Trainer Awareness: What if The Most Engaged Person in the Room Might Be Looking at the Floor?

What does a “good learner” look like?

Take a moment and picture them. Are they sitting upright? Making steady eye contact? Nodding along, perhaps offering a reassuring smile? For decades, these have been the cues we, as trainers and communicators, have been taught to see as signs of engagement.

But what if we’re wrong?

What if the person who isn’t making eye contact is the one listening most intently, their brain freed up to focus on your words rather than on performing a complex social custom? What if the person quietly fidgeting in the corner isn’t distracted, but is using small, repetitive movements to soothe an overstimulated nervous system so they can stay present?

Welcome to the fundamental question posed by Autistic Pride Day, which occurs every year on June 18th. This day is not about sympathy or simply “raising awareness.” It is a radical call to rethink our most basic assumptions about how people think, learn, and experience the world. It is a celebration of neurodiversity – the simple, powerful idea that brain differences, like autism, are not defects, but natural and valuable variations of the human mind.

Deconstructing the ‘Normal’ We Take for Granted

For an autistic person, navigating a world built for neurotypical brains can be like running a marathon before the workday even begins. Much of this effort is invisible to those around them. As trainers who aim to create truly safe and effective spaces, our challenge is to start seeing what lies beneath the surface.

The Performance of ‘Fitting In’

For many autistic people, social situations require a level of conscious effort that can be utterly exhausting. This is often called masking – the process of actively suppressing natural autistic traits and performing neurotypical social cues to fit in. It’s forcing a smile at a joke you don’t intuitively understand. It’s manually calculating the “correct” amount of eye contact. It’s stifling the urge to ‘stim’ (make self-soothing movements, like rocking or tapping) because you’ve been told it looks strange.

Masking is not a sign of success; it’s a survival strategy. And it comes at a tremendous cost, leading to a profound state of physical and mental exhaustion known as autistic burnout. When we, as trainers, mistake a person’s mask for their true state of comfort, we miss the reality of their experience entirely.

The Assault of the Senses

Imagine the low hum of the projector is a loud, persistent buzz saw. Imagine the fluorescent lights are strobing, flickering like a faulty nightclub bulb. Imagine you can feel the scratchy texture of the training room chair through your clothes, and the scent of someone’s perfume is so overwhelming it’s hard to think.

This is a glimpse into sensory overload, where the brain processes incoming sensory information so intensely that it becomes physically painful and disorienting. For someone experiencing this, learning is impossible. Their entire system is in a state of high alert, trying to protect itself from an environment that feels like an assault.

The Trainer’s Role: Architect of a Better Environment

Understanding this changes our role from a simple deliverer of information to an architect of the learning environment itself. It’s not about singling anyone out; it’s about applying principles of universal design that ultimately benefit everyone.

1. Build with Blueprints: Clarity is Kindness. Anxiety thrives in ambiguity. The single most effective thing you can do is provide clarity and predictability.

Action: Send out clear joining instructions and a bit about what to expect before the session. This allows attendees to know what to expect, reducing anxiety and freeing up cognitive energy for learning.

2. Offer Control. Recognise that the environment itself can be a barrier.

Action: In-person, be mindful of lighting and sound. In virtual sessions, let people know it’s okay to take short camera breaks if needed. Follow the directive to make sure that ‘off-screen’ workbooks are being used.  Frame this not as a concession, but as a way for everyone to manage their own energy and focus. Explicitly state that you don’t equate eye contact with listening.

3. Use a Shared Language: Be Direct. Avoid sarcasm, idioms, and unspoken social rules. These can be confusing for people who think more literally.

Action: Say what you mean. Instead of “Let’s touch base later,” try “I will email you this afternoon to schedule a 15-minute call.” This isn’t “dumbing it down”; it’s professional, precise communication that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

4. Know the Specialists: Our role is to offer support and signpost. Having UK-based, autism-specific resources ready is crucial.

Resources: The National Autistic Society provides a wealth of information, while Autistica is the UK’s leading autism research charity with fantastic resources on mental health.
Autistic Pride Day invites us into a deeper level of reflection. It asks us to stop judging engagement by a narrow set of neurotypical standards and to start asking a better question: “Have I created an environment where every kind of mind can feel safe enough to learn?”

When we design for the most sensitive nervous systems, we create a space that is calmer, clearer, and kinder for everyone. We build a room where the person looking at the floor feels just as seen as the one looking you in the eye. And that is the truest measure of an inclusive space.

What are your thoughts? Anything to add or more tips to share? Please use the comments section below