What Traditional Social Skills Courses Get Wrong and What an Affirming Social Skills Course Would Look Like

Written by Melanie Heyworth

We know that very often, Autistic people – of all ages – are encouraged to develop “social skills” and are sent to “social skills courses” that attempt to teach them how to interact with their non-autistic peers.

Such “skills” might include how to hold a back-and-forth conversation, make “appropriate” eye contact, take turns, or have a linear conversation.

For some time now, Autistic people have worried about such “social skills courses”. Are they neuro-affirming? Probably not. Do they just teach us to mask? Probably. So, how can we assess if the “skills” being taught are the right skills for us, in the context we need them? And should we do “social skills” at all?

I do not hold that learning “social skills” per se is categorically a “bad” thing; from my experience, it is a nonsense to think that socialising just comes naturally to any of us, and I’d argue we all need a social skills refresher once in a while, regardless of our neurotype.

But how can we know if the social skills course that we – or our children – are offered as Autistic people is respectful and helpful? How can we know if it has the potential to do harm? Whilst each instance is different, I want to present here some principles that I feel underpin neuro-affirming social skills, and give the best chance of social skills done right.

The most important element in “social skills” is motivation.

Very rarely do we bother to ask if the Autistic person themselves would like to learn “social skills”. It is often taken for granted that they “need” such instruction, and their desire to engage is not important. Equally, we often seem to assume that Autistic people want to learn all social skills, instead of understanding the specific skill a person might want to acquire for a specific purpose.

Talking with the Autistic person about what they need, and why they feel they need it, is the first step towards understanding how best to approach teaching them. We must ask: how is this relevant and meaningful to you?

But, of course, it’s more than that.

Over a decade ago, Dr Dan Siegel coined the phrase “name it to tame it”, which he uses as a parenting strategy for soothing and coregulating with children who are experiencing big emotions. It’s essentially a strategy of validation: the idea is to help your child name the overwhelming emotion with words. This has a “taming” effect, as the child feels heard and understood and is confident that their experience in the world is valued.​ This concept is one I really like for social skills.

In order for Autistic people to feel heard, understood and validated we need to name what we’re doing accurately. ​

So, actually, we’re not teaching them “social skills”. ​We’re specifically teaching them “non-autistic social skills”. ​

Autistic people do not lack “social skills”. But we might not have acquired every “non-autistic social skill”. Assuming that the social skills course at issue is not attempting to teach the Autistic person Autistic social skills, we can presume that the intent is to teach non-autistic social skills.

So, neuro-affirming social skills will own and name its specific purpose: it is designed to teach Autistic people non-autistic social skills.

Naming what has hitherto been termed “social skills” more accurately as “non-autistic social skills” allows us, as Autistic people, to own our Autistic social skills.

It validates our Autistic social skills by recognising that “social skills” and “non-autistic social skills” are not synonymous or equivalent (which effectively erases Autistic social skills entirely). And it also allows us collectively to explore the ways that non-autistic people connect, without invalidating organic Autistic experiences.​

​ When we put that specifier “non-autistic” in front of “social skills”, we are being actively respectful and neuroaffirming, because we remove the value judgement that comes with assuming that non-autistic social skills are the only social skills. ​

​ When we talk about non-autistic social skills simply as social skills, we write out the value and worth, and even the existence, of Autistic social skills. To be respectful and to avoid harm, we need to ensure that the non-autistic social skills that are taught to Autistic people are not constructed as inherently better or preferable.

By using the terms “non-autistic social skills” and “Autistic social skills” – by naming them accurately – we acknowledge that Autistic people have our own ways of being and connecting and socialising in the world, even as we acknowledge that we might want to learn some non-organic ways of being and connecting and socialising in the world to make connections outside of our Autistic neurokindred.

Using “non-autistic social skills” also acknowledges that our non-autistic peers need to learn some non-organic Autistic ways of connecting and socialising in the world which may not feel organic to them in order to develop relationships with Autistic friends. We’re essentially constructing a cultural exchange.

Part of that process of naming it to tame it is to acknowledge the contexts in which an Autistic person might want to use a non-autistic social skill. Too often, traditional “social skills” courses make it seem like Autistic people have to use those learned non-autistic skills all the time, in all contexts. Affirming non-autistic social skills courses will ensure that they explore and name when it’s possibly a positive or beneficial thing to utilise those non-autistic skills (like eye contact in a traditional job interview, for example).​

So, naming it accurately can help to tame it. And by tame it, I mean tame the harmful and invalidating potential inherent in teaching an Autistic person non-autistic social skills. It’s not the only thing that’s needed, but it’s a solid first step.​

But what other elements are needed beyond making sure that the Autistic person wants to learn this thing, and then naming accurately what’s being taught (a non-autistic social skill) and making explicit in what contexts that non-autistic social skill might be expected, necessary or beneficial?

Usually, traditional social skills courses are unidirectional: the non-autistic person teaches the Autistic person non-autistic social skills, abrogating all responsibility to learn any Autistic social skills. Affirming social skills, however, ensure that they are bidirectional in teaching and learning. If you teach an Autistic person non-autistic social skills, then you should invite that Autistic person to teach some of their Autistic social skills.

Invite, and actively facilitate cultural exchange and bidirectionality. We cannot and should not expect Autistic people to learn and use non-autistic social skills (even occasionally) without undertaking to learn and use Autistic social skills.​

Where traditional social skills courses often fall down is in ensuring that the non-autistic skill being taught takes into account the unique Autistic experience. We can do this through genuine curiosity and exploration.

Let’s take eye contact. Teaching an Autistic person about eye contact (named as a non-autistic and Western-based social skill, that is probably only necessary in highly formal contexts with strangers where there is a significant power differential) needs curiosity… A good teacher will ask: What does it feel like to experience eye contact? Where or what would you prefer to look at? Are there times or contexts when eye contact is more, or less, difficult? What is your natural eye gaze doing?

A good teacher will also codesign strategies with the Autistic person, and will individualise or personalise any skills to that individual Autistic person’s experience.

Returning to our eye contact example, a good teach will continue to be curious and explore: Does looking generally at the face with an unfocused gaze work? Can you choose a less intense area of the face to focus on instead? Are you better off positioning yourself beside rather than across from someone? Can you ‘walk and talk’ (side-by-side)? Can you use a notebook and take notes or doodle rather than looking at faces?

That’s because a good teacher will know that what will work for one Autistic person, will not necessarily work for another.

And a good teacher will understand that their core business is to help an Autistic person find their way of managing this non-autistic expectation in a way that lets them see that they don’t ever have to be ‘fluent’ in eye contact. They can just pass.​

Good non-autistic social skills teaching will also acknowledge the innate messiness of communication and socialising: a good teacher will know that they cannot anticipate how another person will respond in any given context.

Social scripts, for example, rarely work in practice since they cannot account for communication in the moment. An Autistic child who is given a script to help them join in a group activity at lunchtime at school, for example, needs to be prepared for the possible eventuality that their peers will reject them.

Too often, we are so focussed on what an Autistic person should say that we forget that their communication partner is unpredictable, and their response simply cannot be accurately scripted.

Finally – and although this should go without saying, it often is lacking – a good teacher will have a robust knowledge about the Autistic experiences that might impact their social interaction.

And, more importantly, they must have a deep knowledge of the individual experiences of the person they seek to teach. Everything from a person’s experience of alexithymia to interoception, to trauma, to Autistic inertia, to anxiety will each impact on the best way to teach a non-autistic social skill, if it is appropriate at all.

So, next time you’re assessing a “social skills” course, ask yourself: is it necessary and desired? Is it specific? Is it appropriately and accurately named? Are skills contexualised? Does it allow for curiosity and exploration, and can any strategies be codesigned and personalised? And is it underpinned by an acknowledgement of how messy socialising can be, and by a genuine understanding of the individual and their experiences. If not, it’s probably not worth pursuing.