Navigating University with Autism Spectrum Disorder

Vanessa Bonham is a fourth-year undergraduate student pursuing an Honours English degree with a minor in Creative Writing and works part-time with the Live Work Well Research Centre as the Communications and Research Assistant. She uses her writing as a medium to explore autism advocacy for late-diagnosed girls. She recently published an article outlining the challenges of using public transit, and in this blog she is exploring the barriers of going to university and being autistic.   

I wasn’t even planning to go to university.  

To me, a gap year was safe, predictable, in my control. I knew that I wanted to pursue undergraduate studies eventually, but the impending transition—from high school to university, from home to far away, from a savings account to a loan application—was far too daunting. I didn’t understand the fear coiling in my stomach while the rest of my classmates excitedly applied for roommates and grants.  

Before drafting this blog, I wondered if any other students with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) felt the same fear entering the post-secondary level. I found a study on autism supports at university which explained that 50% of us felt disconnected from post-secondary or employment opportunities following high school, and that only 44% of us went on to enroll in university at all. Can you imagine that? Under half of your demographic even seeing university as an option? A lot of autistics find university difficult to manage due to barriers in navigating the institution, transitioning to university life, and succeeding in both the social and academic aspects of university.  

For me, it wasn’t the academics that were the problem, but instead the university atmosphere, and the isolation and uncertainty around every corner.  

Emphasis on Social Interactions 

For autistics entering university, the campus is a flurry of diverse interactions and complicated social roles. For instance, you must be a good student but also be available (somehow) for clubbing every weekend. There is also the implication that these are the best years of your life. You should be seizing every opportunity that comes your way.  

This atmosphere can be crippling for many autistic people entering university, because on top of already managing various transitions, we are forced to navigate social rules that don’t come easily or to endure sensory nightmares—like the club—in order to have the security of a friend group. So, if you prefer the library to the dance floor, or a movie night to frosh week, you’re bound to eternal isolation. 

When I inquired with my accessibility advisor about a support group for students with ASD, she told me that it had been discontinued due to budget cuts.  

Lack of Direction 

Autistics live in a world that is unaccommodating to our needs, so many of us attempt to gain control by relying on a routine day in and day out. Even though many of my high school teachers warned us that “tardiness would not fly in university,” I’ve found that many of my classes are utterly disorganized. I once had a professor hand me a syllabus with no due dates on it. I had another send out five different copies of the syllabus over the duration of the course. Another professor gave us an assignment with no rubric or instructions.  

It can be difficult for autistic students to plan or develop a routine under these sorts of conditions. Like baking a cake with no recipe—it’s possible, but exceedingly difficult. The resulting taste of a cake with no recipe is unpleasant and underwhelming, just like going to university and having it be nothing like you expected. It’s absolutely necessary for me to be able to plan and manage my time, but often impossible when collaborating with unaccommodating professors. For many students, no deadlines or instructions might feel liberating. But for autistics who need a routine and who lack the ability to meet expectations without clear instruction, these sorts of conditions can be debilitating.  

Bright and Loud All the Time 

I dry my hands, and the hand dryer is as loud as a helicopter; then I go to lecture, and the hall has the brightest lights I have ever endured, making me feel like I’m in a police interrogation. Everything is dialed up to the highest intensity, so on top of school and work I’m also at war with my senses. Then I must do it all over again the next day.  

For autistic people, stepping out of your front door in the morning can be intimidating, because you don’t know what sensations lie outside your household. University culture places an emphasis on going as hard as you can until you drop. For many autistic people, this is already our default setting with the sensory battles we face every day. It can seem unimaginable to pack the week full of classes and other commitments when we already have to endure sensory torment each day. This combination is a recipe for burnout and results in the ultimate crash on weekends.   

For me, the only way I could navigate university culture was through lowering my course load and having designated “rest” days. However, this accommodation is often unachievable for many other autistics.   

At the end of the autism support study, authors concluded that of the 258 Canadian post-secondary institutions they focused on, only 6% had autism-specific supports in place for their students. So the 44% of autistics who pursue post-secondary education have much slimmer pickings than the average student if they wish to be accommodated at university.  Autistic students in the university experience continue to fall through the cracks as university administration ignores the “little” things like support groups, organized and professional conduct from faculty, and sensory accommodations—which really aren’t little things at all. To become better disability advocates we, as a society, need to account for the diverse ways people perceive the world and the consequent challenges they face.    

- Written by Vanessa Bonham