Criteria

Purposeful sampling (Bailey, 2007) was used to identify participants who have autism, considered themselves to have limited or unreliable verbal speech, and used FC as their primary means of communication. The participants were over the age of 18 and attended an educational institution (i.e., elementary, middle or high school, adult education, college or university) in the U.S. prior to having found a way to communicate. Criteria for typing support level was established to include the following support or combination of supports: (a) no physical touch; (b) touch at the elbow, touch at the shoulder, or touch above the shoulder; (c) verbal encouragement; and (d) verbal prompting to stay focused on the communication interaction and/or to provide feedback on message content, such as clarifying unclear messages. All participants used either one of these supports or a combination of two or three supports while typing.

Recruitment and consent

The recruitment process spanned over six months and included multiple levels of individuals who provided access to the typers. All participants had individuals who took on a position of overseeing access to them. This means that there were people in positions which either enabled or denied access to the typer, depending on their perspective of the study (Nind, 2008).

Each participant had two levels of overseers: (a) Level 1 overseers worked at or were part of an organization or group of typers in which the participant belonged; and (b) Level 2 overseers included a parent, guardian, facilitator, or support staff who assisted the participant with everyday living needs. Once Level 1 overseers determined the research was safe, the Level 2 overseer was accessed. For example, initial contact would be made and trust would be built with the Level 1 overseer by explaining the research and answering questions related to the study. Level 1 overseers would then feel comfortable and provide an introduction to Level two overseers. The study was explained again and all questions asked by the Level 2 overseers were answered, building a level of trust with them. If the Level 1 individual did not feel comfortable with the study, the communication ceased and there were no further introductions.

In a handful of instances, a Level 1 overseer would not know anyone that fit the participant criteria and would make an introduction to a Level 1 overseer at a different organization. This was a time-consuming, yet necessary process in order to find participants fitting the outlined criteria. In this study, trust was developed because of the researchers' personal connections in the area of FC, which enabled the overseers and typers to be comfortable with engaging in the study. The FC community is a tight-knit community, and it is believed the controversy surrounding this method has contributed to this closeness.

Providing Level 1 and 2 overseers, and participants, with unlimited time to review and ask questions about the consent forms afforded them the ability to reach out to a trusted friend or family member and review together, if desired. All participants provided consent and those with a guardian provided guardian consent.

Participant demographics

Participants ranged in age from 19 to 48, and had varying levels of education and FC experience. In addition, participants worked with the facilitator they used during the interviews for different lengths of time. Participants were asked to choose their pseudonym for the study and their preference of person-first or identity-first language. A summary of participant characteristics is included in Table 1.

Educators presuming competence of all students

The structure of special education makes students with disabilities who may already be struggling due to lack of accessibility, work harder to overcome the challenge of being disabled (Davis, 1997). The idea of overcoming sends a negative message about disability and implies that the student is less worthy than able-bodied peers. By forcing students to prove their worthiness of specific educational opportunities, educators are abusing their position of power. Further, when educators base decisions of intellect on existing knowledge and beliefs, students' educational careers and lives are affected. An educator's job is to teach, not to determine the worthiness of students.

Several participants discussed their frustration of denied access to general education and meaningful curriculum. One participant shared that once she learned to type and proved her intelligence, only then was she was provided real teaching experiences. Another typer shared that expectations should be high for all students, regardless of whether they struggle. This is notable because the design of the special education system stems from the medical model of disability (Deal, 2003; Linton, 1998). The perpetuation of viewing disability from this model bolsters a continuation of tired stereotypes of individuals with autism, such as verbal ability equating intelligence, a lack of desire to develop relationships, and body movement identified as conscious behavioral choices. For educators, the introduction of new information, which does not align with existing autism ideology that may have been unquestioned prior (i.e., verbal ability equals intelligence, lack of desire to develop relationships, undervalued ability to communicate, and body movement identified as conscious behavioral choices), may support a process of change affecting how teachers think about and educate their students.

Educators' mindsets need to change to presume competence of those they serve. Those in the profession must recognize and be willing to admit their own limitations when it comes to disability. Because special educators focus on deficits and help students overcome these deficits, educators are caught in the troubling space of searching for inabilities and teaching to deficit areas. This capacity in which special educators function, is perpetuating problems for autistic students, especially those with limited or unreliable verbal speech. As some of the participants shared, these problems include boredom when curriculum is needlessly modified, frustration when their ability is questioned, and limited educational opportunities. Segregation into self-contained classrooms, as well as separation among the disability itself (i.e., low functioning [sic] vs. high functioning [sic]), should be critically examined and shown for what it is—a disability hierarchy that leads to lower expectations of students based on their perceived abilities. No other students, regardless of race, gender, or cultural background, must prove their way into general education; only disabled students are shackled by the system built to serve them.

Developing a sensory friendly environment

Participants expressed that their sensory needs were often misunderstood or underrecognized (Donellan et al., 2010; Goldman, Wang, Salgado, Greene, & Rapin, 2009; Hill & Leary, 1993). The definition of autism has changed over the past several decades, and it has expanded to reflect the impact of sensory stimuli. Stimuli such as noise and light were cited as being troublesome for some participants.

Although most able-bodied individuals' sensory systems have the ability to monitor the environment, adjust to surroundings, and screen out excess stimuli, individuals with autism may have greater difficulty doing this (Donnellan et al., 2010; Leary & Donnellan, 2012). Often, self-contained classrooms are said to provide less distracting environments for students with autism; however, research suggests this is not the case (Causton-Theoharis et al., 2011). With an increased number of staff and students with varying body movements, auditory and visual distractions may be greater in self-contained rooms. Students who are sensitive to sensory stimuli must adjust to the context of the room and its frequent changes (Donnellan et al., 2010). This may add an additional barrier for students as they attempt to gain academic skills.

Kluth (2004) evaluated autobiographies of individuals with autism, which resulted in the recommendation of adaptations that could be reframed for autistic students in school settings. These adaptations included: (a) classroom lighting, sounds, smells, and space; (b) instructional strategies: and (c) assessments. When establishing a classroom environment that is conducive to learning, it is important to realize many students may benefit from adaptations in the environment (Causton & Tracy-Bronson, 2015). One way in which educators can be sensitive to the classroom environment is to evaluate the sounds and lighting in the classroom (Grandin, 2011; Kluth, 2004), which was mentioned by several participants in this study.

Smells may also impact a student's comfort level (Kluth, 2010). One participant (Jacob) discussed his difficulty with the smell in the cafeteria, which made it challenging for him to wait in line, pay, and then retrieve his food. The school staff arranged for Jacob's meal to be chosen, loaded onto the tray, and paid for prior to his pickup at lunch time. Although some individuals may have believed that, since Jacob was fully included in general education since preschool, he should be able to navigate the lunchroom by high school, it did not mean that he was able to "overcome" his sensitivity to smell, nor did the staff expect him to do so. Through a behaviorist lens, staff may have made an effort to habituate Jacob to lunchroom stimuli; however, in this case, he was accommodated because of his needs. This accommodation helped him eat lunch with friends, focusing his energy on building relationships and communicating.

However, it is important to note that just because an object or person has a strong or unique smell does not necessarily mean an individual with autism will have an adverse reaction to the smell. Reaction to smells will depend on the person, in the same way in which other sensory sensitivities, such lighting and sound, are unique to each individual (Kluth, 2010). In fact, Leary and Donnellan (2012) argued that smell can also support students with autism. Sometimes smelling an object can help an individual identify the object, and smelling something specific, such as a meal being cooked, may prompt an individual to sit down at the dinner table when they realize it is time to eat (Leary & Donnellan, 2012).

A more restrictive environment can be a common route schools take when there is not a greater understanding and/or push to implement needed adaptations for individuals with autism and other disabilities. Consistent with some of the participants' feedback in this study, Kluth (2004) suggested allowing students with autism a quiet space they can use when needed. Various participants took breaks in other rooms during the interviews. If students need a break or an environment with different or decreased stimuli, having an area in which to provide this is important. The space should be safe, and students should be allowed to access the space when they feel they need to regroup.

Building natural peer relationships

Educators should analyze how friendships of students with autism are currently developed. Often, students with autism are encouraged and instructed to overcome their deficits by adhering to accepted social norms. If educators begin to look at autism differently and respect students for who they are, educators can begin to reflect on the best way to cultivate friendships instead of contriving them.

Participants' valued their friendships, and those who did not identify themselves as having friends shared that they wished they did. Bondy (1988) discussed social interaction at length, stating that individuals with autism need to be trained and reinforced to interact with others. One might ask if this is the attitude educators should adopt. This attitude assumes those with autism do not desire relationships and further perpetuates damaging stereotypes of individuals with autism. Similarly, special educators often push socially constructed ideas of friendship onto students (Baglieri, Valle, Connor, & Gallagher, 2011). When these students do not develop peer relationships in a way that is obvious or adult approved (Locke et al., 2010), educators often think the friendships do not exist and design programs or practices specifically devised to target "deficits" in the area of social skills. What this looks like is adult-created situations where able-bodied peers are placed in the helper role, and activities are introduced with goals in mind so skills can be taught to overcome perceived deficits. Further, educators strive for students with autism to generalize these skills outside of the lessons.

Unfortunately, educators rarely see these skills generalize outside of the contrived social experience (McIntosh & MacKay, 2008). After several years of interventions like this, educators, service providers, and parents may find themselves in the individualized education program (IEP) meeting where the team attempts to understand why the targeted skills do not carry over into other situations (Danforth, 2014; McIntosh & MacKay, 2008). Jacob's interview shed insight into why students oftentimes do not generalize these skills in other situations; educators contrive false social experiences, using peers as helpers (establishing that peers with disabilities are not really peers at all but rather students who need help), and teach discrete skills based on perceived abilities of the student for the student to fit within the socially constructed idea of friendship. Educators expect that fabricated situations will enable students to do real things, such as develop meaningful relationships.

Jacob discussed his development of friendships and his experience in a social club at his high school. Providing fun and quality real-life experiences for all students can support the students in cultivating friendships. The social club revolved around food and communicating. Anyone was welcome to join, and the club members would cook, eat, and participate in activities such as field trips. This club was modeled after an acceptance coalition for the LGBTQ community. The purpose of this group was to provide opportunities to socialize in a relaxing environment that was grounded in acceptance and diversity as opposed to a deficit-driven model. The point is that, according to Jacob, educators push their ideas of friendship, perceived need, and intervention onto students, and he believed there is a better way.

Danforth (2014) explored the notion of building a classroom on a foundation of acceptance. This supports the idea of educators using a framework for social groups, such as one developed by the LGBTQ community, to provide an arena for all individuals to be together and enjoy one another's company. As educators begin to appreciate difference, students will gain the message that all individuals are appreciated. Danforth (2014) posited that educators can begin this journey by asking

not how can we fix the deficit ridden disabled students so they can participate in relationships at school?, [but rather] how can we create a school culture that supports the development of positive, supporting, and nurturing interpersonal relationships across the many lines of human diversity? (p. 114)

Understanding body movement

Consistent with the literature, participants discussed body movement. The idea of viewing autism as a movement difference (Leary & Hill, 1996) continues to challenge existing theories of the disability (Biklen, 1990), which have relied heavily on a behaviorist perspective. Additionally, behaviorists argue that body movements are meaningful, and an antecedent precludes these movements (Donnellan et al., 2010). Although it is true that some body movements are significant, it does not necessarily follow that all body movements serve the same purpose or derive from the same place. Some users expressed that they participated in behavioral therapy, while others argued they did not because behavior was not the problem; rather, inability to communicate was the issue. Additionally, prior to the time some users learned to type, they suggested they were not necessarily always using their behavior as a way to communicate. This notion of body movement being an oftentimes involuntary action aligned with the participants' interviews. Movement in autism is not a new idea. As the definition of autism has shifted over the past several decades (American Psychiatric Association [APA], 1980, 1994, 2013), the recognition of movement has turned to be categorized as a pattern of behavior (APA, 2013), as opposed to deriving from a neurological difference that individuals cannot control. Multiple participants reported difficulty with body control; some stated the ability to make their body move when they wanted it to was demanding, and the ceasing of movement was also challenging for them (Berkeley, Zittel, Pitney, & Nichols, 2001; Rinehart, Bellgrove, Tonge, Brereton, Howells-Rankin, & Bradshaw, 2006; Nazarali, Glazebrook, & Elliott, 2009).

Participants also cited need for touch to slow their typing pace or to obtain typing rhythm. Autism has been linked to apraxia (Biklen, 1993; Biklen & Cardinal, 1997), which is described as the impairment of the execution of learned movement (Geschwind, 1975). Apraxia can entail difficulty with voluntary actions or a lack of voluntary actions. This correlation between apraxia and autism contributes to the literature from a group of scholars who have suggested that motor movement difference may play a larger part in autism than previously believed (Donnellan, Leary, & Robledo, 2006; Donnellan et al., 2010; Goldman et al., 2009; Hill & Leary, 1993; Nazarali et al., 2009; Rinehart et al., 2001).

Additionally, individuals with autism have been found to have difficulty with planning and reprogramming body movement (Nazarali et al., 2009). Once a movement has already been planned, and the individual is asked to reprogram their movement, the movement becomes more difficult. Facilitated communication is a communicative method that supports stability of body movement in order for an individual to type (Crossley, 1994). Further, the physical support that is given provides resistance and helps the user to reset their motor movement to then strike another key (Whittier Area Parents' Association for the Developmentally Handicapped, n.d.). Several participants discussed needing a rhythm or needing to be slowed down, which was also present in the interviews. Facilitated communication can provide physical support that aligns with these motor movement needs, as well as changes to levels of support as the motor needs of the user changes.

Many educators think body movements are indicative of behaviors, and those behaviors are either positive or negative, good or bad. Likewise, many educators believe movements, viewed through a behaviorist lens, are driven by function (Alberto & Troutman, 2006), although the function may not always be recognizable. The discourse around autism contributes to an educator's understanding of the disability. What this means is that, when behaviorist terminology is used to help define the disability, this terminology contributes to how one thinks about autism, what one expects from those with autism, and how one treats individuals with the disability (Baglieri et al., 2011). For example, the definition of autism, along with experience working or being around individuals with autism, drives what an educator believes the disability to be. Not one participant mentioned that they enjoyed behavioral therapy or that behavioral therapy provided them with educational opportunities they would not have otherwise had. However, two users shared their participation in behavioral therapy helped them as they learned to type, and, subsequently, typing may have provided them educational opportunities they would not have otherwise had. This provides insight into behavioral therapy as a means of contributing to a skill the users felt was useful, as opposed to teaching skills able-bodied individuals deemed important.

Understanding how autism has been linked to apraxia, as well as how individuals with autism may be uniquely impaired by apraxia, may broaden or change educators' approaches to working with students on the spectrum. This understanding may make educators less likely to assume that body movements are task avoidance or noncompliant behaviors and that students want to control their body but cannot always do so on command. An increased understanding would acknowledge the voices of those served by listening to their feedback about body movement and subsequently provide a more respectful approach to teaching.

Examining how body movement aligns with a communicative method such as FC would provide educators with an approach to supporting those who have involuntary movement needs. If educators view autism as a neurological difference and believe students with the disability are impacted by apraxia, it could have a profound effect on how communication is approached in classrooms. When looking at other neurological disorders that include movement components, such as Tourette's or Parkinson's (Leary & Donnellan, 2012), it is accepted that support may be needed to do the activities the individual wants to do. Instead of identifying what individuals with Parkinson's cannot do and trying to find ways they can overcome their disability, educators would accept that these individuals have an impairment and provide the person support and accommodations. Looking at autistic typers with this same lens opens the door to accepting a method that provides physical support.