There is something about this time of year that makes many of us think about new beginnings.
A new school year begins. Summer activities wind down. Family schedules change. Vacations end. Sports, school events, appointments, and other responsibilities begin filling the calendar.
Even for those of us who do not have children returning to school, we can feel that shift.
The pace changes.
The routines change.
The season begins to change.
And today, I want us to think about how these changes affect children, teenagers, adults, and older adults who receive support from caregivers, family members, direct support professionals, educators, and service organizations.
Because when the season changes, their lives may change, too.
A familiar caregiver may have children returning to school and need a different work schedule.
Transportation times may change.
A new staff member, caregiver, teacher, therapist, or support professional may enter the person’s life.
Summer outings may happen less often.
School, work, day-program, or community schedules may change.
Family members may have additional responsibilities and less time available.
Evening routines may change as the days grow shorter.
These changes are understandable. Caregivers have families, responsibilities, appointments, and lives outside of their caregiving roles.
I understand that.
I also understand the realities of limited staffing, busy schedules, transportation difficulties, and the many demands placed upon caregivers, families, educators, and support professionals.
This is not about criticizing those who provide support.
It is about remembering that there is another person experiencing all of these changes, too.
The person receiving support.
Sometimes, schedules are changed, new caregivers arrive, activities stop, and routines are rearranged—all around the person.
But how often is that person included in the discussion?
I realize that question may make some people uncomfortable.
Some may immediately think, “Of course we include the person.”
And perhaps you do.
But after more than 40 years of working alongside people with developmental disabilities, I have learned that knowing we should include someone and consistently doing it are not always the same thing.
Especially when everyone is busy.
Especially when changes need to happen quickly.
And especially when the person does not communicate through spoken language.
Inclusion does not always mean sitting around a table and having a formal meeting.
It may mean showing the person a picture of a new caregiver, teacher, staff member, or support professional before they arrive.
It may mean using a calendar, objects, familiar words, gestures, signs, pictures, or the person’s AAC system to explain what will be different.
It may mean introducing changes gradually whenever that is possible.
And even when we are not sure how much someone understands, they still deserve to be told.
We can begin by asking ourselves a few questions.
What is changing in this person’s life?
How might the change feel to them?
How can we help them understand what is happening?
What choices can they make?
What parts of their familiar routine can remain the same?
Sometimes, when we explain a change, we focus only on what will be different. But it is also important to show the person what will stay the same.
Perhaps a caregiver will arrive at a different time, but a favorite evening activity can still happen.
Perhaps a new staff member or teacher is beginning, but a familiar person can help with the introduction.
Perhaps summer outings are ending, but the person can help choose something meaningful to look forward to during the fall.
Those familiar anchors can make a difference.
We also need to notice how the person responds.
A person may not say, “I am worried about this new routine.”
They may not be able to tell us, “I miss the person who used to be here in the morning.”
Instead, we may see withdrawal, refusal, restlessness, changes in sleep, increased frustration, or less interest in activities they usually enjoy.
Those responses are communication.
This is where observation becomes one of the most important tools in our toolbox.
Pause.
Look.
Notice.
What has changed?
When did the response begin?
What might the person be trying to communicate?
We should not immediately label the response as a behavior that needs to be stopped. We need to consider whether it may be the person’s way of telling us that something feels different, confusing, uncomfortable, or beyond their control.
We can also include the person by offering genuine choices within the new routine.
They may not be able to choose which caregiver, teacher, or staff member is scheduled, but they might choose what they would like to do with that person.
They may not control the transportation schedule, but perhaps they can choose what they bring with them or what they do while waiting.
They may not be able to keep every summer activity, but they can help choose which activities they would most like to continue.
A choice does not need to be large to be meaningful.
But it does need to be real.
When a new person begins providing support, we also need to share more than a list of tasks.
Yes, the new person may need to know about medications, meals, personal care, safety, communication, learning needs, and daily responsibilities.
But they also need to know the person.
What makes this person smile?
How do they communicate yes and no?
What are their interests?
What helps them feel comfortable?
What do they dislike?
What does distress look like for them?
What helps them feel calm and supported?
How do they prefer to participate?
What are they proud of?
A person is so much more than a schedule, a diagnosis, or a list of care needs.
As routines shift, we also need to be careful that the meaningful parts of the person’s life are not always the first things removed.
When families, caregivers, educators, and staff become busier, outings, friendships, creative activities, and community participation can quietly disappear from the schedule.
Sometimes that happens because there truly are not enough hours, enough staff, or enough resources.
I understand that reality.
But we still need to notice when it is happening.
Whose activities are always canceled?
Who is staying behind while others participate?
Who is being asked to adjust again and again because it is easier for everyone else?
These may be difficult questions, but they are important ones.
This new season can also be an opportunity.
Perhaps the person can take on a new responsibility at home, at school, at work, or in a program.
Maybe they can help prepare something for the changing season, choose decorations, organize materials, plan a fall outing, or select an activity they would like to try.
Participation does not have to look the same for everyone.
One person may make a choice through speech.
Another may point to a picture.
Someone else may use AAC, eye gaze, facial expressions, body movements, gestures, or changes in their level of engagement.
Our job is to pay attention and create a way for that person to have a voice.
The beginning of a new season will always bring changes.
We cannot prevent every schedule adjustment, staffing change, classroom transition, or interruption to a familiar routine.
But we can stop changes from simply happening to people without explanation, preparation, or an opportunity to participate.
We can pause.
We can notice.
We can communicate.
We can offer choices.
We can protect the parts of a person’s life that bring connection, purpose, and joy.
And we can remember that the person receiving support is not standing outside of everyone else’s changing schedules.
This is their life, too.
So, as the school year begins, summer winds down, and new routines take shape, I invite you to look at the person you support.
Not only at their schedule.
Not only at the tasks that need to be completed.
Look at the person.
What are they experiencing?
What are they communicating?
What can remain familiar?
Where can they make a choice?
And how can they be included in creating what comes next?
Because when the season changes, include the person.