So often in education we make judgements based on what we see from the outside. A child is quiet in a group task and we assume they are not engaging. A child plays in an unusual way and we assume they are missing the point. A child does not show emotion in a way we expect and we assume they do not feel empathy.

But what is happening inside may be very different. The quiet child may be carefully processing before they contribute. The child who plays differently may be fully absorbed in imaginative exploration. The child who does not display emotion in a familiar way may still be deeply affected and caring.

Looking only at the surface can lead us to misunderstand group work, play, and empathy in autistic children. And once those misunderstandings harden into assumptions, they shape how children are judged, taught, and supported.

A child sits quietly during paired work and we decide they are not engaging

I have lost count of how many times I have heard that autistic children cannot work in groups. In my experience, autistic pupils can thrive in all sorts of collaborative arrangements when the roles, expectations, and environment support their way of thinking. For some, that means a lively mixed group. For others, it is a quiet task focused pairing. Sometimes it means working separately and then pooling ideas. The important thing is that the outward appearance of participation can be misleading. A child who seems quiet or detached might be contributing in a way that is less visible but no less valuable. This idea, that the visible behaviour does not always match the inner reality, applies in many other situations too, including play.

A child plays alone and we assume they are not social

When I was a child, I could spend hours in front of a dolls house. It had everything: furniture, ornaments, food on plates, soft furnishings. But no dolls. I did not need dolls. I loved studying the details, imagining myself walking through each tiny room. Sometimes I would lie on my back beside it and look up into the rooms, picturing myself strolling across the ceilings with the tables and chairs hanging down from above. To an observer, it might have looked like I was doing nothing or not playing properly. In reality it was rich, creative, and deeply absorbing. It was my way of exploring space, design, and story. Just as group work can be done in many different ways, play can be expressed in ways that may not match what adults expect. And just as this kind of play can be misunderstood, so too can the ways autistic children connect emotionally with others.

A child shows concern differently and we conclude they must lack empathy

A major review of over 200 studies has recently examined empathy in autism. It found that autistic people on average scored lower than non autistic people on tasks measuring cognitive empathy, which means working out what someone else is feeling by thinking about it. The picture was very different for affective empathy, which is feeling the emotion alongside another person. Here, the difference was much smaller, and when the researchers looked only at the highest quality studies, even that small difference disappeared.

The size of the supposed “empathy gap” also depended heavily on the tool used to measure it. In other words, the difference between autistic and non-autistic people looked much larger in some studies than in others, and the variation often had more to do with the test itself than with any real difference in empathy. Some tests mix empathy with unrelated social conventions, such as making eye contact or choosing socially expected phrases, and then treat a lower score in those areas as proof of less empathy. Others measure empathy only in a non-autistic style, assuming that warmth, care, or understanding must always be shown in a specific way — perhaps through a particular tone of voice, facial expression, or turn of phrase.

This is a little like deciding that the only proper way to play with a dolls house is to move dolls around and speak for them. If that is the only thing you count as play, you would completely miss other forms of engagement, such as imagining yourself walking through the rooms or creating stories in your head without moving a single figure. The child may be deeply involved and imaginative, but the narrow definition of play would mark them down as doing nothing.

In the same way, narrow definitions of empathy can overlook the genuine connection, care, and understanding that autistic people may express in ways that do not match non-autistic expectations. Dr Damian Milton’s double empathy problem helps explain why this happens. Misunderstandings between autistic and non-autistic people are not one sided. Both bring their own communication styles, cultural references, and life experiences. Each may find it harder to read and respond to the other’s signals, simply because those signals are unfamiliar. That difficulty in reading cues is mutual. It does not mean either side lacks the ability to care or understand. It means the two perspectives are meeting across a gap in experience, not across a gap in humanity.

Looking Beyond the Surface

Whether we are talking about group work, play, or empathy, the lesson is the same. The way a child engages may not match what we expect, but that does not mean they are disengaged, unimaginative, or unfeeling. The child who seems quiet in a group may be listening intently and preparing a thoughtful contribution. The child who plays without dolls may be creating entire worlds in their mind. The child who does not show concern in a typical way may still care deeply and be looking for the right way to express it. If we look beyond the surface and take the time to ask why, we open the door to understanding and valuing the many different ways children engage with the world.

Written by Kate Coldrick, Functional Skills English tutor and resource creator, specialising in supporting neurodivergent learners.

Learn more about my work on the About page, or browse my resources for teaching neurodivergent students in Kate Coldrick’s TES shop.

Written by Kate Coldrick, an educator and writer based in Woodbury near Exeter.