A Guide for Autistic Students and Gestalt Language Processors (GLPs) to Evaluate Colleges Beyond Disability Services
Navigating higher education as an autistic student, particularly as a Gestalt Language Processor (GLP), presents unique challenges that often go unaddressed by traditional academic systems. Whilst many students and families may check for the presence of a disability services office before enrolling, this is only a surface-level consideration. The reality is that these offices are often limited in what they can offer, restricted to administering pre-approved services without the power to make system-wide changes to meet the diverse needs of neurodivergent students. My dissertation, Higher Education Support Strategies: An Evaluation of Needs Satisfaction on Autistic College Student Retention (Hoerricks, 2018), revealed significant gaps in how colleges approach neurodiversity, particularly in addressing the distinct ways we autistic people process and engage with information. These systemic gaps extend beyond the classroom to encompass the entire college experience.
Post-pandemic shifts in education have brought the college learning environment online in many cases, requiring students to engage with complex Learning Management Systems (LMS) that are often not designed with neurodiverse learners in mind. The accessibility of these systems is crucial, as the ease with which students can navigate them impacts their ability to participate fully in their coursework. Equally important is how the institution communicates with students—whether communication is clear, consistent, and tailored to different learning styles. In addition, course design plays a critical role in ensuring that learning materials are accessible to all students. Many courses, unfortunately, still follow a rigid design, catering to analytic processors without considering neurodiversity. Professors and staff are often unprepared to accommodate GLPs and other neurodivergent students, lacking the necessary training to support their learning needs effectively. Today’s article (a helpful guide) seeks to empower autistic students and GLPs with the right questions to ask before enrolling, so they can assess whether a college’s infrastructure, from LMS platforms to course design and faculty preparation, is truly inclusive and accommodating of their needs.
Understanding the Learning Environment
When evaluating a college’s learning environment (the User Experience of UX), autistic students, particularly GLPs, must carefully consider how flexible the curriculum is in accommodating different learning styles. For GLPs, the rigid, linear structure of most academic programs can be a major obstacle. Unfortunately, many colleges still operate on a curriculum model that caters primarily to analytic processors, leaving little room for creativity or alternative approaches to learning. This one-size-fits-all approach can place an unfair burden on neurodiverse students, who are often expected to adapt to the curriculum rather than the other way around.
This is where the “autism tax” comes into play. The term refers to the extra time, energy, and resources that autistic students must expend to accommodate themselves when the school fails to meet their needs. Instead of providing flexible learning environments or adapting materials to diverse cognitive styles, many colleges expect neurodivergent students to navigate inaccessible systems and adjust to curricula that don’t fit their processing styles. As a result, students spend additional hours outside of class trying to “decode” material that isn’t designed for them, often at the cost of their mental health and academic success. The “autism tax” is a real and ongoing issue for many, exacerbating the challenges already faced by GLPs in higher education.
One of the core issues is that most colleges don’t even consider Universal Design for Learning (UDL) when developing their curricula. UDL is an educational framework that aims to make learning accessible for all students by offering multiple means of engagement, representation, and expression. In an ideal world, UDL principles would be embedded into every course, ensuring that students with diverse learning styles, including GLPs, have equitable access to the content. However, most schools fall far short of this. In many cases, professors don’t even design their own courses. Instead, schools outsource curriculum development to large educational corporations, who produce pre-packaged courses with little to no consideration for neurodiverse learners. These curricula are designed for the “average” student, which often excludes GLPs and other neurodivergent students entirely.
Moreover, the professors responsible for delivering these courses are often adjunct or part-time employees, paid only for the hours they spend in front of students. This business model prioritises cost-cutting over quality education. Professors are expected to deliver the purchased curriculum with strict fidelity, leaving them little flexibility to adapt the material or incorporate elements of UDL. Many professors lack the training in neurodiversity needed to recognise the diverse ways their students process information. They’re paid to follow the script provided by the institution, not to innovate or tailor their instruction to meet the unique needs of their students. This creates a system where the onus falls on the student to bridge the gap between their learning style and the rigid, inaccessible curriculum they’re presented with.
In my dissertation, I found that rigid curricula, combined with a lack of neurodiversity training for faculty, significantly impacted the retention rates of autistic students. The research showed that colleges focusing exclusively on curriculum delivery without considering the diverse cognitive needs of their students ultimately placed neurodiverse learners at a disadvantage. In contrast, institutions that allowed for flexibility in curriculum design and actively engaged with UDL principles saw greater student success and retention.
For prospective students, it’s crucial to ask targeted questions about the learning environment before enrolling. Find out whether the curriculum is designed with UDL in mind and whether professors are trained to accommodate different processing styles - or know how to engage with students who might know more about the subject than they do. Ask how much flexibility professors have in adapting their teaching methods or whether they are required to deliver a pre-set curriculum. These are critical considerations for ensuring that the learning environment will support, rather than hinder, your academic success as a neurodiverse student.
Assessment Practices and Flexibility
Assessment practices in higher education have evolved significantly since the pandemic, but unfortunately, not always for the better—particularly for neurodiverse students, including autistic GLPs. With the rise of AI-enabled tools and outsourced online testing platforms, the challenges for GLPs have only increased. These systems often rely on rigid, one-size-fits-all approaches, with no understanding of autism or the unique needs of GLPs. Many institutions now outsource their online assessments to foreign proctors or use AI to evaluate exams and coursework, often bypassing the need to honour disability accommodations with fidelity, leaving neurodiverse students struggling to navigate an impersonal, inflexible system.
A personal example illustrates just how unfit AI can be for assessing students’ work. Whilst writing an essay for one of my courses, I kept receiving feedback that my paper was “not up to standard,” despite following the assignment guidelines closely. I couldn’t figure out why my paper kept getting rejected. On a hunch, I switched the language settings in Word from UK English to US English. Suddenly, numerous “spelling errors” and “grammatical inconsistencies” were highlighted—differences between UK and US English that were apparently confusing the AI. My gestalts are rooted in Scottish English, so I prefer to write in UK English to avoid constant distractions from Word flagging my spelling every few words, which wastes valuable mental energy. However, the only change I made was conforming the paper to US English, and upon resubmitting, the paper was accepted without issue. Nothing meaningful had been added or changed, yet switching to US English was enough to pass the course. This illustrates how AI tools, whilst designed to assess language and grammar, can be rigid and downright silly, completely missing the nuances of personal or cultural language use.
Beyond AI, schools are increasingly using third-party proctoring systems like ProctorU, which presents even more problems for GLPs. For example, my current school, Western Governors University (WGU), requires the use of ProctorU's Guardian Browser for online assessments. This locked-down system doesn’t allow any plug-ins, which is a significant issue for me, as I rely on text-to-speech tools, specifically the Read Aloud plug-in for Chrome, as part of my approved accommodations. Despite having a doctor’s note stating this requirement, Guardian Browser does not include support for any such tools.
The solution offered by the school? I’m required to download an app that allows a random third-party proctor from ProctorU to access my computer remotely. This proctor, an unknown and untrusted individual, can then control my system, disable settings, and shut off tools as they see fit. It’s an invasion of privacy and deeply uncomfortable, but it’s the only way I can receive my accommodations during testing. The alternative is to go into the exam unsupported, without the tools I need, and hope for the best. This is an impossible choice for GLPs who often rely on specific assistive technologies to succeed.
These AI-enabled tools and outsourced proctoring systems fail to account for the complex needs of GLPs and other neurodiverse students. They are designed for mass efficiency and to catch cheating, but not to accommodate learning differences. In many cases, these systems don’t honor accommodations at all, creating a significant barrier to success.
Prospective students must ask detailed questions about a school’s assessment practices, especially if they use AI or third-party proctors. Are accommodations truly respected, or are students forced to jump through invasive and impractical hoops to receive support? Are there alternative assessment methods that allow flexibility, or are students funneled into a rigid, automated system? For GLPs and neurodiverse learners, it’s essential to ensure that a school’s assessment practices are designed to meet their needs, not just fit them into a narrow, standardized box. The stakes are too high to leave this to chance, as the wrong system can easily derail academic success.
Interaction with Faculty and Administration
When considering how well a college or university will support autistic GLPs and other neurodiverse students, it’s crucial to assess the interaction with both faculty and administration. One of the first questions to ask is how approachable the faculty are regarding neurodiversity. In many institutions, professors are not trained to understand the diverse cognitive processing styles of students like GLPs, and this can lead to frustrating experiences (I’ve had to educate everyone I’ve come in contact with during my many years in higher ed). For GLPs, who may need different methods of instruction, it’s important to have professors who are open to modifying their teaching methods. However, this flexibility is often missing in higher education, where professors are bound by the rigid curriculum provided by the school, with little room for adaptation.
In my own experience, faculty members who were proactive and willing to engage with neurodiverse students made a significant difference in academic success. For example, professors who actively sought to understand my learning needs and worked with me to find alternative ways to complete assignments were critical in helping me succeed. However, these types of professors are often rare. Many are not equipped to handle neurodiversity, either because they lack the training or because they are adjuncts or part-time faculty who are underpaid and overworked, with limited time and resources to offer personalised support.
Equally important is how the administration handles neurodiverse concerns. Are they proactive or reactive? Far too often, administrative teams are reactive, only addressing issues when they become major obstacles for students. They are not involved in proactively creating an inclusive environment where neurodiverse students can thrive. In many cases, administration views neurodiverse students through a compliance lens, simply ensuring the minimum legal accommodations are provided rather than cultivating a supportive, inclusive culture. In contrast, institutions that prioritise training for both faculty and administrators in neurodiversity and provide ongoing support for inclusive teaching practices see better outcomes for their students (these are few and far between). From my research and personal experience, I found that where administration and faculty were aligned in understanding and supporting neurodiversity, retention and success rates for autistic students, including GLPs, were markedly higher. Conversely, institutions that failed to engage in this way saw students struggle and drop out within one semester of arrival.
Prospective students should assess not only whether accommodations are available but also whether the school’s faculty and administration are committed to being proactive in supporting neurodiverse students. Ask if professors are willing to modify coursework, if they are trained in neurodiversity, and how the administration handles neurodiverse issues beyond just offering basic accommodations.
Additionally, an important question to ask is, “What is the autistic student attrition rate at this school?” If the school doesn’t know, this is a major red flag. It likely indicates that they are unaware of the unique challenges faced by autistic students or simply don’t care to track this crucial data. Institutions that do not monitor or address the retention of neurodiverse students are likely failing to support them adequately. Similarly, ask whether the school knows how many autistic and GLP students are on campus. Again, if they can’t provide this information, it signals that the institution doesn’t have systems in place to track and support neurodiverse students. In both cases, if they don’t know, it’s not just a problem—it’s their problem, and it’s likely a sign to move on and look for a school that does take neurodiverse support seriously.
Inclusivity in Group Work and Social Engagement
When considering inclusivity in group work and social engagement, the reality for neurodiverse students, especially autistic GLPs, can be deeply frustrating. The phrase “ugh, group work” is an all-too-common reaction for many neurodivergent students, as group projects often place them in a situation where they must rely on a group of random peers who know nothing about their needs. Group work is frequently structured to serve the needs of the professor, reducing grading loads by consolidating multiple individual projects into fewer group submissions. However, this setup rarely, if ever, takes the needs of neurodivergent students into account, leaving them at a distinct disadvantage.
When we look at instructional methods such as “Purposeful and Productive Instructional Groups,” the concept might seem promising at first glance, but it often overlooks the realities for neurodivergent students. In practice, this method frequently places the autistic student at the mercy of the strongest personality within the group, leading to the abandonment of any approved supports the student may have. For instance, autistic students who need clear communication, structured roles, or additional time to process instructions are often sidelined by more dominant group members who push for quick decisions and assume leadership. These dynamics can lead to immense stress for the autistic student, as their input may be diminished, their needs overlooked, and their approved accommodations left behind in the rush to complete the task ‘efficiently.’
It should be no surprise that neurodiverse students experience group work very differently from their neurotypical peers. For GLPs, the lack of control over communication styles, the absence of structured roles, and the high reliance on social norms within the group dynamic can be overwhelming. GLPs process information holistically and need time to see the big picture before jumping into tasks, but group work rarely allows for this. Instead, students are expected to conform to a neurotypical pace and style of collaboration, which can severely impact their ability to contribute meaningfully to the project.
Moreover, there is often no recourse for students who struggle with group work. Professors may view group projects as non-negotiable, with no way to opt out or request an alternative assignment. This lack of flexibility can further isolate autistic students, making them feel trapped in an environment that doesn’t cater to their cognitive processing needs.
In terms of social engagement, many colleges still lack clubs or spaces designed specifically for neurodiverse students. For autistic students, who may struggle with neurotypical social norms, the absence of these spaces can make social interactions feel alienating or overwhelming. Social supports are often limited to informal networks or disability offices, which may not have the resources to foster genuine community engagement for neurodiverse students. This can lead to isolation, disengagement, and even higher attrition rates.
To create more inclusive group work environments, colleges must first acknowledge the diverse needs of neurodiverse students. Structured roles should be explicitly defined, and communication methods should accommodate varying cognitive styles. Faculty should also provide alternative options to group work for students who need them. Additionally, colleges should actively create social spaces or clubs where neurodiverse students can interact in a low-pressure, supportive environment, making social engagement feel less like a daunting challenge and more like a natural part of the college experience.
Finally, it’s important for prospective students and families to ask schools directly about their approach to group work and social engagement. How are neurodiverse students supported in group settings? Are there social spaces for autistic students, and how are they integrated into the broader campus community? These questions can help determine whether a school is truly committed to fostering an inclusive environment where all students can thrive.
Understanding the Role of the Disability Office
The role of a college’s disability office is often misunderstood by prospective students and their families. Whilst it may seem like the primary goal of the office is to ensure that neurodiverse students, including GLPs and autistic students, receive the accommodations they need to succeed, the reality is that these offices often function more as a shield for the institution, protecting the school from potential lawsuits. This can result in a less-than-ideal experience for students seeking real support. My experience during the pandemic at Loyola Marymount University is a stark example of this disconnect. When classes moved online, I faced immense difficulty accessing my accommodations. The Learning Management System (LMS) was unfit for purpose, professors were untrained in accommodating students with disabilities in a virtual environment, Zoom had no caption functionality in break-out rooms, and my many requests for help were met with bureaucratic filibustering.
It became clear that the disability office’s primary concern was not to ensure I had the tools to succeed in this new learning environment, but rather to protect the institution from potential liability. I suspect that part of the reason my requests were stonewalled was a hope that the pandemic would be short-lived, allowing the school to avoid investing in costly upgrades to their online infrastructure. Despite having substantial financial resources, the school left it up to disabled students like myself to figure out solutions on our own. That first semester online was incredibly difficult, not because of the pandemic itself, but because of the systemic barriers that the institution put in place by neglecting to upgrade their systems and properly train faculty to meet the needs of students with disabilities.
This experience mirrors findings from my dissertation, where I found that the effectiveness of disability offices varies widely depending on the institutional culture and policy. Some offices are little more than gatekeepers, focused on ensuring legal compliance rather than creating a truly inclusive environment for neurodiverse students. One of the most common problems is the need to renegotiate accommodations year after year, especially with administrative changes. This creates an additional barrier for students, who must constantly re-justify their needs, adding to their emotional and cognitive load.
On the other hand, some disability offices go beyond their typical role and engage in meaningful advocacy. In these cases, they work closely with faculty and administration to ensure that neurodiverse students are fully included in the broader academic culture. They provide training for professors, collaborate on creating accessible learning environments, and push for systemic changes that benefit all students. These offices become true allies, not just bureaucratic hurdles.
Prospective students and families should ask the right questions when assessing a school’s disability office. What role does the office play beyond simply facilitating accommodations? Do they advocate for broader inclusion? How often will accommodations need to be renegotiated (if ever), and are faculty trained to support neurodiverse students? The answers to these questions will give valuable insight into whether the disability office is focused on student success or institutional protection.
Final thoughts …
As neurodiverse students navigate the college selection process, it’s essential to look beyond surface-level accommodations and ask deeper, more probing questions. Simply confirming the presence of a disability office is not enough. The experiences I’ve shared, along with my dissertation research, reveal the systemic gaps that exist within higher education, where institutions often prioritise legal compliance over meaningful support for students. These gaps are further exacerbated by the rise of AI-driven assessments, outsourced proctoring systems, and the inflexible curriculum models that cater primarily to neurotypical learners.
My research underscores the need for systemic change in how colleges accommodate neurodiverse students. Schools must be proactive in designing inclusive curricula, offering alternative assessment methods, and providing comprehensive training for faculty and administrators in neurodiversity. The disability office should be more than a gatekeeper; it should act as an advocate for students, ensuring they are fully integrated into the academic culture, not just ticking off the boxes of legal compliance. Too often, the burden of securing accommodations and ensuring they are respected falls squarely on the students themselves—leading to the frustrating “autism tax” that forces neurodiverse learners to expend additional energy navigating systems that are not built for them.
As you or your family consider potential schools, it’s vital to ask the right questions: How are neurodiverse students supported in group work? What social structures are in place? How flexible are assessments? What is the attrition rate for autistic students, and how many neurodiverse learners are on campus? These questions will help determine whether an institution is genuinely prepared to support your needs.
Advocating for your needs before and during your college experience is critical. Armed with the insights from this article, you can approach the college search process with a clear understanding of what questions to ask and what red flags to watch out for. Your education is too important to leave it to chance in a system that may not be built for you—so take control and ensure you find a place where you can thrive.