I am Autistic Dr. Henny Kupferstein. For over a decade, I have taught piano to autistic students around the world. After publishing an evidence-based piano curriculum for autistic students, I agreed to coach a teacher in another state as she learned to apply the method with fidelity.

The teacher was working with an autistic child, here referred to as Madeline. The arrangement was not informal guesswork. The teacher was sending lesson videos, written notes, and questions. I was reviewing the lessons, giving structured feedback, and helping her interpret what was happening through the curriculum rather than through deficit-based assumptions about autism.

The first major concern: the teacher interpreted non-practice as non-learning

By the third lesson, the teacher reported that she felt she had done “almost everything wrong.” She said Madeline had not seemed interested in reviewing the prior week’s material, had moved into familiar patterns and sounds, and had run off near the end of the lesson. Importantly, the teacher also reported that Madeline had not practiced that week.

That was the pivotal fact. My response was to redirect the analysis away from the child’s presumed ability and toward the missing instructional condition: practice. I asked how we could support the parent in getting a practice routine going. I explained that if a student is not practicing by week three, there is a strong likelihood that the pattern will continue unless it is addressed immediately. I recommended visual timers so the student and family could see that practice was a short, manageable expectation.

I also advised the teacher to create a “free time” category at the end of the session, so the lesson structure could remain predictable without turning the whole lesson into free play. The core principle was explicit: no practice makes the lesson a waste of time for any student, autistic or otherwise, because the teacher is forced to teach the same material again. This was not an “autism problem.” This was a normal piano-instruction problem.

The practice barrier was environmental, not neurological

The email chain shows that the lack of practice was not caused by Madeline’s autism, lack of ability, lack of interest, or failure to absorb instruction. The teacher reported that Madeline had not practiced because her mother was away again due to an out-of-state family issue. The teacher noted that this was not normal for the family and that she had discussed the need for practice with the caregiver present.

Two weeks later, the teacher confirmed that the family had been going through “a rough couple of months” involving health problems and a death, and observed that this may have been the worst possible time for them to start piano. She reported that the mother expected to be home that month and would try to work on practice.

This is the critical ethical frame: Madeline was not failing. The instructional environment had collapsed around her. The adults in her life were dealing with serious family circumstances, including illness and death. Practice had become impossible or inconsistent for reasons outside the child’s control.

The child was still showing musicality and engagement

The evidence did not support a conclusion that Madeline was incapable of learning piano. In fact, the opposite appeared throughout the emails.

The teacher reported that Madeline arrived with interest, played familiar sounds and patterns, responded to musical material, sang “Do Re Mi” from The Sound of Music, and had taught herself part of that song. She also repeated the teacher’s language, such as “piano first then princess book,” showing that she was listening and processing.

I also identified that Madeline appeared to be a Gestalt Language Processor. I explained to the teacher that when Madeline repeated phrases such as “first princess then,” she was showing comprehension of the instruction and using language in a way consistent with gestalt processing. That mattered because the teacher could have misread the repetition as noncompliance or mere scripting, when it was actually communication.

So the case was never about a child who could not learn. It was about a child who could not be fairly evaluated because the required practice condition was absent.

The problem intensified when lessons became free engagement instead of instruction

By the fifth lesson, the teacher reported that Madeline was distracted by a princess book, lost attention when asked to use correct fingering, and seemed to prefer her own musical patterns. The teacher asked whether she should hide toys and books until free time and whether she was introducing fingering incorrectly.

I pointed out that there was good news and bad news.

The good news was that Madeline was still happy when she arrived. That meant she did not hate the teacher and was not traumatized by being there.

The bad news was that she was beginning to swat the teacher away and physically move her out of the way. I interpreted this as Madeline perceiving the session as her free time and experiencing the teacher’s instruction as an invasion of that space.

That is the ethical danger zone.

When a child comes to believe that piano lessons are free play, and the teacher then tries to reclaim the session for instruction, the child can become increasingly frustrated. The longer the adults continue without a practice routine and without clear instructional expectations, the more the child is led into a false arrangement.

The child thinks she is coming to the piano for one thing. The teacher thinks she is teaching another thing. The parent is paying for instruction. The curriculum is being judged against conditions it was never designed to survive.

That is where “musical babysitting” begins.

My three recommendations

All lessons are recorded for my review, and homework is logged into a tool that I designed for teachers who are interested in becoming a licensed developmental music educator® through my patented method. I gave the teacher three immediate recommendations:

1. Document timestamps in the spreadsheet to identify whether any productive instruction was occurring.
2. Problem-solve the lack of practice directly with the family.
3. Acquire and use a visual timer to control the session structure.

I also offered to practice with the family over Zoom three times, for about five minutes each, on three separate days, to help support the homework routine at home.

This was not a recommendation to discard the student. It was an attempt to preserve instruction by restoring the missing condition: practice.

The teacher attempted a temporary corrective plan

The teacher bought a visual timer and asked how to use it. She then communicated with Madeline’s mother. The plan was to continue lessons for two more sessions and then reevaluate. The mother expected to be home and planned to try to support practice.

The teacher then reported on the sixth lesson. She said the lesson went better than the prior one, but only for about ten minutes. She used a timer, attempted to preserve free time for the end, and continued trying to understand Madeline’s responses. She observed that Madeline did well when not being asked for specific fingering, but tuned out when correct fingering was introduced. She also noted that Madeline played her own material, including part of “Do Re Mi,” and showed interest in chords and patterns.

Again, these are not signs of incapacity. They are signs of a musical child without a reliable instructional bridge between lesson and home practice.

The final pause was the correct ethical outcome

On the day of the 7th lesson, the student’s session was cancelled because the area had received roughly 21 inches of snow and roads were not fully cleared. The teacher offered Zoom, but the family did not think Madeline would do well with that. The teacher stated that they would have one more lesson the following week, and if practice still was not happening, they would pause lessons.

Three days later, the teacher confirmed the final outcome: practice had not happened, and she and Madeline’s mother agreed to pause lessons for the moment. The teacher apologized that it had not worked out, thanked me for the feedback, and expressed hope that lessons could restart in a few months.

That was the right conclusion.

The pause was not because Makayla was autistic.
The pause was not because she lacked musical ability.
The pause was not because she failed to absorb the curriculum.
The pause was because the practice agreement could not be established during a family crisis.

Ethical conclusion

This case illustrates why ethical termination, or ethical pausing, is sometimes necessary for autistic students and non-autistic students alike.

A piano teacher cannot keep accepting money while knowing that the conditions for instruction do not exist. If there is no practice, the student cannot be fairly evaluated. The teacher ends up reteaching, entertaining, redirecting, and improvising around a missing home routine. That is not piano instruction. That is musical babysitting.

Musical babysitting leads the child to believe they are being taught, when in reality they are being occupied. It leads the family to believe progress is being pursued, when the essential agreement has broken down. It leads the teacher to misinterpret lack of practice as lack of ability. Worst of all, it risks teaching the autistic child that they are the problem.

Teachers must terminate or pause lessons as soon as a sustained pattern of non-practice becomes clear and cannot be corrected. This protects the student from a false story of failure.

The correct message is:

“Your child is capable of learning. Right now, the practice condition required for lessons is not possible. Continuing would not be fair to your child. Let’s pause and restart when the family situation allows practice to happen.”

That is ethical. That is honest. That protects the child. Anything else risks becoming paid musical babysitting on someone else’s dollar.

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