When I first objected to the strategies POPARD proposed, I tried—truly—to assume good intent: that if I just gave them the right information, the clearest language, the most generous interpretation of their mandate, they would course-correct and stop pushing reward charts onto an already-traumatised child.
I wrote careful emails, cited the psychologist’s diagnosis, offered specific alternatives, backed them with references, explained our values, clarified our needs, and kept trying to believe that maybe, if I just made the logic airtight enough, the system would listen—but when I found myself standing in the fish section of Superstore, sobbing into the phone and begging a government-funded autism outreach agency to please, please stop hurting children like mine, what I got in return wasn’t apology or reflection—it was a behaviour checklist.

This isn’t a training issue. It’s a belief system.
POPARD consultants don’t default to behaviourist strategies by accident; they are behaviourists. The entire agency is built on the assumptions of Applied Behaviour Analysis—the idea that you can improve autism outcomes by shaping observable behaviours, that distress is less relevant than data, that progress means acting more neurotypical, and that family objections are just one variable to weigh.
So when I said that our family considers ABA-style strategies to be coercive and abusive, when I used the word gaslighting to describe the mismatch between my child’s inner experience and the external scripts being imposed on him, POPARD didn’t stop to ask what we needed—they simply reframed our opposition as resistance to “evidence-based practice,” and pressed ahead as though the only thing that mattered was completing their process.
This is what institutional betrayal looks like
I had thought, briefly, that it was just one consultant not understanding—but as I tried to escalate, to speak to someone senior, to find a mechanism for review, I learned just how deeply that rot runs.
There is no meaningful complaint pathway for families who are harmed by POPARD interventions. There is no independent ombudsperson. There is no transparent oversight process or internal review. There is only delay, deflection, and administrative language crafted to imply collaboration while protecting the agency from accountability.
Even after I wrote a detailed, multi-page complaint outlining the legal, ethical, and educational failures of the consultation process—even after I cited the School Act, the psychologist’s report, and the human rights implications of disregarding diagnostic reality—I received, essentially, a form letter and a shrug.
Because POPARD does not report to families.
They report to the same Ministry that funds them.
And the Ministry has shown no interest in intervening.
You can’t make this shit up
The day I received the report and support materials from POPARD, I was totally in shock.

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Food, rewards, and collective punishment in the classroom
It might seem harmless. A teacher stands before a class with a box of lollipops or a bag of Freezies, offering them as a reward for good behaviour. But there’s a catch: everyone only gets one if everyone behaves. What appears—on the surface—as…
The most alarming handout we received was chapter of the book by Michelle Garcia Winner (2007): Social Behavior Mapping.
This is a behaviourist framework based on the Social Thinking curriculum, designed to teach children that their actions should align with what others expect in order to avoid making people feel “weird,” “annoyed,” or “hostile.” It uses a four-column chart to link:
- Expected vs. Unexpected Behaviours
- → How others feel
- → How others react
- → What happens to you
One example listed in the 2007 version:
Turning body and eyes away from the group is labelled “unexpected” and is said to cause others to feel confused, irritated, annoyed, or hostile.
This example alone reveals the framework’s core flaw: it interprets self-regulatory autistic behaviour (e.g., sensory shielding, averting eye contact) as socially wrong, placing the emotional burden on the autistic child to behave in ways that appease others, rather than encouraging mutual understanding or acceptance.

Other items included were:
- Reinforcer Checklist & Menu Items
A list of items (e.g., toys, snacks, privileges) to be used as “positive reinforcement” for desired behaviours—standard ABA practice. These assume that motivation is extrinsic, ignoring the core traits of PDA or the harms of conditioning compliance. - Token Economy and Self-Regulation Handouts (POPARD originals)
These explain how to create classroom-based reward systems to manage behaviours using visual tracking and point-earning. Framed as “support,” but structured entirely around control and observable compliance. - Incredible 5 Point Scale – Anxiety Curve version
Treated emotional escalation as something to be tracked and managed by staff, rather than attuned to and co-regulated through relationship. - ABC Checklist (Antecedent-Behaviour-Consequence) + De-escalation Frequency Sheet
These are standard tools for behaviour tracking—another hallmark of ABA. They assume that behaviour is functional, observable, and modifiable, rather than relational, sensory, or expressive of unmet needs. - “Supporting Neurodiversity in Schools” (POPARD handout)
A more recent-looking resource, but still based on the same behaviourist logic. It uses neurodiversity language but centres staff action and control—not child autonomy or consent. - Fidler & Christie (2019): Collaborative Approaches to Learning for Pupils with PDA
This book and its templates were the only resource that aligns with modern PDA-informed, relationship-based approaches. While Ruth Fidler and Phil Christie are often cited by professionals working with PDA-identified children, they have been widely criticised by autistic advocates for their continued allegiance to behaviourist principles, despite superficial gestures toward relational practice. Many in the PDA and broader neurodivergent community view their work as a kind of “ABA lite”—a reframing that still centres adult control and compliance, just in softer language.
“Not a diagnosis”: the language of denial
I still remember standing in the fish section at Superstore, crying into the phone as I tried to explain what PDA meant—what it felt like to watch my child unravel at school while the strategies that helped him at home were ignored. I was speaking to a senior leader from POPARD, desperate for someone to acknowledge that my son’s distress was real, documented, and diagnosable.
Instead, I was told—not unkindly, but unshakably—that POPARD must align with “evidence-based information,” and that Pathological Demand Avoidance was not considered a formal diagnosis.
And that was it. The door closed.
It didn’t matter that PDA was explicitly and clearly described in my son’s psychological assessment from eight years ago. It didn’t matter that every strategy we had—every plan that worked—was rooted in understanding his panic, his need for control, his neurobiology. The system had its checklist, and PDA wasn’t on it.
So instead of accommodations, we got charts.
Instead of adaptation, we got reinforcement menus.
Instead of relational safety, we got school-sanctioned scripts to bring his body and voice back into “expected” patterns.
They didn’t say we don’t understand.
They said we don’t recognise this, and that was somehow enough.
What POPARD did to our family
- Ignored a psychologist’s diagnosis confirming a PDA profile
- Recommended strategies we had explicitly rejected as harmful
- Provided outdated materials despite receiving current research
- Misrepresented token systems as inclusive practice
- Failed to meaningfully respond to a formal complaint
This isn’t just poor judgment.
It’s an agency functioning exactly as it was designed to: protecting institutional interests while families spiral into burnout trying to keep their children safe.
Shut it down. Rebuild something that listens.
POPARD cannot be reformed through another training module or a polite rebrand. The behaviourist worldview it was built to disseminate is incompatible with trauma-informed practice, incompatible with neurodiversity, incompatible with dignity.
What we need is a complete structural dismantling—and a public reckoning.
We demand:
- The immediate dissolution of POPARD in its current form
- A trauma-informed, neurodivergent-led alternative co-designed with families and autistic adults
- A provincial ban on ABA-style strategies in public schools without explicit, informed family consent
- A new complaint mechanism with independent oversight and clear escalation paths
- A formal apology to families who have been harmed by behaviourist consultations disguised as support
This system cannot be trusted to hold itself accountable.
It must be replaced.
What they left behind wasn’t a support plan—it was a dumpster fire. And even after we withdrew consent, even after I said no, even after I begged them to stop, the school seized on the POPARD materials with something close to delight—like they’d finally been handed permission to keep ignoring everything we’d tried to share. It didn’t matter that the strategies were incompatible. It didn’t matter that they contradicted our values, our diagnosis, our expert reports. The charts had arrived. The reinforcers had been named. And once the consultant had given her blessing, there was really nothing I could do to put the brakes back on.
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The bait and switch: What inclusion really looks like at the VSB
Every September, I walk into school meetings with the same cautious hope. We’ve done everything right. The diagnoses are up to date. The IEP is in place. The reports are filed — more than thirty of them over the years, from audiologists, psychiatrists,…
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Shut it down: Why POPARD cannot be trusted to support neurodivergent children
We asked for help.We got a behaviour chart. We invited experts into our child’s life, hoping they would help school staff understand his anxiety, his trauma responses, his fiercely sensitive nervous system. We asked for relational strategies grounded in respect and attunement. We…










