‘These aren’t minimum wage jobs’: Workers who help Delawareans with disabilities struggle amid low pay
File – A sign for the disability services organization Easterseals Delaware and Maryland’s Eastern Shore in New Castle, Delaware (Google Maps)
Angela Hendrickson spends her days helping Delawareans with disabilities live fuller lives — coaching them on the job, taking them grocery shopping or monitoring their health needs. But when her shift ends, she returns with her two children to a motel room she can barely afford.
“I’m currently living in a motel that is the cheapest motel that I could find. So it’s not in a very safe area. Me and my children, we have to share a room. Granted, there’s two separate beds, but none of us can have any privacy or our own personal space right now,” she said.
Hendrickson has worked as a direct support professional, or DSP, at Autism Delaware’s POW&R program for more than two years. She said the most rewarding part of the job is helping people feel productive and included in society.“It’s a very fulfilling job knowing that I am the reason that particular day that they get to have a more fulfilling life rather than just sitting in a group home or being cared for by their parents that may be older or just burnt out from having to care for people with different levels of special needs,” she said.
What DSPs do — and why they matter
The role of a DSP stretches far beyond caregiving. On any given day, Hendrickson supports adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities on job sites, helps them manage diabetes or seizures and steps in during emergencies.
“One of our individuals has epilepsy. On two different occasions, I have had to address him in a seizure episode and know what to do until higher care could arrive,” she said. “There’s one of our individuals that has high diabetic needs and we need to monitor their blood sugar very frequently and know when to adjust calorie intake or get some exercise and some water to bring those levels down.”
Verna Hensley, vice president of public affairs at Easterseals Delaware and Maryland’s Eastern Shore, said DSPs are a critical link for the 500 adults her organization serves.
“It’s not just a caregiving role. It’s not just a babysitting role. A direct support professional is helping them learn how to do things for themselves,” Hensley said. “One of the misperceptions is the fact that DSPs, it’s just a minimum labor type of job and it’s nowhere near that.”
She noted that DSPs are trained to respond when medical needs arise, while also teaching the individuals they support essential life skills and problem-solving abilities.
Wages and turnover
Despite the responsibilities, DSPs are paid close to minimum wage. In Delaware, the state reimbursement rate for DSP wages is $15 an hour. Most providers pay slightly more — around $17 to $18 an hour — but it’s still less than what some retail or warehouse jobs may offer.
“These aren’t minimum wage jobs,” Hensley said. “They need health benefits … they need all of their benefits, covering the costs of their [paid time off] and all kinds of employment expenses.”
Hendrickson earns less than many entry-level health care workers, despite being trained to administer medications and respond to health crises.
“Some of our participants have some medical needs, some more severe than others, and we have to be prepared to handle any medical situation that may arise,” Hendrickson said. “I don’t feel that we get recognized appropriately as medical professionals.”
A 2023 national workforce study confirmed the strain providers are facing. In Delaware, the turnover rate among direct support professionals was nearly 40%, with some agencies reporting vacancy rates of 10% for full-time positions and 20% for part-time roles.
At Easterseals Delaware and Maryland’s Eastern Shore, Hensley said turnover remains around 30%. Despite efforts to recruit and retain staff, she acknowledged there is still a long way to go — and the instability continues to disrupt care for the people who rely on it.
“It’s very difficult when your reimbursements are not covering the full cost of the care,” she said. “People with disabilities are like anybody else, right? They’re going to thrive and be more successful if there’s stability in their life and that includes having a stable direct support professional every day.”
The state’s response
Delaware is not alone in its workforce struggles, said Jody Roberts, director of the Division of Developmental Disability Services.
“While there has been some rebounding since the end of the pandemic that the ability for individuals who are eligible to receive services from DDDS, the Division of Developmental Disability Services, is certainly in a situation where our service need and our service growth is significantly hampered by our ability to grow that direct support professional workforce,” he said.
He pointed to the McNesby Act, which required Delaware to update its funding rates every few years based on the cost of care. A new rate study is expected to be finalized this fall, offering a fresh look at the state of the DSP workforce.
“We also know it’s not 2019 … this is 2025. So the division is wrapping up a new rate study imminently. It should be released later this fall,” he said. “We hope that this gets us back on to that regular cycle of refreshing those rates so that they are accurate reflections of the cost of doing business in the state.”
Roberts said the new study should give state leaders better data to shape the budget — but acknowledged the urgency.
“We’re excited to have that data available,” he said. “We hope that it’s a good opportunity for us to be thinking about not only the cost of delivering services for individuals, but how we might want to have a conversation about investing in direct support professionals and direct care workers more broadly as a real critical part of the workforce across the state of Delaware.”
The cost of waiting
For Hendrickson, the state’s delays in increased funding and the workforce shortage aren’t abstract policy debates — they shape her daily life.
While she spends her days ensuring people with disabilities can live with dignity, her own family remains in unstable housing. Advocates warn that without stronger investment in direct support professionals, more workers will leave the field, more families will go without services and more people like Hendrickson will be left struggling in the shadows of a system that depends on them.