Statement of Teaching Philosophy
My teaching philosophy has been shaped by my dual journey as a parent of a child with autism and as a researcher in Applied Behavior Analysis. My son began treatment and education at around 19 months of age, and I was fortunate to be able to provide him with consistent and intensive intervention. Yet, I soon realized that many families face a very different reality. Despite the effectiveness of intervention, most services are privately funded, and families often discontinue treatment due to financial burdens or are unable to access the recommended amount of care. Government vouchers exist, but they typically cover only a handful of sessions each month—far from the 20 hours per week recommended by pediatric psychiatrists. As a parent, I also experienced the profound emotional toll of developmental delays: calling my child’s name without a response, reaching out to touch him only to see him cry from sensory sensitivities, and watching months of effort without hearing him meaningfully say “mom.” These moments were heartbreaking. What sustained me were the teachers and therapists who welcomed my child with warmth and shared in his small but significant steps of progress. This lived experience taught me that education cannot be measured only by technical accuracy or procedural fidelity; it must also address the emotional realities of children and families and provide genuine support.
During my master’s program, my research focused on advancing social validity, accessibility, and sustainability in special education practices. I investigated how compassionate care skills among behavior analysts could be strengthened through video self-observation and self-monitoring strategies. This work showed that compassionate care is not simply a matter of personality or attitude, but a set of observable and teachable skills. Parents who experienced these skills in consultation reported greater trust in the therapist and judged the intervention to be more socially valid. At the same time, my interests extended beyond compassion to the broader question of how evidence-based practices can be sustained across both classrooms and homes. In one project, I collaborated with preschool teachers—most without formal training in special education—to implement social stories, token systems, and video modeling within their classrooms. By reviewing teachers’ feedback, often shared through notes to parents, and incorporating it into treatment planning, I saw how interventions became not only scientifically sound but also practical, meaningful, and sustainable. These experiences confirmed for me that interventions must be evaluated not only for their efficacy in controlled settings but also for their real-world feasibility and acceptance by families and educators.
I have also had the opportunity to extend this philosophy into teaching. In graduate courses for middle and high school teachers, I taught the principles of ABA not by merely explaining procedures but by engaging teachers in analyzing real cases and designing their own solutions. Through discussion, they reflected on the meaning and limitations of interventions, realizing that knowledge gains strength only when it connects to practice. This experience reaffirmed my belief that the role of an educator is not to deliver information unilaterally, but to guide learners to think critically, reflect deeply, and generate solutions that are contextually appropriate. This perspective aligns with my view of intervention itself: just as teachers must be active participants in their own professional learning, so too must children and parents be active participants in their educational journey. Parent-led interventions, in which families contribute to planning and decision-making, embody this philosophy. Education, therefore, should transform learners—whether they are teachers, parents, or children—from passive recipients into active agents.
I believe that active participation determines the quality of learning. When learners feel that their choices and contributions matter, education becomes not just training but a joyful experience. And when it is joyful, it is more likely to be remembered and generalized to new situations. I have observed that skills learned through play with peers endure longer than those taught in isolated sessions, and that teacher-driven interventions spread more effectively in classrooms than researcher-imposed ones. The same is true for children with developmental disabilities: when they are given opportunities to choose, to engage meaningfully, and to enjoy the process, their growth becomes not only possible but sustainable.Looking ahead, I aspire to extend this philosophy in my doctoral studies by developing compassion-informed, peer-mediated, and parent-led interventions that are both evidence-based and practical. I also plan to explore how AI-assisted tools can empower teachers and parents to co-develop materials, session prompts, and data systems, and to validate these approaches through single-case experimental designs. My ultimate goal is not simply to reduce problem behaviors, but to ensure that children experience learning as engaging and joyful, while families and teachers feel empowered to sustain that growth in everyday life.
In sum, I believe that education draws its true strength not only from scientific rigor but also from the degree to which children and families experience it as meaningful. My aspiration is to contribute to a future where more children can access high-quality interventions without undue burden, and where parents and teachers are supported as essential partners in sustaining progress.