By Tullio Orlando
Working in developmental services is one of the few professions where “just getting by” doesn’t only affect a bottom line—it directly impacts someone’s quality of life, autonomy, and dignity.
It’s not ordinary work. It touches the most vulnerable moments of people’s lives—moments of dependence, transition, growth, frustration, triumph, and dignity. When we show up in this field, we do not simply complete tasks. We shape outcomes. We influence self-worth. We model possibility.
And this is precisely why mediocrity in developmental services is precarious.
Mediocrity doesn’t usually look like cruelty or neglect. It looks like routine. Like “good enough.” Like paperwork completed, shifts covered, goals technically met. It’s the slow drift from purpose to procedure.
Individual support plans, behaviour plans, and risk assessments are essential. But they are tools—not the person. Processes and due diligence are important of course, but people supported in developmental services deserve far more than procedural care. They deserve excellence.
Avoiding mediocrity begins with resisting reduction. A person is not:
- Their diagnosis
- Their behavioural profile
- Their funding level
- Their level of independence
They are complex, evolving human beings with preferences, talents, fears, humour, contradictions, and potential. Just like all of us are.
Excellence means asking:
- What excites this person?
- Where do they feel proud?
- What would growth look like for them—not just on paper?
When we lose curiosity, we slide toward mediocrity. Even small gains matter. Excellence requires active belief change is possible. When staff stop expecting growth, growth stops.
This field is emotionally demanding. Burnout is common—but it cannot be normalized. Mediocrity often grows from exhaustion. When workers feel unseen or unsupported, they default to minimum standards.
To avoid this:
- Advocate for supervision that is reflective, not just administrative.
- Debrief challenging situations.
- Protect your own rest and boundaries.
- Seek ongoing learning to stay engaged.
Professional excellence requires emotional sustainability.
Language shapes culture.
Avoid:
- Talking about people as if they are tasks.
- Dismissing behaviours as “just attention-seeking.”
- Using sarcasm or condescension, even casually.
Instead choose:
- Person-first or identity-first language aligned with preference.
- Clear explanations rather than commands.
- Respect in tone, not just content.
- Documentation matters: Don’t just write, “so-and-so had a good day.” Write about the specific choices they made, the barriers they overcame, or the new social cues they navigated.
Mediocrity whispers, “They won’t notice.” Excellence knows they always do.
You can’t provide high-level support if your own battery is low. Mediocrity often stems from burnout, where you become a zombie, just going through the motions to survive the shift.
Being a great supporter doesn’t mean being a martyr.
The field evolves. Trauma-informed practice, neurodiversity frameworks, person-centered planning, social role valourization—these aren’t trends. They’re advances in understanding.
Avoid stagnation by:
- Attending workshops.
- Reading research.
- Seeking mentorship.
- Asking uncomfortable questions about long-standing practices.
The most dangerous phrase in developmental services is: In high-impact work, mistakes will happen. Mediocrity hides them. Excellence examines them.
Accountability means:
- Reporting concerns promptly.
- Reflecting on personal biases.
- Owning missteps without defensiveness.
- Prioritizing safety and dignity over reputation.
The individuals supported often rely entirely on staff integrity. That responsibility is profound.
Excellence spreads when workers:
- Speak up respectfully.
- Support newer staff.
- Challenge dismissive attitudes.
- Celebrate growth stories.
In many agencies, culture is set more by direct support staff than by policy manuals. You don’t need a management title to influence culture.
Perhaps most importantly, guard against cynicism. Cynicism is mediocrity’s oxygen. People in developmental services are often underestimated by society. Your belief in their capacity may be one of the most powerful forces in their life. Hope is not naïve. It is strategic. It fuels effort.
Developmental services work isn’t about heroics. It’s about consistency, dignity, and intentional growth.
Avoiding mediocrity means:
- Seeing the person before the paperwork.
- Believing in development.
- Holding yourself to a standard higher than “shift completed.”
This field shapes human lives over decades. The impact is quiet but permanent. Excellence is not flashy. It’s deliberate. It’s ethical. It’s steady. And in developmental services, steady excellence changes everything.
It’s easy to slip into a routine of compliance and checklists, but there is a massive gulf between being a “caregiver” and being a pathway to independence. Here is how to stay sharp, stay empathetic, and avoid the trap of mediocrity in this field.
The most common form of mediocrity in developmental services is learned helplessness. It’s often faster and easier to tie someone’s shoes or pour their cereal yourself than it is to coach them through it.
- The Trap: Efficiency. You do the task to stay on schedule.
- The Excellence: You recognize every task is a potential teaching moment.
- Mediocrity prioritizes the clock; excellence prioritizes the individual’s skill-building.
Reject the standardized mindset. When you’ve supported several people with similar diagnoses (like Autism or Down Syndrome), it’s tempting to use a “one-size-fits-all” approach. This is the death of personalized care.
- The Challenge: Treat every person as a brand-new book, not a chapter in a textbook you’ve already read.
- The Action: Actively look for the spark—the specific interest or quirk that makes the person unique. If your support plan looks exactly like the one for the person in the next room, you aren’t looking hard enough.
Master the art of active observation. In this field, communication isn’t always verbal. Mediocrity listens to words; excellence listens to behavior, body language, and silence. Be a detective. If someone is having a “challenging behavior,” mediocrity sees a problem to be managed. Excellence sees an unmet need to be identified.
As a developmental service professional, you’re often the primary witness to a person’s rights. If you see a policy or a situation that diminishes a person’s dignity, saying nothing is a choice to accept mediocrity.
In developmental services, our work is about human lives. When we settle for mediocrity, we’re essentially telling the people we support they aren’t worth the extra effort. By choosing excellence, you aren’t just doing a job—you’re upholding the right of every individual to live a life that is self-directed and full of purpose.
Dr. Galit Kleiner is a neurologist and mother of two adult children with developmental disabilities.
Ontario’s Disability Crisis Demands Real Choice
The Ontario Ombudsman’s new report, Lost in Transition, documents horrors that should shake every Ontarian. Adults with developmental disabilities are tied to hospital beds for years. A young man is restrained in a spread-eagle position for all but 60 to 120 minutes daily.
Another who spent eight years hospitalized, only to die three months after finally being released. The report’s 24 recommendations call for more funding, better coordination, and expanded capacity.
What’s missing? Choice.
The Ombudsman rightly condemns the “modern form of institutionalization” trapping vulnerable Ontarians in hospitals.
But his solutions focus almost entirely on expanding the existing system of transfer payment agencies and congregate care settings. This approach, while addressing real capacity shortfalls, overlooks the Ministry of Children, Community and Social Services’ (MCCSS) own vision document, Journey to Belonging, which promises a future where people with disabilities are “empowered to make choices and live as independently as possible through supports that are person-directed.”
Some people with developmental disabilities and their families may genuinely prefer for an individual to live with peers in supportive group settings. Other people may thrive in more individualized arrangements with family-directed supports.
The current system offers little meaningful choice between these options. The 52,000 Ontarians waiting for services aren’t choosing to wait; they’re trapped in a system that does not give them a choice or a timely solution for their suffering.
I know what choice can accomplish because I’ve lived it. I am a neurologist and single mother of two adult children with profound developmental disabilities. Both score in the 95th percentile on the Ministry’s own severity assessments, among the highest levels of need the system recognizes. Years ago, I faced the same impossible situation that families in this report confronted. I was fortunate to find another way.
Today, my son, 21, works at IKEA with support. My daughter, 18, works at Loblaws with accommodations. Both live in their own home in the community, participating in daily activities tailored to their interests and abilities. They are tax-paying citizens contributing to society, not consuming tax dollars suffering in institutions.
The key was self-directed funding and a Microboard, a non-profit governance structure of committed volunteers who know my children personally and ensure transparency and accountability. The funding follows the person. With appropriate support, the family makes decisions aligned with the individual’s values and goals. The Microboard provides oversight, quality assurance, and succession planning for when I am no longer here.
This is exactly what Journey to Belonging envisions. We are proof that it works.
The goal isn’t to dismantle the existing system. Progressive agencies are doing excellent work respecting choice, autonomy, and belonging. The goal is to give families and individuals options. Some will choose agency-based supports. Others will choose family-directed models. Both paths should be equally accessible and adequately funded.
The problem is that right now, they aren’t. Between 2020 and 2024, the waitlist for supportive living grew from 24,000 to 28,500, a 9% annual increase, while the number of people served remained essentially flat. The Ministry’s Multi-Year Supportive Living Program funded zero people from community waitlists in 2024-2025. And self-directed options like Microboards remain accessible only to the few families with the knowledge, resources, and persistence to navigate a system not designed to support them.
The Ombudsman’s report documents how people deteriorate in institutional settings, losing skills, becoming more dependent, and requiring ever-costlier levels of support. The report itself makes the case for prevention and early intervention. But prevention requires options before a crisis hits, not after.
What would real progress look like? The Ministry should do three things simultaneously: address urgent capacity issues within the current system, as the Ombudsman recommends; accelerate implementation of Journey to Belonging by creating robust
infrastructure for self-directed funding options; and ensure both pathways are accessible to everyone.
The cost-effectiveness case for individualized supports is compelling. But the moral case is stronger: every person with a disability has the right to autonomy, dignity, and genuine choice about how they live. Not the right to a waiting list. Not the right to whatever bed happens to open. The right to a life that reflects who they are. Journey to Belonging is the Ministry’s own stated mission. It’s time to fund the full range of options that would take it from aspirational to reality.