Author: Barry Morgenstern

In 2001, Takeru Kobayashi shocked the world by proving that performance could be doubled in his chosen field. The world record for eating hot dogs with buns was 25 1/8 in 12 minutes. That may seem impossible, but in 2001, with a creative method of dipping the bun in water, Kobayashi doubled the record to 50. Later, many hot dog eating methods were improved, and now Joey Chestnut has the world record at 75 dogs in 10 minutes. These people were really on a Poogi, focused on all the tiny details that would allow them to eat hot dogs just a little bit faster. In the last 20 years, the hot dog eating record has more than tripled.

We can learn something from these competitive champions. I doubt any education program for children with autism can claim that their performance has tripled over the last 20 years. We might argue that it is because it is so much harder to measure quality. No doubt that is partially true. But I don’t think that is the real reason we don’t often see these types of dramatic improvements.

The real reason is that most of us don’t believe improvement at that level is possible, and are thus not really trying. I feel lucky because I know that dramatic improvement is indeed possible. I’ve seen it not just once, but twice. Now, no one is likely to claim their program is perfect. When asked, they’ll admit that there is room for improvement. But usually, they mean on the margins; we could do a little better on a small point here or there.

There is real value in the assumption that no matter how good you are, there is room for dramatic improvement. If you don’t assume dramatic improvements are possible, you are unlikely to look for it. Of course, we might be wrong in this assumption. You might be so good that dramatic improvement is impossible. But I doubt it.

BCBAs often have a great resource we can use to substantially Poogi, but we often don’t use it properly. Sometimes we have a staff person who can do amazing things. They might work remarkably well with one child in particular, or their methods could work with a whole wide variety of children. In my experience, when there is a resource like this, it usually gets wasted.  Instead of learning from this resource and putting the whole program on a POOGI, we tend to use them to solve emergencies. Put her with Johnny, we have no one else who can handle him today. OR, I don’t have to worry about Alice. She’s got everything under control, we have bigger problems to handle right now.

In a classic book that every BCBA should read, Tom Gilbert discussed what he called the exemplary performer and how to use that person to improve whole systems. The exemplary performer is a person who really outshines his or her peers and is able to accomplish substantially more in less time at least as it applies to a particular result. His examples are from other fields, but the same principles apply.

The first rule he suggests is not to spend too much time asking the exemplary performer why they can accomplish so much more than other staff. Usually, they aren’t very good at explaining why they achieve superior results. Gilbert says you have to actually watch the exemplary performer in action, and then compare it to the typical performer to understand what makes their performance so special.

This knowledge is gold for the POOGI. Once you have the knowledge of what makes the exemplary performer superior, you can use it to train the other performers, and it can often dramatically improve the whole system. In addition, when working with specific children, this knowledge is often a great source of important new goals that can make a difference in the child’s life.

If you have one star that really shines, don’t waste that resource handling every emergency that comes up. Improve the whole system by figuring out why they are such a star.

One time, I was doing a follow up on a successful toilet training program. The parent was able to successfully toilet train her son with autism within a few days after just one training session. The parent reported that everything had gone extremely well, and she was having just one issue. He was unable to pick his pants up all the way because they got stuck on his butt.  I was able to immediately suggest what to do: Don’t have him pick up his pants on the sides. Have him put his hand behind his back, turn his hand around, grasp the pants, and then lift them over his butt. We went right to the bathroom to try it, and he was able to successfully lift his pants with just a few practices. The mom said, “Wow, you have spent a lot of time thinking about this.” Actually, I read this trick in one of the toilet training books, and had used it several times before. So, I was fairly confident it would work.

In the work which defines Applied Behavior Analysis, Baer, Wolf, and Risley describe the difference between a principle and a bag of tricks. They argue convincingly that a profession should not be based on a bag of tricks. We can systematically teach principles, study them, and apply them widely in new situations. Once you learn about reinforcement, you can apply the principle in an infinite number of situations. That doesn’t happen with a bag of tricks. There is no systematic way to expand those tricks or help you be successful in new situations. It is also hard to learn them, and just takes a lot of time.

Still, there is real value in learning some “tricks.” In my view, BCBAs sometimes don’t appreciate the value of this type of knowledge enough. The pull-the-pants-up problem was something that just took just a few minutes–I’ve seen people spend significant time and energy on that issue. I believe that since this type of knowledge is so hard to organize and teach, it is often overlooked. But learning a few “tricks” that others have already figured out is a quick way to get significant Poogi in whatever task you are trying to accomplish.

At my first professional job in 1995, the company asked me to do an introductory training on applied behavior analysis. I put together a presentation, but wasn’t very happy with how it went. So, I immediately set out on a process of Poogi. Even after leaving that position, I continued to give and improve my presentation. On post-tests, I started demonstrating good learning outcomes and high social validity from staff who completed it.

Often, I’d start the training by explaining the first version was conducted in 1995. Where were you in 1995? In later years, I started to hear people in the training were not yet born in 1995. Not only that, they couldn’t relate to examples that involved record players, VCRs, or having missed a television show that aired at a specific time.

When working with young children, a good teacher is usually silly and dramatic. Young children tend to love that. For years, we used to use the phrase “Ham it up.” This is a somewhat old-fashioned phrase that means acting exaggerated and dramatic. Unfortunately, multiple staff in later years thought I was referring to a rather inappropriate internet slang term.

It is necessary to change with the times. When giving trainings I had to change the examples used. But now, I don’t usually give introductory trainings any longer as most staff get their intro training through online resources. Still trying to remember not to say, “Ham it up.”

Of course, BCBAs know that if something works (i.e., is reinforced) we tend to do it again. If it stops working (i.e., is no longer reinforced) we tend to stop. But when language gets involved (e.g., I have an effective intro training I’ve been giving for years), sometimes those real-world effects don’t work as well as they should. Just because something used to be effective doesn’t mean outside factors won’t change that. It is necessary to continuously evaluate in order to POOGI.

Sometimes, during supervision, you will come across a person who knows how to follow the protocol, has all the resources needed to follow the protocol, has zero obstacles to following the protocol, receives regular feedback on following the protocol, has a supervisor who attempts to reinforce when the protocol is followed, receives negative consequences when the protocol is not followed, and still does not follow the protocol when you aren’t looking. They probably will do it when you are standing there, but as soon as you turn your back and are drinking coffee in the office, they go back to doing the wrong thing.

As a manager, probably nothing is more frustrating. When they try to understand why this happens, managers often blame negative personality traits or bad attitudes; they are lazy, obnoxious, or don’t care. Today, I’m just focused on another reason that I think is a relatively common situation and underappreciated:

The staff person doesn’t think you know what you are doing. They believe they know how to help the child better than you. The staff person thinks you’re a bleep!

Maybe I didn’t go to college, but I’m with that kid every day for six hours a day. I know what works and what doesn’t work much better that bleeping BCBA. Sure, I need this job, so I’ll do what is necessary and pretend that I’m listening when that bleep comes around. But no way am I doing that procedure all day.

I think commitment to the Poogi is the way to handle this type of problem. Sure, sometimes it may be necessary to go down the road of verbal warnings, written warnings, etc. But my first attempt would be something like this: Have a written copy of the procedures with the rationale behind each step ready. Then, sit down with the person and go through the procedures, constantly soliciting feedback. With practice, you will get better at soliciting POOGIs. Resist the temptation to jump in and explain why their idea is wrong. Instead, praise the good intentions behind each idea. Accept any changes that might be positive. For the changes you disagree with, follow the negative branch procedure.

If you demonstrate every day that you are committed to the POOGI, I believe the staff will come to respect that. This procedure has a chance to really work because it might improve your relationship with your staff and get you working together on the same team. There is a big difference from that and the person begrudgingly following the protocol and being a PIA about a million and one other things because they received “feedback.”

Behavior analytic services should only be delivered in the context of a professional relationship. Nothing written in this blog should be considered advice for any specific individual. The purpose of the blog is to share my experience, not to provide treatment. Please get advice from a professional before making changes to behavior analytic services being delivered. Nothing in this blog including comments or correspondence should be considered an agreement for Dr. Barry D. Morgenstern to provide services or establish a professional relationship outside of a formal agreement to do so. I attempt to write this blog in “plain English” and avoid technical jargon whenever possible. But all statements are meant to be consistent with behavior analytic literature, practice, and the professional code of ethics. If, for whatever reason, you think I’ve failed in the endeavor, let me know and I’ll consider your comments and make revisions, if appropriate. Feedback is always appreciated as I’m always trying to POOGI.