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In school-based occupational therapy, some of the most meaningful progress doesn’t happen at a desk or during structured tasks, it happens in the everyday moments most people overlook.
For OT Kyla, one student reminded her that even everyday experiences like riding an elevator could feel like a real challenge.
“The school elevator wasn’t a convenience; it was a sensory nightmare,” She often thinks back. “It was the sudden ‘ding’ that pierced his ears, the stomach-flipping lurch of gravity, and the claustrophobic press of the sliding metal doors.”
Because of this, he avoided it completely. Every day, he chose the stairs, three flights, multiple times a day just to avoid the elevator.
That is, until his school job changed everything.
He had taken on a mail delivery role, pushing a cart full of envelopes to different classrooms throughout the building. The only way to complete this job was to use the elevator.
As Kyla, MS, OTR/L shared, “I knew we couldn’t rush his nervous system, so we turned the elevator into a science experiment.”
First, they simply stood near the elevator doors. They listened to the “ding,” acknowledged it, and walked away.
Then came what they called the “Button Master” phase.
“He got to press the call button, watch it light up, and then at his request we would run back to the stairs like we’d just pulled a heist,” Kyla explained. “It gave him control in a situation that previously felt completely out of his control.”
Next, they moved inside the elevator but kept the doors open. They stayed there, counted together, and let his body get used to the space without movement or closure.
Each step was intentional. Each step was paced by the student.
And then one day, he stood inside the elevator, headphones on, and looked at his OT, Kyla.
“One floor?” he asked quietly.
They pressed the button together and as the doors close, they went up.
“When the doors opened on the second floor, he didn’t just walk out,” Kyla shared. “He exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding for years.”
He had done it!
But the story didn’t end there. A few days later, Kyla received a message from his mom. She sent a video from a hospital appointment, something that had historically been a challenge for him due to elevator anxiety.
In the video, he confidently walked to the elevator, pressed the button, and stepped inside. Then he turned toward the camera and gave a thumbs-up.
“I’m a Button Master, Mom,” he said proudly.
His mom later wrote something that stayed with Kyla:
Moments like this remind everyone of the impact of school-based OT. It’s not just about exposure or skill-building. It’s about expanding what feels possible for a student.
As Kyla reflected, “We were expanding his world, one floor at a time.”
And sometimes, that’s what progress looks like, not big leaps, but small, supported steps that build confidence, trust, and independence over time.
One floor at a time, progress was made.
Thank you to Kyla, MS, OTR/L, for sharing her incredible story!