(2 of 3)
In her classroom, Jodi sits quietly at a small table with a teacher. They take turns looking at photos and using a complete sentence to describe the scene ("The girl is riding a bike"). Each correct answer earns Jodi a sticker on a chart; with enough stickers she can choose a reward. ABA was once famous for its M&M rewards, but better programs now tailor positive reinforcement to the child's preferences--a favorite activity, a hug or, in the case of one Alpine student, a packet of ketchup. Though Jodi didn't talk at all until age 3, she speaks well and is mastering skills quickly with the help of two hours of tutoring in the evening. "From the moment she wakes up till she goes to sleep, everything is structured," says her mother Michelle, who is thrilled with Jodi's progress.
Taylor says 29% of her students, most from ages 5 to 8, get mainstreamed into regular schools, generally with an aide. Many who remain at Alpine have limited language skills; some of the older students use electronic devices to express basic desires. The ritualistic behavior that is characteristic of autism is strongly suppressed. "Hands down," says a teacher to a child who begins to flap. "We're not a culture that accepts that," says Taylor. "Fifty percent of the battle is addressing behavior to look good."
In a classroom with four teenage boys, the focus is on life skills. Johnathan learns to type a grocery list, which he and an instructor will later take shopping. Another boy, learning to use a camera, asks visitors whether he may take their picture. He uses the same words and intonation each time he asks.
Robotic behavior, lack of emotion and inability to use trained skills outside school are some of the shortcomings critics attribute to ABA. A boy who has learned to play Nintendo games at Alpine, for instance, reverts to simply switching the game on and off when at home. Proponents concede certain weak points, but they also note a long record of results. Says Tristram Smith of the University of Rochester: "Anything outside ABA is basically experimental at this point."
CELEBRATE THE CHILDREN
THIS IS NOT A QUIET SCHOOL. The hallways are filled with the sounds of kids talking and playing. The walls are festooned with banners, photographs and artwork. Parents always ask whether it's too much stimulation, says director Monica Osgood, but the school wants its students to adapt to the "real world." Celebrate the Children (CTC), which costs $47,856 a year--paid by the state--is one of a growing number of DIR schools. It opened its doors in Stanhope, N.J., in January 2004 with just three students. It now has 41, from toddlers to teens, and is still expanding fast.