Over the past few months, I’ve been struggling with the uncertainty of what college life will look like for Samuel. The fear of him getting lost in the system, the potential negative influences, and the lack of adequate provisions for students with unique needs have weighed heavily on my heart. I’m not afraid of him failing academically—he is more than capable—but rather of a system that isn’t designed to support students like him.
When Samuel received his admission offer, my first instinct was to visit the school to understand what accessibility services were available before he accepted. During the “Open House” session, I initially felt reassured by the impression that there was strong support for students with developmental disabilities. However, I was shocked to learn that their definition of support was geared toward individuals who can clearly articulate their own needs or individuals with physical needs.
Samuel’s situation is different. While he knows he is autistic, he has been fortunate to grow up in an environment where his differences were never emphasized. He is a kind and gentle soul—patient, accommodating, and always willing to give up his spot for others. But self-advocacy is one of his biggest challenges. He will speak up when something is truly important to him, but more often than not, he doesn’t push for what he needs. This is why I’ve always been there to advocate for him, ensuring his rights are protected. Unfortunately, his quiet nature makes it easy for others to overlook or dismiss his needs.
After receiving the admission offer, I scheduled a meeting with the disability services representative to better understand what accommodations would be available to him. I knew the support wouldn’t be at the same level as in secondary school, but I expected there to be a structured strategy in place to help him succeed.
The first obstacle? I wasn’t allowed to book the appointment for him. Anyone who knows Samuel understands that he is a person of very few words. The second obstacle? He had to independently present what he believed he needed, without any input from me. Of course, during the meeting, I eventually had to step in—and while the representative was welcoming, I was ultimately told that I could not intervene further.
I am deeply concerned about what college will look like for Samuel. I fear that he will be lost in the system. I fear what September will bring. And just like every other time Samuel has started at a new school, I fear the battles I will have to fight—before, during, and long after the semester begins. This is causing me lots of sleep time. I am excited for him, but I am equally as afraid for him.
Please pray for us—the road ahead may be rough, but as usual, we will overcome. Shalom! 😊✨