“It’s Alive, It’s ALIVE!”: Sparking the Power of Connection
By Ley Linder
I do not remember the first time I met Nick. If I had to guess, it was in Charleston, SC, but there is no doubt it involved a beer and laughing. Although I do not recall when I met Nick, I can say with absolute certainty when it was that I came to know who he is. I have been asked by renowned physicians, distinguished professors, and countless friends, “What exactly is it that makes a person a behavior analyst?” The answer to this question generally elicits the rote response that goes through the academic requirements, certification and licensing, and requisite work experience. The truth is, none of this is what makes a person a behavior analyst.
“Damn”, was my first thought when I turned around. I had been speaking to a day program manager about a new admission, who walked through the door that morning for his first day at the program. The person was not adjusting well and was exhibiting high-frequency, high-intensity behaviors that were creating immediate concerns for the health and safety of the individual, the other program attendees, and the staff.
It was Nick’s first day on-site and I desperately needed him, as my business providing behavior analytic services to dually diagnosed adults with intellectual disabilities and mental illness was growing. Nick was not new to the field, but he hadn’t worked in this specific setting with adults before. On his first day working on-site, I turned around, and he was gone.
When I found Nick, he was sitting on a concrete floor, in front of a man who had his legs crossed, rocking back and forth with such ferocity I thought the cinder block wall he was sitting against was going to crack. The young man was built like a five-star football recruit – saying he was 6 feet and 200 pounds is a conservative estimate – and was agitated. Nick had reached out and grabbed the man’s hands, began lightly massaging them, and was talking to him. After a couple of minutes, the man’s rocking slowed enough that I stopped looking for a nurse, as I knew if his head hit that wall, we were going to need a first aid kit, but more likely an emergency room with ample gauze and staples. A few minutes later, the man was standing up, away from the wall, with Nick’s arm stretched and draped across his mile-wide shoulders, and they were walking and talking, off to an area free of the massive sensory overload this man was experiencing.
“To be willing to touch a person with intellectual disabilities requires empathy. Nick walked up to a man he had never met, who was in distress, largely because of the characteristics of his intellectual disability, he reached out and touched him. ”
When I found Nick sitting on that concrete floor, I also found a behavior analyst. I have come to realize that the true answer to the question of “What exactly is it that makes a person a behavior analyst?” is touch. You have to touch people to be a behavior analyst. Of course, you have to touch their hearts and their minds, and say the obligatory, “They are the ones who have touched my life more than I have touched theirs.” This is not what I mean. You have to be willing to actually touch the person. A handshake. A fist bump. A hand massage. A hug. Put your hand on their shoulder. We do not touch people enough in the field of intellectual disabilities and it leads to poor outcomes.
To be willing to physically touch another person requires a person to care. To be willing to touch a person you don’t know requires a level of trust. To be willing to touch a person who is in distress requires selflessness. To be willing to touch a person with intellectual disabilities requires empathy. Nick walked up to a man he had never met, who was in distress, largely because of the characteristics of his intellectual disability, he reached out, and he touched him.
The amount of information available regarding the power of touch is head-spinning. A cursory internet search found over 2.5 billion results in 30 seconds. I suppose there isn’t much left to highlight about the power of touch that has not already been written or said. Although seemingly ubiquitous, the health and human service field appears to underemphasize the power of touch as a fundamental approach to service provision. The power of touch philosophy is not exemplified by providing support in activities of daily living, verbal interaction during skill training, or activity engagement being considered dental appointments.
For Nick, and the best service providers I’ve met, this barrier of touch is innately overcome. I have heard Nick say on occasion, “I just need a connection point.” Like a “benevolent scientist” tinkering with his latest exploration into human behavior, once he finds the right connection point, the person lights up, and comes alive. The power of touch philosophy is related to finding a human connection to a person that centers on compassion, humility, and empathy. These are fundamental characteristics of service providers who foster positive outcomes and quality of life for people with intellectual and related disabilities.
These connection points, even if just flickers of light in the beginning, are the foundation for therapeutic rapport and the positive outcomes we all seek. These connection points have the potential to be subtle. They can be commenting on the recent score of a game, telling someone you like their new haircut, shaking their hand while walking through their workplace, or remembering their name. For people with intellectual disabilities, who have a greater likelihood of experiencing a lack of connection with others, these connection points can be sparks of joy.
As behavior analysts, our willingness to connect with and touch the people we serve is far more critical than our technical abilities. Being able to complete a functional analysis or define differential reinforcement of incompatible behaviors is what it takes to obtain academic achievement and specific credentials. Being able to touch people, through the power of connection, is what it means to be a behavior analyst. It’s what it means to be like Nick.
About the Author
Ley Linder is a Board-Certified Behavior Analyst with an academic and professional background in gerontology and applied behavior analysis. Ley’s specialties include behavioral gerontology and the behavioral presentations of neurocognitive disorders, in addition to working with high-management behavioral needs for dually diagnosed persons. He works closely with organizations such as the National Down Syndrome Society and the National Task Group on Intellectual Disabilities and Dementia Practices, and is the Founder/CEO of Crescent Behavioral Health Services based in Columbia, SC. Ley is the proud recipient of the 2024 AADMD Excellence in IDD Journalism Award for co-authoring the ongoing series “Unlocking Behaviors” in HELEN: The Journal of Human Exceptionality.