Teaching vs. Placating: The Quiet Shift That Changed Everything

There are two very different ways to work with autistic students.

One is to teach them.

The other is to keep them comfortable.

From the outside, those two approaches can look almost identical. A calm classroom. A compliant student. No complaints coming home in the backpack. But underneath, they are worlds apart.

I learned that difference the hard way with my son Sheamus.

When School Was a Place of Growth

In elementary and middle school, Sheamus had teachers who believed in him.

They didn’t just manage him. They taught him.

If he didn’t understand something, they slowed it down. They found new angles. They used visuals, patience, repetition, creativity. They treated learning like a bridge they were responsible for helping him cross.

And he crossed it.

He learned to read better. He learned to communicate better. He learned routines and social skills and confidence. He came home tired, sometimes frustrated, but growing.

That’s what real education feels like for an autistic child. Effort, support, progress.

Then High School Happened

Somewhere between middle school hallways and high school bells, the mission quietly changed.

Teaching turned into placating.

Instead of explaining the work, teachers started excusing it. Instead of pushing him to grow, they lowered expectations. Instead of finding ways to reach him, they found ways to avoid conflict.

If he didn’t want to do something, they let it slide.

If he struggled, they watered it down.

If he was overwhelmed, they removed the challenge instead of teaching him how to manage it.

On paper, it probably looked like support.

In reality, it was surrender.

The Hidden Harm of Placating

Placating feels kind in the moment. Nobody raises their voice. Nobody gets upset. The day moves along smoothly.

But placating an autistic student sends a dangerous message:

You don’t need to grow.

You don’t need to try.

We don’t expect more from you.

For a child with autism, especially one capable of learning like Sheamus, that message slowly turns into stagnation. Skills stop developing. Confidence shrinks. Independence fades.

Comfort replaces competence.

And no parent dreams of a comfortable future. We dream of a capable one.

Choosing a Different Path

After watching this pattern repeat again and again, I made the hardest educational decision a parent can make.

I pulled him out.

Not out of frustration.

Out of responsibility.

Today Sheamus is getting what he should have been getting all along.

Real services. Real support. Real teaching.

He has speech therapy. Occupational therapy. Music therapy. A one-on-one worker who comes to our home and helps him practice daily living skills. Instead of being parked in a system that managed him, he is finally in programs that build him.

And the difference is night and day.

He is learning again.

A Message to Schools

Autistic students do not need to be pacified.

They need to be taught.

Yes, they need accommodations.

Yes, they need understanding.

Yes, they need patience and structure and compassion.

But above all, they need educators who believe they are worth the effort.

Placating is easy. Teaching is work.

And our kids deserve the work.

A Message to Parents

If something feels wrong, trust that feeling.

If your child is being kept busy instead of being helped forward, speak up. Ask questions. Demand more.

Because comfort without growth is not education.

It’s babysitting with a bell schedule.

And our children deserve far better than that.

Sheamus is proof that the right support can change everything. The goal was never to make him quiet. The goal was to help him become independent, confident, and prepared for life.

That goal hasn’t changed.

Only the path did.

/

Teaching vs. Placating: The Quiet Shift That Changed Everything

There are two very different ways to work with autistic students.

One is to teach them.

The other is to keep them comfortable.

From the outside, those two approaches can look almost identical. A calm classroom. A compliant student. No complaints coming home in the backpack. But underneath, they are worlds apart.

I learned that difference the hard way with my son Sheamus.

When School Was a Place of Growth

In elementary and middle school, Sheamus had teachers who believed in him.

They didn’t just manage him. They taught him.

If he didn’t understand something, they slowed it down. They found new angles. They used visuals, patience, repetition, creativity. They treated learning like a bridge they were responsible for helping him cross.

And he crossed it.

He learned to read better. He learned to communicate better. He learned routines and social skills and confidence. He came home tired, sometimes frustrated, but growing.

That’s what real education feels like for an autistic child. Effort, support, progress.

Then High School Happened

Somewhere between middle school hallways and high school bells, the mission quietly changed.

Teaching turned into placating.

Instead of explaining the work, teachers started excusing it. Instead of pushing him to grow, they lowered expectations. Instead of finding ways to reach him, they found ways to avoid conflict.

If he didn’t want to do something, they let it slide.

If he struggled, they watered it down.

If he was overwhelmed, they removed the challenge instead of teaching him how to manage it.

On paper, it probably looked like support.

In reality, it was surrender.

The Hidden Harm of Placating

Placating feels kind in the moment. Nobody raises their voice. Nobody gets upset. The day moves along smoothly.

But placating an autistic student sends a dangerous message:

You don’t need to grow.

You don’t need to try.

We don’t expect more from you.

For a child with autism, especially one capable of learning like Sheamus, that message slowly turns into stagnation. Skills stop developing. Confidence shrinks. Independence fades.

Comfort replaces competence.

And no parent dreams of a comfortable future. We dream of a capable one.

Choosing a Different Path

After watching this pattern repeat again and again, I made the hardest educational decision a parent can make.

I pulled him out.

Not out of frustration.

Out of responsibility.

Today Sheamus is getting what he should have been getting all along.

Real services. Real support. Real teaching.

He has speech therapy. Occupational therapy. Music therapy. A one-on-one worker who comes to our home and helps him practice daily living skills. Instead of being parked in a system that managed him, he is finally in programs that build him.

And the difference is night and day.

He is learning again.

A Message to Schools

Autistic students do not need to be pacified.

They need to be taught.

Yes, they need accommodations.

Yes, they need understanding.

Yes, they need patience and structure and compassion.

But above all, they need educators who believe they are worth the effort.

Placating is easy. Teaching is work.

And our kids deserve the work.

A Message to Parents

If something feels wrong, trust that feeling.

If your child is being kept busy instead of being helped forward, speak up. Ask questions. Demand more.

Because comfort without growth is not education.

It’s babysitting with a bell schedule.

And our children deserve far better than that.

Sheamus is proof that the right support can change everything. The goal was never to make him quiet. The goal was to help him become independent, confident, and prepared for life.

That goal hasn’t changed.

Only the path did.

/