The College Debt Trap: How Autistic Students Are Exploited by the Financialisation of Education

Autistic students are often told by trusted authority figures—counsellors, teachers, and advisers—that college is the ultimate escape route from financial hardship, a surefire investment in their future stability. The narrative is enticing: study hard, graduate, and unlock the doors to stable employment, financial security, and a better life. For many autistic individuals, raised in a society that consistently invalidates their experiences, this message is not just hopeful—it’s a lifeline. But in truth, the reality is far bleaker. Instead of leading to stability, this path often traps autistic students in a lifetime of unmanageable debt, feeding a financialised higher education system that prioritises profit over education.

The data underscores this grim reality. Student loan debt in the United States has ballooned to staggering levels, becoming the norm rather than the exception. Autistic students, who often face higher costs for support services, accommodations, and the transition to independent living, may find themselves even more reliant on loans. Research by Austermann et al. (2023) reveals that the costs associated with navigating college as an autistic student can be significant, yet these challenges are rarely discussed when advisers push students toward higher education. Meanwhile, the financial stress linked to loans is well-documented, with Quadlin and Rudel (2015) noting its detrimental impact on academic and social engagement—effects that are likely magnified for autistic students already juggling sensory and social demands.

Compounding this issue is the structural ableism embedded in employment. Even with a degree, autistic individuals face systemic barriers to securing stable jobs that accommodate their needs. The promised financial security often fails to materialise, leaving them with debt they cannot escape and no clear path to stability. This dissonance between expectation and reality is devastating, not just financially but emotionally, as autistic students realise the system that promised to uplift them was designed instead to exploit their trust and aspirations (Black et al., 2020; Martin, 2020; Hendricks, 2010; Sreckovic et al., 2023; Cooper & Mujtaba, 2022; Cheriyan et al., 2021).

What’s most troubling is the silence surrounding this issue. The narrative of college as a guaranteed path to success remains largely unchallenged, even as mounting evidence pokes holes in its premise. No one questions why autistic students are disproportionately burdened or how a financialised education system (Serna & Cohen, 2017) thrives on their struggles. This is the heart of the betrayal: a system that gaslights autistic individuals into believing in a myth that ultimately serves to perpetuate their disadvantage whilst feeding a cycle of revenue-driven exploitation.

The College Myth and Systemic Gaslighting

From the moment autistic students enter the education system, they are steeped in the dominant narrative of success: college as the only viable path to a stable, secure future. Authority figures like teachers and counsellors amplify this myth, presenting higher education as the ultimate solution to a better life. Schools themselves tout the goal of making students “college and career ready,” though in practice, the focus rests almost entirely on college, with career and technical education pathways systematically dismantled. The underlying message is clear: manual labour and vocational paths are less valuable, and college is the only respectable choice. For autistic students, who are often taught to rely on authority figures and social norms, this message can feel inescapable.

Adding to this pressure is a pervasive societal expectation that autistic individuals must “fix” themselves through education. Parents, often influenced by problematic sources like Autism Parenting Magazine, push their children to leave home for university far earlier than they are ready, believing this will foster independence or reclaim their own lives. The rhetoric is relentless: college is not optional—it’s essential for personal growth and future stability. This coercion feeds directly into the lifelong gaslighting autistic individuals experience, where they are told their struggles are personal failings, not the result of systemic barriers.

But what happens after these students graduate? The disconnect between the promises of college and the reality of the workplace is stark. Autistic graduates face significant barriers to employment, from inaccessible hiring processes to outright ableism in the workplace. Research by Finn et al. (2023) highlights how neurotypical norms dominate professional environments, excluding autistic individuals who excel in structured roles but struggle in ambiguous or socially demanding contexts. Even when autistic employees are hired, structural ableism often leaves managers ill-equipped to support them, while HR policies fail to accommodate needs such as sensory sensitivities or alternative communication preferences (Cockayne, 2019). The result is staggering unemployment and underemployment rates, despite these individuals’ skills and motivation.

The myth of college as a guarantee of financial security is particularly cruel to autistic students. It ignores the systemic barriers they face, such as inaccessible workplaces and societal biases against neurodiversity. Many autistic graduates find their education did little to prepare them for the realities of employment, with universities offering limited opportunities to develop career-specific skills (Cheriyan et al., 2021). Instead, they are left with crushing, almost inescapable debt and few viable paths to stability.

Worse still, the promise of “inclusion” through higher education serves primarily to feed a financialised system that thrives on their aspirations. The idea that a degree will unlock stable employment ignores the structural realities of ableism, while universities and workplaces do little to create environments where autistic individuals can thrive. This cycle perpetuates the false hope of college as salvation, leaving autistic students to bear the costs—financially, emotionally, and socially—while those who profit from their struggles remain unchallenged.

The Financialisation of Education

Universities across the United States have increasingly embraced financialisation, reshaping themselves into revenue-driven entities where tuition serves as the foundation of their financial strategies. At the heart of this transformation are revenue bonds, a mechanism that has fundamentally altered how public higher education operates. Revenue bonds enable universities to secure substantial loans from investors, using tuition and auxiliary income streams—like housing, meal plans, and parking fees—as collateral. This arrangement incentivises institutions to raise tuition and fees continually, not as a means of enhancing education, but to protect their credit ratings and attract more investors. The financial well-being of the institution, rather than the students it serves, becomes the top priority.

This reliance on tuition-backed bonds creates a perverse incentive structure. Revenue bonds depend on the promise of stable or growing income, and with state funding for education declining, universities turn to their most consistent source of revenue: their students. As a result, tuition hikes are baked into the system. Maintaining high credit ratings with agencies like Moody’s or Standard & Poor’s requires demonstrating financial resilience, which often translates to the ability to extract more money from students. The irony is that these hikes, justified as necessary for maintaining the institution’s financial health, directly undermine the accessibility of education.

For autistic students, the stakes are even higher. Promised stability and support, they are ideal targets for aggressive university marketing campaigns. These students often view higher education as their best hope for achieving financial independence and societal acceptance. However, the system’s primary concern is not their well-being but the steady flow of their tuition payments. Tuition in this financialised model is not a tool to make education accessible or inclusive—it is capital. It underpins complex financial operations, from bond repayments to funding campus expansions that prioritise aesthetics and prestige over student needs (Serna, 2013; Schuh & Shelley, 2001). Scammers always target the most vulnerable, and in this scenario, universities are no exception.

But who truly benefits from this system? Bondholders, for one, reap reliable returns, bolstered by tuition-backed financial covenants that legally require universities to prioritise debt repayment (Johnstone, 2010). University administrators, too, find themselves insulated from the austerity measures that affect faculty, staff, and students. Their compensation packages increasingly mirror those in the private sector, rewarding them for maintaining the institution’s financial health, often at the expense of its educational mission. Meanwhile, educators face job insecurity, and students, especially those from marginalised groups, are left to navigate an education system that seems designed to exploit their aspirations.

The financialisation of education through revenue bonds has transformed universities into profit-driven enterprises. Institutions that were once public goods, dedicated to serving society and fostering knowledge, now operate as businesses, prioritising investors over students (Mitchell, 1955). For autistic individuals, who already face systemic barriers, this system is especially cruel. They are promised support and stability but instead find themselves burdened with debt in a system that profits from their vulnerability. As tuition climbs and debt mounts, the question becomes: how long can this model sustain itself before the people it exploits demand something better?

The Aftermath for Autistic Students

For autistic students, the aftermath of navigating the financialised education system can be devastating. Student loans, framed as a “smart investment” by trusted authority figures, quickly transform into a lifelong burden. Unlike other forms of debt, student loans are nondischargeable in bankruptcy, creating an inescapable financial trap for those who struggle to repay. This reality disproportionately impacts autistic individuals, who face significantly higher rates of unemployment and underemployment than their neurotypical peers. With limited workplace accommodations and enduring discrimination, steady employment—and the income necessary to manage debt—is often out of reach.

Research highlights that autistic adults consistently face systemic barriers in both higher education and employment. Universities often fail to provide the necessary accommodations or career preparation, leaving autistic graduates ill-equipped to secure meaningful work (Wischnewsky, 2023). Compounding this are rigid workplace norms that penalise neurodivergence, exacerbating the challenges of building a stable career (Cheriyan et al., 2021). The result is not just financial instability but a pervasive sense of betrayal. The myth of education as a guaranteed path to success ignores these structural barriers, leaving autistic individuals trapped in debt with no clear path forward.

The financial toll is compounded by the psychological impact. Autistic individuals are more likely to experience co-occurring mental health conditions, including anxiety and depression, which can be intensified by the stress of unpayable debt and systemic failures in support systems (Goddard & Cook, 2021). The weight of this burden is deeply isolating, pushing many autistic graduates into withdrawal as they struggle to reconcile their aspirations with the harsh realities of systemic ableism and economic exploitation.

Adding to the psychological toll is the betrayal of trust. Autistic individuals often rely on authority figures to navigate a world not designed for them. Teachers, counsellors, and even parents (people who bear no consequence for bad advice) reinforce the idea that college is the only viable path to stability and success, positioning it as the ultimate solution to their challenges. Discovering that these trusted figures participated, knowingly or not, in perpetuating a system designed to exploit them leaves lasting scars. The betrayal isn’t just personal; it is systemic, embedded in an education system that prioritises profit over people.

The broader implications of this betrayal cannot be ignored. Higher education, which once promised economic mobility and inclusion, has become a profit-generating enterprise, leveraging the vulnerabilities of marginalised groups like autistic individuals to sustain itself (Martin, 2020). This shift perpetuates the myth of education as a public good while funnelling resources away from students and toward bondholders and university administrators. For autistic individuals, this system not only fails to deliver on its promises but actively exacerbates their marginalisation.

Ultimately, the financialised education system leaves autistic individuals in a cycle of financial precarity and psychological distress. The lifelong burden of debt, coupled with systemic barriers to employment and a lack of accountability within higher education, creates a perfect storm of hardship. Breaking this cycle requires systemic reform, from addressing the structural ableism in workplaces and universities to challenging the myth of higher education as a guaranteed path to success. Above all, it demands that autistic voices be included in shaping equitable policies, ensuring that no one is left behind in the pursuit of education and stability.

Poking Holes in the Myth

The myth of college as the guaranteed path to stability and success is perpetuated by authority figures who bear no responsibility or consequence for the advice they give. Teachers, counsellors, and even parents often encourage autistic students to pursue higher education, framing it as the ultimate solution to their struggles. Yet, when the system fails to deliver on its promises, it is the autistic individual who bears the entire cost—financially, emotionally, and socially. The people who insisted this was the “right path” walk away unscathed, leaving the student to navigate the lifelong consequences of unpayable debt and systemic barriers.

This dynamic is rooted in the financialisation of higher education, where colleges operate like businesses, incentivised to raise tuition and recruit students for revenue rather than their success. Autistic students, desperate for stability and trusting of authority figures, are prime targets in this cycle. Their tuition becomes collateral for revenue bonds, a financial instrument that prioritises bondholders over education. Families are rarely informed about these financial mechanisms, leaving students and parents unaware that their aspirations are being leveraged to sustain a system that profits from their vulnerability.

Outside of a completely clean break from capitalism in the US, breaking free from this exploitative cycle requires challenging the assumption that college is the only viable path to stability. Non-traditional pathways, such as trades, apprenticeships, or direct-to-workforce options, often align more closely with autistic strengths and interests. Careers in skilled trades or technology can provide structured environments, predictable routines, and high earning potential—all without the crushing debt burden of higher education. Success stories of autistic individuals who have found stability in these roles demonstrate that the college myth is not only false but actively harmful when it excludes alternative options.

However, shifting individual choices is not enough. We must demand systemic change to dismantle the financialisation of education. The public narrative must shift to expose how colleges exploit students for profit, whilst offering little accountability for their outcomes. Policies such as universal basic income (UBI), tuition free college, comprehensive debt forgiveness, and reduced reliance on revenue bonds could reframe education as a public good rather than a financial product. These reforms would help create a system where students are not forced to gamble their futures on institutions that value revenue over learning.

The cost of the college myth is borne entirely by the autistic student, whilst those who perpetuate it remain insulated from its consequences. Educating families about the realities of higher education, validating alternative paths, and advocating for systemic reform are critical steps to ensure that no one is left to carry this burden alone. It’s time to stop passing the cost of bad advice onto the most vulnerable and start building a system that prioritises their success over institutional profit.

Final thoughts …

The exploitation of autistic students by the financialised education system demands urgent reflection and action. These students, often trusting authority figures who insist that college is the only viable path to success, are left burdened with crushing debt and systemic barriers that limit their ability to thrive. Meanwhile, those who perpetuate this narrative—educators, counsellors, universities—bear no responsibility for the consequences. The cost of this myth is borne entirely by the students themselves, who are left to navigate a world that promised them stability but delivered precarity (caveat emptor).

As readers, it is imperative to challenge the narrative that college is the sole measure of success. The system that perpetuates this belief thrives on obscuring its financial motivations, prioritising tuition-backed revenue bonds and profit-driven strategies over meaningful educational outcomes. Universities must be held accountable for their financial practices, and transparency must replace the opaque mechanisms that allow them to exploit vulnerable students for revenue. Without this accountability, the cycle of exploitation will continue unchecked, leaving countless students—especially autistic individuals—trapped in an untenable system.

Beyond questioning this narrative, we must advocate for policies that re-dedicate education as a public good. This includes demanding universal access to free or low-cost college, comprehensive debt forgiveness, and systemic reforms that reduce reliance on revenue bonds. By shifting the focus from profit to people, we can begin to dismantle the structures that have commodified education and restore its role as a societal equaliser. For autistic individuals, these changes could mean the difference between a lifetime of financial hardship and a future of stability and opportunity.

At its core, this issue is not just about finances or policy—it’s about the human cost of a system that preys on the aspirations of the most vulnerable. Autistic students, burdened by debt and broken promises, deserve more than a system that views them as revenue streams. They deserve a society that values their potential, accommodates their needs, and creates pathways for them to thrive.

Change is possible if we collectively reject the financialisation of education. By exposing the myths, demanding transparency, and advocating for systemic reform, we can create a future where education uplifts rather than exploits. The path forward requires courage and commitment, but the reward—a more just and equitable society—is worth the effort. The question is not whether change is possible, but whether we are willing to fight for it.