The Neurodiverse Instructor with Neurotypical Students – Faculty Focus

Picture this: you walk into class ready to teach your discipline, your students walk in ready to learn… and everyone assumes
you’re all running the same operating system. But your brain is on a different buildsame goal, different interface.
That’s the everyday reality for many neurodiverse instructors teaching primarily neurotypical students: not “better,” not
“worse,” just different settings, shortcuts, and occasional surprise pop-ups.

The good news? This isn’t a teaching flawit’s a design challenge. And instructors are famously good at design challenges
(we invented rubrics, after all, which is basically the syllabus’ spreadsheet-loving cousin). With a few evidence-informed
strategiesclearer communication norms, more transparent assignments, and course structures that reduce “hidden rules”you can
keep neurotypical students engaged while also teaching in a way that fits your brain.

Neurodiverse vs. Neurotypical: A quick, respectful translation

“Neurodiversity” is a broad way of describing natural differences in how brains process information, communicate, regulate
attention, and experience sensory input. “Neurodivergent” often includes autism, ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia, Tourette syndrome,
and other cognitive profiles. “Neurotypical” refers to people whose neurological development and processing aligns with what
society tends to treat as the default.

In a classroom, these labels matter less as identities and more as a practical reminder: the same message can land very
differently depending on how a brain interprets tone, facial cues, ambiguity, time pressure, or social expectations.
When you’re the instructor, those differences can become especially visiblebecause teaching is communication, and
communication is where assumptions love to hide.

Why this dynamic can get weird fast (and it’s not your imagination)

Many instructors have training on supporting neurodivergent students. Far fewer conversations address the flip side:
what happens when the instructor is neurodivergent and the room is mostly neurotypical? The power dynamic changes,
but the communication gap can still exist. Neurotypical students may expect “teacher signals” that you don’t naturally use
(expressive facial cues, certain tones, casual small talk, or a specific pacing style). Meanwhile, you may expect students
to ask direct questions or follow a step-by-step processonly to find that many students skip steps like they’re speedrunning
a video game.

The result is often misinterpretation: students confuse directness with irritation, quiet focus with coldness, or
a flat-ish delivery with lack of enthusiasm. You may misread silence as understanding or miss subtle signals that students are
lost. Nobody is “wrong.” You’re just speaking related dialects of the same language.

Common friction points (a.k.a. where the classroom gremlins live)

1) Nonverbal cues and “teacher face” expectations

Some neurodiverse instructors don’t track facial expressions, eye contact, or shifts in student mood reliablyespecially when
also managing slides, time, questions, and the existential dread of the classroom projector. Neurotypical students often rely
on your facial cues to decide whether they should interrupt, whether you’re joking, or whether the last quiz was a personal
attack. When those cues don’t show up in the expected way, students fill in the blanks. And humans are… creative.

2) Prosody, sarcasm, and the curse of “tone interpretation”

Tone is the most unreliable grading rubric ever invented. If you speak quickly, loudly, or very directly, students may hear
“angry” when you mean “excited” or “trying to fit the lecture into 50 minutes because time is fake.” Sarcasm can also backfire:
neurotypical students may use it casually; neurodiverse instructors may take it literally or miss the implied meaning, creating
awkward spirals like, “Waitwas that a joke or a critique of my life choices?”

3) Hidden rules and ambiguous instructions

Many neurotypical students have learned the hidden curriculum: what instructors “usually mean,” how flexible deadlines are
(or aren’t), what “discuss” really means in an essay prompt, and how office hours work. If your course relies on unwritten
expectations, neurotypical students can still stumbleand then they blame the material instead of the instructions.
Transparency helps everyone, not just neurodivergent learners.

Teach like a designer: structure is kindness (and also sanity)

A strong approach here is Universal Design for Learning (UDL): create multiple pathways for students to engage with content,
access information, and demonstrate learning. UDL isn’t “lowering standards.” It’s removing unnecessary barriers that aren’t
part of your learning goalslike forcing everyone to prove mastery through one high-pressure format.

Think of it as building a course with ramps, not because everyone uses a wheelchair, but because ramps also help people with
strollers, rolling backpacks, broken ankles, and that one student carrying a suspiciously large iced coffee.
The best part? UDL-style course design often supports the neurodiverse instructor, toobecause it reduces improvisation
pressure and makes the course run on predictable rails.

Practical strategies that help neurotypical students (and protect your bandwidth)

Make “interrupting” an explicit classroom norm

If you can’t reliably read confused faces, don’t force yourself to become a mind readerchange the system.
Say plainly: “If something doesn’t make sense, please interrupt me. I won’t be offended; I’ll be grateful.”
Then back it up with a simple routine: pause every 8–12 minutes and ask a specific question like, “What step did I just do?”
or “Which variable changed?”

This is especially helpful for neurotypical students who have learned that interrupting is “rude.” You’re giving them
permission and a scripttwo things students secretly love.

Use step-by-step explanations on purpose (even when students beg to skip)

Some neurodiverse instructors naturally teach in sequences: define, model, practice, reflect. Many neurotypical students want
the shortcut. Instead of fighting that impulse, name the reason behind the steps:
“We’re doing steps two and three because they prevent the two most common errors on the exam.”

A playful analogy helps. The classic “peanut butter and jelly” example works because it shows how “obvious” steps aren’t
obvious to everyone. (Also, it’s hard to argue with a sandwich.)

Lean on transparent assignment design (Purpose / Task / Criteria)

Transparent assignments reduce the “guess what I want” game. Spell out:

• Purpose: Why this matters (skills, real-world connection, course outcomes).
• Task: What to do, in numbered steps (yes, numbered).
• Criteria: What success looks like (rubric + examples).

Neurotypical students often do fine with vague promptsuntil they don’t. Transparency boosts performance, confidence, and
belonging, and it especially helps students who are new to college norms, first-generation, or juggling heavy life load.
It also reduces repetitive emails like “I don’t understand the assignment” when the real issue is “I don’t understand the
invisible expectations.”

Rubrics: the diplomacy tool you didn’t know you needed

Rubrics aren’t just for grading speed. They reduce emotional interpretation. When a student receives feedback that maps to
clear criteria, they’re less likely to read it as personal judgment and more likely to read it as actionable information.
Rubrics can also make your direct communication feel safer because students can see the logic behind the evaluation.

Offer choices in how students show learning (without turning class into chaos)

You don’t need 47 options. Two or three is plenty:

• Written analysis or recorded explanation with a transcript.
• Traditional quiz or open-note “explain your reasoning” version.
• Individual project or structured partner project with defined roles.

This aligns with UDL’s “multiple means of action and expression” and can reduce performance anxiety for neurotypical students
who struggle with public speaking, timed tests, or ambiguous participation expectations.

Communication that works when you and your students “hear” differently

Say the quiet part out loud (professionally)

You don’t have to disclose diagnoses to be transparent about teaching style. Try a simple statement on day one:
“I teach very directly and I’m focused on the ideas. If my tone ever feels abrupt, please assume positive intent and ask
for clarification. I’m here for you.”

That single minute can prevent weeks of students whispering, “I think the professor hates us,” while you’re over here thinking,
“I literally bought extra dry-erase markers because I care.”

Give students scripts for tricky moments

Neurotypical students often want to advocate for themselves but don’t know how. Provide sentence starters:

• “Can you restate that last part in a different way?”
• “Which step should I focus on first?”
• “Here’s what I think you meanam I on track?”
• “Could you show one more example before we practice?”

Scripts reduce stress, normalize questions, and keep the classroom from turning into a silent confusion museum.

Managing workload and sensory/social pressure as the instructor

Teaching can be a sensory and executive-function marathon: bright lights, constant social processing, time pressure,
and rapid task switching. If you’re neurodiverse, protecting your capacity is not selfishit’s maintenance.
Some practical supports:

• Bounded communication: “I respond to email within 24–48 hours on weekdays.” (Then actually do that.)
• Office hours with structure: 10-minute slots, an intake question, and a clear agenda.
• Templates for common replies: not roboticjust consistent and kind.
• Environmental tweaks: softer lighting, reducing background noise, using a mic to lower vocal strain.
• Teaching routines: the same class rhythm each week (mini-lecture, practice, check-in, recap).

If you need workplace accommodations, U.S. guidance on reasonable accommodations emphasizes practical changes to how work is
done or the environmentconsidered case-by-caseso people can perform essential functions without undue hardship.
In academia, that can translate to scheduling flexibility, assistive tech, modified meeting formats, or workspace adjustments.

When misunderstandings happen: a calm repair plan

Even in well-designed courses, misinterpretations will happen. The goal is quick repair, not perfection.
A useful three-step response:

1. Name the gap: “I think my message didn’t land the way I intended.”
2. Clarify intent: “I’m direct because I want you to succeed, not because I’m upset.”
3. Offer a next step: “Let’s look at one example together and reset.”

This models adult communication for neurotypical students, many of whom are still learning how to handle feedback without
assuming it’s personal rejection. (Yes, that’s a life skill. You’re basically teaching emotional processing as a bonus unit.)

What institutions can do (so individual instructors aren’t forced to “DIY inclusion”)

Neurodiversity-friendly teaching shouldn’t rely on heroic personal effort. Institutions can help by:

• Including neurodiversity explicitly in DEI and teaching-development programming.
• Supporting UDL training and course design consultations (especially for new faculty and adjuncts).
• Providing accessible classroom tech (captioning, mics, flexible seating, reduced sensory overload).
• Normalizing transparent teaching practices across departments.
• Creating clear pathways for faculty accommodations, with privacy and professionalism.

When the system is supportive, neurodiverse instructors can teach from their strengthsdeep expertise, creative connections,
structured thinkingwithout spending all their energy masking or decoding unwritten rules.

Real-world classroom moments: composite experiences from neurodiverse faculty (extra )

The following vignettes are compositescommon experiences described by neurodiverse instructors in higher education. They’re not
one person’s diary; they’re patterns that show up often enough to deserve a flashlight and a practical plan.

Vignette 1: “Why are they so quiet… are they mad?”

An instructor finishes explaining a key concept and asks, “Questions?” The room goes silent. The instructor assumes
comprehension and moves ononly to discover on the next quiz that half the class misunderstood the foundational step.
Later, a student says, “I didn’t want to look dumb.”

The fix wasn’t mind reading. The instructor built in a routine: every 10 minutes, students answered a one-sentence check-in
prompt (“What’s the most confusing part right now?”) using an anonymous form. Participation shot up, confusion surfaced early,
and students reported feeling safer asking questions. Neurotypical students, in particular, appreciated the social cover:
they could admit confusion without the spotlight.

Vignette 2: The “tone” spiral

After returning exams, the instructor says (efficiently), “Most of you lost points on steps two and three; we’re going to fix
that today.” A few students interpret the brisk delivery as disappointment. One emails: “I feel like you were angry.”
The instructor is baffledbecause they were genuinely excited to reteach it better.

The next class, the instructor addressed it briefly: “Quick note: I’m direct and I move fast. If I sound intense, it usually
means I’m focused, not upset. If you’re unsure, ask me.” Then they used a rubric-aligned review sheet that showed exactly
where points were earned and lost. The emotional temperature dropped because students had an objective map. The instructor’s
directness stopped feeling like a mystery and started feeling like clarity.

Vignette 3: “Can’t we just skip to the answer?”

During problem-solving, students push for shortcuts: “Why can’t we just plug it into the formula?” The instructor insists on
process. Tension builds: students want speed; the instructor wants understanding and fewer errors.

The compromise was brilliantly boring (which is a compliment in pedagogy): the instructor labeled each step with the mistake
it prevents. Step 2: “Units checkprevents the most common wrong answer.” Step 3: “Set-upprevents sign errors.”
Suddenly, neurotypical students saw the “why” behind the pacing. The instructor also added a “fast finish” challenge problem
for early completers, so students who craved speed had a legitimate outlet without derailing the core sequence.

Vignette 4: Office hours that feel like a social maze

Some instructors find unstructured office hours draining: open-ended conversations, emotional subtext, and the pressure to
improvise coaching on the fly. Neurotypical students sometimes arrive without a question, expecting the instructor to
diagnose what they needlike an academic mind reader with a whiteboard.

A simple redesign helped both sides. Students booked 10-minute slots and answered two prompts in advance:
“What have you tried?” and “What’s your specific question?” The instructor could prepare a targeted response, students learned
how to ask clearer questions, and the interaction became about problem-solving rather than social guessing. Over time,
neurotypical students reported feeling more confident because they understood what “good help-seeking” looks like.

The takeaway from these composites is consistent: when you replace hidden expectations with visible structuresscripts,
check-ins, rubrics, and transparent tasksneurotypical students adapt quickly. And the instructor gets to teach with less
masking, less confusion, and more of the joyful part: watching ideas click.

Conclusion: different brains, same mission

Being a neurodiverse instructor with neurotypical students isn’t a barrier to great teachingit’s an invitation to teach more
deliberately. When you design for clarity, you reduce misinterpretation. When you normalize questions, you increase learning.
When you use UDL and transparent assignment design, you support a wider range of students while also building a course that
doesn’t require you to perform a constant social magic trick.

In the end, your classroom can become a place where students learn content and learn how to communicate across
differences. That’s not just inclusive teaching. That’s real-world preparationwith fewer awkward emails about “tone,”
and more genuine understanding on all sides.