Smart, Autistic, and Done Being Overlooked

Every mind holds potential sometimes, it just needs the right key

There’s a specific kind of frustration that comes when people look at you and all they see is what they think you can’t do.

Growing up autistic, I wasn’t always seen clearly. I was placed in special education classes—more than once—not because I couldn’t think or learn, but because I processed the world differently. I struggled with things like multiplication tables. But I wasn’t behind in curiosity. I wasn’t behind in the drive. I wasn’t behind in potential.

And yet, I found myself in life skills classrooms where the environment didn’t challenge or inspire me—just contained me. One student bit a teacher. Others needed far more support than I ever did. And there I was, sitting quietly, asking myself: How did they decide this was where I belonged?

I wasn’t disruptive. I wasn’t disengaged. I just needed a different kind of support—one that encouraged growth, not limitations.

The Labels That Miss the Point

People didn’t always know what to do with someone like me. I was diagnosed with autism early, and that carried a whole set of assumptions. I was enrolled in speech therapy, occupational therapy, and pulled from class for “support.” Some of those services helped—but the assumptions didn’t.

Because the system often confused “support” with restriction.

When I transferred to a private school, they were shocked at how far behind I was in basic math. Not because I wasn’t capable—but because the schools I’d been in before didn’t take the time to teach me properly. They saw my diagnosis first and forgot to see me at all.

The Moment I Took Control

In high school, I had enough. I was placed in special ed again—without reason, without conversation, without recognition of the fact that I had goals, dreams, and the ability to succeed. I knew I didn’t belong there. I knew I had outgrown it. So I demanded to be taken out.

That wasn’t just about switching classrooms. That was me taking my future back.

Since then, I’ve been doing things on my terms. I’m now in college, studying psychology. I’m writing, speaking, building an app, and preparing to share my voice with the world.

I was never the problem. The system just didn’t know how to see me.

What I’ve Learned — and What I Want Others to Know

I didn’t need to be “fixed.” I needed to be respected.

I didn’t need to be managed. I needed to be mentored.

And most of all—I didn’t need people to speak for me. I needed them to listen to me.

If you’re autistic and you’ve ever felt misunderstood, boxed in, or underestimated—I want you to know something: You are not alone. Your path might be different. Your strengths might not always be obvious to everyone. But they are there. And they are real.

This Is Bigger Than Me

The system needs to do better. Not every autistic person belongs in special ed. Not every student who learns differently needs to be separated, silenced, or slowed down.

We deserve more than just access—we deserve opportunity.

I share my story not because it’s unique, but because it’s common. And that’s the problem. Too many students are misjudged because of how they show up in the world.

Let’s change that.

Let’s build classrooms and workplaces that believe in neurodivergent minds from the start.

To Every Student Who’s Ever Felt Misunderstood

You are not broken.

You are not too much.

You are not a burden.

You may be smart in ways the system doesn’t always recognize. But that doesn’t make you any less valid—or any less worthy of success.

Speak up. Stay curious. Keep pushing.

Your future isn’t defined by where you started.

It’s built by how far you’re willing to go.

And trust me—you’re going far.