Is ABA Good or Bad? It’s More Complicated Than That.

 Whether one believes in Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) or not is irrelevant. What we do know is that a strong body of research, spanning over 100 years, demonstrates measurable outcomes. ABA is based on learning theory and applies to all of us—not just individuals with autism or other developmental disabilities. It is embedded in how we teach children, coach athletes, and even learn to play musical instruments.

So why does ABA have such a bad reputation?

Like anything else, ABA is only as good as the people implementing it. Take water, for example. Water is neither good nor bad—it simply is. It helps plants grow, but too little or too much can be harmful, even deadly. ABA, in its purest form, is just a tool. Its impact—positive or negative—depends on how it is applied.

Yes, ABA can be bad. It can be punitive, rigid, and even harmful when used incorrectly. But it can also be incredible. When implemented with compassion, at a child’s learning level, and with a focus on individual strengths, ABA can help children express themselves, enjoy learning, engage with peers, and apply their skills in meaningful ways.

Unfortunately, I’ve seen both sides of ABA. I’ve witnessed programs so rigid that they trigger extreme escalations. I’ve seen undertrained staff cause more harm than good. I’ve watched chaotic, mismanaged programs create more disorder instead of progress.

We are at a critical juncture. More children are being diagnosed with autism. More students are entering school without basic readiness skills. And yet, instead of providing structured, evidence-based interventions, many programs are shifting toward putting children entirely in charge—eliminating staff authority, banning the word “no,” and relying solely on choice-based instruction. This often leads to more chaos, making elementary school transitions even harder.

The reality is that we have undertrained teachers, low-quality programs, and a culture of “not my job” attitudes. Checking boxes and hoping for the best is not the answer. We need a system designed to improve outcomes—one that offers meaningful education rather than just the bare minimum. Instead of merely accommodating those who start off behind, we should be providing opportunities to close the gap.

This is both simpler and more challenging than it seems. It requires time, planning, and input from highly qualified professionals. We need comprehensive training to develop skilled educators and interventionists.

Every preschool and elementary program should run like an In-N-Out Burger restaurant—precise, efficient, well-planned, and executed with care. Always mindful, considerate, and individualizing for the one in front of us.  If we can do that for a burger, why can’t we do it for a child?

This article is not affiliated with or endorsed by In-N-Out Burger. The reference is used purely as an analogy for operational efficiency.