How Scholarship Programs Can Better Support Neurodiverse Students
Sarah and I were talking once, and she stopped mid-conversation and said, "Erika, your brain is literally the brainstorm scene in Inside Out 2."
You know the one. Anxiety's room. Thoughts pouring in from every direction, fast and loud and impossible to slow down. No off switch. Just…motion.
I laughed aloud. Because she's totally right.
I don't know if I have ADHD. But I know that brainstorm is my brain.
Big ideas. Often too many at once.
Halfway through one thought and already chasing the next. Connections that make perfect sense to me and need translation for everyone else.
Some days that's a superpower. Some days it's exhausting. Usually both at the same time.
The older I get, the more clearly I can see it: what lights me up, what drains me, where I need structure and where structure just gets in the way. That self-knowledge took a while, and I know I'm still building it.
So did I love reading Sarah's piece for NSPA this month? Yes, I did — so much.
She wrote it for Neurodiversity Awareness Month — April — and it's both personal and practical. Her argument is simple: your scholarship program was probably designed by neurotypical people, for neurotypical people. And 1 in 5 students isn't.
That landed for me. Because I see it in my own brain, and I see it in the students our clients serve every day.
A strategy issue, not a sensitivity one
Neurodivergence — ADHD, autism, dyslexia, and related differences — shows up more often in students navigating financial stress, family obligations, and first-generation college experiences.
Which is to say: the students your scholarship was built to serve.
If your process quietly filters them out — through dense instructions, ambiguous prompts, or high-stimulation interview settings — you may not be losing underqualified applicants. You may be losing great ones.
This isn't about lowering standards. It's about stopping the accidental filtering of great students.
Small changes, big difference
Sarah's full piece is worth reading — link below. Here's what stuck with me, extended a little beyond the application itself.
Be clear and concise, everywhere. Not just in your application instructions. In your award letters, your renewal reminders, your check-in emails. If you're writing something a student needs to act on, bullets and bold text aren't just stylistic choices — they're access.
Share questions in advance. Sending interview prompts ahead of time isn't tipping your hand — it's giving every student a fair shot at showing you their best thinking, not just their fastest.
Rethink what "professional" looks like. Eye contact, busy environments, rapid back-and-forth — these can be genuinely overwhelming for some students, especially younger ones still learning how they work best. How someone presents in an interview isn't always a preview of how they'll show up in your program.
Send reminders without judgment. A missed deadline isn't always carelessness. Sometimes a student's cognitive load has simply pushed your email out of view. It's a small thing that lands big for students who need it.
Ask students what's working. An open feedback question in your application or post-cycle survey can tell you more than you'd expect. Younger students are often more comfortable naming what they need than any previous generation. Let them tell you.
These aren't accommodations for the few. They're improvements for everyone.
Read Sarah's full piece on the NSPA blog — it's personal and worth sharing with your team. Read it here.
If it surfaces questions about your own program design — whether your process is actually reaching the students you mean to reach — that's a conversation we'd love to have. Talk to us.
