At the beginning of every semester, students receive the same reminder: “If you need accommodations, contact student accessibility services.” This sounds like a breeze: fill out a few forms, submit a couple of documents and everything is all good…right?
Though what if this “simple” reminder sends your brain into a spiral of stress you don’t know how to explain? For many neurodivergent individuals, this reminder can send an overwhelming sense of urgency and thoughts, causing students to slam face-first into a brick wall called task paralysis, also known as analysis paralysis.
Additionally, analysis paralysis does not equal procrastination; while the two can look similar, they have distinct differences. Task paralysis is an unconscious mental block where an individual is unable to initiate or complete tasks, whereas procrastination is the conscious choice to put off or delay a task.
A “simple” process encased in deadlines, documents and email chains quickly becomes overwhelming, and unintentionally creates a roadblock for neurodivergent students. On paper, Simpson’s system looks all-inclusive, but when in action, it often favors students with strong executive function skills, which is something many neurodiverse students already struggle with.
For the system to work correctly, students must fill out multiple forms, contact professors and follow up if they don’t respond, all while still managing classes, homework, social life and sometimes athletics. This is ironic as “accessibility” is only accessible if you’re already functioning at a high level.
Even after a student completes the process, there’s no guarantee there will be consistency. Many professors at Simpson are very supportive, understanding and flexible, but others treat accommodation letters like an inconvenience, or forget about them entirely.
It’s common for students to feel embarrassed or burdensome when they have to remind their professors to accommodate and support them; as a result, some students stop asking for the help and access they need.
All of this combined can take a mental toll; trying to navigate a system which isn’t quite made for you is draining. At times, it can feel isolating, especially when you already feel ashamed and guilty for needing extra help, and every barrier reinforces the thoughts and feelings of asking for too much. In reality, students are simply asking for support and the opportunity to succeed like everyone else.
While Simpson and the accessibility services faculty genuinely want to help and work hard within the limits they have, the system itself isn’t built for neurodivergent brains. Real and honest accessibility shouldn’t require endless self-advocacy or flawless organization; the system should make the process easier, not harder.
Living while neurodivergent in college means different things for different people, but no matter what, it still comes with fighting battles most people never see, such as battles with your own brain, deadlines or with a system which doesn’t always fit the way you think.
Inclusion should not depend on how well you can function; it should meet students where they are and not where the system assumes they should be.
