When a Behavioral Consultant Becomes the Client: A Lesson in Compassion and Context
Last week, my life became a case study in setting events and motivating operations, the behavioral science behind why we do what we do. And, spoiler alert, I was the one who failed the pop quiz.
It started with a stubborn non-COVID bug. I was wiped out for a few days: fatigue, brain fog, the works. As is the ritual of parenthood, my toddler followed suit a few days later. She had a cough, a runny nose, but was otherwise her usual spirited self. We followed all the school's illness policies, and off to school she went.
When I picked her up near the end of the week, one of the teachers mentioned gently that Lumi's "tired was showing" a bit more. She hadn't been as engaged during circle time, and as I was signing her out, I heard Lumi raise her voice at another student.
Now, as a BCBA, what do you think my immediate, sleep-deprived, virus-fogged brain did?
It panicked.
The BCBA Brain Goes Rogue
In retrospect, and as I’m typing this out now, the signs are glaringly obvious: My child was sick. Her lowered engagement and irritability were clear indications that her body was fighting a bug.
But my brain skipped past that simple, human explanation and went straight into Problem-Solving BCBA Mode.
I immediately read between the lines (or so I thought): "The teacher is telling me Lumi is acting out," "She's imitating my short temper from this week!" "She must have a skill deficit (a missing or weak skill) in group attending for circle time!"
I instantly started to think of these normal toddler behaviors as problems to solve, targets for an intervention plan. I was so convinced that I had a behavioral crisis on my hands that I went home and crafted an eloquent, detailed email to her teachers, asking for specifics on her behaviors so I could "address them at home."
The Humbling Truth: Context is King
The teachers' response was the cold, clarifying water to my panicky behavioral fire.
They were not raising concerns about her behavior. They were simply pointing out that she might be coming down with my bug. They assured me that none of her actions were problematic, and all were developmentally appropriate considering the context of each situation.
I was mortified.
I had completely jumped past all the crucial antecedent variables. I ignored the primary motivating operation (MO): the state of her body. She was tired, uncomfortable, and fighting an illness. That sets the stage for lower frustration tolerance and less energy for things like focused group time. I violated the principle of parsimony, one of the seven guiding dimensions of our science, which insists we favor the simplest, most logical explanation first. Instead of "She's sick," I jumped to the much more complex, anxiety-inducing conclusion: "She's imitating my bad behavior and has a critical skill deficit that requires an intervention."
If one of my supervisees had come to me with this scenario, I would have told them they were jumping to conclusions and needed to investigate further. I would have told them to prioritize compassion and grace along with their clinical curiosity. Yet, I failed to apply that same wisdom to my own child.
Why We Need to Hit the Pause Button
My experience is a powerful reminder for every professional in the field of ABA:
Many of us, myself included, were trained in systems that emphasize intervention first. Under the pressure of meeting billing requirements or proving efficacy, it becomes automatic to hear about a "skill deficit" and immediately think: Intervention.
This is where the application of behavior analysis in a capitalistic medical model can, unfortunately, create a tunnel-vision effect.
But when we step back to the pure science of behavior, we remember that we are studying the science of learning, and that includes our own learning!
Our ability to reflect and analyze our own behavior is crucial for moving our field forward. We need to continuously refine our practice to ensure we are considering:
Setting Events & MOs: What is the learner's current state (sick, hungry, sleep-deprived, etc.) that motivates the behavior?
Developmental Appropriateness: Is the behavior expected for this age and context?
Compassionate Curiosity: Is there a simple, non-pathological explanation for this behavior?
For anyone who already views ABA as rigid or restrictive, this story may confirm that bias. And with a surface-level understanding of the science, I get it. But the truth is, the fundamental principles of behavior analysis demand a deep consideration of context, history, and the environment. Our challenge is to ensure the application of the science is always guided by compassion and a recognition of the full, complex picture of human behavior, not just the easiest path to a billable hour.
It was a humbling, essential lesson, and one I'm sure I'll need to re-learn again and again. Our continuous refinement is what makes us better consultants, clinicians, and, most importantly, better parents.
Have you ever had a moment where your professional lens got in the way of a simple, human explanation? Share your story in the comments!
