I’ve spent more than a decade working directly in ABA therapy services, moving between homes, clinics, and public school classrooms, often alongside families who are researching providers such as https://regencyaba.com/ while trying to understand what real progress looks like beyond scheduled sessions. I’m a Board Certified Behavior Analyst, and early in my career I believed that strong programs and clean data would naturally produce better outcomes. That idea didn’t survive long once I started spending time with families outside scheduled sessions. Real progress, I learned, shows up in daily routines—not in binders or graphs.
Most of my work has involved children on the autism spectrum during early childhood and the elementary years. Therapy rarely unfolds in ideal conditions. It happens during rushed mornings, loud classrooms, and evenings when parents are tired and trying to keep things from unraveling. Those settings expose very quickly whether ABA therapy services are helping a family or simply adding another layer of effort.
One situation that still shapes how I practice involved a child who performed nearly every task perfectly during sessions. The data looked excellent. The parents, however, felt exhausted and discouraged. During home visits, it became clear that every skill had been taught in isolation—at a table, with one therapist, under very specific conditions. When frustration showed up during meals or transitions, those skills disappeared. We stopped focusing on polished performance and shifted toward communication and regulation during the moments stress actually appeared. The data became messier, but the household became calmer, which mattered far more.
In my experience, overprogramming is one of the most common problems in ABA therapy services. I’ve taken over plans with so many goals that therapists rushed through sessions and parents felt overwhelmed trying to support them at home. The child spent more time being corrected than understood. Some of the strongest progress I’ve seen came after simplifying plans and choosing a small number of targets that directly improved everyday routines, even if those goals didn’t look impressive on paper.
I’ve also learned to question rigid beliefs about therapy intensity. More hours don’t automatically lead to better outcomes. I once worked with a child who made clearer gains after therapy hours were reduced and goals were embedded into activities the child already enjoyed. Therapy stopped feeling like an interruption and started fitting naturally into daily life, which helped skills generalize more easily.
School-based work reinforced these lessons. I supported a child whose aggressive behavior escalated during hallway transitions. Previous plans focused heavily on desk-based compliance tasks that had little connection to the problem. What finally helped was practicing coping strategies during real class changes, surrounded by noise and unpredictability. The sessions weren’t tidy, but the behavior decreased because the intervention matched the environment.
ABA therapy services shouldn’t exist only during scheduled sessions. Families should notice changes during the moments that used to feel overwhelming—leaving the house, tolerating small changes, asking for help before frustration takes over. If progress disappears the moment therapy ends, something in the approach needs to change.
I’ve also encouraged families to step back when therapy became more about meeting targets than supporting daily life. ABA is a powerful approach, but it loses its effectiveness when it ignores a child’s autonomy or a family’s capacity to sustain the work. The most meaningful outcomes I’ve witnessed came from collaboration, flexibility, and a willingness to adjust plans that weren’t working.
After years in the field, my perspective is simple. ABA therapy services should reduce stress, not add to it. When therapy respects the child, supports the family, and stays focused on meaningful change, progress becomes something families can actually feel in their everyday lives.