The Slippery Slope Fallacy in Autism Support: Why Giving Kids an Inch Won't Make Them Take a Mile
Have you ever been told that if you let your student choose their own toy or activity, they'll never cooperate in therapy again? Or that if you honor a child's "no," they'll never listen to you?
If you've heard these warnings echoing through your school hallways or therapy sessions, you're not alone. And if you've ever felt that uncomfortable knot in your stomach when someone says these things, trust your gut. Because what you're hearing is actually a well-documented cognitive distortion called the slippery slope fallacy and it's quietly undermining neuroaffirming support for autistic kids everywhere.
In this post, we're going to unpack what the slippery slope fallacy is, why it's so pervasive in our field, and most importantly, how to recognize and challenge it so you can confidently support autistic students through child-led therapy without the fear-based thinking that holds so many of us back.
What Is the Slippery Slope Fallacy?
The slippery slope fallacy is a cognitive distortion where we assume that one small step will inevitably lead to a complete loss of control. It sounds like, "If we allow X, then Y will happen, and then Z will happen, and also everything will fall apart."
In education settings, this shows up constantly. Some examples that I’ve heard from decade as a speech therapist include, "If you let them go into the toy closet, they'll think they can do that everywhere", "If you don't make him sit at circle, he's never going to sit again", or "If we honor her refusal, she's never going to cooperate.".
The underlying message of all of these examples? We NEEEEED control and if we give even an inch, we'll lose everything. But friends, child-led therapy is not a slippery slope. It's a bridge to authentic connection and meaningful communication.
Why This Fallacy Has Infiltrated Our Field
This fear-based mentality didn't appear out of nowhere. Many of us were trained in compliance-based models where control was considered both sacred and mandatory. We were taught that our job was to manage behavior, reduce "non-compliance," and maintain authority at all costs.
Even when those training us had good intentions, the impact was the same. We learned that valuing connection over compliance was risky. That autonomy was a threat to progress. That giving kids choices would lead to chaos. But intention doesn't trump impact. When our approaches cause autistic students to mask, shut down, or lose trust in us, it doesn't matter how pure our intentions were. The slippery slope fallacy thrives in systems built on control. And until we name it and challenge it, we'll keep falling into the same trap.
Let me share some examples that might sound painfully familiar.
Example 1: The Shoe Rule
A student wants to take their shoes off during your session. Their one-to-one aide immediately redirects, "Nope, shoes on. We keep our shoes on." When you ask why, the response is predictable, "If we let him take his shoes off here, he'll want to do it in the classroom. And then everyone will take their shoes off. And then we'll have a fire drill and no one will have shoes on and it'll be chaos."
Do you see how quickly we slid down that slope? From one child wanting sensory relief in a therapy room to a classroom-wide safety disaster… all in one sentence.
Example 2: The Interest Police
A parent tells you their child loves letters and numbers. When you ask where those toys are, they explain, "We were told that if we let her keep playing with letters, she'll never learn how to play with anything else. She'll become obsessed and never develop other interests."
So they removed the thing that brought their child joy all in the name of preventing a future problem that was never guaranteed to happen.
Example 3: Building Tolerance Through Dysregulation
You've probably heard this one, "If we let them avoid their triggers, they'll never learn to tolerate discomfort in the real world." But pushing a child through dysregulation doesn't build tolerance. It builds trauma. Also, I can’t stand when people use the phrase the “real world” because, the “real world” we're preparing them for? We're living in it right now.
Why the Slippery Slope Fallacy Is So Damaging
When we operate from this fear-based mentality, we prioritize our comfort over the child's needs. We're more worried about losing control than we are about the child's sensory, emotional, or communicative experience. We teach kids their autonomy doesn't matter. We send the message that their body, their preferences, and their voice are less important than adult expectations.
We also damage trust and connection. Every time we override a child's protest or preference "for their own good," we chip away at the foundation of our relationship. When we’re focused on compliance, we miss opportunities for authentic communication and we're not tuned in to what the child is actually trying to tell us.
Child-Led Therapy Is NOT Permissive. One of the biggest misconceptions I hear is that child-led speech therapy means anything goes. That there are no boundaries. That we're just passive observers letting kids do whatever they want.
But let me be clear, child-led therapy requires MORE intentional boundaries, not fewer. The difference is in how we hold those boundaries and why we set them. In a child-led approach, boundaries are proactive, not reactive. We think through our non-negotiables ahead of time (safety, consent, capacity) rather than making up rules in the moment. Child Led Therapy is flexible and values-based. We ask ourselves: Does this boundary support connection, autonomy, and safety? Or is it just about my control? This approach also allows us to be clear and consistent. Kids thrive when they know what to expect. But predictability doesn't require rigidity. Child-led therapy isn't about eliminating structure. It's about creating structure that serves the child.
How to Spot the Slippery Slope in Your Own Thinking and What to do Instead
Here are some questions to ask yourself when you feel that familiar fear creeping in:
What am I actually worried about? Is this a real, immediate safety concern? Or am I catastrophizing?
What does the child actually need right now? Am I prioritizing their regulation, or my control?
Is this boundary about safety, or about compliance? If I'm honest with myself, whose comfort am I protecting?
What's the worst-case scenario I'm imagining and is it evidence-based? Or is it a fear-based leap?
When you pause and reflect, you'll often find that the "disaster" you're predicting isn't rooted in reality. It's rooted in a distortion we've all been taught.
So what does it actually look like to move away from the slippery slope mentality?
Honor the child's communication (all of it). Protest is communication. Refusal is communication. Walking away is communication. When we validate these forms of expression instead of punishing them, we build trust.
Follow the child's lead, even when it's uncomfortable. Yes, it might feel vulnerable to let go of your lesson plan. But the magic happens when you meet the child where they are, not where you think they should be.
Set boundaries that are truly about safety, not control. Ask yourself: Is this rule protecting the child's wellbeing? Or is it protecting my sense of order?
Advocate for flexibility in your systems. Can the shoe rule be adjusted? Can the child have access to their preferred toys? Can we rethink what "participation" looks like? Push back on policies that prioritize compliance over connection.
So just to quickly recap, the slippery slope fallacy is the belief that giving kids an inch will make them take a mile, but it's a cognitive distortion, not reality. This fear-based thinking is rooted in compliance-based training and outdated beliefs about control and authority. Child-led therapy is not permissive. It requires intentional, values-based boundaries that honor autonomy and safety. When we let go of the need for control, we create space for authentic communication, trust, and connection. You can challenge the slippery slope by reflecting on your fears, honoring all communication, and advocating for systemic flexibility.
The next time someone tells you that honoring a child's autonomy will lead to chaos, I want you to pause, take a breath, and ask yourself: Is this the slippery slope talking, or is this the truth? Because when we stop predicting disaster and start building trust, something beautiful happens. Kids don't spiral out of control. They settle. They engage. They connect. And they communicate willingly, authentically, and on their own terms.
That's not a slope. That's a bridge. And it's worth crossing.
