Jade (name changed for privacy) is a 7-year-old autistic girl who loves books and watching videos on the iPad. She’s highly sensitive to certain sounds, struggles with initiating speech, and can say only a few words spontaneously. Throughout her early education, many assumed her communication abilities were severely limited. But for the past several months in our special needs classroom in London, she’s been demonstrating remarkable comprehension skills—pointing accurately to animals, household objects, and even letters on phonics cards when prompted.

And now, when presented with picture cards, she occasionally reads the letters or even words printed beneath them.

It was not obvious that Jade would be able to comprehend such abstract concepts, let alone potentially read words. What’s more, some professionals continue to doubt that children like Jade can understand language beyond simple commands or truly communicate beyond basic needs. And yet, in interaction after interaction, we have found that Jade and many other minimally verbal autistic students demonstrate understanding far beyond what their speech abilities suggest.

Picture-based communication systems, often implemented on iPads or Nexboards in our classroom, are frequently used for children like Jade. If she wants to watch a video, she can tap a picture representing “video.” But the vocabulary of these systems is frustratingly limited to concepts that can be represented by simple pictures—leaving Jade’s more complex thoughts trapped inside.

What Is Minimally Verbal Autism in Early Education?

Autism manifests differently across individuals, particularly in communication abilities. Jade falls into the category often described as “minimally verbal”—despite years of speech therapy, she cannot communicate effectively using spontaneous speech. Most of her verbal expressions consist of repeating phrases after hearing her name: “Jade, say ‘I want…’” followed by her echo of those words.

Minimally verbal autistic children like Jade may also appear inattentive, engage in repetitive behaviors, and score poorly on standard assessments. Historically, these challenges have led to unfounded assumptions about these children’s ability to understand language and their capacity for symbolic thought. To put it bluntly, it has sometimes been assumed that a child who can’t speak fluently is also incapable of complex thinking.

The educational approaches available to children like Jade have been rudimentary. In our London classroom, we use picture exchange communication systems, visual schedules, and simple choice boards. While helpful for basic needs, these tools severely limit expression. When Jade wants to communicate something specific—like a particular video she wants to watch—our interaction dissolves into an exhausting guessing game that frequently ends in mutual frustration.

The Promise of AR for Educational Settings

Recent innovations in augmented reality (AR) technology offer a potential breakthrough for children like Jade. Researchers at the Universities of Virginia and Calgary have developed a system called the HoloBoard—a virtual keyboard that appears in the air through AR headsets—allowing nonspeaking autistic individuals to communicate through typing.

In their studies, they found that most nonspeaking autistic participants, even those with minimal spoken language, could wear the AR headset and type short words independently. For a child like Jade, who clearly understands far more than she can express verbally, such technology could transform her educational experience.

This technology challenges the assumptions that have shaped special education. Many professionals believe children like Jade “do not have language” or would be overwhelmed by technology like AR headsets. Yet the research has shown both assumptions to be wrong.

Beyond Picture-Based Communication

The limitations of our current picture-based communication systems become painfully apparent daily. When Jade wants to express something not represented on our communication boards—perhaps a specific feeling, question, or complex thought—we hit an impenetrable wall. I can see a universe of thoughts behind her eyes, but our tools are insufficient to access them.

AR technology could offer an escape from these constraints. Rather than being limited to pointing at pre-selected images, children like Jade could potentially spell out their thoughts, wishes, and questions. The virtual keyboard could be customized to her sensory and motor needs—larger, smaller, different colors, or activated by looking rather than touching.

For children in special educational settings, this represents a radical shift from adaptation to accommodation—instead of forcing children to adapt to our limited communication tools, we could adapt our tools to accommodate their unique needs.

Practical Implementation in Educational Settings

To envision how AR might work in our classroom, imagine Jade sitting at her desk, wearing lightweight AR glasses. When she wants to communicate something not represented on our picture cards, she could activate a virtual keyboard and type her message. The system could be configured to her specific motor and sensory needs—perhaps activated through eye-tracking if finger pointing proves challenging.

Of course, implementing such technology in schools presents significant challenges. The HoloLens 2 headset used in the research costs $3,500—beyond most education budgets. But the researchers are already testing more affordable options like Meta’s Quest 3 at $500. Additionally, they’re exploring customized lightweight AR glasses designed specifically for communication purposes.

Other practical challenges include training staff, maintaining the technology, and creating appropriate protocols for use. Would children wear the devices all day? During specific communication periods? How would we transition between traditional teaching methods and AR-assisted communication?

But these practical questions shouldn’t overshadow the transformative potential. After all, it wasn’t obvious that keyboard-based communication would work for nonspeaking autistic individuals either—until researchers and educators tried it.

Everyone Deserves to Be Heard

So many assumptions are made about children who cannot speak fluently, including that they don’t have anything complex to say. We went into special education presuming some level of competence in children like Jade, and yet we’re still constrained by inadequate tools.

The ability to communicate—to share information, memories, opinions—is essential to well-being and educational development. Unfortunately, most autistic children who can’t communicate effectively using speech are never provided with a truly adequate alternative. Without a way to convey their thoughts, they are deprived of educational opportunities and their potential remains largely untapped.

We aren’t so naïve as to think that AR is a silver bullet for special education communication challenges. But we’re hopeful that technologies like the HoloBoard could provide a breakthrough for children like Jade, whose understanding far exceeds their ability to express themselves through speech or current picture-based systems.

Their voices may be locked inside, but they deserve to be heard. And perhaps AR technology will finally give us the key.