Xóchitl’s Voice: Rethinking Power Dynamics in Teaching Autistic Teens

Xóchitl* (pronounced SOH-cheel, IPA: [ˈsoː.tʃil]) is a bright, articulate high school student with an Individualised Education Plan (IEP) under the eligibility of Specific Learning Disability (SLD). Her name, meaning “flower” in Nahuatl, reflects both her indigenous roots and the resilience she embodies daily. Xóchitl’s journey within the American education system has been anything but straightforward. ‘Diagnosed**’ by her school’s psychologist as autistic in kindergarten, she began speaking and conversing like an adult in the second grade. However, her eligibility was later reclassified—not due to a lack of need but because the system’s understanding of autism still clings to outdated stereotypes of silent, withdrawn boys. For girls like Xóchitl, whose vibrancy and social engagement defy these limited constructs, critical support is too often withdrawn.

Her struggles are further complicated by her Gestalt Language Processing (GLP) style and a ‘diagnosis**’ of ADHD, a combination that presents unique challenges in navigating a system that forces students into a single eligibility category for SpEd services. As a GLP, Xóchitl learns language in chunks or scripts, rather than word by word, often requiring tailored support to thrive academically. Yet, in a school system that doesn’t recognise GLP processing as a valid learning style, her abilities are frequently misunderstood.

Xóchitl’s challenges extend beyond the classroom. She is DACA-protected, carrying the weight of uncertainty following the recent election, where immigration policies once again took centre stage. Her indigenous heritage, rooted in the traditions of her native Mexico, adds another layer of resilience. Her family, like many others, overcame entrenched power dynamics to pursue better opportunities, only to find those dynamics largely unchanged in the United States. Despite this, Xóchitl remains determined, her quick wit and sharp intellect often shining through the cracks in a system that wasn’t built for her.

In working with her, it became clear that traditional teacher-student power dynamics had to shift. For Xóchitl, respect means being treated as the intelligent young woman she is, with her voice and lived experiences acknowledged and valued. In my role as her case manager and Algebra II teacher, I’ve learned that to truly support her, I must presume competence and step back, allowing her to guide our shared journey.

The traditional power dynamics between teachers and students often assume that knowledge flows in one direction—from the teacher, as the authority, to the student, as the learner. However, this model falls apart when working with autistic students like Xóchitl, whose deep knowledge and unique ways of understanding the world challenge these assumptions. To effectively teach and support such students, educators must recognise their competence, value their lived experiences, and embrace a relationship based on mutual respect and collaboration.

In my dissertation (Hoerricks, 2018), I explored the Basic Need of Power as a fundamental element in effective teaching relationships. This framework argues that individuals, particularly adolescents, require a sense of agency and influence over their environments to thrive. For autistic students, who often face systemic underestimation and exclusion, this need for power is amplified. They are not blank slates waiting to be filled with knowledge; instead, they bring rich internal worlds, nuanced perspectives, and often, expertise in areas that surpass those of their teachers. The role of the educator in these cases is not to dictate or control but to foster a space where students’ inherent competence is recognised and nurtured.

With Xóchitl, the application of this principle has been transformative. Shifting the dynamic meant acknowledging that she often knows more than I do about certain topics, and this required stepping back from traditional teacher authority. For example, rather than assuming she needed me to dictate how to approach her Algebra II coursework, I engaged her as a collaborator. By connecting the material to her interests and allowing her to co-create strategies that worked for her unique processing style, I not only respected her intelligence but also demonstrated that her voice and input were integral to her success.

This approach challenges a deeply ingrained culture in education, where autistic students are too often seen as needing to be “fixed” or brought in line with neurotypical norms. Instead, by recognising their deep knowledge and unique capabilities, we as educators can dismantle the harmful power structures that hold them back and help them thrive on their own terms.

*Not the student’s real name.
**Diagnosis, in the American education system, means eligibility for special education services. It’s not a true medical diagnosis and is provided by a school psychologist.

Do You Speak Maths?

Xóchitl is a vibrant and intelligent student with a spark that lights up the room. Her enthusiasm for music and DJing, coupled with her outgoing personality, makes her a natural connector among her peers. Yet, despite her many strengths, she has been struggling to engage with her Algebra II coursework. Her grades are slipping, and the gap between her immense potential and her performance in the subject is widening. This disconnect is frustrating, not because she lacks the ability, but because it’s clear she possesses the intellectual heritage of a culture steeped in mathematics and astronomy.

Xóchitl’s roots trace back to a rich indigenous tradition, where mathematical precision and celestial observations were integral to daily life and cultural identity. The people of her region have long been revered for their deep understanding of complex mathematical systems and their ability to use this knowledge to track time, seasons, and cosmic patterns. It’s clear that Xóchitl carries the echoes of this legacy. Her quick mind and creative approach to problem-solving show an intuitive grasp of patterns, relationships, and connections. However, our curriculum fails to inspire her. It is too abstract, too disconnected from her world, and too removed from the artistry and rhythm that fuel her passion for music.

As one of her maths teachers, I am determined to bridge this gap. Xóchitl has big dreams of making a name for herself as a DJ and music producer. She is drawn to the technical and creative aspects of sound, remixing, and performance. My goal is to help her see how mathematics is not a separate, tedious subject but an essential tool that can empower her in her music career. By tying the coursework to her cultural heritage, her aspirations, and her innate strengths, I hope to reignite her engagement and help her realise that she is already a part of a profound mathematical tradition—she just needs to connect the dots.

As an AuDHDer and a GLP myself, I understand all too well the challenges Xóchitl faces in navigating a curriculum that often feels irrelevant or disconnected from her passions. I, too, process language in chunks, absorbing phrases and scripts that help me make sense of the world and communicate effectively. English wasn’t my first learned language, and learning it as a GLP posed unique struggles—struggles that I see reflected in many of my students, including Xóchitl. This shared experience drives my teaching approach, as I know firsthand the importance of presenting information in ways that resonate with their individual processing styles and interests.

When working with students like Xóchitl, I aim to provide detailed, meaningful connections to their lives, crafting scripts that allow them to see the relevance of what they’re learning. For Xóchitl, this meant creating a script that ties Algebra II concepts directly to music production and DJing—areas she is deeply passionate about. These lines and paragraphs are carefully thought out, offering a structured explanation that aligns with her GLP nature whilst leaving room for her to adapt and personalise the information. I don’t just hand these scripts over and walk away; I make sure they are fully referenced, layered with examples, and connected to her world in a way that allows her to visualise the bigger picture.

For someone like me, creating these scripts serves a dual purpose. It supports my own need for structure and clarity in language, while also ensuring that my students have a tangible resource they can revisit as they process and engage with new material. For Xóchitl, this means not only seeing how mathematical principles like functions and ratios apply to her music career but also understanding that these principles are part of a much broader cultural and intellectual tradition she is inherently connected to. This detailed, personalised approach helps her—and others like her—feel seen, valued, and empowered to succeed.

Xóchitl’s Script

Dr. H: “I know Algebra II isn't your favourite thing, Xóchitl, but since you’re into music production and DJing, I think it’s worth showing you how some of this stuff connects to the music industry. A lot of the skills and concepts we’re learning can help you not just understand the technical side of music production but also stand out as someone who really knows their craft.”

Xóchitl: “How? What does Algebra have to do with music?"

Dr. H: “Great question. Let’s break it down. In music production, you work with sound waves, right? Those waves are mathematically represented by functions and equations. You use sine and cosine functions—that’s trigonometry and algebra—to shape and manipulate those sound waves. For example, synthesisers and audio effects are built around these kinds of equations.”

Xóchitl: “Okay, but I’m not building synthesisers.”

Dr. H: “True, but even when you’re mixing or producing tracks, understanding the maths can help. EQ and filters rely on something called frequency response curves, which are described by quadratic and exponential equations—things we cover in Algebra II. Knowing this gives you more control over shaping sound.”

Xóchitl: “What else?”

Dr. H: “Have you ever heard of a compression curve? That’s another mathematical concept—it’s essentially a graph that shows how much compression is applied at different volume levels. You use algebra to fine-tune those curves for the exact sound you want. Plus, if you ever want to design your own plugins or software, you’d need to know how to work with equations and functions.”

Xóchitl: “What if I just want to DJ?”

Dr. H: “Even DJs use maths more than you’d think. Beatmatching and tempo changes involve ratios and proportions—core Algebra II topics. And if you’re serious about being a top-tier DJ, you’ll likely want to remix tracks, which brings you back into production and all the maths involved there.”

Xóchitl: “Hmm. I see your point. Anything else?”

Dr. H: “Absolutely. Let’s not forget the business side. If you’re running your own music career, you’ll need algebra to understand things like profit margins, growth rates, and investments—especially if you’re budgeting for equipment or planning tours. Maths helps you avoid getting ripped off and make smarter decisions.”

Xóchitl: “Okay, but it still feels hard.”

Dr. H: “I get that. But here’s the deal: if you can push through this now, it’s going to open doors later. You’ll have the technical skills and the confidence to handle the parts of music production that intimidate other people. You’ll stand out because you’ve mastered the maths, not just the music. And if you ever hit a point where you want to build your own brand, knowing this stuff gives you the upper hand.”

“But I can do this by ear…”

Dr. H: “You absolutely can do a lot by ear—trust me, Xóchitl, your ears and instincts are some of the most powerful tools you’ll ever have. But here’s the thing: doing it by ear will only take you so far, especially if you want to work at a professional level or compete with the best producers out there.”

Xóchitl: “Why not? Some of the best producers don’t talk about maths.”

Dr. H: “True, but what separates a good producer from a great one is understanding the technical side behind what they’re hearing. Think about it like this: using your ear is like playing football without ever watching game tape or learning strategies. You might do well naturally, but if you understand the mechanics behind it, you’re going to play at a whole different level.”

Xóchitl: “Okay, but I’m still not sure where maths fits in.”

Dr. H: “Let me give you an example. Let’s say you’re EQing a track by ear. You can hear which frequencies to boost or cut, but if you understand how logarithmic scales work—like how decibels are measured—you can fine-tune it way faster and with more precision. You can even predict how changes will interact with the rest of the mix without having to guess.”

Xóchitl: “That sounds useful, I guess.”

Dr. H: “It’s not just useful—it saves time. Producers who know the maths can create presets or automate processes that take hours for others. Let’s say you’re mastering a track and you need to compress the dynamic range. Doing it by ear is one thing, but knowing the ratios behind the compressor settings gives you the ability to control it exactly how you want. And when your name is on the line, precision matters.”

Xóchitl: “But I’m not going to be building plugins or mastering stuff yet.”

Dr. H: “Fair point. You might not be doing those things yet. But what if you decide you want to design your own signature sound, like Skrillex did? Think about how his unique style—blending heavy bass drops and intricate sound design—became so distinctive that an eclectic range of artists, from pop to hip-hop, sought him out for remixes. Knowing the maths behind sound design, like how to manipulate waveforms and frequencies, is what allows producers like him to work at a deeper level than just dragging sliders on software. It gives you the power to create something unmistakably yours, rather than relying on presets or tools built by someone else.”

Xóchitl: “So it’s like having another tool in my toolbox?”

Dr. H: “Exactly. Think of maths as the behind-the-scenes cheat code to your creativity. The more tools you have, the more flexible and innovative you can be. You might not need all of it right now, but learning it now means you’ll have it ready when you do need it. And trust me, that time will come sooner than you think.”

Xóchitl: “But technology changes.”

Dr. H: “You’re absolutely right—technology changes all the time. That’s why having a strong foundation, like a maths background, is so important. When you understand the principles behind the technology, you’re not just limited to the tools that exist now—you’ll be ready to adapt to whatever comes next.”

Dr. H: “Think about groups like The Orb or Orbital. They’ve stayed relevant for decades, not because they clung to one piece of gear or software, but because they understood the science and maths behind their sound. That gave them the flexibility to embrace new tools as they emerged—whether it was hardware synths, digital workstations, or advanced sequencing software. They didn’t just keep up; they reinvented the possibilities of what those tools could do.”

Xóchitl: “But I don’t want to wait years to catch up.”

Dr. H: “Exactly! That’s the point—when you understand the maths, you won’t have to ‘catch up’ later. Imagine a revolutionary new production tool drops tomorrow. The producers who understand the fundamentals, like signal processing or frequency modulation, will be the first to master it because they can immediately apply what they already know. Meanwhile, those who rely solely on their ears or presets will be left scrambling to figure it out.”

Dr. H: “Having this knowledge gives you longevity. You’ll not only adapt but also stand out as someone who can use the new tech creatively and efficiently, right from the start. It’s about setting yourself up to lead, not follow.”

Xóchitl: “So it’s like being future-proof?”

Dr. H: “Exactly! It’s about future-proofing your career. Music production isn’t just about what you can do today; it’s about staying relevant and innovative for years to come. Maths gives you the tools to do that, no matter how much the technology evolves.”

Some current examples?

Dr. H: “Take producers like Kamo & Crooked, for example. Did you know they worked with a symphony orchestra to create something that merged electronic music with classical instrumentation? The precision required to blend those styles so seamlessly relies on understanding the maths behind tempo, timing, and even the frequency ranges of acoustic instruments versus electronic sounds. Or think about Hybrid Minds. They take seemingly random, obscure tracks from completely outside the Liquid Drum and Bass genre and incorporate them into new mixes that become massive hits. That’s about recognising patterns, relationships, and how different elements can mathematically and sonically align. That level of creativity and precision doesn’t come from guessing—it comes from mastering the foundations.”

Xóchitl: “Really? Classical and techno?”

Dr. H: “Yes! And blending styles, like Kamo & Crooked or Hybrid Minds, is where maths really shines. It gives you the ability to mix genres, manipulate tempo and pitch, and create transitions that sound effortless. It’s not just about knowing the tools; it’s about using them in ways that no one else has thought of yet."

Xóchitl: “I guess that does sound pretty cool. But it still feels like a lot.”

Dr. H: “It is a lot, but here’s the thing—you don’t need to master all of it overnight. Think of it like building your own toolkit. Every time you learn something new, whether it’s in Algebra II or through experimenting with your music, you’re adding another tool that will help you create something amazing down the line. And the more tools you have, the more you can push boundaries and make your sound truly yours.”

Xóchitl: “So, like, even if I don’t use it right away, it’ll still be there when I need it?”

Dr. H: “Exactly. You’re setting yourself up for opportunities you might not even see coming yet. The producers who stand out—like Hybrid Minds or Kamo & Crooked—didn’t get there by sticking to what they already knew. They experimented, they learned, and they used everything at their disposal to create something fresh. Maths is just one part of that, but it’s a powerful part. And when you’re ready, you’ll have it."

Xóchitl: “Alright, I guess it’s worth a shot.”

Dr. H: “That’s all I’m asking—give it a shot. You already have the creativity and drive; now you’re just adding some maths to amplify it. Trust me, you’re going to do amazing things.”

Xóchitl: [Smiling] “We’ll see.”

Dr. H: “We will. And when you’re winning awards for your amazing tracks, I’m going to remind you of this conversation.”

Xóchitl: “Deal.”

Why the Script’s Flow Works

The script illustrates a deliberate effort to dismantle the traditional power dynamics often present in classrooms by treating Xóchitl as an equal partner in the learning process. Rather than dictating how or why Algebra II is important, I centred the conversation around her expertise and interests, respecting her as a creative individual with a deep knowledge of music production. This approach aligns with the Basic Need of Power, a framework that emphasises the importance of agency and influence in fostering genuine engagement. By recognising her passion for DJing and music, I was able to connect the abstract concepts of mathematics to her aspirations, empowering her to see herself as capable of mastering the material in ways that resonate with her identity.

This approach is rooted in the presumption of competence, a critical mindset when working with autistic students, particularly females and GLPs. Autistic girls are often overlooked due to diagnostic gaps that rely on outdated stereotypes, and their strengths—especially when they are verbal and expressive—are frequently undervalued. For GLPs like Xóchitl, this tendency to underestimate their abilities is compounded by the unique way they process language and information. Presuming competence means recognising the intelligence and potential that might not always fit within traditional educational frameworks. By engaging Xóchitl as an equal and framing the conversation around her interests, I showed her that her perspective matters and that she is more than capable of tackling the challenges ahead.

Tailoring the conversation to Xóchitl’s GLP style was equally crucial. GLPs process language in chunks, often relying on scripts to navigate complex ideas. By breaking down mathematical concepts in a structured and relatable way, I ensured that the discussion was accessible and meaningful to her. The conversational flow reflected her natural way of engaging with information, with examples grounded in her passion for music. This method fostered effective communication and allowed her to see the connections between the coursework and her creative goals.

Throughout the conversation, Xóchitl’s input guided the dialogue, reinforcing a sense of mutual respect and collaboration. Her questions and concerns shaped how I explained the relevance of Algebra II, transforming the interaction into a genuine exchange of ideas. This dynamic not only deepened her engagement but also validated her as a knowledgeable and capable partner in her education.

The script shared here is an adapted version of our real classroom conversation, with her name changed for privacy. As a GLP myself, I often share such scripts with my students, fully hyperlinked to references and additional resources. These serve as a guide for their own deep dives and help them build personalised scripts to navigate their unique learning processes. This practice not only supports my students but also aligns with my own need for structure as a GLP, fostering an environment where creativity and learning thrive together.

Final thoughts …

Presuming competence in autistic teens, especially females, remains far too rare in both education and society at large. Systemic biases and outdated stereotypes often lead to underestimating their intelligence and capabilities, leaving them unsupported or misdiagnosed. For students like Xóchitl, who navigate the added complexities of cultural and gender norms, this lack of recognition can be profoundly limiting. As educators, we are in a unique position to challenge these biases and provide the encouragement and support our students need to thrive. When cultural expectations or systemic inequities tell them they can’t pursue their dreams, it’s our job to say otherwise and help pave the way.

To make this shift, we must first dismantle traditional power dynamics in the classroom. Autistic students, particularly those who are verbal, expressive, and deeply knowledgeable in their areas of interest, often know far more than we might assume. As educators, our role is not to be gatekeepers of knowledge but rather guides who respect their expertise and help them navigate the system on their terms. This requires stepping back from the authoritative model and building partnerships with our students, recognising their agency and individuality.

Practically, this means taking simple but transformative steps in our approach. Speak to autistic students as intelligent, capable individuals—because they are. Tailor your communication to their processing styles, whether that means engaging with GLPs through scripts or finding other ways to connect meaningfully. Above all, build relationships based on trust and mutual respect, where their voices are heard, their interests are validated, and their potential is fully recognised.

The possibilities for students like Xóchitl are endless when we presume their competence and create an environment that allows them to shine. Her voice, her perspective, and her talent are invaluable, and it’s our responsibility as educators to help her—and others like her—realise that. Let us work together to shift the narrative, one conversation and one student at a time.

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