Analise Vella

·       Undergraduate Degree in Psychology

·       Graduate Certificate in Education

·       Master's in Education in ABA

·       Board Certified Behaviour Analyst 

With over 13 years of experience in early intervention across NSW, I have worked in a wide range of settings including schools, clinics, homes, community spaces, and early childhood environments, supporting individuals aged 0–18 with varying needs, from mainstream to complex behaviour support. I have practiced across the Sydney, Macarthur, and Highlands regions across a range of service delivery models, and in my current role as a Clinical Supervisor, my week spans teams working in preschools, long day cares, and SSP and school-based settings.

My areas of speciality centre on group-based practice and embedding intervention within the teams and environments where children naturally learn and spend their time. Clinically, I have a particular passion for supporting children who use AAC systems, building play and engagement in creative and unexpected ways, and working with children with anxiety-related support needs, including selective mutism.

At the heart of my work is a deep love for being on the floor with children, families, and educators, navigating the moments that are busy, chaotic, and extraordinarily joyful.

In a roundabout way, it started through my art. A passion for surrealism led me down a rabbit hole of reading about dreams and behaviour, which ultimately drew me toward psychology for my undergraduate degree.

But what truly sealed it was in my first year of university, when I had the privilege of supporting a family with children with disabilities. I saw first-hand the difference that the right support could make, not just for the child, but for the whole family. I remember doing whatever I could to create and build on that child's special interests, which brought so much laughter and joy and ultimately learning. That experience showed me how meaningful this work is, and I've never wanted to do anything else since.

There are so many moments, but one stands out above the rest. I had the privilege of having a conversation with a pre-teen I had previously supported since he was a toddler (now nearly taller than me) and we were reflecting together on his therapy journey. He talked about why he used his speech device, his favourite therapists, but what he really emphasised was remembering the science experiments, drawing his favourite animals and cooking sessions we did when he was little. The pure joy on his face as he recalled those experiences told me everything. He remembers the joy and I remember how proud I was for each new skill he learnt, drawing his very first shark himself, trying fruit smoothies or cake in a mug or discussing science experiments on his device.

These many moments confirmed what I have always believed, that the most powerful therapy happens when it's woven into real experiences, genuine joy, and activities that are meaningful to the child.

Inclusion is equity. All children deserve the right to effective supports, education and safety no matter the area they live in, or the resources they have. It is people coming together to ensure that each child's experience is truly considered.

It also means sitting with discomfort and asking honestly: are we truly including this child, or are we just saying we do with policy? There is a difference.

Inclusion asks something of everyone, educators, therapists, families, and communities, to continuously learn, adapt, and advocate, especially for the children who need it the most. 

As a child, drawing was everything to me. From as young as five or six, I filled the margins of my worksheets and books with little drawings. I was diagnosed with ADHD, and as focus was really difficult in class, I would watch the trees out the windows and then draw trees repetitively, both in class and in my free time. Over time I became really good at capturing visual detail and structure, and could draw just about anything.

Art was where I truly thrived. While words and instructions were really incomprehensible and confusing, art had no voices to understand, just colour and creation. It was my escape and my joy, despite the many unhappy teachers who disapproved of the drawings on my body, tables, worksheets, and books.

I still have boxes and boxes of my artwork from those years. I still draw and paint and still is my happy place. Not one piece is finished still...but that never really was the point!