I worry about twice‑exceptional (2E) kids, especially the ones who shine the brightest in conventional settings. I worry about how to celebrate their achievements without pressuring them to push harder. I worry about how to honour their additional needs without fuelling their anxiety around fitting in.
This article is written primarily for parents who see bright, neurodivergent kids thriving in some respects but struggling in ways that don’t show up on report cards. It’s also for fellow educators, coaches, and school leaders who want to understand what’s happening behind the grades and behaviour policies.
As I write, I’m in London, where social media, the headlines, and the streets are full of people reacting to the tragic death of 41‑year‑old Jason Arday, an autistic academic whose appointment by Cambridge University at 37 made him the institution’s youngest‑ever Black professor.
That Arday was the subject of sustained, invasive media attention, primarily by The Times, The Telegraph and The Daily Mirror, is a matter of record. In the wake of his passing, much commentary has focused on institutional racism; less has focused on how autism fits the picture.
Arday’s trajectory—extraordinary academic success plus intense public scrutiny and, by many accounts, immense personal strain—illustrates how easily high achievement can coexist with unmet support needs (and the heartbreaking consequences that may entail).
The research is unambiguous: neurodivergent (ND) individuals are more susceptible to anxiety and depression (Accardo et al., 2024) and to suicidal thoughts and behaviour (Brown et al., 2024). What is more, ND individuals without intellectual disability are at greater risk of suicide than either neurotypical people or intellectually disabled ND people (Santomauro et al., 2024). In other words, twice‑exceptional young people—those who are both ND and cognitively able—face a higher risk of mental health comorbidities, in part because their abilities can mask need and raise expectations.
Parents and educators, myself included, must not mistake doing well for being well. Students can shine in their areas of strength, appear socially competent, and still struggle. The following are five ND traits that adults need to understand and be attuned to.
Five neurodivergent traits adults need to understand
Masking
Masking is a conscious or unconscious effort to look/act “normal” by either imitating neurotypical behaviours (“cute shoes!”) or suppressing behaviours that come naturally (conversing with cats).
In a qualitative study, Chapman et al. (2022) found that masking increased anxiety, depression, and exhaustion in autistic teens. The researchers’ conclusion that “masking is associated with mental health difficulties” masks, in dry academic language, the emotional, psychological, and sensory onslaughts ND students may face in neurotypical environments.
It is critical to understand that masking is distinct from typical teen efforts to fit in; it involves significant energetic and cognitive effort of which, due to interoception difficulties (more on that in a minute), the ND student may not even be aware. Thus mood swings, meltdowns, shutdowns, and psychosomatic reactions may be interpreted by the teens, and those around them, as “being dramatic”, emotionally immature, or lacking resilience—adding to judgment and shame.
For parents, this often shows up as a child who is “fine” at school but comes home exhausted, irritable, or shut down. For educators and coaches, it may look like a student who is polite, compliant, and high‑achieving, yet increasingly anxious or withdrawn over time.
Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) and shame
Judgment and shame are at the heart of rejection sensitive dysphoria (RSD), defined by Dodson (2023) as “intense but short‑lived emotional pain triggered by a distinct event of real or perceived rejection, criticism, or teasing”. In Europe, where similar difficulties are often described as “emotional dysregulation”, they are recognised as a core feature of ADHD (ibid.).
The lived experience of RSD is hard to explain to someone who doesn’t have it. A qualitative study by Sandland, a neurodivergent academic, of ND participants describes “fear, shame, upset, anxiety, overwhelm, and anger… a lack of control over their responses… [and] shame towards their uncontrolled responses”.
In a school setting where teasing and criticism are routine elements of neurotypical peer communication, an ND student might suffer multiple instances of RSD in a day, leading to anxiety, shame, or self‑isolation. Although the acute pain of RSD flares and wanes, it scars. I remember with intense, visceral shame a high school friend’s harsh remark about one of my emotional outbursts.
Self‑consciousness and fear of judgment don’t tend to make people more socially adept, which can drive neurodivergent kids into vicious cycles where anxiety heightens defensiveness or withdrawal, leading to increased criticism and rejection, which triggers further intense negative emotions.
For parents, this can look like extreme sensitivity to feedback, perfectionism, or refusing to try new things after a perceived failure. For teachers and coaches, it may show up as over‑apologising, people‑pleasing, or sudden withdrawal after minor corrections.
Justice sensitivity
Contrary to old stereotypes, empathy can be among the emotions neurodivergent people feel deeply. This feeds into justice sensitivity—a heightened attunement to, and emotional response to, perceived unfairness. Sometimes, this shows up as an aversion to rule‑breaking; an ND student might report a classmate’s cheating or misbehaviour to a teacher, causing peer hostility. Equally, as Ollington (2025) notes, some justice sensitivity “results in breaking rules and laws… [as] this sensitivity reflects a strong internal drive to stand up for what they believe is right.” On this side of the equation, kids can get in trouble with teachers or administrators for challenging rules they see as unfair, or calling out preferential treatment.
Throw into the mix the autistic tendency to see things in absolute terms and speak plainly, and justice sensitivity can lead to persistent friction in educational and professional settings. As a straight‑A student, I spent a disproportionate amount of time excluded from class, mostly for saying things that started with, “It’s not fair that…” Later, I found myself incapable of shutting up and getting along in high‑context office jobs.
Parents may see this as their child becoming distressed or angry about perceived unfairness at school or in friendships. Educators may experience it as a student who questions rules, challenges decisions, or advocates fiercely for peers—behaviours that can be misread as defiance rather than moral intensity.
The double‑empathy problem
The traditional perspective on ND communication differences and/or disinclination to adhere to social norms is that they are deficiencies, and “‘deficit‑based’ narratives of autism place the expectation to understand and adapt… on autistic people only” (Chapman et al., 2022).
This view was challenged by Milton (2012), who reframed communication challenges as a double‑empathy problem: neurotypical people don’t understand neurodiverse communication, and vice versa.
If you take communication between speakers of different languages as an example, this idea becomes clearer: a native and non‑native English speaker may have a communication breakdown; for deep‑rooted cultural and historical reasons, this is often seen as a failure of the non‑native speaker. A more even‑handed perspective is that the speakers misunderstand each other—that is, they have a double‑empathy problem.
Chapman et al. found that ND teens were keenly aware of their classmates’ perceptions and masked “as an anxiety‑driven response to others’ behaviour and attitudes towards them”.
For parents, this can look like a child who is misunderstood by peers or adults despite good intentions. For educators and coaches, it’s a reminder that communication breakdowns are not solely the ND student’s responsibility to fix; classroom culture and adult responses matter just as much.
Interoception
It might seem paradoxical, but hyper‑attunement to others’ moods and attitudes is often compounded by a lack of interoception, or awareness of one’s own feelings. Interoception affects how ND people relate to the world (e.g., blunted or heightened responses to heat, cold, or physical pain), their bodies (e.g., reduced sense of hunger, satiety, or exhaustion), and their feelings (e.g., inability to recognise or differentiate between anger/sadness or fear/excitement).
For example, a neurotypical student might accurately identify as “hangry”, while an ND peer who has had a low‑blood‑sugar mood drop would, instead of connecting it to a physiological cause, perceive themselves as unreasonable or over‑emotional. Thus interoception difficulties can lead to a negative self‑image and shame, which compound social challenges.
Parents may notice a child who doesn’t recognise they’re hungry, tired, or overwhelmed until they’re already in crisis. Educators may see students who can’t articulate why they’re upset, or who label normal bodily states as personal failings.
How to make life safer for twice‑exceptional kids
The fundamental features of neurodivergence don’t change, nor should they. Neurodiverse and twice‑exceptional individuals are not problems to be solved; they are humans who deserve to have their needs understood, respected, and met.
The following are evidence‑based ways to improve the well‑being of neurodivergent young people.
Sensory accommodations
Loud, chaotic, physically uncomfortable environments are great for no one; but they can be a form of torture for ND kids. Schools are particularly hostile, from cafeteria smells to hours spent in rigid chairs. All students deserve better, and meeting ND sensory needs would, ideally, lead to improving the educational environment for everyone.
Accommodations might include relaxing or removing uniform requirements, where applicable; better classroom lighting; permitting cushions, blankets, or other aids to regulate comfort and body temperature; low‑noise classrooms/dining spaces; sensory safety rooms; more frequent breaks; guided breathwork/mindfulness; dyspraxia‑friendly physical education, and so forth.
The vast majority of these accommodations could be made with minimal cost or inconvenience to the school. I suspect a great deal of administrative resistance to such changes is based on old‑fashioned ideas about order and discipline rather than evidence or genuine concern about impacting learning.
For parents: these are concrete items to raise at SEN/support meetings. For educators and school leaders: these are low‑cost, high‑impact changes that benefit all students, not just ND ones.
Positive routines
Typical teen behaviour like scoffing junk food, binge‑watching whatever, or staying up too late is dysregulating for everyone (presumably part of its appeal). However, neurodiverse kids are likely to pay a higher price. As parents and educators, it is crucial to make space for developmentally normal mischief while providing a baseline healthy routine.
For an autistic student, this might mean eating the same nutritious breakfast daily or spending 30 minutes on a personal project each evening. An extroverted ADHD student might need support to regularly try different social activities, or variations on a current hobby (i.e., a new running route each week).
Whatever form they take, positive routines should include sleep structure, movement, nutrition, and social interaction. All of which (as with sensory accommodations) benefit neurotypicals just as much; in fact, it would be nice to see families and organisations become more human‑friendly as a result of being more ND‑friendly.
For parents: think “scaffolding, not control”. For coaches and teachers: look for ways to embed movement, predictability, and choice into the day.
Proactive, holistic therapeutic support
Given the documented mental health risks ND people face, there is no reason to wait for depression, anxiety, or self‑harm to surface to seek therapy. Having an ND‑, or at least ND‑aware, therapist can be a lifeline for a neurodivergent teen, especially if they don’t have close friends or family members with similar neurological profiles.
All teens feel weird, anxious, and unhappy sometimes, but the real, tangible differences in ND processing and experience can exacerbate these feelings to dangerous levels; being able to talk them through with a neutral third party can help reassure and regulate kids.
Even if your child has close friends, or you have a great relationship with them, those bonds are not equivalent to a therapeutic relationship. Twice‑exceptional teens are acutely sensitive; they may conceal things to protect you, or to protect themselves. Giving them a safe, explicitly non‑judgmental space to share the stuff that scares them is a meaningful investment in their immediate and long‑term mental health.
NB: Given lingering stigmas around mental health and heightened anxiety around difference, some ND teens might resist “therapy”. Framing it as “personal development”, “coaching”, or “social‑and‑communication skills mentoring” are low‑friction options.
For parents: this is about normalising support before crisis. For educators and coaches: this is about recommending, not diagnosing, and collaborating with families and clinicians.
Final thoughts: challenging ableism and protecting 2E students
Cultural and social expectations often hit twice‑exceptional kids hardest, because we mistakenly generalise about their capacities. As parents, educators, and a society, we must challenge ableism and pernicious expectations, and give 2E students space and support for all their exceptionalities.
References
Accardo, A.L., Pontes, N.M.H. & Pontes, M.C.F. Heightened Anxiety and Depression Among Autistic Adolescents with ADHD: Findings From the National Survey of Children’s Health 2016–2019. J Autism Dev Disord 54, 563–576 (2024). https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-022-05803-9
Brown, C.M., Newell, V., Sahin, E. et al. Updated systematic review of suicide in autism: 2018–2024. Curr Dev Disord Rep 11, 225–256 (2024). https://doi.org/10.1007/s40474-024-00308-9
Chapman, L., Rose, K., Hull, L., & Mandy, W. (2022). “I want to fit in… but I don’t want to change myself fundamentally”: A qualitative exploration of the relationship between masking and mental health for autistic teenagers. Research in Autism Spectrum Disorders, 99, 102069.
Dodson, W. (2023). New insights into rejection sensitive dysphoria. ADDitude, last modified October 11. http://datianpao.net/index-167.html (accessed 18 Aug 2026).
Ollington, S. (2025). ‘Justice sensitivity in ADHD’. ADHD Working, 6 Jan. https://adhdworking.co.uk/adhd-traits/justice-sensitivity-in-adhd/ (accessed 18 Aug 2026).
Sandland, B. (2025). Neurodivergent experiences of rejection sensitive dysphoria expose the environmental factors too often overlooked. Neurodiversity, 3, 27546330251394516.
Santomauro, D.F., Hedley, D., Sahin, E., Brugha, T.S., Naghavi, M., Vos, T., … & Stokes, M.A. (2024). The global burden of suicide mortality among people on the autism spectrum: A systematic review, meta‑analysis, and extension of estimates from the Global Burden of Disease Study 2021. Psychiatry Research, 341, 116150.