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.

When the Standard Route Doesn’t Fit: Advocating for Your Child’s Needs

Parents are often encouraged to “work with the school” or to “trust the process” when challenges arise in education. While collaboration is important, there are times when following the standard route does not meet a child’s individual needs. Professionals naturally rely on established pathways and familiar strategies. These approaches are designed to support the majority of children, and in many cases they are effective. However, children with additional needs do not always fit within those standard models. When a child’s presentation is complex, trying to apply generic solutions can inadvertently cause harm. A good friend of mine, Sylvia made a useful analogy, she said, imagine a child who requires a kidney operation being offered an alternative procedure simply because it is easier or more familiar for the hospital to provide. We would never agree to that, knowing it would not address the child’s medical needs and could cause harm. Similarly, placing a child in an educational environment that cannot meet their needs may compromise their mental health and wellbeing. The law is clear that every child is entitled to a suitable, full-time education that meets their individual needs. When this is not happening, it is reasonable and necessary for parents to question the system and advocate for alternative provision. This is not about resisting support or being “difficult”; it is about safeguarding the child’s right to an education that is both appropriate and sustainable. Parents are the experts in their own children. You hold unique knowledge of their strengths, challenges, and the impact that environments have on them. Professionals bring valuable skills and experience, but they may sometimes try to apply standard approaches that simply do not fit. In those moments, it is essential to remember: • It is not the child’s role to be reshaped to fit the system. • It is the system’s responsibility to adapt around the child. By keeping the child’s best interests at the centre, parents and professionals together can move away from “square peg in a round hole” solutions and towards tailored, lawful, and truly supportive education.

Why Dyslexia Assessors Need to Understand Spoken Language – Especially Developmental Language Disorder (DLD)

When most people think of dyslexia, they think of difficulties with reading, spelling, and written expression. But underneath these challenges often lies a deeper issue: how a child understands and uses spoken language. That’s why it is vital for professionals carrying out dyslexia assessments to have a solid grounding in spoken language development, particularly in recognising *Developmental Language Disorder (DLD). The latest framework for identifying and diagnosing dyslexia places greater emphasis on oral language skills. This shift reflects decades of research showing that literacy difficulties do not exist in isolation. Reading and writing are built on a foundation of spoken language: vocabulary, grammar, sentence structure, and narrative skills. If those foundations are shaky, literacy learning is likely to be difficult – even when phonics teaching has been strong. Spoken language and literacy are tightly interwoven: * Phonological awareness – the ability to recognise and manipulate the sounds of words – depends on robust speech and listening skills. * Vocabulary knowledge supports reading comprehension. Without enough words, children can decode text but not understand it. * Syntax and grammar underpin sentence-level understanding and writing. * Narrative skills help children follow stories, summarise information, and structure their own written work. Without exploring spoken language, an assessor might only see the “tip of the iceberg” – the reading and spelling struggles – while missing the broader communication profile. Developmental Language Disorder (DLD) affects around 1 in 14 children. It is a lifelong condition characterised by significant difficulties with understanding and/or using spoken language, not explained by another condition such as hearing loss or intellectual disability. Children with DLD may: * Struggle to learn and retain new vocabulary. * Find complex sentences difficult to understand. * Produce shorter, less grammatical spoken sentences. * Experience word-finding difficulties. * Struggle with storytelling, sequencing, and organising information. These same children are at heightened risk of literacy difficultie, including dyslexia-like profiles. But crucially, the underlying reason is not only phonological. It’s also about language processing. For a dyslexia assessor, recognising the signs of DLD is essential for several reasons: 1. Accurate diagnosis – Distinguishing between a primarily phonological dyslexia profile and a broader language disorder avoids mislabelling. 2. Appropriate recommendations – A child with DLD will need more than just phonics interventions; they may also require speech and language therapy, vocabulary enrichment, and curriculum support. 3. Fair access to support – Identifying DLD ensures children receive the right adjustments in school, EHCPs, and exams. 4. Joined-up working – Assessors who understand spoken language can communicate more effectively with speech and language therapists and educational psychologists. Recognising the interplay between dyslexia and spoken language isn’t just about more accurate assessments. It’s about equity. Many children with DLD have been overlooked in the past, dismissed as “slow to pick up reading” or “not trying hard enough.” By embedding spoken language into dyslexia assessment frameworks, professionals can open the door to earlier identification, targeted support, and better outcomes. Dyslexia assessors who understand spoken language – especially DLD – see the whole child. They move beyond surface-level literacy difficulties to uncover the deeper language needs that drive them. The new framework acknowledges this reality, and children will benefit. Come to see Rebecca at Small Talk, she is a level 7 Dyslexia assessor who understands DLD.

Why Connection Matters More Than Compliance for Neurodivergent Children in School For many neurodivergent children, school can bring both opportunities and challenges. Too often, classrooms focus on compliance—sitting still, following instructions, fitting into a narrow mould—rather than connection. Yet, connection is what truly helps children feel safe, learn, and thrive. Compliance: The Traditional Focus Rules and routines help schools run smoothly. But when the emphasis is on compliance alone, neurodivergent children can be pressured to: Sit quietly, even if movement helps them regulate. Make eye contact, even if it feels uncomfortable. Produce work on demand, even if anxiety blocks their words. This can lead to masking, burnout, and a deep sense of being “wrong” for who they are. Connection: The Human Foundation Connection means seeing and valuing a child as they are. It creates trust, safety, and respect—the conditions every child needs before they can learn. When children feel connected, they are calmer, more open to challenge, and more able to see school as a supportive place. Why Connection Works Better Safety before learning – The brain learns best when it feels safe. Trust builds resilience – Knowing an adult is on their side helps a child bounce back. Respect fuels motivation – Being valued encourages children to engage authentically. Authenticity lasts longer – Connection fosters lasting growth, not short-term compliance. Small Shifts That Make a Big Difference Listen before directing. Adapt environments to meet sensory and communication needs. Invest in relationships, not just routines. Celebrate differences as strengths. Compliance may bring short-term order, but connection builds lifelong confidence and learning. When schools put connection first, neurodivergent children don’t just cope—they truly thrive. Because education should be about nurturing human beings, not just producing compliant students.We MUST mobe on from an out-dated victorian-based system which just tries to prepare for the work force!

He told us!

Today something extraordinary happened in school. I was visiting one of my clients, a 7-year-old boy who is “minimally speaking.” He uses an iPad with TD Snap to support his communication. Usually, our sessions focus on exploring language, giving him opportunities to express himself, and helping school staff see just how much he can understand and share. As I unpacked my bag, he reached in and pulled out my iPad. Immediately, his teaching assistant told him off: “That’s not yours.” But I stopped her. Something in the way he held it told me this wasn’t about being cheeky or mischievous. I wanted to see what he would do. He opened the music app and began scrolling. Then he stopped and deliberately chose a very sad song. As it played, tears rolled down his face. He leaned into me, held my hand, and buried himself in my chest. In that moment, he was communicating in the most powerful way he could. We didn’t know what he was trying to tell us, so I called his mum. And then everything made sense. His grandmother was seriously ill in hospital and not expected to survive. No one had told him — because they thought he wouldn’t understand. But he knew. He felt it. And he found a way to show us. This was a lesson in listening. Not listening with ears alone, but listening with openness to all the ways a child might express themselves — through AAC, through gesture, through music, through tears. Too often, when a child is minimally speaking, people assume they don’t understand, or that they can’t possibly grasp abstract concepts like illness or loss. But this little boy reminded us that communication is so much bigger than words. He *told us* in the only way he could, and it was clear, true, and deeply human. Every child deserves to be heard. Every form of communication deserves to be valued. And sometimes, when we stop correcting and start listening, we discover that children have been telling us their truths all along.

Year 7 Can Feel So Awful for Teens with Selective Mutism

For many children, starting secondary school is a mixture of excitement and nerves. But for teenagers with selective mutism (SM), the transition to Year 7 can feel overwhelming – even terrifying. Families often describe this first year of secondary school as the hardest part of the journey. Why is that? The Leap from Primary to Secondary In primary school, children usually have the safety of one classroom, one teacher, and a familiar group of peers. By the end of Year 6, even if speech is limited, routines are well established. Staff know the child’s patterns, friends often “translate” or advocate, and anxiety may be held at a manageable level. Then suddenly, in Year 7: * Multiple teachers and classrooms** – moving around the site, following different routines, coping with changing expectations. * Larger peer groups – hundreds of new faces, many of them older and more confident. * Higher demands – answering questions in class, speaking in front of new people, navigating group work, oral presentations. * Reduced adult awareness – teachers may have little or no training in selective mutism, and support strategies from primary school don’t automatically transfer. Identity and Social Pressure Adolescence brings new layers of complexity. Year 7 is often when young people become intensely aware of peer judgment. For teens with SM, this can amplify the fear of speaking: “What if I mess up? What if people laugh?” Silence can feel safer, but it also risks misunderstanding, exclusion, or even bullying. At the same time, teenagers are searching for independence and self-expression. Being unable to use their voice in school can feel especially painful when friends are experimenting with identity, humour, and social belonging. Loss of Familiar Safety Nets Selective mutism often thrives on familiarity. Leaving behind primary staff who “got it” can be devastating. In secondary school, there’s rarely a key adult who sees the child all day. Instead, responsibility is split across many teachers, meaning no one person fully understands the young person’s needs. This can make SM look like “shyness” in some lessons and “defiance” in others, leading to inconsistent – and sometimes unhelpful – responses. The Pressure of Performance Secondary school places increasing emphasis on verbal performance – oral presentations, group projects, reading aloud, role play. For a teenager with SM, these tasks aren’t just uncomfortable, they’re physiologically impossible in moments of high anxiety. Without adaptations, every day can feel like a minefield of demands. What Helps? The transition doesn’t have to be traumatic. Some strategies that make a difference include: * Planned transition** – early visits, meeting key staff, a buddy system. * Key adult in school** – a safe person the teen can check in with daily. * Consistent information-sharing** – all teachers need to understand SM and use supportive strategies. * Adapted communication** – alternatives to speaking (writing, apps, gesture) and gradual exposure plans, never forced speech. * Peer awareness** – sensitive education for classmates to reduce stigma and encourage understanding. * Parental partnership** – open communication between home and school, so anxieties don’t spiral unseen. Final Thoughts Year 7 is often the toughest point for teens with selective mutism because it combines huge environmental change, social pressure, and the challenges of adolescence. But with preparation, understanding, and support, it doesn’t have to be a breaking point. Instead, it can be the start of a new chapter – one where the young person is recognised for their strengths and given the scaffolding they need to find their voice.