Earlier this year, I presented at and attended the “Minds of All Kinds” Conference at Warren Wilson College. The focus was how to better support neurodivergent students preparing for or already in college. Through conversations and my clinical experience at Intrepid, I continue to find myself wondering whether we are addressing symptoms rather than the underlying issues.
One underlying issue on my mind is that support for these individuals often requires disclosure, yet disclosure requires readiness.
In practice, many students are not ready, or do not feel comfortable, sharing why they need help. This can stem from uncertainty about identity, fear of being perceived differently, or past experiences of being misunderstood. Regardless of the specific reason the outcome is often the same. Students who could benefit from support hesitate to access it.
While institutions may need to ask, “What do you need help with, and why?” students are often asking themselves a different question, “Am I ready to be seen in this way?” This is where a disconnect begins.
When students struggle and do not use available resources, the assumption is often that they need more encouragement or clearer information. However readiness does not respond well to pressure, especially too much or the wrong kind. A person cannot be pushed into accepting an identity, trusting a system, or advocating for needs they do not yet fully understand. In some cases, pushing harder only increases hesitation, making support feel intrusive rather than helpful.
Rather than focusing only on increasing the use of services, I wonder if it may be more useful to ask what makes disclosure feel manageable in the first place.
Students are more likely to engage when the system feels clear, predictable, and aligned. They need to know what will happen after they disclose, who will know, what will change, and what will stay the same. Clear roles across faculty and support services reduce confusion, while consistency across the institution builds trust. The way support is framed also matters; when it is presented as a way to build skills and navigate challenges, rather than to “fix” deficits, it can feel more accessible. Just as important, students need space to move at their own pace. Not everyone is ready to fully disclose at once, and systems that allow for gradual engagement create a more approachable entry point.
This points to a broader opportunity. If some students are not ready to disclose, then support cannot exist only within formal accommodation systems. Colleges can expand access by embedding support into the general academic environment through inclusive teaching practices, accessible executive functioning resources, and mentorship that does not require formal identification.
In other words, support should exist before disclosure, not just after it.
If access to support depends on readiness, then readiness itself becomes something institutions must learn to support. And readiness cannot be rushed. It develops in environments that are clear, consistent, and safe. Spaces where students can begin to see support not as something that labels them, rather as something that helps.