Inclusive Academia: Reflections on Autistic Graduate Teaching Assistants’ Experiences of Learning and Teaching in Higher Education

Abstract

This commentary presents a collaborative autoethnography exploring the experiences of two autistic Graduate Teaching Assistants (GTAs) who navigated postgraduate study and teaching responsibilities within UK higher education under overlapping contracts. Drawing from our shared autistic neurotype and broader neurodivergent experiences, we critically examine the distinct cognitive, emotional, and relational demands inherent to the GTA role. We reflect on how these challenges interact with our autistic processing, including executive functioning, sensory processing, and social communication, as well as the additional pressures arising from life circumstances such as parenting and the timing of diagnosis. Through this discussion, we illustrate how informal peer support, intuitive co-teaching arrangements, and neuro-affirming practices were critical protective factors, enhancing our sense of stability and reducing isolation. By examining the limitations of existing support structures, we draw from recent literature to recommend peer mentoring, accessible onboarding, flexible roles, and university-wide neuro-inclusive training, with the intention of promoting inclusive changes that enhance well-being, academic success, and genuinely inclusive higher education settings.

Lay Abstract

Many autistic and neurodivergent students work as GTAs while pursuing their university studies. However, universities often don't consider how these roles can be more challenging for people with different ways of thinking, feeling, and processing the world. This article shares our experiences as two autistic GTAs. We explain what helped us and what made things more difficult. We talk about issues like unclear instructions, sensory overload, and feeling pressure to hide our true selves. At the same time, we show how working together gave us confidence, support, and a space where we didn't have to mask. We found that peer support, learning from and leaning on each other, made a big difference. But it was not enough on its own. We believe universities need to do more. This includes giving clearer information, offering proper staff training, and ensuring all students feel understood and included. By sharing our story, we hope universities will listen and make changes. When autistic and neurodivergent students are adequately supported, they can thrive as teachers, researchers, and valued members of academic life.

Introduction

As neurodivergent Graduate Teaching Assistants (GTAs) who navigated postgraduate study alongside part-time teaching roles with overlapping contracts, we, Jess and Kirsty, acknowledge a persistent underrepresentation of autistic voices in discussions about academic labour, inclusion, and support structures within higher education (Horlin et al., 2024; Jones, 2022). While this commentary primarily highlights our autistic perspectives, we acknowledge that Jess holds a complex neurodivergent profile. As such, the barriers to participation that we describe may resonate with people identifying with other neurotypes, such as ADHD, dyslexia, and dyspraxia, as well as broader disability groups such as those who experience sleep apnoea. Nonetheless, we also respect the distinctiveness and diversity of neurodivergent experiences, avoiding overgeneralisation.

GTA programmes support students from a broad range of demographics, including those from disadvantaged or minority backgrounds, to pursue postgraduate study while teaching. However, the specific demands placed on neurodivergent GTAs frequently present unique challenges that are not sufficiently considered in institutional planning. These challenges include cognitive differences related to executive functioning, particularly in planning, task-switching, and working memory (Huizinga et al., 2018), and heightened sensory sensitivities to environmental stimuli such as noise, lighting, and crowded spaces (Nolan et al., 2022), as well as differences in social communication (Gurbuz et al., 2018). Emotional and relational demands may also be heightened, particularly in settings where compassion and empathy are interpreted and applied through neurotypical frameworks, which do not align with neurodivergent expressions of care and relational interactions (Hamilton & Petty, 2023).

Through a collaborative autoethnographic approach, we critically reflect on our experiences as GTAs, exploring how teaching demands, doctoral research pressures, and intersecting personal circumstances impacted our academic journeys. This focus is significant given that the GTA role is a vital first step toward gaining the experience necessary for an academic career. Neurodivergent people are more likely to face barriers to stable employment, including higher rates of underemployment, temporary contracts, and shorter work periods compared to their neurotypical peers (Branicki et al., 2024). Understanding how these patterns manifest within postgraduate roles can help identify systemic issues and inform more inclusive approaches. The conditions under which GTAs work have significant implications for equity of access, career progression, and the cultivation of inclusive academic environments. By integrating lived experience with current literature, our commentary aims to inform meaningful, systemic improvements in academic support structures, ultimately promoting a more inclusive, responsive, and sustainable environment for neurodivergent scholars in higher education.

In the sections that follow, we reflect on how our neurodivergent identities intersected with the structural and interpersonal demands of the GTA role, examining both the challenges we faced and the strategies that supported us.

Graduate Teaching Assistant Roles and Intersectionality

As neurodivergent people, we experienced the GTA role as both an essential opportunity and a complex challenge. While the scholarship opened valuable pathways into academia, it also revealed barriers shaped by the intersections of our identities. Crenshaw's (1989) concept of intersectionality offers a critical framework for understanding how these barriers do not exist in isolation but compound in often-unseen ways. Autistic and otherwise neurodivergent people are frequently perceived through a reductive lens, with challenges attributed to diagnosis, while broader environmental and intersectional factors are overlooked. This one-dimensional framing restricts both our understanding of autistic experiences and the development of appropriate support. By contrast, an intersectional approach offers a more comprehensive understanding of a person through a broader contextual lens, acknowledging the varied lived experiences in which autistic people engage across life, work, and study (Mallipeddi & VanDaalen, 2022).

Our experiences were shaped not only by neurodivergence but also by factors such as age, social class, caregiving responsibilities, and other life circumstances, which added complexity to our GTA roles. For Kirsty, receiving her autism diagnosis during her doctoral studies influenced how she understood her needs, communicated with supervisors, and navigated the university. For Jess, parenting neurodivergent children brought additional emotional labour and logistical challenges, intensifying the difficulty of balancing postgraduate study with teaching responsibilities. These intersecting factors influenced our approach to GTA roles, access to support, and overall sense of belonging.

Although the sources of our challenges varied, the effects were strikingly similar: sensory overload, disrupted sleep, emotional strain, and persistent anxiety. These shared experiences reflect how autistic neurology shapes our processing and responses to ongoing demands. However, the specific circumstances that contributed to these responses were unique to each of us. This emphasises the importance of an intersectional approach to supporting neurodivergent GTAs, recognising that while outward signs of stress may appear similar, the underlying causes are shaped by each person's context, responsibilities, and access to support both within and beyond the university (Mantai, 2019). These contextual differences must be considered when interpreting stress responses and implementing effective support.

The Invisible Nature of Neurodivergence

Autistic and otherwise neurodivergent students encounter additional, often invisible barriers compared to their neurotypical peers, negatively affecting their overall experience within university life, particularly across learning and teaching activities. These challenges include, but are not limited to, deciphering unspoken expectations (Horlin et al., 2024), the ongoing need for self-advocacy, and the effort required to maintain energy levels through effective self-pacing (Gurbuz et al., 2018). Jess recalled the difficulty of sustaining the energy required for her evening teaching seminars, explaining how her body would enter a physically stressed state, only to be met with the dismissive response: ‘everyone gets tired’. By contrast, when she spoke about IBS symptoms triggered by this stress, she received genuine sympathy. This disparity demonstrated how less common experiences were minimised, while more familiar health issues were acknowledged and validated.

The sensory demands of travel and classroom teaching, combined with the transition from PhD work to evening seminars, were not recognised in the same way as the more ‘typical’ experience of stomach-related discomfort. This lack of recognition created further barriers for Jess, who felt unable to express her needs without fear of being judged as weak or complaining. In reality, she was attempting to communicate genuine distress. A diagnosis of sleep apnoea later explained her fatigue and physical strain, a condition marked by oxygen deprivation at night that intensifies cognitive difficulties and fatigue (Abbasil et al., 2021). This diagnosis compounded the challenges she already faced due to her neurodivergence.

The contrast between sympathy for the medically recognised IBS and unidentified needs or those associated with neurodivergence highlights the importance of recognising disability in its broader forms and of extending empathy even when experiences are less common or not validated by a formal diagnosis. Expressions of distress should not be minimised but acknowledged as legitimate needs requiring support. Although sleep apnoea was distinct from Jess's neurodevelopmental conditions, the cumulative impact of medical and neurodivergent needs, informed challenges far greater than might be expected from a single diagnosis in isolation. This highlights that a neurodivergent student or employee's struggles need not be fully understood, neatly categorised, or diagnosed to warrant empathy, support, and accommodation.

Teaching as a Source of Joy and Exhaustion

Teaching was among the most fulfilling aspects of our GTA role. It provided meaningful opportunities to model inclusive practices and engage students in ways aligned with our values. For Kirsty, collaborative teaching created space for reflection and reduced cognitive demands. For Jess, collaborating with Kirsty, who was already experienced in her role, offered valuable insights into navigating postgraduate teaching from an autistic perspective. Shared learning and mutual support provided an opportunity for us to confidently bring our neurodivergent strengths into the classroom, developing teaching practices grounded in understanding, authenticity, and shared neurodivergent values.

Co-facilitating seminars was particularly impactful. Sharing a neurotype enabled us to establish an intuitive and balanced dynamic, facilitating seamless mutual support. When one of us experienced sensory overload or decision fatigue, the other would sense the discomfort and step in effortlessly. This neuro-kinship fostered an informal support system that reduced anxiety and improved the consistency and quality of our teaching. Our experience aligns with emerging research on neurocognitive perspectives, highlighting the advantages of shared neurotypes in communication (Milton, 2012; Davis & Crompton, 2021). It demonstrates how supported neurodivergent approaches can create effective, relationally attuned learning environments.

Co-teaching eased the mental demands associated with managing cognitively distinct roles. We found that teaching and research have different cognitive demands, requiring distinct approaches to energy regulation. Furthermore, frequent transitions between these roles increase cognitive load. Collaborating in planning and delivery, assigning roles based on individual strengths, and establishing clear transitions helped sustainably manage these demands. This approach mirrored the benefits of body doubling, a technique often utilised by neurodivergent people to enhance focus, reduce overwhelm, and support task initiation through co-regulation and shared presence (Eagle et al., 2024).

Pairing neurodivergent GTAs, especially those with similar communication styles, access needs, or lived experiences, can provide critical support and reduce isolation common in early-career academic roles (Belkhir et al., 2019). We found that such partnerships have the potential to build confidence, foster resilience, and significantly enhance teaching experiences. However, we acknowledge that the emotional demands of doctoral studies should not be underestimated.

Navigating the Psychological Toll of Doctoral Study

The emotional demands of the doctoral journey are considerable. While GTA roles offer opportunities to explore specialised research interests and contribute original insights, successful progression is shaped by multiple factors, including clearly defined project goals, a sense of belonging, and manageable expectations (Van Rooij et al., 2019). For autistic GTAs, the effort required to interpret indirect or socially nuanced communication can amount to significant invisible labour, often overlooked and unsupported within academic environments.

What may seem like a minor interaction to others, such as an academic colleague telling Kirsty to ‘speak to me later’, can result in extended anxiety when the timeframe remains vague. Likewise, Jess experienced considerable discomfort following feedback that was implicitly evaluative but lacked clarity, undermining her sense of connection and security within the academic setting. Such moments, while seemingly minor, can have a cumulative impact. Given that anxiety is a leading reason students cite for discontinuing higher education (McPeake et al., 2023), these experiences highlight the importance of clear communication and inclusive practices for fostering belonging and retention among neurodivergent researchers.

The interpretive effort required to decipher communication can also be exacerbated by expectations to mask (Pryke-Hobbes et al., 2023), involving suppressing uncertainty, tolerating sensory discomfort, or adopting neurotypical communication styles to align with perceived academic norms. For autistic people, masking imposes considerable psychological strain, contributing to exhaustion, isolation, deteriorating mental and physical health, and diminished identity (Bradley et al., 2021). For Kirsty, receiving her autism diagnosis during her doctoral studies significantly impacted her journey. Initially compelled to mask her challenges, the diagnosis ultimately facilitated self-understanding, reduced the pressure to mask, and enabled access to essential support.

Psychological safety, the belief that you can express uncertainty, ask questions, and act authentically without fear of negative consequences (Edmondson, 1999), is crucial for effective learning and collaboration. In doctoral education, where ambiguity, intellectual risk-taking, and sustained independent work are part of everyday practice, this sense of safety is particularly significant. Adequate supervision and a sense of belonging in the broader research community are pivotal to doctoral success (Rönkkönen et al., 2024). As such, a relational approach to supervision, grounded in psychological safety, provides this support through curiosity, experimentation, shared exploration of working methods, and openness to vulnerability (Szorenyi & Payne, 2025). Our mentoring relationship bridged a gap where relational challenges arose, creating a space to share confusion or overwhelm without fear of judgement.

Peer Mentoring: Lived Experience in Action

While formal mentorship schemes often focus on academic progression or skill development, our experience with peer mentoring was more organic, and perhaps more impactful because of it. Peer mentoring benefits many student groups, particularly those facing significant challenges (Le et al., 2024). Establishing meaningful connections is especially important for autistic people navigating higher education (Tan et al., 2025). Without an institutional structure, our connection developed naturally through shared supervision and overlapping timelines, gradually forming a trusting and supportive relationship that significantly aided our GTA experiences.

This informal mentoring offered both emotional and practical support. Emotionally, it provided a rare, safe space to share experiences without masking, confident that the other would understand our cognitive processing styles, communication needs, and energy constraints. Practically, we assisted each other in interpreting feedback, navigating institutional language, and preparing for potentially overwhelming teaching or supervision scenarios. Shadowing each other's seminars and engaging in co-teaching further built our confidence, resilience, and reflective practice. Although invaluable, peer mentoring should not replace structured institutional support. Without formal recognition or resources, such relationships risk becoming another form of unacknowledged labour for neurodivergent scholars.

The benefits of peer mentoring were undeniable. However, as noted earlier in this commentary, our roles overlapped only temporarily due to the structure of our contracts. After Jess's first year of study, Kirsty completed her PhD and transitioned into post-doctoral roles outside the university. Despite our best efforts to maintain the mentoring relationship, the value of shared, day-to-day experience naturally diminished. While academic encouragement continued, the immediacy of relational support was no longer available. This shift had a noticeable impact on Jess's ability to navigate the remainder of her studies. The informal nature of our mentoring meant the loss of this support went unacknowledged by the university, despite its evident influence on Jess's academic experience.

Redesigning Support Structures for Neurodivergent Scholars

Our experiences with co-teaching, doctoral pressures, and peer mentoring illustrate a broader insight: while informal support strategies are valuable, meaningful and lasting improvements require structural changes. Drawing from recent literature and our lived experiences, we advocate the following specific modifications to postgraduate programme designs to enhance the support of neurodivergent scholars:

Peer mentoring (Le et al., 2024): Develop formal, funded mentoring programmes created explicitly by and for neurodivergent students and ensure consistent support. Rooted in shared experiences, these relationships offer emotional support, alleviate feelings of isolation, and facilitate informal knowledge exchange.

University-wide training (Hamilton & Petty, 2023): Implement comprehensive training in neuro-inclusive communication, emphasising clear feedback, explicit expectations, and psychological safety. While beneficial for all students, these approaches are particularly valuable for those with distinct information-processing needs.

Accessible onboarding (Hartman & Hartman, 2024): Provide clear and explicit induction materials, including visual timelines, glossaries, and practical task examples. These resources help reduce confusion and enable GTAs to begin their roles with confidence.

Role flexibility (Branicki et al., 2024): Reevaluate GTA responsibilities to ensure a balanced approach between teaching and research duties. Introducing flexibility and acknowledging diverse cognitive needs can support well-being without hindering professional development.

It is essential to acknowledge that autistic GTAs, like all staff and students, are legally entitled to reasonable adjustments under The Equality Act (2010)), including specific provisions for neurodivergent needs (Petty et al., 2022). These rights should apply to GTAs in the same way that they do for all academic staff. Incorporating neurodivergent perspectives into programme structures can support universities in developing more inclusive and sustainable academic training environments, enabling all scholars to succeed.

Discussion

This collaborative autoethnographic commentary illustrates how small, thoughtful changes can improve the study and work experiences of neurodivergent GTAs. However, meaningful inclusion requires more than isolated adjustments. The experiences shared here reflect the perspectives of two autistic scholars who chose to disclose their diagnosis during their GTA programme, an option not taken or available to all. Students report a multitude of difficulties when studying at postgraduate levels, including inappropriate support systems, inflexible and unsympathetic supervisors, and entrenched ableism (Szorenyi & Payne, 2025). For this reason, genuine inclusion must extend beyond diagnostic labelling, reactive accommodations, or tokenistic gestures. It should instead be embedded as an ethos and sustained through an inclusive culture across the university. Achieving lasting change depends on cultural transformation, institutional accountability, and a genuine commitment to learning from lived experience.

Our experiences as neurodivergent GTAs were fulfilling and challenging, marked by moments of connection, confidence, and creativity, alongside periods of exhaustion, overwhelm, and uncertainty. Teaching allowed us to put our values into practice, model inclusive pedagogy, and build meaningful relationships with students. Nevertheless, this sense of purpose often came with significant emotional and cognitive labour, which remained unacknowledged within formal higher education systems. The support that sustained us came from peer relationships, understanding, and strategies developed through our shared experiences of neurodivergence.

This reliance on informal support highlights a deeper issue: meaningful inclusion for neurodivergent scholars is still too often left to chance. Our mentoring relationship helped us manage the demands of teaching and research, but it developed organically, through mutual trust and shared context, rather than through formal, resourced provision. When support depends on the invisible labour of those already navigating high demands, it becomes unsustainable. Inclusion must be anticipated, embedded into academic life, and adequately resourced, not left to emerge in response to unmet needs.

Avoiding tokenistic practices is essential for GTA success. Creating inclusive learning and working environments begins with recognising neurodivergence as a natural and valuable part of human diversity that not only includes neurodivergent people but also listens to and responds to their needs. Rather than relying on reactive accommodations, universities must take a proactive, relational approach to GTA programme design. This includes structuring roles to support smoother transitions between teaching and research, providing accessible and communicated onboarding processes, and ensuring feedback is constructive, consistent, and growth-oriented. Recognising that neurodivergent GTAs may communicate, plan, or process information differently and creating space for those differences can enhance individual performance and broader academic culture.

Academic support plays a central role in shaping the GTA experience. Our reflections show how the quality of supervisory relationships directly influenced our well-being and confidence. When supervisors provided clear communication, predictable feedback, and space for uncertainty, we felt more secure, motivated, and able to take intellectual risks. In contrast, ambiguous or inconsistent guidance significantly affected our mental health and sense of belonging. University-wide training in neuro-inclusive supervision, informed by the experiences of neurodivergent students, should be a core component of postgraduate education. Approaches grounded in clarity, empathy, and flexibility support neurodivergent scholars and benefit all students and staff.

Peer mentoring was also vital to our academic success. Our informal mentoring relationship provided emotional support, practical guidance, and a rare opportunity to communicate openly and honestly. Its value stemmed not from hierarchy but mutual respect and shared experience. Universities can build on this by formally supporting peer-led initiatives through mentoring schemes, structured time allocations, or academic recognition. When rooted in lived experience, these practices help transform isolation into connection and a sense of belonging. When neurodivergent scholars are supported to contribute fully, as teachers, researchers, and mentors, academic spaces become more equitable, sustainable, and human. As such, Inclusion must be more than access; it must create environments where autistic GTAs feel seen, supported, and empowered to lead.