Is It Really "Failure to Launch"? What Neurodivergent Young Adults Need to Move Toward Independence

A young person can be bright, academically capable, and fully qualified for college, yet struggle to make a phone call, schedule an appointment, ask a professor for help, manage competing demands, or make decisions without relying on adults. After decades of working with neurodivergent adolescents and young adults, I've learned that academic ability and readiness for adult independence are very different things.

I was recently selected to participate as an expert in a discussion on “failure to launch” for a neurodiversity-affirming program airing on PBS. Although overseas travel ultimately prevented me from participating, preparing for the discussion prompted me to reflect on what I've learned across decades of transition work and, particularly, on a question I keep coming back to:

Is this young person making an authentic choice about the life they want, or are anxiety, fear of failure, low confidence, or difficulty managing demands making the choice for them?

One thing I’ve learned over the years is that being bright doesn’t automatically mean being ready to “launch.” In the Boston Public Schools’ PATH Program, a highly acclaimed program I founded supporting students with depression, anxiety and suicidality, I worked with very capable students experiencing significant anxiety and depression. Several had been in academically rigorous “exam schools” and left due to the pressure to achieve. Many were academically capable of attending highly competitive colleges but deliberately chose schools they viewed as less demanding because they were afraid of the pressure and expectations. While many aspired to attend college away from home, more than several changed course to remain in the safety of their home environment. Many talked about wanting jobs that would simply cover their bills because they feared the demands and expectations.

Having started my career with acting-out, aggressive students who often wanted to be the center of attention, it was eye-opening to see how students with more introverted personalities, as well as mental health, autism, and learning challenges, often shied away from any spotlight, hindering their ability to show their brilliance. Some feared even making simple phone calls or reaching out to employers, apartment rental agencies, or therapeutic supports. Oral presentations could strike particular terror. I worked with students who wrote outstanding papers but found presenting in front of a group unthinkable. We sometimes negotiated with teachers to allow a student to present after school to the teacher alone, with their counselor there for support.

I’ve seen similar issues throughout my work with autistic students and students with ADHD and learning disabilities. A young person may be completely capable of college-level academics while struggling to organize an unstructured day, initiate tasks, manage competing demands, ask for accommodations, recover from setbacks or make decisions without relying on adults. The challenge is helping young people build those skills without either overwhelming them or doing so much for them that they don’t get enough opportunities to practice independence. The goal isn't to remove support. It's to provide the right support while gradually expanding what a young person can do independently.

The more important question may be what educators, therapists, families and other support professionals can do to help young people build the confidence and skills to bring their abilities fully into the world.

While teaching a transition course, I unexpectedly had several educators working with elementary-age students enrolled in the class. It led to an “aha moment”: We often overstructure neurodivergent and disabled students for years, then at transition age suddenly expect them to take the lead in determining their own next steps. Independence and self-determination don't magically appear at 18. We must provide opportunities to practice them much earlier. One way we did this was through social worker-led group counseling, where students helped identify the issues they wanted to address and then worked together to grapple with challenges, share strategies, and support one another. Rather than adults always determining what students needed, the students had a voice in both identifying the problems and finding solutions.

My transition work has always been very practical. Many years ago, I instituted a high school Senior Seminar course to teach career and independent-living skills, including renting apartments, getting loans, and navigating medical and social support systems. I’ve helped students gradually take over responsibilities adults had been managing for them, learn to explain their own disability and ask for what they need, practice transportation and other independent-living skills, participate actively in their own transition planning, and connect with public systems such as vocational rehabilitation commissions for college and employment support early on in their high school careers. With anxious students, I’ve also learned how important it is to distinguish “I can’t do this yet” from “I’m afraid to find out whether I can,” and then build manageable opportunities for success rather than simply removing the challenge.

While most of my Boston Public Schools career was spent working with students of color and students from marginalized communities whose families couldn't afford private tutors, executive-function coaches, college consultants or other outside supports, my current work in more affluent communities has highlighted many of the same difficulties. Resources matter enormously, but they don't make executive-function difficulties, anxiety, problems with self-advocacy or struggles with independence disappear.

I've sometimes seen another dynamic in better-resourced families: in their desire to support a struggling young person, adults can inadvertently do too much, limiting opportunities to develop independence. Conversely, many of my students growing up in poverty developed tremendous resilience in navigating difficult circumstances, yet that resilience didn't always transfer to academic or professional settings where experiences with discrimination and questions about belonging created different barriers.

Identity matters too. Race, culture, gender, sexuality, socioeconomic circumstances, immigration experiences, disability identity and family expectations can all influence how a young person understands independence, belonging and what a successful adult life is supposed to look like.

I've also seen the complicated role of disability identity up close with a brilliant young adult who struggled once the structures of high school disappeared. Although eligible for accommodations in college, he wanted to leave the "special education" label behind. Asking professors for help or using the learning center felt to him like admitting incompetence. I've heard versions of that same story from many young adults, including the college students I teach.

AI adds a new wrinkle to this challenge. At SXSW EDU this year, I heard extensive discussion about AI and education, and I've become increasingly interested in what it means for students who already approach difficult tasks with fear or low confidence. If AI can accomplish something in seconds, why tolerate the struggle of learning to do it yourself? For educators trying to build persistence, self-efficacy and comfort with productive struggle, that's a question we can't ignore.

For me, the phrase “failure to launch” deserves some unpacking. Sometimes what looks like lack of motivation is anxiety. Sometimes it's an executive-function gap. Sometimes a young person hasn't had enough opportunities to practice independence. And sometimes the path a young adult chooses simply doesn't match the timetable or destination adults envisioned for them.

I graduated from high school at 16 and had a master's degree at 22, so it took me some time to recognize that a slower or less traditional path isn't inherently unsuccessful. The goal shouldn't be to make every young person “launch” in the same way or at the same time. It should be to help them develop the skills, confidence, self-knowledge and opportunities to make authentic choices about their own lives.

A different launch isn't necessarily a failed launch.