A few years ago on the last week of school I visited an elementary school. It was the traditional year-end hand off of their students with disabilities to the middle school staff. Similar to parents, they wanted to speak on behalf of their children and make sure the middle school staff understood their unique needs!
We were deeply in conversation with a young man who was a one-to-one aide for a boy with severe autism when suddenly the fire alarm rang. The young aide fled from the room.
As the rest of us were making our obligatory exit and the hall had nearly emptied, what I saw left an indelible memory . .
The young aide had run to catch up to this fifth grade boy. I could see that both the teacher who was responsible for all of the kids, and another classroom aide were struggling with this terrified child, Billy (not his real name).
Billy’s fear and his needs were immense. They wanted him to exit quickly of course, but he was covering his ears, yelling and screaming. And refusing to move! He was too large and too strong for them to handle while tending to the rest of the class.
The young man quickly caught up to Billy, gently held his arm and spoke calm words of comfort. ” Clearly pleased, Billy called out, “Mr. Green!”
“I am here. You are okay,” Mr. Green said.
Intrigued, I watched from behind. As you can imagine, the teacher was also clearly grateful for the help. Awed and moved by what I saw, I followed them for a couple of minutes.
All I could hear was Mr. Green encouraging Billy with a firm and gentle voice saying repeatedly, “You can do it!” Billy stopped resisting.
“Just take one step. Just one.” Billy took a step.
“Nice! Now another one… Good!”
“Just one step at a time…now another one!” Billy kept walking and complaining about the noise.
“You are almost there. See the door?”
This was not exactly a fast exit, but much faster than any other way at the moment. Had there been a fire, another strategy would have been necessary for sure. That too is a lesson of discernment. This was a time for training and building confidence.
And oh that smile of victory! Once outside, this proud and happy boy called out to all the other children sitting quietly on the lawn, “I did it! See everybody, I did it!” 
I had slipped past Billy and the young man to join the quiet crowd out on the lawn where I pondered that scene that I will likely never forget. Even now the image is with me . . . a terrified child with hyper sensitivities to noises and changes, who in his fear (and sensory overload) immobilized himself and nearly immobilized others. He lashed out in anger and fear as though he were cornered.
Quietly Mr. Green, his personal aide, who had deep affection and respect for him and who trusted in Billy’s innate ability, knew how to encourage him. First, he created emotional safety. He helped Billy experience comfort, courage, and confidence in what he could do. . . take one step. Just one step.
I am proud to confess that “Mr. Green” is my son, Tim. As you can imagine, watching this interaction was doubly moving and emotional as Tim’s mom! Tim and Billy each had learned from one another and bonded all year. Truthfully, I had heard much about his genuine and unconditional love for Billy. That day I was witness to the power of love, encouragement, and trust.
After Billy announced his arrival to everyone on the lawn with his arms flung in the air like an Olympic winner, he fell into Tim’s arms. Wrapping his arms around Mr. Green, and putting his head on his chest, Billy started to cry. “I love you,” he said. “will you be with me next year?” I fought back tears for him, but also knew he would be just fine in our building of caring professionals next year.
We all have our strengths and weaknesses. Rather than focusing on our weaknesses and constantly trying to correct them, it is usually more helpful to create change from a position of strength.
Remember, Tim focused on one step at a time. Billy could do that. As a child with severe autism, he could not quickly calm his nervous system in the midst of the loud alarm. By doing what he could, however, he made his goal . . . the door and freedom from the alarm.
Tim did what I strive to do as a life coach and what we all can remember when confronting challenges with our children. To quote Michael Gerber, a highly successful business man, author, and consultant for entrepreneurs, “ours is not to fix what is wrong, but to create what is right.”
Tim created what was right for Billy ... a way to exit the building and be successful within his ability and beyond what he thought he could do.
If we all could take just one step. Then another. Soon the exit from our fears would become the entrance into something bigger than we can imagine.
Let’s step into our strengths and encourage each other on our journey!