A Piece to the Puzzle

When I first received a job offer to work for my current position as a behavior interventionist, I was initially very skeptical of the job and its requirements.

My company offers at home and community-based Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) services to children with Autism Spectrum Disorder and other developmental disabilities.

I was skeptical not of the job, but of my own capabilities in this field, as I have had only a small amount of experience with children with disabilities to begin with. After conducting research on a behavior analyst’s required skill set I became even more wary of my possible job.

The research stated that an analyst had to be prepared for instances of some violent behavior directed at you, that you must be very patient, and understand that progress is not immediate; it will take awhile to bond with the child and then start accomplishing goals together.

The first few times I meet with a new client I test the waters and mainly observe their behavior and in the classroom. All of my clients are under five and attend various Head Start preschool locations.

After some initial observation, I spend the next few weeks building a relationship and establishing trust with the kids. This part for me is not only the easiest but most fun. I love finding out what the client is interested in, what their favorite toys or activities in school are, and who they enjoy playing with.

The moment that bond is finally established is also one of the greatest feelings as a behavior interventionist. It feels wonderful to have earned the trust of a child who will be looking to you for guidance in a world that may or may not make a lot of sense to them.

My very first client was a four year old boy who has Asperger syndrome and has a difficult time communicating with his teachers, parents, and classmates.

During my second week of work with him, I remember talking with him and asking him to clean up his toys- as the rest of his class was- because it was time to go outside. Transitions- or moving from one activity to the next- are perhaps the hardest part of the day for any child, let alone a child on the spectrum.

When I had asked him to clean up the toys he was playing with, he replied with his usual yelling and murmurings of discontentment. I wasn't aware nor was I ready for his bigger outbreak that led to him biting me in multiple places, opening skin and sending me to the hospital to get treatment.

I was close to quitting that next day, thinking that there was no way I was equipped to handle this sort of thing on the regular. But I stuck with it, and I’m glad I did.

There are many days where I feel like giving up completely, frustrated that I can’t connect to my children every day. When they have a difficult day, I often feel it is a reflection of my own self and my work that I am doing or not doing.

There are also days where I do get spit on, kicked, yelled at, my hair pulled out of its ponytail, chairs thrown at me, and hit over the head with blocks. After those kinds of days, I sit in my car and cry because I become so tired and worn out.

I get frustrated at not being able to communicate with the child I am working with and complete the goals the teacher or their parental figure want us to accomplish.

It’s stressful; it’s mentally, physically, and emotionally draining work and I give credit to parents who raise children with any sort of impairments or difficulties.

It is in that moment that I also step back and realize that I only have these children for a few hours a day. I’m not raising them, I’m not struggling to connect with them every day of my life, wanting to so badly help them, as any parent naturally would feel.

I’m not the mom or dad that may work multiple jobs, manage a household and provide the unending support they provide for their children. I am not also a parent who has the stresses of living in poverty, like most Head Start families may live in.

It is then that I take an even bigger step back and think about the child and what it is like for him or her every day.

Children with autism and other developmental impairments have to handle things differently than everyone else, and it is much harder for those that don’t know how and can’t communicate with other people.

They may also have some sensory issues so severe that lights are too bright for them, sounds too loud, and people too close to them. Because they do not communicate as typical children and adults do, they can’t express those issues.

I can’t imagine the frustration the children feel all day, every day, living in a world that wasn't built to accommodate them. I can’t imagine being four or even younger and having to deal with strange people like me that come in and interrupt what they already know and do on a daily basis.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I love providing smiles to these children and making them laugh. I love being there for hugs and stickers when they feel good about themselves and accomplish something. I love when a nonverbal client I have started talking and mumbling words through imitation for the very first time. All of those feelings are wonderful.

In the end,I hope that my journey with these children will help me later in life when I fulfill my dream of becoming a preschool teacher.

And when there are challenges with children or families I will encounter in the future I know that the patience and compassion I’ve acquired from this profession will help me connect, bond, and help children and families on a higher level.

There is so much more to the child than his or her impairments or differences to their typical peers. I’ve come to love their difficulties as much as I love their smiles and giggles. And although they do not develop as typically as their peers, they are a whole child with likes and dislikes.

They have dreams and ambitions of being a space cowboy or girl. Even if they can’t verbally communicate it, I see it in their willingness to learn and put effort into my intervention or in their struggles to become unified with their classmates.

I am just there to help fuel their fire and provide the proper learning tools or social skills needed for the classroom. I’m not working as an interventionist to fix the child or cure them of whatever they are diagnosed with. I am there to support families, teachers, and most importantly, the child. I am just a piece to their whole puzzle.