Sped in Higher Ed
Most of my career has been spent with younger kids, especially in elementary settings. But almost without realizing it, I’ve ended up doing a surprising amount of college-level consulting. It usually starts casually: a friend who teaches at a university asks me how to support a student who is struggling, or a family member who works in higher ed texts me with a quick “What do I do about this?” question. Before long, I’m diving into conversations about accommodations, executive functioning, and how professors can bridge gaps they never expected (or cared) to face.
One conversation that sticks with me was with a professor who had a brilliant student, but the student kept missing deadlines. The professor was frustrated and assumed the student was lazy. When we talked it through, I explained how executive functioning challenges don’t magically disappear at high school graduation. Together we brainstormed ways the professor could restructure assignments into smaller check-ins, as well as offering multimodal options for demonstrating content knowledge. It wasn’t about lowering the bar, it was about making the path clearer. A few months later, that student was still in the program, thriving, instead of quietly dropping out.
What hits me hardest is how unprepared many students feel once they hit college. They grew up with IEPs, 504 plans, structured schedules, and supportive teachers who helped them keep on track. Then suddenly, at 18, they are on their own. No one tells them that in higher ed, they have to initiate the process with disability services. No one shows them how to write a professional email to request accommodations. I’ve watched students who are incredibly capable struggle not because they can’t do the work, but because the system expects them to manage themselves with zero transition support.
And honestly, professors aren’t set up for this either. Most of them never received training in how to interact with and best support neurodiverse students. Many came through a completely different educational experience themselves, one where technology was limited and the idea of accommodations wasn’t even on the radar. I’ve had professors tell me outright, “I never had help, so why should they? I had to go to the library, suck it up, and use my brain!” That’s when I start talking about equity versus equality, and about how giving everyone the same isn’t always logical or fair.
But here’s the bigger picture I see: students today are living in a different mental landscape than even ten years ago. The sheer volume of information they are asked to process daily is staggering. One minute they’re scrolling past a news story that shows unimaginable, graphic tragedy in real time, the next it’s a recipe to save for later, then a funny cat, then another terrifying headline about war, financial collapse, etc. All of this before walking into a classroom and being expected to engage in deep, critical thinking. Our brains simply weren’t designed to handle this kind of rapid emotional and contextual whiplash.
I believe we need to lower the bar in some areas. Not in terms of academic rigor, but in terms of expectations around how students manage themselves. Pretending life is the same as it was “back in the day” sets everyone up for frustration. Life is different now, and higher ed will need to adapt at some point.
I’ve started sharing some of the strategies I use for task paralysis, executive functioning, and building confidence in independence, like my video on using AI to break through cognitive overwhelm (using AI for good, not evil). It’s part of the same story: finding modern solutions for modern challenges. If students are going to succeed, we have to stop clinging to outdated systems and start meeting them where they are.
