame-Report-20-July-21-02.pdf?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Institutionalising parent carer blame" [7]: https://committees.parliament.uk/writtenevidence/107835/pdf/?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Written evidence from Luke Clements, Cerebra Professor ..." [8]: https://cerebra.org.uk/research/institutionalising-parent-carer-blame/?utm_source=chatgpt.com "Institutionalising Parent-carer Blame"

When School Hurts: Why Some Children Can’t Attend — and Why Punishing Families Makes It Worse

There’s a growing narrative that children missing school are simply refusing to attend — and their parents need to “get a grip.” But that story ignores thousands of children whose non-attendance is rooted in trauma, anxiety, sensory overload, or unmet SEND needs. These children are not skipping school. They are avoiding pain. When a Child’s Body Says “No More” For many neurodivergent children — especially autistic students, those with sensory processing differences, PDA profiles, or mental health difficulties — school can be overwhelming: • Noise that feels like physical pain • Rigid behaviour systems that punish distress • Social pressures they can’t navigate • Environments that feel unsafe or unpredictable They want to learn. They want to succeed. But their nervous system is in survival mode. Calling this “school refusal” is misleading. Often, it is school-induced trauma. The Harm of a One-Size-Fits-All Attendance Push Current political messaging treats all non-attendance as the same kind of problem. The result? ✅ Children in crisis are fined, labelled, and pushed harder ✅ Parents who are advocating nonstop for support are blamed ❌ The root issues — lack of appropriate provision — remain untouched Children become statistics instead of individuals. What These Children Need Instead ✔ Trauma-informed, flexible education ✔ Sensory-safe environments ✔ Recognition of anxiety and neurodivergence ✔ Collaboration with parents (not punishment) ✔ A placement that fits the child — not the other way around Attendance improves when school is a place a child can actually cope. A Better Narrative We must stop treating these families as the problem. They are doing everything they can to protect their child. The real issue isn’t that these children won’t go to school. It’s that the school system hasn’t yet found a way to welcome them. Let’s fix the system — not the children.

Natioanl Internet Day: The Value of Online Friendships for Autistic Children

For many children, friendships are built on the playground, in classrooms, or through after-school clubs. But for autistic children, these environments can be overwhelming. Social interactions face-to-face often involve **fast-changing conversations, background noise, unwritten social rules, and non-verbal cues that are hard to interpret in the moment. This can make forming and maintaining friendships exhausting. That’s why online friendships can be so valuable. The internet offers autistic children a space where social demands are reduced, and connections can be made in ways that feel manageable and meaningful. Why online friendships can be easier 1. Time to process Online communication gives children time to think, process what’s been said, and decide how to respond. There’s no pressure to reply instantly, unlike in face-to-face conversations. 2. Clarity in communication Written messages remove many of the hidden social cues that can be confusing. Tone of voice, facial expressions, and body language are replaced with clear words, emojis, or shared images. 3. Shared interests first Many online communities are built around hobbies or passions — whether that’s gaming, art, books, or special interests. Autistic children can connect with peers who share their enthusiasm, which makes it easier to build rapport and feel understood. 4. Reduced social anxiety Without the sensory overload of a busy classroom or the unpredictability of group play, children often feel safer and calmer when communicating online. This lowers barriers to participation and self-expression. 5. Control and safety Online spaces allow children to step back, log off, or mute when they need to. This sense of control is empowering, especially if day-to-day life feels unpredictable. Why these friendships matter: Online friendships are real friendships. They provide companionship, support, and belonging. For autistic children, they can be a lifeline — a way to practise social skills, build confidence, and feel less isolated. Of course, safety is essential, and children need guidance to stay secure online. But with the right boundaries in place, online spaces can open doors to connection that may feel closed in the offline world. On this National Internet Day, let’s celebrate the internet not just as a tool, but as a bridge — one that helps many children find friendship, community, and understanding in ways that work best for them.

When the talking stops at home too!

When a child who previously spoke at home suddenly stops talking, even though they can still communicate in brief written messages, it often signals high levels of stress, anxiety, or burnout. A sudden or gradual loss of speech at home suggests something has shifted. Children don’t choose silence lightly; it usually reflects that speaking has become too effortful or overwhelming. Speaking requires social and cognitive energy. If a child is burnt out, anxious, or overloaded, stopping speech can be a protective mechanism — a way of conserving energy and avoiding further stress. Selective mutism vs situational shutdown – If she can still text, that shows her thoughts and language are intact, but the mode of communication has shifted. This is sometimes seen in autistic burnout, selective mutism, or after a prolonged period of masking. Home is usually a “safe” space. If she can’t use speech even there, it may be a sign that her emotional reserves are severely depleted. That could spiral into withdrawal, low mood, or avoidance of school demands. If her energy is being used up coping with school, she may have nothing left for home. Loss of speech at home often precedes or accompanies emotionally based school avoidance, because it signals that her system is overwhelmed. “Burnout” signs – Exhaustion, reduced tolerance of demands, communication shutdown, withdrawal, or appearing “flat” are all red flags that her nervous system is overloaded.

The key message: this is not “just refusing to talk” — it’s a sign of communication shutdown linked to stress or burnout. Supporting her early (by reducing demands, validating her feelings, giving her choice of communication methods, and working with school to lower pressure) can help prevent escalation to full school refusal.