Why Working With Autistic Kids Was the Best Time of my Life — and Why I Wouldn’t Go Back

I learned so much, but might not do it again.

Flash back to two and a half years ago. I had a minimum-wage, mundane, and basically meaningless job in a tourist shop. My heart wasn’t in it, I was bored, and my bank account was suffering, so every night I would peruse Craigslist and other sites to look for opportunities.

On the night that I found an ad to work with children at an autism center, I sat up straighter and tried to imagine my life as a behavior therapist.

The posting was for a Registered Behavior Technician (RBT), which essentially entails working on-one-on with a client on the autism spectrum using Applied Behavior Analysis to help them learn skills, decrease detrimental behaviors, and increase desirable behaviors (among many other things!).

Admittedly it was not at all what I was expecting, and much more challenging than I could have ever anticipated. But once I applied I was intrigued, and I went through all the interviews, layers of training, and levels of testing with gusto. I didn’t know what I was getting into, and I didn’t realize at all what I would get out of it.

All I knew is that I was passionate, loved kids, and wanted to make a difference.

It was difficult, to say the least. There were days that I cried in my car all the way home.

But there were many more days where I adored the kids I worked with, shared learning experiences with them, supported them, bonded with them, and learned about myself and the world through them. In many ways, it was the best time of my life.

Here’s why.

Every day was different, and it challenged me to be at my best, ready for anything, all the time.

Some people can show up to work tired, sick, hungover, or what have you, but not me. In this position I needed to be 100% so I could be ready to handle any sort of behaviors my clients (that’s what we called the children we worked with) had that day.

If I wasn’t at my best, it would have been so much harder to keep my cool while my four-year-old client screamed bloody murder in my ear for thirty minutes.

And yes, I did have days that were difficult and grueling and all I wanted to do was give in to the tantrum because I was tired and didn’t want to deal with it anymore. But I knew people were counting on me. And at the time, I believed that in the long run, following the behavior plan and not giving in to his furious howls was teaching him skills that would allow him to have more success in life.

To do this, I had to show up not just for him, but also his family, his community, my supervisors, and my coworkers. And I had to show up well. In short, working with these kids made me accountable.

I learned to never take anything for granted and appreciate the little things.

In the weeks during which I was assisting with potty-training one of my little ones, I thanked the heavens every time my client came in with a pair of crocs or other easily washable shoes. You learned very quickly what can become a hassle on the first try.

I learned to appreciate when my client brought her favorite food for lunch and I knew she would be in a good mood that day.

And when it rained and none of us could run around outside that day, it was disappointing but also avoided any tantrum that ensued when I had to bring my client back inside at the end.

The details really do matter.

Seeing their progress and knowing how hard it was for them to get there, was the most heartwarming feeling in the world.

One of my clients used to hit people — hard — every time he wanted something.

It was a slow process to get him to stop turning to aggression, but eventually we were able to teach him to gain someone’s attention by tapping them on the shoulder instead of violently whacking them.

I will never forget seeing him do it by himself for the first time, without prompting or instruction. In response, his friend gladly give him the toy he wanted.

They both smiled, and I choked up.

My kids could surprise me with the smallest gesture that had the biggest meaning.

These kids, although I dealt with their terrible tantrums at times, were so unbelievably sweet.

One of my clients was always so concerned about me having my belongings with me at all times. If he saw my water bottle on the table across the room, he would run over and bring it to me just so that other kids didn’t touch it.

Another of my nonverbal kiddos was a little girl who loved books, puzzles, and stickers, and had a huge problem with sharing. It took her a long time to learn to let go of her things, but when she finally did and started sharing stickers with her friends, she always made sure I got one too, so I would feel included.

A third client, at snack time when all the kids were eating but I wasn’t, always tried to give me some of the contents of his lunchbox because he thought I didn’t have anything to eat.

It was enough to make my heart melt.

They could be hysterically funny, and make you laugh over the smallest thing.

Some of the best memories I have are random experiences or moments I had with one of my clients.

My favorite child that I ever worked with was an adorable four-year-old boy who was nonverbal. For whatever reason he loved when you leaned down and snorted like a pig in his ear. He would laugh hysterically and then lean to the other side so you could snort in his other ear. Back and forth, cracking up the whole time. It was very strange to watch, but hilarious, and I loved making him laugh.

It was the best sound in the world.

One of my older kids, a nine-year-old, would always surprise me with random remarks that were objectively hilarious as well. One time he asked me out of the blue if I had an extra toe, and then proceeded to tell me about how rare they were.

He was one of my favorites.

They taught me mad patience and ignoring skills, which translate to other arenas of my life.

Ever had someone let out high-pitched screams of anger in your face for forty-five minutes, while kicking the wall and smacking things off tables and all around just trying to create chaos? It’s unpleasant, to say the least.

I will openly admit that sometimes I struggled not to react (depending on the circumstance and reason for the tantrum).

It did require patience and some high-intensity ignoring, but these skills turned out to be so incredibly useful in everyday life. It certainly taught me to keep my cool and ignore people in the world who are rude, demanding negative attention, or just plain abrasive. And there are plenty of them out there.

I’ve learned that I don’t necessarily have to engage in that behavior.

My autistic kids taught me humility, and that we should never, ever underestimate what we don’t understand.

People who fall on the autism spectrum are no less important than those who don’t. Their brains may function differently, but they are no less capable than the rest of us. I have seen the kids I worked with do amazing things, and some possessed skills that far exceeded my own.

An older child I worked with, who was ten years old at the time, was calculating math equations at twelfth-grade level. Another could recite the whole script of his favorite movie by heart, if you asked him to.

In fact, some of the smartest and most successful people in the world have been thought to be on the autism spectrum — Albert Einstein, Charles Darwin, Bill Gates, and Nikola Tesla, to name a few. It goes to show that you never know what, to many people is thought to be a great weakness, could actually be incredible strength.

Again, stop underestimating what you don’t understand.

They showed me how to let go of social norms and just be authentically myself.

I worked with a child who loved to sing — he was nonverbal, which meant he didn’t have any words or functional communication, but he could still make utterances and lots of noise, if he wanted to.

During our preschool circle time, he would be sitting there singing along with the songs like Old MacDonald and The Wheels on the Bus, and I’ll be honest, his singing did not sound like music at all. It sounded like a stream of sounds just coming out of his mouth, somewhat in the rhythm of the song playing. The other kids would glance at him, some singing, some open-mouthed watching him, and it was clear that everyone was distracted by his singing. But he would be sitting there, loving the music and not caring what anybody thought.

Undoubtedly in his head it sounded exactly like it was supposed to. He knew the song and wanted to sing along like everyone else, and that was that.

His confidence was inspiring.

I learned a lot from my time being a behavior therapist. It was in many ways the best and most rewarding time of my life. But that being said, I had several qualms about what I was doing, and about Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) in general.

I want to say first that ABA is much more complex than I explain here, and I am by no means an expert. I worked as an RBT with many different autistic children (clients) for approximately two years, and my views are based on what I witnessed in my personal experience and what I’ve learned since then.

I truly believe that in many cases, ABA does help to drastically reduce behaviors that inhibit a child’s learning or quality of life.

For example my client who had intense peer aggression — we worked with him over time, teaching him slowly to replace his aggressive behaviors with a tap on the shoulder or other physical or visual cues to get what he wanted. I believe those methods work, and are not necessarily harmful.

But I’ve come to view other aspects of ABA as questionable.

I would never, ever intentionally harm a child (or anyone), but part of ABA requires that once you give an instruction or demand, you have to follow through, basically no matter what. So if I tell my client that it’s time to come sit at the table to ______ (whatever task we are working on), then I am not supposed to permit him to do anything else until he complies. And I honestly don’t believe that level of extreme is always necessary.

Especially if the client is nonverbal and can’t communicate what he or she is feeling or needs.

I think that with all ABA’s good intentions it often still fails to consider how to approach it from the autistic child’s own perspective, rather than solely from a neuro-typical viewpoint. The approach is always coming from an understanding of the function of the behavior (why the child is doing what they are doing), which is all well and good except that I don’t believe we can always be so sure.

I think sometimes we get overconfident in our understanding.

Another problem I had with working in ABA was too often the lack of client dignity. And by this I mean a lot of times my coworkers (and supervisors sometimes), would talk about clients right in front of them, as if they weren’t there. Again, underestimating them and treating them like they aren’t smart enough to understand anything when in fact, most of the time they do.

And if they are nonverbal and we don’t know if they understand, they should be given enough respect to believe that they could, and not treat them like they have no value.

My company did make an effort to protect client dignity, but it didn’t always happen. And since then I’ve read other people’s perspectives, both those who worked in ABA and those from the autism community, and I’ve learned that it’s an issue across the board. This is pretty concerning to me, and looking back I’m ashamed of some of the things I witnessed being said in front of clients.

No one should be made to feel less capable, less worthy, less deserving, or less of a person — and those on the autism spectrum are no exception.

I know that some people see autism as this big unknown thing that somehow takes control and lessens one’s quality of life. And yes, there is still so much we don’t know about it and from my (still somewhat limited) perspective, I know it can bring distinct challenges.

But what I also realize now is that working with kids on the spectrum and getting to learn and know them was the greatest experience of my life, and opened my eyes to see that they are so much more than their circumstances.

I wish everyone could see that.

My job and role in their lives expanded my horizons and made me much more aware of so many things — what’s considered a “normal” childhood, the weight of social expectations, family dynamics, definition of one’s quality of life, how the little things in life can make the biggest difference, and how the way you should treat people isn’t always the way the rules tell you to.

I am grateful for the experiences I’ve had with my kiddos, both good and bad, but looking back I have such mixed feelings.

I have a deep love for the kids I worked with, more than I ever thought I could love a child who wasn’t technically mine. I know I made a difference in their lives. I never harmed anyone, but did I do the best for them? I would like to say yes, but I honestly am not sure anymore.

If I could go back, would I do it again? Perhaps, but definitely not in the same way. I would do my research, and listen to other perspectives. I would have followed the little red flag that questioned some things. I would have raised my voice.

Sometimes the student becomes the teacher.

And sometimes we need to see the small miracles in order to have faith that what we are doing is making a difference in the world. I’m glad that for that time in my life, I could be there to see them, but I just hope they were glad I was there too.

© Samantha Blake 2020