Posts Tagged ‘autism therapy’

Just Amazing

Sometimes my job is difficult, frustrating, or annoying. Sometimes it makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world. This day was the second kind. And not just because I got to wear a bathing suit to work!


Less than a year ago, I would arrive at his house, pile into the car with him and his mother, and buckle his seatbelt for him. We would drive from place to place– park, playground, and so on– and try at each place to get him out of the car for some exercise and fresh air. Sometimes he would come out and play. Sometimes he would refuse to leave the car at all. Sometimes he would sob and claw at me or pull my hair. This never made me angry, but it did make me sad. Sad because I hated for him to be so unhappy.

Today I arrive at his house and he whoops with excitement. I lay out some laminated photos on the counter– beach, playground, pool, park– and call his name. He comes over, and without hesitation taps the picture of the pool.

“Ok!” I say, “We’ll go to the pool.” He grins. We get ready and head out to the car. By the time I get there, he’s already in his seat with his seat belt buckled, ready to go.

When we arrive, I ask him to carry his lunch box while I carry his backpack. He does.  We pick a bench and put down our belongings. He kicks off his sandals and runs into the pool. I don’t need to hold his hand. I join him in the water and watch him while his mom takes care of the toddler. 


He’s in a great mood, and is eager to interact with me (sometimes he wants to enjoy himself all alone and that’s ok too). He tugs my hands and tucks them under his arms. I bounce him up and down in the water to the best of my ability (he’s grown so much in the past two years!). I spin him around, and we both laugh with delight. I push off the wall of the pool with my feet, and after a few minutes he imitates me– another thing I couldn’t imagine him doing last year. We work together to find different ways I can hold him and move him in the water. He’s so relaxed, so happy, so affectionate. He could easily swim by himself, but he wants me to hug him, put my hands under his back while he floats, roll him over and over.


I notice him watching a younger boy who is practicing swimming underwater, pinching his nose with his fingers. I suggest to my client that he try it too, and explain to him about the need for exhaling or holding his nose so he doesn’t get water in it. In response, he dives, blowing bubbles like a pro. Obviously, he’s known how all along. What’s cooler is that he was displaying that knowledge for my benefit– letting me know that he knew. When I first met him, he seemed uninterested in communicating with me except to make requests.


He watches a group of kids his age playing catch in the water. This is another recent development– he used to ignore other children completely. I encourage him to join in, but I can’t blame him for hanging back. Only once have I witnessed him really playing with another child, and it was an autistic boy a few years younger than him. Seeing him watching this game, my heart aches for him. I know what it’s like to be the kid who can’t figure out how to participate, or is too afraid of rejection to try.

I get him a ball from his backpack, and he plays with it by himself for a few minutes while I stand by the edge of the pool watching. Then he tosses it out of the pool. This usually means he’s tired of playing with a thing, but on a whim I pick up the ball, call his name, and throw the ball back at him, expecting him to ignore it. To my amazement, he turns to look, reaches up, and catches it. 

“Wow! That was great! Throw it back!” I suggest enthusiastically, cupping my hands. He pauses a moment, not seeming to pay attention… then gives the ball another gentle toss out of the pool, but not really in my direction. I retrieve it and throw it, and again he catches.

“Throw it right at me this time,” I say, and again he seems to be ignoring me at first, but a few moments later the ball lands at my feet. The next time it almost makes it to my hands and I cheer as if he’s just hit a home run. 

I’m grinning like crazy. He’s playing catch with me. It’s beautiful. I don’t care about him doing this to be more “normal” or because it’s what the other kids do. I care because he’s having fun and he’s sharing that fun with another person. 

I’ve never before seen him choose to do any kind of structured activity with another person. Never seen him do something that involves taking turns, that involves this level of response to someone else’s actions. I want to grab the people next to me and tell them they are witnessing a miracle. I want to call the national news. I can’t imagine being any more excited if he were my own son.


It’s a day full of moments like this. He swings on the rope dividing the pool into sections. 

“Off the rope, buddy,” calls the lifeguard. He doesn’t respond. I call his name, and he looks up.

“Leave the rope alone please” I call, and he lets go of it immediately. His mother and I have always suspected that he understands most if not all of what people say (in more than one language, too). But only in the past 6 months has he started regularly responding with actions that make it clear that he understands. 

In response, I’ve completely stopped using the short, simplified sentences that I often used when I wasn’t sure of his comprehension level. Now I just talk to him like I’d talk to any other preteen, chatting about all kinds of random things.
Later, a few other kids are playing on the rope, and the lifeguard again instructs them to let go. To my surprise, my client also looks up at the sound of the lifeguard’s voice, seemingly alert to the possibility that he’s done something wrong. I reassure him that he’s ok where he is and he goes back to playing. 

His awareness of everything around him seems to be growing by leaps and bounds. Or perhaps he’s always been paying attention but hasn’t been able or willing or interested in responding. Whatever the change, it means I no longer have to hover over him and, for example, physically drag him away from that rope. It allows him more independence.

By now, I’m sure any autism parent reading this is dying to know how these changes were accomplished. So first, let me point out that he is no less autistic. All these wonderful new things he’s doing, he does them while stimming and shrieking, flapping around, sniffing and tasting things that he probably shouldn’t, and having meltdowns over tags in his clothing. He is and always will be autistic. But he is becoming a more communicative, interactive, cooperative, friendly, self-confident, and independent autistic person, and to me, that’s the true measure of success. And the best kind of success.

Because there’s been no special diet or medication or new therapy. In fact, most of those things were discontinued completely over the past few years. He has made these changes himself, with the support of the adults around him. 

Some of his independence came of necessity. There have been a lot of life changes for him that were totally unrelated to autism. One grandparent died and another moved away and his mother had a baby. As a result, there were a lot fewer adults tending to his every need or making demands on him, which gave him both more freedom and more responsibility. He’s matured a lot emotionally.

The other thing that happened is that he’s gotten some autistic adults in his life– first me, then a man who has a remarkable knack for visual communication. There wasn’t any lenthgy teaching involved– they’ve worked together for no more than a dozen hours. But somewhere in those few hours, there was an “aha moment” for both my client and his mother as they finally zeroed in on a method of communication that both could understand. There’s still a long way to go before he’ll be able to tell us more than a handful of things, but the breakthrough has happened and now he knows that it’s possible for him to make himself understood in a way that he never could before. Since that realization, I feel he’s become much more interested in learning new things.

I think it was crucial for him to meet adults who were somewhat more like him, who intuitively understood thimgs about him that his parents and teachers and therapists did not. It doesn’t take much. The vast majority of his time is still spent at home with his family, and his mother also provides the other crucial ingredients to his success: unconditional love and constant encouragement.

Accept. Love. Encourage. 

Keep accepting. Keep loving. Keep encouraging. 

Celebrate every new attempt, no matter how unsuccessful, every step forward no matter small. Not the fake programmed encouragement of tokens or rewards or empty praise, but genuine appreciation for the effort you see a child making. Acknowledge difficulty and setbacks. Children learn best when they feel safe and supported. When they are learning because it enriches their life, not out of desire for praise or fear of disaproval. Learning is its own best reward. Success builds confidence, and confidence leads to trying new things, and trying new things leads to more success. 

Here are things I say to him often:


You can do it.

I believe in you.

Try again.

Thank you for trying.

I’m proud of you for trying.

I know it’s hard.

You’ll get there. I know you will.

You can do it.

That’s better.

You’re making progress.

Keep trying.

It’s ok to fail. 

You can try again later.

You’re wonderful.

You’re the best.

You make me happy.

Keep trying. You can do it.

I love it when you _____.


Unconditional love. Unwavering acceptance. Unending encouragement. They are magic ingredients.

As I drive home from his house that afternoon, the radio plays a song that always makes me think of my clients. As Billy Joel sings “I love you just the way you are,” I find myself crying. I cry in happiness for the wonderful children in my life and the joy of seeing them grow and learn. I cry in sadness for every autistic child who doesn’t have unconditional love and acceptance. I cry because I am lucky to know that perfection, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, and I wish more people understood that. I wish every person in the world could hear those words when they matter most:

“Don’t go changing/ To try and please me…. I want you just the way you are.”


Breaking Down ABA, Again: Part 3; Some Advantages of ABA Methodology

December 13, 2014 2 comments

This post continues from part 2


Let me note, before I start, that the advantages I’m talking about here are a matter of applying scientific and behaviorist principles to a situation. This doesn’t necessarily require an ABA program– it’s just that, currently, ABA is the primary program in which these methods are used. ABA programs don’t always do these things perfectly, and they often add other problematic methods, but there are some very useful tools that are laid out in the science of behavior modification. In the next section, I will talk about when these tactics should NOT be used; they are by no means adequate for everything, and they can be all too easily abused, even without the intention of doing so. But they do have their uses.

1) Data Tracking

Numbers are important. They can give us information we don’t see otherwise. Our personal observations and the conclusions we draw from them are notoriously skewed. When you track something by the numbers, you take out a lot of the subjectivity involved. This can allow you to see patterns that weren’t previously apparent, and to become aware of progress that is happening very slowly. Charting patterns in a child’s behavior and the circumstances around that behavior can help parents discover their child’s needs, meltdown triggers, and so on.

  • Example: A mother reports that her child comes home from birthday parties agitated. After a party, he is prone to emotional outbursts, asthma attacks, and toilet accidents. The mother speculates that the child has a sugar sensitivity, because he gets a lot of sugar at parties. She puts her son on a restrictive diet. An ABA therapist would first use numerical data to confirm that these changes really do occur after parties, then look at individual aspects of the situation. They might find, for example, that the child doesn’t have these same problems after eating dessert at home, but does experience them after days with a lot of unexpected activities. Rather than changing the child’s diet, there is a need to limit his exposure to situations with a lot of excitement and a schedule that is different from normal. His mother (and eventually the child himself) can also start to look for earlier signs that he is getting overwhelmed and intervene at that time.

2) Focus on Facts

We do a lot of speculation about people’s behavior. When behavioral markers aren’t what we expect (for instance, when a child laughs rather than cries in times of distress), it’s easy to come to the wrong conclusions (eg– he hit his brother and then laughed– he must be a cruel and unempathetic person!). Behavior is a form of communication, but not all behavior is intended to communicate a message. Whether or not a message is intentional, we can always learn something from a person’s behavior. We often wrongly assume, however, that their behavior tells us what that person is thinking or feeling. This is not always true. Sometimes, behavior is a matter of habit, which says more about the person’s past experiences than their current state of mind. Sometimes a behavior that is problematic (even for the person doing the action) has been unintentionally reinforced, and the person needs help to learn a new and better way of accomplishing the same effect.

  • Example: A child often bites others. Let’s say any child who bites someone gets removed from the play room, which is something this kid actually prefers over being in a room full of other children (although a behaviorist would leave out the concept of “preference”). Recognizing that what was intended as a punishment is actually a reward for this child allows you to 1) learn that he doesn’t like being in the play room, 2) teach him a different way of asking to leave the play room, and 3) come up with a different consequence for biting that doesn’t encourage him to use biting as a means of getting what she wants in the future.

3) Providing Consistency

Numerous studies have documented that all children, not just autistic ones, require a certain amount of consistency in their life. When the rules are always changing, children become very distressed, and that distress often manifests itself behaviorally. Children who are abused, but also those who lives are disrupted in other ways (say, by a divorce or sudden change in socioeconomic status), often show increased aggression, disrupted sleep schedules, regression of formerly acquired skills like speech and toilet use, self-injury…. is this list sounding familiar? Autistic children, already overwhelmed by sensory overload and a world full of confusing neurotypical demands, need to be able to establish patterns, schedules, routines, and habits. They need those around them to give consistent and clear feedback. The repetitive drills of ABA, while infuriating in some contexts, can be very calming in others. Having a child do something like getting dressed the same way each time, in a series of definitive steps that are shown ahead of time, can take a lot of the stress and uncertainty out of daily activities. Parents and teachers are often completely unaware that they are sending conflicting messages or interfering with what the child viewed as a set routine.

  • Example: At home, a child smears food on the table and draws patterns in it. This makes her sister laugh. Dad is used to messy mealtimes and doesn’t mind. At school, the child gets in trouble for the same activity. And when grandma comes to visit at home, the child again gets scolded. Major meltdowns result, and Dad is worried that this means his daughter can’t handle criticism or correction. A therapist may instead identify the inconsistency as problematic, and ask Dad to set the same mealtime rules at home as there are at school. If Dad insists that playing with food is important (what an awesome dad!), the situation can be altered to make the distinction clearer– maybe the kids get to sit at a specially designated “messy table” at home where they are allowed to smear mashed potatoes colored brightly with food coloring, while sitting at the “grown-up table” always means that formal rules are in place.


I’d like to offer three further examples of situations where ABA would be useful.

1) Fictional Scenario: Self-Feeding

Maria prefers to feed herself, from a plate or bowl. She can use a spoon but is fairly messy with it, and a lot of her meal ends up on the floor and her clothes, etc. Her parents don’t really mind the mess (at least at home), but they worry that Maria may not be getting enough food this way, especially at school where meals are timed and only a certain amount of food is made available. Maria’s pediatrician agrees that she’s a bit underweight, but there don’t seem to be any digestive problems involved.

Data tracking is the first step here. Someone sits with Maria and counts her bites. Does she eat more at home than at school, given the same bowl of food? How many bites go into her mouth versus spilling down her shirt? Is she doing other things with her food like throwing it? Does she eat some foods more effectively than others? With this data in hand, the therapist moves on to analysis.

If Maria’s primary problem is spilling food, a different type of spoon may help, or stickier food. If she’s throwing food, there may be environmental factors– perhaps she can’t eat in a loud room without getting upset and flinging food around, or she starts throwing food at home when she wants attention from Mom. In either case, the situation in which she eats needs to be changed somehow. Maybe Mom comes over and gives her a hug every time she eats five bites without throwing the food, or she gets to eat in a separate room at school. If she only throws certain foods, those foods could be switched out for something different. If she is still unable physically to get enough food into her mouth, maybe something can be done so that she’s more willing to let someone else feed her.

Here we’re looking to identify and meet Maria’s needs. It’s pointless to classify her as a troublemaker, say that she’s “doing it for attention,” that she “doesn’t care,” that she’s “stubborn,” or even that she likes or dislikes certain things. Depending on her age, there may or may not be emotional issues involved. It’s possible that Maria is anorexic and needs counseling, but it’s a lot more likely that this issue can be addressed without that (for that matter, some aspects of anorexia can be addressed this way. Even alcoholism recovery classes teach members to identify and avoid “triggers”– things that make drinking behavior more likely to occur). Yes, a certain amount of caution is needed. Rewarding children for eating can lead to disordered eating, but it can also be supportive for a child who simply finds eating to be physically difficult or tiring and so tends to not eat quite enough. Similar tactics are applied by programs that help non-autistic people exercise more regularly or cut back on smoking.


2) True Story: Stuck on “No”

A preteen client of mine (let’s call her “E”) with various developmental delays often balks at transitions. In particular, when asked to get out of the car, she often begins yelling “no!” over and over, and will lash out physically at anyone who approaches her. This occurs even when we have arrived somewhere that she very much wants to be. Sometimes, given time, she will leave the car on her own. Sometimes her mother pulls her out by force. The situation has become a habitual struggle for everyone involved.

I can come up with innumerable ideas about why this happens. It might be a somewhat symbolic power struggle. It may be one of the few situations where E can exert some power over her family, as it takes effort to forcefully remove her from the car. She may enjoy getting her mother upset. She may want to have a bit of time alone to herself, which she doesn’t get often. She may really enjoy sitting in a non-moving car. Maybe her mother used to tempt her out of the car with treats and she’s tantrumming in hopes of getting those treats again. And so on. But whatever the reason, it’s not really a behavior that has positive results for her. It significantly cuts into her time at activities she enjoys, and often results in both her and her mother being unhappy and/or getting physically hurt.

This is also an issue without a simple solution. When I first started working with E, her sister told me “take away anything she’s playing with and just ignore her until she gets bored and comes out of the car.” I objected to this at first, feeling that it was rude, especially since E kept trying to talk to me from inside the car. So, trying to be respectful, I’d keep up conversation, but I soon realized that this actually was prolonging the time E spent in the car. If I didn’t eventually stopped responding, she’d go into what I soon realized was a litany of unreasonable requests that weren’t really anything she wanted (“I want my mom! I want ice cream! I want to go to bed! I want (some nonsense word)”). Even if offered one of the things she requested, she’d ignore it. I realized that this list of requests was simply something she does when she’s not happy with a situation. She’d yell demands for a few minutes, then calm down and come out of the car. So at that point, I assumed that she might just need a few minutes of quiet time to wind herself down and be ok with getting out of the car– which is fine, as far as I’m concerned, though frustrating if we’re in a time-crunch situation. Her mother was less satisfied.

But that method stopped working at some point. And yes, things change for people sometimes– needs, preferences, habits, and so on. For a while, E was into telling us when she was “ready” for something. So I’d tell her “I’m waiting until you’re ready to get out of the car.” If she tried to engage me in conversation, I’d just repeat that. (I did learn quickly, though, that pressing her to do something once she said “I’m ready” often sent us back to square one. I had to wait until she actually started taking an action to know that she was really ready). Being the one to say “I’m ready” handed the power to her in a lot of situations where she previously hadn’t had any control, and for a while, getting her to do anything was simply a matter of asking her to tell me when she was ready to do it. But perhaps after a while she realized we were using that to manipulate her into doing things, or the novelty and enjoyment wore off, or something. The fact of the matter was, she’d gotten back into her “no!” routine in regards to getting out of the car.

I don’t think the “no!” routine is deliberate. It may even be something E would rather not do but feels unable to control. But this line of thinking isn’t really helpful here. ABA sidesteps the speculation and interpretation and goes for the only relevant question in this case: what changes can we make in this situation in order to change what happens? Some possible answers are obviously worse than others. You could try to drive her out of the car with an airhorn, offer her candy if she leaves the car quickly, take away privileges for every 5 minutes in the car (not a very effective tactic, as most parents should know).

Here’s the most recent method that her ABA team have found effective: upon arrival, swing her leg over so that she’s facing out the doorway of the car rather than still facing forward. That simple. No idea why, but somehow, this serves to break the pattern of E fighting to stay in the car. It’s simple, it’s not harmful to her or anyone else, and it doesn’t require an explanation. This is ABA at its (rare) very best.


3) True Story: All Done and Then Some

The boy I’ll call “BB” is 7 years old with a diagnosis of classic nonverbal autism. He enjoys sensory activities, especially ones that involve mixing things like liquids, paint, glue, shaving cream, and so on. When he is done with an activity, his usual behavior is to fling the components wildly about. This behavior is extremely effective for him. It guarantees the end of the activity, and usually gives him the opportunity to scamper off and get into something new (often something he knows is forbidden) while his caregiver scrambles madly to clean up behind him. In addition to making a mess, he will also throw toys out of the window or smash things when done with them. People use terms like “willfully destructive,” and “troublemaker,” and “likes to get a reaction from people” for kids like this. I don’t like these terms, and ABA (to its credit for once) doesn’t use them.

Granted, the primary problem with this behavior is for BB’s caregivers, in terms of messes created, things broken or lost, the risk of injury from flung objects or shattered glass, etc. Since his family lives in a rental, things like paint in the carpet are a financial problem. Because of this, though, BB’s behavior leads to limits on the things he is allowed to play with, as well as the time and place of playing, which isn’t ideal for him. And stressed-out caregivers aren’t exactly good for him either. No amount of explaining, scolding, reminding, punishing after the fact, or offering bribes for not making a mess has really been effective in changing this behavior… and those things are usually all most caregivers know how to do (most don’t even try all of those methods!).

So the ABA goal here is to replace the behavior of flinging things with another method of indicating that the activity is finished, such as saying or signing “all done,” moving to put things away or clean up, etc.. This is currently being accomplished by having the ABA tech watch him closely during play, and as soon as he starts showing any sign of decreased attention to the activity, they prompt him to indicate that he is done, at which point the activity ends and they walk him through cleaning up. I think they could make this switch even more effectively if they also gave BB several minutes of unstructured play time afterwards as well, since that is one of the benefits he gets when he makes a mess or breaks something.

It is also possible, though doubtful, that he does in fact enjoy the emotional reactions that people around him have when he takes more destructive actions. If this were the case, it would be easy enough to provide this, too– perhaps by having people yell “all done” loudly and run around acting excited or upset after an activity. The idea here is that, basically, any advantage he gets by destructive actions can instead be offered to him without the destruction needing to take place, which will make it as easy as possible for him to substitute new behavior for old habits. There is no placing of blame, no claims made about BB’s intentions or personality, no arguing or explaining or debating involved. And in a case like this, I think that’s exactly what is needed.


In the future, I’ll talk more about when these methods should not be used and why not, but I feel that a lot of self-advocates who have been through ABA programs have already effectively explained many of the downsides (see reading lists from the previous two parts). I’ve mentioned this before, but I also want to add that I really wish ABA programs weren’t restricted to autistic children. Most neurotypical families and classrooms would benefit immensely from ABA interventions. In fact, anywhere that people have fallen into habits can cause problems for themselves or others, ABA can help. ABA should not be used without also talking to the client about what is being done and why, even if the client is not able to respond to those explanations.

Breaking Down ABA, Again: Part 2: Goals and Underlying Philosophy

November 22, 2014 7 comments

[This post continues a series started here]


One major way in which schools of ABA can differ is in their primary goal, their understanding of how ABA methods should be used.


1) Traditional Approach: Fighting Against Autism

Traditional ABA practitioners believe that it is inherently good for autistic children to appear, act, and communicate as “normally” (neurotypically) as possible. The gold standard here is the phrase “indistinguishable from one’s peers,” the idea that no one even has to know that this person is autistic. Many people even misunderstand this to mean that the person who attains indistinguishability has been “cured” of being autistic. That claim makes about as much sense as the notion that a person who wears a realistic wig has been cured of being bald. Sure, they may get fewer stares, but nothing about them has actually changed. And that wig might be uncomfortable enough that the person would rather not wear it.

There are innumerable studies on how to make autistic kids seem less autistic, and few (if any) on what advantages (and disadvantages!) seeming “normal” actually offers the autistic person. I won’t claim that there are no advantages– certainly, seeming normal is going to open a lot of doors in our society in terms of education, job opportunities, and social advantages. But at what cost? According to many people who have been through this therapy, the costs can outweigh the benefits by a lot (see sources list 2).

This is an area where the science is simply missing. The concept of autism as a disease or condition that needs to be cured has been so widely accepted that few researchers or other professionals have thought to challenge that fundamental assumption.

But if we look at the history of other disability rights movements, we start to see grounds for challenging the “medical model.” While many wheelchair users would like full body mobility, many others, particularly those born with their physical impairments, are very content with their life and ask only that the world be wheelchair-accessible so that they can have the same opportunities as anyone able-bodied. The majority of people born Deaf prefer to remain Deaf and use sign languages (which are complete languages, as complex and real as any spoken language, with their own culture, dialects, poetry, and so on) rather than risk partial (and painful) hearing restoration via cochlear implant (a wonderful example of what the world sounds like via implant may help non-Deaf people understand this preference).

And plenty of people make choices that others would find terribly limiting– not teaching their children multiple language, not having children at all, working in a career that is emotionally rewarding but not financially so, or the reverse, codes of dress or diet restrictions imposed by religious belief. What right, then, do we have to criticize someone’s preference for the comfort of repetitive activities? Why do we pathologize these people but not the thrill-seekers who perform dangerous stunts and participate in extreme sports?

The medical model assumes a basic “normal” state for the human body and mind, from which deviations are problematic. Closer observation of human history makes this viewpoint implausible. Genius and madness often run hand-in-hand (see Dr. Kay Jamison’s book “Touched With Fire”). People with reduced empathy are often the most successful financially ( Plenty of artistic and scientific geniuses struggled in other areas of their life, from socializing to mental health to financial management (Van Gogh and Mozart died in poverty, Einstein’s socks didn’t match, Emily Dickinson was a hermit, Ben Franklin was a womanizer… who’s “normal,” anyway?).

There are physical tradeoffs we rarely consider. Being extremely tall gives social advantages but increases the risk of heart problems. The pale skin so socially prized in many cultures around the world is an invitation to skin cancer. Sometimes we even make these choices deliberately, as when ballet dancers or boxers push their bodies to the absolute limits of human endurance, despite risking major health issues later on. We celebrate these people, but we’d also be pretty badly off if everyone in our society were an athlete or a distracted genius or a ruthless CEO. We need diversity of personality, diversity of interests, diversity of approaches to the world.

Sure, you say, but there are limits. It’s not like we actually want serial killers and people with PTSD all over the place. How do we tell when diversity is positive and when it is disruptive or undesirable? We have to look at some level of cost-benefit analysis, and I think the main relevant points to analyze regarding any condition are: Is it hurting others? and Is it making the person miserable?

Parents and professionals see autistic children struggling and assume that autism needs to be cured to alleviate that suffering. But this is often misinterpreting the actual problem, which is the mismatch between the needs of autistic people and the environments they live in. A wheelchair user isn’t going to be happy in a city full of stairs. You don’t take a bird for walks on a leash. You don’t feed dog food to a hamster. Someone with asthma might be perfectly well so long as they aren’t exposed to heavy air pollution. You don’t cure prejudice by telling the victims to stop being gay or Black or Catholic… or autistic.

But that’s exactly what traditional ABA is trying to do. Its faulty logic is: neurotypical behavior = neurotypical neurology. Standing out is bad and fitting in is good. Autistic people won’t be happy unless they learn to do the things that non-autistic people enjoy doing (such as socializing with groups of people or communicating verbally or shopping at the mall).This is the error I talked about parents making in the previous post. They want their children to be happy, of course– but they assume that the autistic person’s criteria for happiness are the same as their own.

When you start from this fundamentally flawed assumption, you are doing damage, no matter how gentle or naturalistic your methods. This school of ABA teaches “quiet hands” and “sit still” and “make eye contact.” It teaches autistic children to hide their pain and their needs, to obey without question, and to suppress their most natural ways of interacting with the world. By extension, it teaches autistic people to hate themselves. The self-hate may not surface until later, but it is an inevitable result of being taught that the way you do things naturally is always wrong.


2) Improvements on the Traditional Model: Autism is not the Enemy

Some more modern schools have moved beyond this, at least in part. They understand the basics of sensory needs. They argue for kids to get accommodations, allow them to stim, accept multiple forms of communication, and don’t focus primarily on suppressing autistic behavior. They do still, however, tend to set goals through a neurotypical lens, which often involves a lot of incorrect assumptions about how the autistic mind works. Ultimately, much of their work is counter-productive, although a lot less unpleasant for the child than the previous version.

An example of this is when a therapist sets the goal of having a child look up and orient towards the speaker when her name is called, so that she will attend to safety instructions like being called back before she runs into the street. The underlying goal isn’t a bad one– get the child attend to stimuli that are likely to be important for their safety– but the notion that an autistic child can reliably indicate attention by looking at the speaker needs to be re-examined.

Another example: a reasonable educational goal is set for the child, like being able to do arithmetic. But the therapist assumes that wrong answers result from a failure to understand, not from dyspraxia that leads the child to point at the wrong answer unintentionally. There are many self-reports from autistic people explaining that this is a common occurrence for them, but researchers have failed to take this into account when developing treatment protocols. The result is a lot of time wasted attempting to “teach” a child information they already know, a lot of frustration and anxiety on the part of the child, and a serious underestimation of the child’s intelligence or academic potential.

Too often, ABA practitioners in this category work at getting kids to do the wrong things for the right reasons, taking time and energy away from more important learning. Unfortunately, the vast majority of research into autism “interventions” and “treatments” is based on assumptions like these, if not the even worse traditional beliefs mentioned above.


3) Getting It Right: Supporting the Autistic Experience

The rare wonderful ABA folks have a philosophy more like that of most occupational therapists. They believe that their primary job is to give the child a set of tools that are useful to that child — not to make them less autistic, but to help them to function better as an autistic person. They want the child to feel empowered and competent. They use the methods of ABA to teach communication skills, self-care skills, and skills that increase a child’s independence rather than stifling it. They also focus a lot on adapting the behavior of other family members to be more supportive toward the autistic child.

A therapist in one such program said to me that the philosophy behind their sessions is “form follows function.” This means that they use, in my opinion, the appropriate interpretation of the “Analysis” part of ABA — they try to figure out what the child needs or is trying to accomplish, and then seek to teach the child an effective and reliable way of reaching that goal (a way, additionally, that doesn’t involve anyone– including the child– getting hurt or being made miserable). This same therapist told me that the very first thing they teach any child is how to ask for a break– “and then, if the kid wants to take a break 200 times in a 2 hour session, that’s fine, we let him take all those breaks. We’ll work on the rest later. The point is, he’s learned something useful.”

I’m not saying that these people are flawless– they do fall prey to some of the same erroneous assumptions about what it means for an autistic child to show progress– but most of what they do helps more than it hurts. Sadly, they are in the minority.

It can, of course, be difficult to define the line between helping a person grow and changing who they are. When are you helping a child by having high expectations for them versus pushing them to do something they truly can’t manage? How do you balance respecting a child’s needs and preferences with teaching them the necessary amount of patience, self-control, ability to face disappointment, and so on? These questions are much harder to answer empirically, and honestly, we’ll probably never have the perfect answer, especially since it’s bound to be different for every individual. But we do know that a child has to feel safe before they can focus on learning. That a child who is in pain (physical or emotional) is unable to perform at their best. And that every person, regardless of ability, needs to feel respected and heard.



Source list 2 (in no particular order):
“The major false premise, common to much autism research, is that autism is a “disorder” rather than a difference. When a researcher starts from that premise, they will be looking for “causes” of the “defect” rather than for an understanding of the source, function, and consequences of the difference.” – This article also notes some other specific flaws in most autism research.

“I was treated with mostly kindness, but the therapists could not see beyond their training.  I learn quickly, but am not able to reply with words that sound right to another.

Worry becomes everyone’s focus.

Real learning happens when no one notices.

The goals waste away.

Tender feelings do not hurt, but are not helpful because they cannot soothe wounds of being constantly underestimated.” – 12-year-old Emma Zurcher-Long, on her experience of ABA therapy at ages 2 & 3.

“A small but growing number of multidisciplinary researchers are challenging the autistic stereotype and finding, in many cases, that our knowledge of autism has been built upon unsupportable ideas about normality, intelligence, sociality, eye contact, empathy, language development, child development, and communication.” Excellent reading here, with a lot of scientific references. Thoroughly debunks several common assumptions, including the idea that eye contact equals attention, even in neurotypicals.

“Taking away things like hand flapping or spinning is not done to help the child. It is done because the people around the child are uncomfortable with or embarrassed by those behaviors. But those are coping behaviors for the child. It is very important to question why a child engages in the behaviors they do. It is very wrong to seek to train away those behaviors without understanding that they are the child’s means of self-regulation. When considering whether you have made a wise choice in what therapy you are providing your child or not, you want to always remember a few cardinal rules: behavior is communication and/or a means of self-regulation. Communication is more important than speech. Human connection is more important than forced eye contact. Trust is easy to shatter and painfully difficult to re-build. It is more important for a child to be comfortable and functional than to “look normal.”

Work on things like anxiety and sensory issues first. Work on getting better sleep (both you and your child). Things like eye contact can come later, much later, and only if your child is comfortable with them. There are work-arounds. Lots of people fake eye contact. Lots of people have good lives with minimal or no eye contact. But forcing a child to do something that is deeply painful and distressing for no reason other than to make them look more normal is not just unnecessary, it is cruel.” This source was also quoted in a previous section.

“Being declared indistinguishable from peers does not do any favors to the child, except maybe ending the hours and hours of discrete trial training. Being academically “on track” does not magically confer socialization or executive function abilities….

This also essentially punishes Autistics for learning coping skills. They might get you through the lower grades, maybe even into high school or young adulthood if circumstances line up, but there will come a time when scripts and constant vigilance are not enough. There is always too much to process, too much to juggle, more and more things to do and ever increasing demands. Putting a veneer of “indistinguishability” on top of that is just setting us up for burnout. “ – This is part of a wonderful series of posts about the downsides of “indistinguishability.”

– “...even when people know eye contact can be painful and that we will not pick up much social information, we are STILL expected to perform the feat for the social comfort of others.” – Also quoted earlier.”
– “The case I want to make against “quiet hands” is that in addition to being emotionally damaging, it’s cognitively counterproductive. Think back to the experiment where the people who were told to resist eating chocolate gave up more easily on solving puzzles. Substitute stimming for chocolate and learning long division for solving puzzles. Add in the fact that autistic people have impaired executive function to begin with, making inhibition of actions more challenging, and you can see why asking a child to resist stimming is counterproductive if you’d also like them to learn a new skill.” Excellent and clear explanation, with references.

“I think “compliance” is a lazy shortcut term for something more important or more measurable or more relevant. “He was compliant today.” What does that mean? That he did what he was told to do because his spirit was broken and he went through the motions? That she did what she was asked to do because she understood why she needed to do something? That he was guided toward possible options and that staff and support folks helped him reach decent decisions about what to do or not to do?”

“I need to silence my most reliable way of gathering, processing, and expressing information, I need to put more effort into controlling and deadening and reducing and removing myself second-by-second than you could ever even conceive, I need to have quiet hands, because until I move 97% of the way in your direction you can’t even see that’s there’s a 3% for you to move towards me.” Quoted many times before.

““It frustrates me to look back at how my ABA teachers drilled me endlessly in basic skills only to say it wasn’t mastered because I had inaccurate pointing.  I knew everything so easily.  I was bored to tears but my apraxic hands would go to the wrong card so they thought I didn’t know “book” or “tree”.  I did it over and over.  It was the worst.  The assumption that people don’t understand if they reply incorrectly is a huge misconception.  ABA is built on this erroneous premise.”” – Ido Kedar, quoted at

Breaking Down ABA, Again: Part 1; Ethics, Standards, and Side-Effects

November 12, 2014 1 comment

[Read the Introduction here]



ABA-based therapies are currently considered the only scientifically validated “treatment” for autism in the United States. Let me defer, for the moment, discussing what is meant by “treatment” and whether or not that is an appropriate word to use.

Any medical or therapeutic treatment, particularly one used on children, should be subject to rigorous safety testing by independent researchers. To the best of my knowledge, no such research has been done. By this, I mean research that actively looks for any downsides to ABA, and follows clients up in a long-term study with a control group.

I have come across many possible side-effects to ABA (and related therapies/teaching methods), mostly reported by autistic adults and autism parents, and occasionally by professionals. Some may be evident immediately, but others are only noted many years later (perhaps the client is aware of them earlier but is unable to report until much later due to delayed language skills or the difficulty many autistic people have in recognizing and reporting emotional experiences. Also, sometimes the client has to reverse habits learned in ABA therapy before realizing how detrimental they were.)

Here is an incomplete list:

acute emotional distress; decreased self-esteem, self-hatred; depression; anxiety (particularly when being observed by others); suicidal ideation; post-traumatic stress disorder; loss of trust in others, including primary caregivers; increased aggression; reduction in or loss of “savant” skills; inability to respond appropriately to sexual assault, pressure, or predation (attributed to compliance training); difficulty judging or expressing one’s own preferences; and reduced independence. (See sources list 1).

Additionally, any treatment should be held to a set of ethical standards, established by a central organization and required by all practitioners. As autism mother and professional writer Ariane Zurcher notes, people don’t usually have reason to question whether established medical treatments (she uses the example of chemotherapy for cancer) are ethical or not. But most autistic communities have serious concerns about the ethics of ABA.

ABA practices are not standardized, are not regulated, and are open to a large amount of parental influence. This is a problem because most parents of autistic children, while in many ways the ultimate experts on their own children, are not experts on autism in certain crucial ways and make certain assumptions from their own neurotypical perspective that may seem like common sense but ultimately not be what their child needs (currently, most ABA folks also make those incorrect assumptions, but I will address that point later).

To draw a parallel, we expect a doctor to listen to a mother’s description of her child’s symptoms, but we hope that the doctor wouldn’t prescribe an inappropriate medication or dangerous procedure simply because the parents want it. And while parents may have to intervene at times in their child’s education, we don’t expect that a father should be allowed to rewrite exams or insist that the teacher add new material to the curriculum! But most ABA programs are largely centered around the parents’ goals for the child, and those goals, which are usually based on expectations for a typically developing child, are not always healthy or safe for an autistic child. There needs to be some oversight here, based (again) on thorough research.

So this is my first concern about ABA therapies: the methods are not safety-tested, and practitioners are not held to established ethical standards. Would you give your child any other “treatment” that didn’t fit those criteria?


Sources list 1 (very incomplete, in no particular order, and NOT EASY TO READ, i.e. lots of trigger warnings):

– Oliver Sacks, in “The Man Who Mistook his Wife For a Hat,” recounts an instance of profoundly autistic adult brothers who were mathematical savants until undergoing intensive speech therapy.

– “You’ve heard that eye contact is about sharing and social referencing and subtle messages and cues being sent among communicative partners. That’s not what this is at all! This is the sledgehammer. This is the safeword, if you will, the “this stops now it has to it has to it has to make it stop nownownownownow no matter what”.
“Where did I get this idea? Therapy. That’s where… My brain knows that for most people a straight in the eyes stare is not the signal for “something needs to stop right. now.” but it isn’t that easy. One of the deepest conditioned things I have is “eye contact is giving in. If you do that, the bad will stop.” This is irrational and untrue and the world doesn’t work that way. It’s deep, though, as the first and most consistent of the wrestling matches I had with adults as a small child.” –

– “Her internal model of friends is “I do what they tell me to do”. No one has to be nice to her, or put up with her, so she has to do what they ask. “No” isn’t an option… People ask, and she does. And when people don’t ask? She doesn’t know what to do. The guessing is impossible. Not knowing what they want is oh so anxiety provoking that she cannot breathe for hyperventilation. They can tell her they don’t want anything, but that’s never true. People always want something and the guessing game is not a thing she can do anymore.
People say they don’t want anything. They always want something. Stand up, sit down, touch nose, good girl. Do my homework for me. Social media crisis this. Can you cover another shift at work? These, she understands. “Just be my friend” doesn’t mean anything.” –

– “…what looks like progress is happening at the expense of the child’s sense of self, comfort, feelings of safety, ability to love who they are, stress levels, and more. The outward appearance is of improvement, but with classic ABA therapy, that outward improvement is married to a dramatic increase in internal anxiety and suffering.” –

– “Children like yours — children like I was — are taught to be compliant. That’s what 90% of autism therapy looks like to me: compliance training. They become hungry for those words of praise, those “good girls,” the M&Ms or stickers or other tokens you use to reward them. They learn quickly that when they do what you want them to do, they are a “good girl” and when they try to do what they want, they are a “bad girl.” I was not allowed to refuse to hug the man who sexually molested me for a decade of my childhood because I might “hurt his feelings.” That’s pretty major, but there were millions of minor experiences along the way, chipping off my understanding of myself as something owned by myself and not something owed to the world around me.” –

– “People worry a lot about their “violent” Autistic children as they get bigger and stronger and harder to control. But far too often, the “violence” is stirred up by years of very frustrating therapy…. There’s only so long that a person can take being pushed into sobbing meltdowns of frustration before they are willing to do whatever it takes to get the torment to stop. It is not only heart-breakingly cruel to treat a child this way, it is grossly irresponsible. Therapy like this creates problems. The best it will produce is a child trained to do things that make no sense in order to avoid distress and get rewards. The worst it will produce is a child that bites, kicks, hits . . . and gets bigger and stronger along with becoming less and less controllable. This therapy is not designed to raise a child who feels safe and comfortable with who they are, who feels safe to express their individuality, who is mentored in growing and developing into the best person they can be, expressing their true nature in ways others can come to connect with. ” –


[This post continues in part 2]

Breaking Down ABA, Again: Introduction

November 12, 2014 2 comments

[This post is being re-written and expanded into a series. The introduction portion is not heavily edited from the original, but the rest is.]

So here I’m going to talk, again, about ABA, about the disconnects and disagreements that I see whenever ABA is discussed online in autism-related communities, and about my own thoughts on ABA as a scientist.

I am going to ask that commenters be sensitive to the fact that many autistic people have been deeply traumatized by undergoing an experience that was called “ABA therapy.” Whether or not that was “correct” or “real” ABA, whether or not ABA has changed since then, whether or not you’ve ever witnessed the methods that were used on these people, please be respectful of that fact that for many people, the term “ABA” is very distressing.



I see an often-repeated pattern in online discussions about ABA. It goes something like this:

  1. Someone mentions ABA.
  2. Autistic self-advocates and some parents jump in to say that ABA is terrifying, problematic, unethical, and so on. Terms are used like “child abuse” and “psychological torture” and “deeply traumatizing.” Most of these people speak from personal experience.
  3. Many other parents and professionals jump in to defend ABA. They also speak from experience. They point out how much ABA has changed since the early days, or document the incredible progress they’ve seen in their children and clients. Many are deeply offended by the idea that what they are doing to their children could possibly be hurtful.

So I want to write about what I think is going on here.

Note: I’m not going spend much time on the origins of ABA therapy, because that’s a bit like judging modern psychotherapy by only discussing Freud. While there are still plenty of places that practice pure Lovaas-style ABA (or worse), those aren’t usually the people who participate in these discussions.

I’m also not going to try to define ABA. I assume the reader has a working knowledge of at least some form of therapy that falls under the ABA category (though I will ask readers to remember that many different practices currently go by the name “ABA”). What I am going to do is talk about individual aspects of many of those therapies, and try to tease part the good from the bad.


[This post continues in here]

Open Letter to ABA Folks: On the Word “No.”

September 27, 2014 4 comments

If you have not done so, please read the introduction to this letter series before continuing:

Overview of this letter:

Section 1: About the word “no” and why it is important

Section 2: Observed ABA practices in teaching “no” and why they are problematic

Section 3: Brief recap of section 2

Section 4: Practical suggestions for addressing these issues in ABA sessions


Section 1: About the word “no” and why it is important

“NO.” It’s one of our most powerful words. It’s one of the first words children learn that isn’t a noun. The “No!” phase, also known as the “Terrible Two’s,” is a critical part of human psychological development. In learning to voice a refusal, toddlers learn a huge amount about the world and themselves. They learn that they are individuals, with desires and preferences that are not always the same as those of their caregivers. They learn that they are able to express this difference of opinion in a way that others understand. And most critically they learn that, by voicing this opinion, they sometimes have the ability to change what happens to them. Anyone who’s ever had a toddler knows that sometimes they just say “no” to everything, out of sheer joy at having the power to refuse.

A major feature of autism is a difference in the way autistic and non-autistic people learn to communicate. Autistic children often take much longer than their non-autistic peers to develop speech or other formal communication methods (such as sign-language, PECS, or an electronic device).

Autism therapy often focuses on developing the ability to indicate the word “no,” for good reasons. Children who can’t use some recognizable form of “no” are a lot less happy than those who can tell their caregivers when they dislike something (a food, a place, an activity, etc.). Also, given no other means to express “no,” most children will eventually resort to tantrums or violence as a means of indicating displeasure. This can be physically and emotionally dangerous for both caregiver and child.


Section 2: Observed ABA practices in teaching “no” and why they are problematic

Ok, I assume you didn’t really need any convincing on those points. Now, let’s talk about how ABA teaches “no.” I’d like you to imagine a scenario for me. The vast majority of ABA folks are neurotypical (non-autistic), so I assume none of you have any difficulties with imagining.

Let’s say you’ve moved to another country, one whose language is particularly difficult for you to learn and use. Perhaps it has very different speech sounds than your native language, or another mode of communication entirely (humming through your nose, for example, or doing complicated dance steps).

So someone, or a group of people, is assigned to teach you the basic phrases and words you need to know in this language. The way they decide to teach you “No” (or maybe “stop”) is the following:

You’re stuck in a room with them, and they do things to you that you hate. They pinch you, or drag their nails down a chalkboard, or grab your personal belongings away from you, and they keep doing this until you say “no” to their satisfaction. Even if it’s perfectly clear what you’re trying to say, if you pronounce it just a little bit wrong, or stumble on one of those dance steps, they ignore you until you get it right. Sometimes, you did get it right, but they’re busy making notes or talking to someone else, and you have to do it again.

When you do get it right, they pat you on the head, say “good job,” and let you do something pleasant for a few minutes. Then they start up again. If you put your hands over your ears to block that horrible screeching noise, they hold your hands down. If you try to object in your own language, your objection is ignored. If you get fed up and scream or burst into tears or punch someone (and who wouldn’t, after enough of this?), or even just sit down on the floor and refuse to participate any longer, you get marked down for misbehaving. Maybe, if they’re nice and sensible, they start giving you longer breaks or do something that you don’t hate quite as much. Not much of a consolation, is it?

So maybe, yes, you will learn to say “no” in this new language. Maybe you’ll even learn it faster, in self-defense, than you would have otherwise. But what will you think about the people teaching you? Will you respect them, or just fear them? More importantly, will you believe that they respect you?

In addition, imagine that you’re a child, with little experience of the world. Your own beloved parents tell you that these teachers are here to help you, that you should obey them and try to please them. They call you their “friend,” and unless someone has already explained otherwise, you probably get it into your head that friends are people who are allowed to push you around like this.

(How many of you had a friend or sibling who took advantage of your trust or your admiration when you were little? They made you do something you hated, or got you in trouble for something they did, or tormented you in some other way… Do you remember how much it hurt? I do.)

You might even start thinking there’s something wrong with you. After all, these people are trying to help you, right? They like you and care about you and are experts. So maybe there’s something wrong with YOU for hating the lessons so much. You wonder if you’re too sensitive, too slow a learner, or just a bad person who isn’t worthy of more respect and kindness.

(I’m sure you remember feeling that way sometimes, too).

Or you start thinking it’s ok to make other people miserable, and treat your own friends this way. And then you probably get labeled “aggressive” or “antisocial” and get taken our of you classroom to go have more therapy.


Section 3: Brief recap of section 2

If all that made your head spin, let’s simplify it.

Can ABA therapy teach a kid how to say “no”? Sure.

Is it the fastest way? Maybe.

Is it worth the emotional frustration, destruction of trust, mixed messages about what “teaching” and “helping” and “caring” mean, and possible long-term hostility that can result? You tell me.


Section 4: Practical suggestions for addressing these issues in ABA sessions

OK, criticism only goes so far. I’m not here to make you feel bad; I’m here to help your jobs better. The following are my suggestions for teaching “no” or “stop” via ABA with minimal trauma.

1) Don’t do too much in one day. 1-3 trials per session, no more. Seriously. It may take longer, but it’s worth the wait. You can tell parents they are much less likely to see tantrums, aggression, and meltdowns after sessions if this is done slowly. (Technical note: whatever stimulus you use to elicit a “no” behavior is also going to be perceived as a punishment for whatever the child’s antecedent behavior was. Less technically, if you keep doing something a child hates, they’re going to wonder what they did first to make you do that to them. This can mess up other aspects of the session.)

2) Don’t give praise or additional reinforcement (rewards). The best, in fact the ONLY valid reinforcement for saying “no” is to have the other person respect that request. Don’t say “good job,” because expressing your needs isn’t a job or a task, it’s an essential human activity. Don’t make it less meaningful by assigning it the same status as answering an informational question correctly. I DO encourage you to (sincerely!) apologize to the child for doing something they disliked, or say something like “thank you for letting me know that you want me to stop” (especially if the word is replacing violent behavior!)

3) As soon as the child has a response that is recognizable as “no,” respect it. Respect it whenever possible. If it can’t be respected in a given instance, verbally acknowledge it (“I understand that you don’t like ____” — this also helps clarify the referent of the “no”) and explain why you are not going to stop just yet, or why they have to do the thing they don’t want to despite protesting (you’d do this with a typical child, right? Stop thinking of your clients as that different. They have plenty of typical thoughts and feelings– they just don’t express them the same way others do). You can use “no” as an opportunity for further engagement– offer alternatives for the child to pick (“Would you rather we did ___?”), or bargain with them (e.g. “We can stop in five minutes if you keep working with me right now”). Encourage the family to do this too, especially respecting the use of “no” as much as possible. This is crucial to maintenance. “No” will only become a true part of a child’s functional vocabulary if it is generally effective in eliciting negative reinforcement (i.e., it gets the child the result they are requesting).

4) If you need to shape the physical pronunciation of “no,” “stop,” and similar terms, do that later, separately, and via DTT that is reinforced by something utterly neutral to the situation. Don’t make correct pronunciation a high-stakes task. Again, less technically: if the child needs to say “no,” more clearly, have them practice mimicking your speech (with a bunch of words, ideally), in a game-like setting where they win stickers or candy or tokens for better pronunciation. That lets them practice saying the word more clearly without having to worry that their objections will be ignored if they aren’t performed perfectly.

An Open Letter to ABA Folks: Introduction

September 27, 2014 Leave a comment

Dear ABA therapists and technicians,

I’ve met a good number of you over the years. The majority of you love the kids you work with, and want to do well by them. So, for the sake of those children, please listen to some critiques of your methods. Before I start:

1) I do not categorically stand against the study of ABA, or its therapeutic application. I merely have a lot of specific concerns– concerns that come both from my own observations and from listening to dozens of autistic* teens and adults who have experienced these therapies first hand. I’m happy to give you a list of references (a good place to start is:

2) I have a degree in Psychology from one of America’s top research institutions, and enough research experience to really understand how much we know– and don’t know!– about ABA and autism, given the studies that have been done. While my undergraduate focus and research were in neuropsychology, I did take classes in behaviorism as well. However, I try to avoid using too much jargon, in part to make these essays accessible to the wider public, and in part because not all programs use the terms exactly the same way.

3) If your response to anything I write is “Well, I/my program would never do THAT,” you are missing the point. Everything I discuss is being done somewhere, by someone, to autistic children and teens. If you agree that ANY of it is problematic, don’t waste your energy worrying what people think of you — worry about the suffering of all the kids who aren’t your clients. If you truly are one of the good ones, get back out there and fight against the rest. Stand up for the rights of those who have less power than you do. Talk to your supervisors and co-workers. Write articles. Bring up these issues whenever you meet autism researchers. Educate your clients’ parents. Send letters to your local editors. Talk to the teachers and counselors and psychiatrists and medical doctors who work with your clients. Help them understand just how badly some of these kids have been traumatized, and what they can do to minimize further damage.

Thank you. Together, we can do what I believe we all want to do: make a significant positive difference in the lives of autistic people.


* While some disability groups prefer person-first language (e.g. “person with autism”), the majority of people I have met who are actually on the spectrum prefer to term “autistic.” The term also encompasses those who have been diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome and PDD-NOS. In general, whenever speaking to/about an individual, please use the terminology they prefer.