The original plan for the Educating the Uniquely Wired Child podcast was simple: four companion episodes to complement the workbook. But somewhere along the way between the conversations and, admittedly, despite the editing, I realized I was having too much fun to stop. So now, I am continuing with new episodes twice a month.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon editing my conversation with Jess Hendrickx, co-author of Women and Girls on the Autism Spectrum. Her insights into supporting autistic girls are powerful and necessary. As I listened back over our conversation, I felt proud that we’re helping increase awareness for a population that is so often overlooked.
But a few questions kept nagging at me:
Why should autistic girls have to change? Why can’t the environment (or our expectations) be what changes instead?
Those questions took me back to my earlier work with Social Thinking.
I was first trained in Social Thinking as part of the Chatham County District Autism Team. A speech therapist and I designed interventions that didn’t just tell students what to do, they also explained why certain behaviors were expected. We later adapted that work for general education classrooms, eventually bringing it into every K–4 classroom at Perry Harrison Elementary.
To this day, it remains one of the proudest things I’ve done professionally.
We taught a simple but powerful concept:
- When you’re in a group, you’re a “Thinking About Others” kid
- When you’re alone, you’re a “Thinking About Me” kid
We introduced these concepts through children’s literature. Topics like interrupting, taking turns, managing big reactions, making mistakes, and staying true to yourself. The beauty of using books is that kids can see themselves in a character without feeling singled out.
And then something incredible happened.
Each class was given a weekly challenge to practice a specific pro-social behavior. When teachers or students noticed it happening, they tracked progress together.
One moment still stands out. During a classroom observation, the principal noticed a group of students arguing over crayons. She knelt down and quietly asked: “What would a Thinking About Others kid do right now?”
The students looked surprised… how did she know about this way of speaking?
Then one child spoke up:
“There are two green crayons. I’ll take one, and my friend can have the other.”
Real-time problem solving. Ownership. Understanding.
It was incredible.
Teachers loved the program. Discipline referrals went down. Report cards reflected growth in a more positive, strengths-based way, especially for students who were often on the colors “yellow” or “red” on traditional behavior charts.
And perhaps most importantly: Every student benefited.
Because when children understand the why, meaningful behavior change follows.
But here’s the part that still stings.
After two years of work, reaching over 200 students, the program was removed from the school improvement plan. A new administrator wanted to shift the school’s focus to STEM programming.
And just like that, our programming was gone. All of our momentum towards positive behavior change for all students erased and replaced with the ineffective stop light system (green = good, yellow = needs improvement, red = need to contact your parent).
What that experience taught me is this: We often design interventions for the “uniquely wired” child, and expect them to change to fit the environment.
But what if we flipped that?
What if classrooms (and systems) were designed so that all children could thrive?
That’s why I’m especially excited for an upcoming conversation with Holden Thorp, Managing Editor of Science. He shares a framework for autistic flourishing built on three key ideas:
- Alignment: Matching a person’s unique traits, interests, and strengths with their environment
- Adaptation: The strategies an autistic individual uses to navigate a neurotypical world
- Accommodation: The responsibility of systems and people to make meaningful adjustments—rather than expecting full conformity
That last one matters.
Because when we only focus on adaptation, we’re still asking the individual to carry the full weight.
But flourishing? That requires shared responsibility.
For now, I’ll keep doing what I can: continuing the conversations, building awareness, and challenging the default assumptions.
Because especially for uniquely wired girls (who are so often missed, misunderstood, or expected to quietly “fit in”) this shift isn’t just important. It’s necessary.