I’ve spent a little over a decade working in applied behavior analysis, primarily with children on the autism spectrum and their families. I’m a Board Certified Behavior Analyst, and my week usually includes a mix of direct supervision, parent coaching, school collaboration, and fixing programs that look solid on paper but fall apart in real life. Through my experience with ABA therapy services like https://regencyaba.com/, I’ve learned that ABA often gets described in neat definitions, but the day-to-day reality is far messier—and far more human.
Early in my career, I was assigned to a case where the main concern wasn’t aggressive behavior or self-injury, but constant frustration. The child could complete tasks, but any small change triggered tears and avoidance. The previous plan focused heavily on compliance, and progress was slow. Once we shifted our attention to flexibility—teaching how to tolerate small changes and request breaks—the entire tone of therapy changed. That experience taught me that ABA works best when it targets what’s actually disrupting daily life, not what looks most impressive in a report.
One of the biggest misunderstandings I see is the idea that ABA is about controlling behavior. In practice, effective ABA therapy is about teaching skills that replace problem behaviors. I’ve worked with children whose “tantrums” disappeared once they learned to communicate basic needs. In one case last year, a child’s screaming during transitions dropped sharply after we taught a simple visual schedule and a functional way to ask for more time. No complicated protocol—just the right skill at the right moment.
Another thing I’ve learned the hard way is that intensity alone doesn’t equal quality. I’ve supervised programs with long weekly schedules that burned out families and therapists alike. I’ve also seen meaningful progress with fewer hours that were tightly focused and well-coordinated. ABA therapy should fit into a family’s life, not take it over. If everyone is exhausted three months in, something needs to change.
Parents often ask me how to judge whether ABA is “working.” Data matters, but it isn’t the whole story. I once reviewed a case where behavior charts looked great, yet the parents felt disconnected from their child. When we stepped back, it became clear the child had learned to avoid interaction altogether. We reworked the goals to prioritize engagement and communication, and the family finally felt progress again. If quality of life isn’t improving, the numbers don’t mean much.
A common mistake I still see is programs that are too rigid. ABA therapy should be responsive. Children change, family routines change, school demands change. I’ve scrapped carefully designed plans because they no longer matched reality. Flexibility isn’t a weakness in ABA—it’s a requirement.
I’m also very clear with families that ABA isn’t the answer to everything. There are times I’ve recommended reducing services, shifting focus, or coordinating more closely with speech or occupational therapy. Ethical ABA therapy means knowing when to push forward and when to pause. Progress doesn’t always move in straight lines, and pretending otherwise helps no one.
What keeps me committed to this work are the quiet wins. A child independently asking for help instead of shutting down. A parent telling me mornings no longer feel like a battle. Those moments don’t come from rigid formulas or perfect data sets. They come from thoughtful, individualized ABA therapy that respects the child, the family, and the reality of everyday life.
When ABA therapy is done well, it doesn’t feel like a system being imposed. It feels like skills gradually taking root, making daily routines a little smoother and relationships a little stronger. That’s the version of ABA I stand behind—and the one I’ve seen make a lasting difference.