Consistency - Key to Agency

Consistency: A Path to Agency, Not Just Routine

What is consistency?

We often think of consistency as doing something the same way every time: brushing our teeth, bathing, eating, or following a daily routine. There is a sequence, a familiar way of doing things, until we no longer have to think about every step.

But there is much more to consistency.

It is also in how we think, how we make decisions, how we respond, and how we behave towards another person. It is in whether we do what we said we would do.

In the context of autism, I want to look at consistency not merely as a way to teach a routine, but as a way to build trust, independence, and, most importantly, agency.

When the adult becomes predictable

When we teach or facilitate learning for an autistic child, we often focus on what the child needs to do consistently.

But how consistent are we?

Suppose we are helping a child learn a self-help skill. One day, we give them time to begin. Another day, we immediately give a verbal instruction. Sometimes we demonstrate. Sometimes we take over because we are in a hurry. On another occasion, we expect them to complete the activity without help.

From our perspective, we are responding to the demands of the day.

From the child’s perspective, what can they depend on? When should they begin? How long can they try? When will help arrive? Will the adult wait, prompt, or take over?

The child is not only learning the activity. They are also trying to work out the adult.

A consistent approach is not about giving exactly the same amount of help forever. It is about making the process understandable, including how support will gradually change as the child learns. The aim is for the adult to step back, not to become a permanent part of every step.

Whose consistency becomes rigidity?

There is a contradiction here that I think we need to examine.

We ask autistic children to practise an activity in a particular way. We want them to remember the sequence and follow it independently. Yet, when an autistic person wants to continue doing something in a familiar way, we may call it a “rigid pattern”.

Meanwhile, adults change an agreed process because we are tired, in a hurry, looking for variety, or simply feel like doing something differently.

We may have reasons for those changes. But do we make those reasons accessible to the child?

There is a difference between helping someone navigate change and expecting them to accommodate unexplained changes all the time.

Before we label a child’s response as rigidity, perhaps we need to ask: What had they understood would happen? What changed? Did we tell them?

How consistency connects to agency

Agency is having a say in what happens in one’s own life.

For a child, this may begin with choosing an activity, asking for help, refusing something, or changing their mind.

Yet many decisions are made for autistic children for a long time—sometimes well into adulthood. Parents and facilitators may feel that this is necessary. They may be worried about distress, safety, communication, or whether the person understands the available options.

Those concerns deserve attention. But they should not close the door on participation.

I do not want us to treat agency as a reward that becomes available after a child reaches a particular “functioning level”, speaks fluently, or completes a particular therapy.

The question I want us to ask is: How can this person participate in decisions now, with the communication and support available to them?

If we offer a choice, do we honour it?

One of the most important places to practise consistency is in our response to a child’s choice.

If we offer two options, are both genuinely available?

Or have we already decided which answer is acceptable?

“Would you like to paint or go outside?” is not a real choice if choosing to go outside leads to persuasion, disappointment, or a lecture about why painting would have been better.

Once we present something as a choice, we need to be prepared to honour it.

This does not mean that every option is safe or possible. Adults have responsibilities. But we can state a boundary honestly rather than disguise an instruction as a choice.

Presuming competence does not mean leaving a child without support. It means making room for their participation rather than deciding in advance that their contribution will not count.

A choice is not a commitment forever

What happens when a child makes a choice and then becomes distressed?

Our response cannot simply be, “You chose it. Now finish it.”

They may need a way to communicate: ● “No.” ● “This is not what I expected.” ● “I need help.” ● “I want to stop.” ● “I have changed my mind.”

The right to choose must include room to reconsider. We can also make our own reasoning visible: “I thought we could go now because it would be quieter,” or, “We cannot do that today because it is closed.”

Over time, we can support children to consider what matters to them: what they enjoy, what feels manageable, what support they need, and what might happen next.

The purpose is not to give them our decision-making framework permanently. It is to offer support while they develop their own.

That requires space to make imperfect decisions without shame, and without being exposed to avoidable harm.

But parents are human too

Does consistency mean a parent must never be tired, impatient, distracted, or overwhelmed?

No.

A parent needs space. So does the child.

I am not arguing for perfect performance from adults. I am asking us to notice the expectations we create and take responsibility when we change them.

We can choose one thing at a time: one self-help routine, one way of offering choices, or one commitment to respecting “no”.

And when we are inconsistent, we can acknowledge it:

“I said I would wait, but I rushed you.”

“We usually do this differently. Today there is a change.”

“I offered you a choice and then tried to change your answer. That was not fair.” Consistency should include repair, not the pretence that adults never make mistakes.

Will consistency make a child robotic?

That depends on what we are being consistent about.

If we consistently demand obedience, suppress refusal, and insist on one correct response, we are not building agency.

If we consistently make communication accessible, respect choices, explain changes, and provide dependable support, our purpose is very different.

I am not asking for every movement, response, or day to look identical.

I am asking for a child to be able to trust the process—and the person supporting them.

What about variety?

Consistency and variety are not opposites.

We can be consistent in our commitments while enjoying different food, clothes, music, places, and activities.

For example, the consistent part of an afternoon might be that the child chooses a leisure activity and can ask to stop. The activity itself can change every day.

The consistency is in the agreement, not in repeating the same experience.

We also need to distinguish variety from unpredictability. A change that an adult enjoys is not automatically an enjoyable change for the child. They need a say in it too.

What about indulgence?

Don’t we all sometimes want something extra, something different, or something simply because it gives us pleasure?

Of course.

But there is a question worth asking: Do we make room for the child’s enjoyment, or do we permit it only when we happen to feel generous?

Consider a familiar situation around food. There is an agreed meal routine. Sometimes the adult allows something different; at other times, the same request is refused without explanation.

The child may keep asking. Rather than immediately interpreting this as a failure to follow the routine, we can ask whether the arrangement is clear—and whether the child’s hunger, preferences, and requests are being heard.

Food also deserves care beyond an example about consistency. Asking for more is not automatically a behaviour to correct, and a portion plan should not override attention to hunger or individual needs.

My larger point is this: pleasure need not depend entirely on the adult’s mood.

We can talk about enjoyable experiences, make possibilities understandable, and support the child to help plan them. The purpose is not to guarantee that the child will never feel disappointed. It is to make their participation meaningful.

What are we asking the child to trust?

For me, this is the central question.

Can the child trust that a choice is a choice?

That “no” will be heard?

That help will be available?

That a change will be explained?

That the adult will acknowledge a mistake?

Consistency is not simply getting a child to repeat a sequence correctly. It is also the discipline we bring to our own decisions and behaviour.

The goal is not a child who waits for permission at every step.

It is a person who can increasingly say: “I understand what is happening. I know what support I can ask for. I have a say in what happens next.”