Lesson 1: Get the Child's Attention

"Steven will be sitting on command by the end of the first session," the ABA trainer stated confidently.  I was stunned.  From the incredulous looks on his parents' faces, I could tell that they too were skeptical.  Steven did not appear to be aware that we were present.  He moved about the small living room purposelessly.  From time to time he would pick up an item and give it a cursory lick, as if to explore the texture of a wooden toy train, a rubber-soled shoe, the edge of a hardcover book.  His mother called his name and he did not respond.  Instead, he pressed his face to the window and licked the glass.  

What happened next was pivotal to my understanding of autism and facilitating learning among young children diagnosed with autism and related disabilities.  Identifying this very important place to start became so ingrained in my technique that it has become so subtle as to be nearly undetectable... reminiscent of sleight of hand and of magic.  The very first step of initiating any learning task is to get the child's attention.  I refer to this step as "Lesson One."  

One at a time, each of us called out, "Steven!" to no avail.  I recall thinking, "no wonder parents often believe their child is deaf...he appears to hear nothing!"  This notion however, was altogether untrue.  Steven did hear things.  He responded to very specific auditory input, especially input that signaled something he enjoyed was imminent.  His parents commented that whenever they pressed the button on the VCR, Steven approached, waiting for his favorite Thomas the Train movie to be inserted.  What was our first auditory attention-getting cue?  It wasn't calling out Steven's name.  Nay, a more reinforcing sound:  the sound of tearing open the wrapper to a bag of Skittles.  

In a flash, Steven was by the trainer's side.  He grabbed her hand and pushed it up toward the Skittles bag she held in her other hand.  He made a high-pitched sound, "Eee!"  The trainer responded, "Come here!"  She gently prompted Steven to sit in a small chair and immediately popped a Skittle into his mouth saying enthusiastically, "Good Sitting!"

And so the first trials began.  We started with two small chairs facing each other, about six inches apart.  The aide sat in one chair.  The second chair was for Steven.  He circled like a shark stalking its prey; the Skittles bag was so reinforcing that it kept him in close proximity to the teaching area.  Trial after trial, we learned how to give a concise instruction, to gently prompt Steven to sit in his chair, and to provide immediate reinforcement contingent upon his sitting.  By the end of that first session, Steven sat independently in response to the instruction, "Come here!"  He made fleeting eye contact with me as I presented his Skittle.  I felt that I had glimpsed a whole new world...the world that existed inside Steven's head.  And I wanted to take a closer look.