By Shani Slater, LBA, BCBA Clinically reviewed by Jessica Lentz, LBA, BCBA — Clinical Director, Sunshine Advantage
Last updated: May 28, 2026

ABA therapy progress is rarely a straight line and almost never a sprint. Real gains often look like a child saying a sound a little clearer, waiting a few seconds longer, or trying a new food on a Tuesday for the first time in months. These micro-progressions are not nothing — they are the building blocks of every skill that comes next. The parents who learn to see them are the parents who stay the course, and the parents who stay the course are the parents whose children make the biggest gains.
Years ago, I sat across from a mother named — I will call her D. — who came to our quarterly review meeting with red eyes and a folder of her own. She had been keeping her own notes since her son started ABA therapy fourteen months earlier. She handed the folder to me and said, “I think we should stop. He’s not getting better.”
I asked if I could go through her notes with her. She had logged tantrums per day, hitting episodes per week, and a running tally of words he said.
The tantrum count was the same as it had been a year ago. The hitting count was actually higher. He had said maybe two new words in 14 months.
She had been right to bring this to me. From the angle she was tracking, ABA therapy was failing.
What she had not tracked — and what we had tracked in the BCBA’s clinical data — was this:
We sat together and went through every graph. We watched a 90-second video the BT had taken of him handing a “more” card during snack — a behavior that had never existed before ABA therapy. By the end of the meeting, D. was crying differently than she had been at the start. Not from despair. From recognition.
This is the conversation I want every parent of a child in ABA therapy to have before the day they nearly quit. So I am writing it now.
Progress in ABA therapy almost never looks like a steady upward slope. It looks like one or more of these patterns:
These are not small wins. These are the wins. They are the substrate of every “breakthrough” that families later describe. The breakthrough is the day a skill becomes visible. The actual progress was happening for the four months before it.
A few research-grounded reasons:
Cumulative learning curves. Most complex skills follow a learning curve where early acquisition is slow, then accelerates, then plateaus. Mand training, intraverbal expansion, and toilet training all show this pattern in published ABA therapy research.
Dose-response relationships. Studies of comprehensive ABA therapy — including the work of Lovaas (1987), Eldevik et al. (2009), and Granpeesheh et al. (2014) — show that progress is generally proportional to weekly hours, but the relationship is not strictly linear. There are diminishing returns past certain dosages, and below certain dosages, progress can stall.
Critical periods and skill prerequisites. Some skills cannot move until others are in place. A child who is not yet manding will not begin tacting reliably. A child who has not learned to imitate motor movements cannot easily learn vocal imitation. The order matters.
Environmental and developmental variables. Sleep, illness, parent stress, sibling dynamics, a new teacher at preschool — all of these affect the trajectory in ways that have nothing to do with the ABA therapy program.
This is why we anchor in data over time, not data over weeks.
Here are five practical exercises I suggest to every family in our ABA therapy program. Each takes less than ten minutes.
Pick one routine — bath time, getting dressed, the morning transition — and record it for 60 seconds. Save it. Re-record the same routine in 90 days and compare them side by side. The change you cannot see day to day is almost always visible in the side-by-side.
Pick one tiny measurable behavior and count it daily. How many spoken words did he say at dinner? How many seconds did he sit at the table before getting up? How many bites of a non-preferred food did she try? The act of counting something forces the eye to see it.
Your child has graphs. Every program in a well-run ABA therapy plan has measurable data plotted over time. Ask to see them. Ask the BCBA to walk you through what the line is showing, what mastery looks like, and what the next target is.
The tantrum may still happen. But did the precursor change? Did your child go from zero seconds of warning to two seconds of “I’m getting upset” signaling? Two seconds of precursor is the seed of every regulation skill that comes next.
Buy a small notebook. Write down every “first time ever” you see. First time he handed me a card to ask. First time she let me brush her hair without crying. First time he said “no” instead of hitting. These are not just nice memories — they are evidence of new skills.
A family I worked with for almost two years described that period as a year of waiting, then a year of breakthroughs. Their son, we will call him P., made what looked like very little progress for almost twelve months. He learned to mand for one or two items. He learned to sit at the table for thirty seconds. He learned to tolerate his shoes for fifteen minutes.
Then, somewhere in month thirteen of ABA therapy, everything seemed to land at once. The mands exploded from 4 to 38. The sitting expanded to 25 minutes. The shoes became unremarkable. He started intraverbals. He started toileting. He hugged his grandmother.
From the outside, year two looked like a different child. But the data shows you what was actually happening: year one was the foundation. Pairing was consolidated. Reinforcer profiles were dialed in. Foundational skills were built. The “explosion” of year two was only possible because of the patience of year one.
Year one was not a year of nothing. Year one was a year of everything beneath the surface.
Patience in ABA therapy does not mean accepting a program that is not working. It does not mean ignoring data. It does not mean a year of zero measurable movement on any indicator.
It means understanding that change in autism is often slow, often non-linear, and often invisible to the people closest to the child — and being willing to anchor in evidence rather than feeling.
If you do this, two things tend to happen:
Progress in ABA therapy is rarely linear. It typically includes plateaus, regressions, and uneven gains across skill areas. What looks like slow progress is often the consolidation phase before a skill becomes visible. Ask your BCBA to walk you through the data graphs — the movement is usually there, even when it does not feel like it.
If at least some measurable indicators are moving — mand frequency, latency, problem behavior intensity or duration, generalization — the program is working and patience is appropriate. If no indicators are moving over a 3–6 month window, ask for a clinical review.
A micro-progression is a small, measurable improvement that may not yet be visible at the level of daily life. Examples: a shorter latency to compliance, a slightly clearer articulation of a target sound, a longer engagement window, the willingness to touch a non-preferred food.
Yes — this is extremely common. Parents are living inside the day-to-day variability and rarely have access to the longitudinal view their BCBA has. This is why structured data review meetings are so important.
Yes, and we encourage it. Counting one specific behavior, taking 60-second videos, keeping a “first time ever” log, and noting precursor changes are all things parents can do that meaningfully add to the BCBA’s clinical view.