Learning the ‘Unspoken Rules’

Inside the maker space at the Rochester Institute of Technology, teams of students from the college’s autism-support program are testing 3D printers they just built. The machines whir as they pull strands of orange filament from large spools, melt the plastic, and squeeze it onto build plates, like frosting from a piping bag.

At one table, Grace Marcus, a junior, and her team are trying to print a tugboat called Benchy, for benchmark. Next to them, a pair of Dungeons & Dragons enthusiasts is attempting to produce a set of multifaceted dice. While their machines build up their models, layer by molten layer, the students prepare a presentation for the “client” who will receive the printers: a campus center that works with K-12 youth.

Welcome to RIT’s Career Ready Bootcamp, a two- to three-week program that is part of a nascent effort to tackle stubbornly high unemployment rates among autistic college graduates. Though few colleges are as far along as RIT, more than 50 institutions have joined a newly formed council focused on better preparing autistic students for employment.

Many of the things colleges are trying — from mock interviews and performance reviews, to meetings with employers — would benefit all students, says Cristina M. Giannantonio, co-editor of the book Generation A: Research on Autism in the Workplace. But they’re especially helpful for students on the spectrum, who often struggle through the hiring process.

Researchers estimate that as many as 1.1 million people with autism spectrum disorder will enter adulthood in the current decade. Increasing their numbers in the labor force has the potential to shrink the skills gap, lower the costs associated with providing public benefits, and create a more diverse work force, Giannantonio and her co-editor, Amy E. Hurley-Hanson, argue.

Recognizing these benefits, some major companies, including the tech giants SAP and Microsoft, have built new initiatives to recruit autistic employees.

Yet even as employers become more open to hiring neurodiverse graduates, their hiring practices often shut those graduates out. Young adults with autism have some of the highest joblessness rates of individuals with disabilities, with more than 30 percent of autistic college graduates unemployed, one study found. Among graduates with jobs, a full quarter are in office- and administrative-support roles.

Advocates say a key culprit is the interview process, which favors candidates who put the interviewer at ease. Recruiters want someone who makes regular eye contact, picks up on social cues, and laughs at their jokes, says Zoe Gross, director of advocacy for the Autistic Self Advocacy Network. An autistic candidate might be exceptionally qualified but exhibit none of those behaviors.

Interviewing is “not about whether someone can do the job well,” Gross says, “it’s about how that person makes them feel.”

In RIT’s boot camp, students on the spectrum take part in mock interviews and meet with potential employers. They also practice working in teams, honing soft skills like communication, compromise, and overcoming setbacks, while building a 3D printer.

And setbacks they’ve had. When Grace’s team was assembling its printer, they accidentally used some spare parts left on their table and had to spend the rest of the day taking the machine apart. Their first attempt at a 3D print — a “Rocktopus” with an octopus body and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s body — failed after five minutes.

Now, with the presentation looming, Grace’s team is nervous that they won’t be ready for the run-through. The instruction manual and trouble-shooting guide they’re working on still isn’t finished, and only two hours remain. Gareth Nelson, a sophomore, tells them not to worry.

“Sometimes it’s best to go with the flow and make things up on the spot,” he says.

A little later, the printer completes the tugboat. Grace lifts up the tiny, perfect vessel to show the others. “It worked!” she says, smiling.

Grace, who is studying computer-engineering technology, says her experience with interviews has been mixed. Last summer, she interviewed for a job at a robotics camp, and she was given the head-teacher position. But before that, she was rejected for a job at Starbucks after the hiring manager asked if she had a disability, and she spilled details about her autism.

“They said I seemed high maintenance,” she says.

At a recent RIT job fair, the recruiter from Lockheed Martin handed her a folder of information, and simply said, “Impress me.” Open-ended questions like that make Grace panic.

“I don’t think I impressed him,” she says, adding that she’s more relaxed when she can discuss a specific topic or goal.

Gareth has interviewed only once, for a summer job with a baseball league for people with disabilities, and says it was basically a formality, since he’d already interned there. He worries that his tendency to stammer when he gets nervous will doom him in a real interview.

“Things like that travel in the industry,” says Gareth, who is studying game design. “I don’t want to blacklist myself.”

The number of colleges offering support programs for students on the spectrum has doubled over the past five years, reaching roughly 100 in 2022, according to an analysis by members of the College Autism Network. But only a small subset of the programs offer job preparation, says Judy Reilly, director of the Center for Neurodiversity and Employment Innovation at the University of Connecticut, which recently formed a university council to spread best practices.

Ideally, Reilly says, colleges should offer credit-based career-readiness coursework and mandatory internships with autism-friendly employers. Colleges should also work with employers to make their hiring and employment practices more inclusive, she adds.

Reilly says job preparation for students with autism doesn’t need to be part of a standalone program like RIT’s; responsibility can rest with career services, disability services, or another office. The key is that support for neurodiverse students can’t focus only on getting students through college; it must prepare them for life after graduation, too — something colleges increasingly see as essential for all students.

When RIT started its boot camp four years ago, with a gift from a donor whose son had been part of the college’s Spectrum Support Program, many autistic students were switching majors or dropping out entirely because they couldn’t secure the co-ops their programs required.

At first, the program offered to pay interns’ stipends, as a sweetener to potential co-op employers, recalls Kendra Evans, who runs the boot camp. Now, she says, employers looking for talented autistic interns come to her saying “my first choice was taken — who else do you have?”

“The field is still not where I want it to be, but comparatively speaking, it’s exploding,” Evans says. “Companies are recognizing that they need to work on diversity, equity and inclusion, and neurodiversity is another type they need to be thinking of.”

As coordinator of RIT’s Neurodiverse Hiring Initiative, Evans prepares companies to effectively recruit and supervise such students, offering free online-training modules and troubleshooting after a student is hired.

She also prepares the students themselves. During boot camp, Evans conducts mock interviews with the students, asking questions that target soft skills, like “Tell me about the last time you were part of a team that proved to be very effective,” and “Describe a time that you successfully coped with pressure.”

Evans also coaches students that they can make the interview process less daunting by asking for questions in advance, or by requesting to record answers, rather than interviewing live. Many people with autism have slower processing times, and video allows for multiple takes, she says.

Declan Naughton, a junior studying web and mobile computing, says he was happy to learn he could ask for an alternative to an interview, such as making a presentation. He has alexithymia, a condition that makes it hard for him to identify and express emotions, and he worries that he’ll come across as sarcastic or hurt, or misinterpret an interviewer’s expressions.

Making a presentation “allows me to show off my technical skills without my emotional skills getting in the way,” he says.

Gross says colleges must walk “a fine line” when preparing students for interviews. While it is fine to teach students strategies, like how to fake eye contact by looking between the interviewer’s eyes, students shouldn’t be told they have to “act neurotypical” to get hired.

“Masking your autistic traits can be painful and difficult for autistic people,” Gross says. Instructing students to do so “sends the message that the way we are isn’t good enough. And it’s not possible for some autistic people.”

The efforts by RIT and other colleges come as some Fortune 500 companies are creating or expanding programs to hire and retain employees with autism, citing the fresh perspective, attention to detail, and dedication they often bring to jobs.

The trailblazer was SAP, which in 2013 announced a goal of having one percent of its work force made up of autistic employees by 2020. Since then, more than 50 other major corporations have begun hiring initiatives targeting neurodiverse people.

“It is really an untapped talent pool,” says Dominique Jones, associate talent acquisition program manager for Southwest Airlines, which started a neurodiversity internship program last year, with RIT’s help.

Researchers say hiring neurodiverse employees doesn’t just help individuals live more fulfilling, self-sustaining lives; it also benefits the company’s culture, reputation, and bottom line.

“People who think differently can really change the way an organization problem-solves and innovates,” says Amy-Jane Griffiths, an assistant professor of clinical counseling at Chapman University who studies the transition to employment for underserved students. “Employers may think they’re providing a service” by accommodating individuals on the spectrum, but “they benefit, too. It’s not charity.”

In some cases, companies have modified their hiring practices to make them friendlier to individuals with autism. Travelers Insurance, which offers a summer internship for college students, lets autistic candidates ask questions over chat before they apply, and trains its interviewers to break down open-ended questions into smaller, concrete chunks.

Jim McMahon, the director of inclusive-talent acquisition for Travelers, says he learned the importance of scaffolding interview questions a few years ago, when he hosted a job-shadowing event for autistic students and asked them to share something about themselves.

“There was dead silence,” McMahon recalls. Finally, one of the moms jumped in and said, ‘Let me help: Tell us your name, your school, your major, and one fun fact.’”

Other companies, including Southwest Airlines, have set aside slots for autistic interns, allowing them to do the initial screening over chat, rather than the phone, and giving them detailed “tips and tricks” for preparing for an interview. Eventually, Southwest hopes to do away with that “side door” for autistic candidates, and make its hiring process work for everyone, Jones says.

Laurie Ackles, director of RIT’s Spectrum Support Program, says she’s pleased with the progress but would like to see more employers embrace “skills-based” interviewing, focusing more on what a candidate can do, and less on how they present themselves. Employers should also rewrite their job descriptions, jettisoning jargon and vague criteria like “strong communication skills” or “team player.”

“What does ‘team player’ even mean?” Ackles asks.

Grace and Gareth say they’re glad companies are taking more of an interest in neurodiverse candidates, but they’re still not convinced employers appreciate what they can contribute.

“It’s a good check box to say your neurodiverse population is high,” says Grace, who believes her ability to hyper-focus will be an asset to employers.

“I have trouble switching between activities, but if you give me a project, I won’t let go until it’s done,” she adds. “Somebody just has to remind me to eat occasionally.”

The white noise in the maker space is loud, so Evans suggests the students retreat to quiet spaces on campus for the online run-through of their client presentation.

After lunch in the dining hall, Grace finds a cluster of chairs in a hallway, and Gareth rushes home, barely making it in time. Their group is up first, and Gareth is noticeably flustered, fumbling for words. His “make things up on the spot” approach isn’t working.

He recovers fairly quickly, and the rest of the group’s presentation goes smoothly, but the stumble doesn’t go unnoticed. “You need to practice more,” Declan tells the group during feedback.

“I got flabbergasted,” Gareth apologies, “I wasn’t prepared — I just got back from walking home.” Evans reminds him that’s why they do the run-through, and suggests “a little scripting, so you’re jazzy and confident” for the real thing.

The next day, the presentation goes perfectly. Gareth introduces the 3D printer to the client, and then Grace and the rest of the group describe how to set it up, print files, and fix problems. Donna Burnette, executive director of RIT’s K-12 University Center, thanks the group for “listening to my needs” and providing instructions and trouble-shooting tips a layperson could use.

After the presentation, Evans delivers the students’ “performance reviews.” Before beginning, she reminds them to highlight two things they’re best at, and one thing they could work on, to “show self-reflection and initiative.”

Gareth says building a printer gave him confidence in his ability to do complicated things, and he wants to work on his anxiety around public speaking. Evans compliments him on his improvement in the client presentation and praises his professional appearance. She suggests they meet to practice before his next interview.

“Having practice helped get the nerves out,” he agrees. “More practice will help.”

Grace says her strengths lie in her ability to focus, and her biggest challenge is staying organized when there are “a lot of different tasks.” Evans praises her self-awareness, and they discuss strategies she could use to better manage multiple tasks.

Evans tells Grace she gives the impression of being on top of everything and asks if she’s “a bit like a duck” — calm on the surface but churning water underneath.

Grace doesn’t deny it, but says her parents liken her to a different bird — an ostrich: “When problems get too big, and I need to ask for help, I stick my head in the ground,” she says.

Evans encourages her to have regular check-ins with future job supervisors, before she gets overwhelmed.

It’s a little early to say RIT’s boot camp is raising job-placement rates among its autistic graduates, since many of the students who have taken part are still enrolled. But of the 11 students from the 2018-19 cohort who have graduated, at least eight have landed full-time jobs. (Ackles wasn’t sure of the status of the other three.)

Keeping the students employed may be a bigger challenge. Retention rates for employees with autism are notoriously low, in part because workplaces weren’t designed with them in mind.

“Often, there is a lack of explicit communication, direction, predictability and routine — things that autistic people really thrive on,” says Ackles. And in every job, there are “unspoken rules and cultures that aren’t always clear, even to neurotypical people,” Evans adds.

The next step for RIT’s program will be teaching students how to navigate the work force once they’re hired. Evans envisions a series of training videos for alums.

“You’ve got the job,” she says, “now what?”