33,99 €
Assist the growing neurodivergent population with strategic adjustments to physical spaces
Designing Neuroinclusive Workplaces: Advancing Sensory Processing and Cognitive Well-Being in the Built Environment explores how to employ strategic spatial zoning and sequencing, sensory zones, patterns, textures, colors, lighting, and soundscaping to create spaces that cater to the various sensory needs of neurodivergent individuals, who now make up 1/5 of the world's population. This group possesses unique strengths that can be harnessed if they are in environments designed to be welcoming and supportive of their needs.
Written by Kay Sargent of HOK, a leader in the field of workplace design and architecture, this groundbreaking book argues that even minor adjustments to physical spaces can drive giant improvements in cognitive function, fulfillment, and belonging for both neurodivergent and neurotypical individuals.
Some of the topics explored in this book include:
Filled with practical, actionable strategies for designing spaces that embrace and empower individuals across the neurodiversity spectrum, Designing Neuroinclusive Workplaces is a timely, essential read for all forward-thinking HR, DEI, and accessibility teams, as well as architects and interior designers.
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Seitenzahl: 422
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
Cover
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Preface
Key Terms
Setting the Stage
Research and Objectives
Who This Book Is For
Notes
1 Framing the Issue
Origin Story
The Pitfalls of Well‐Intentioned Design
Understanding Neurodiversity
The Opportunities
A Growing Awareness
HOK 's Research on Designing for Inclusion
The Value of Neuroinclusive Design
Notes
2 Defining Neurotypes
Types of Neurodivergence
Neurodiversity and Mental Health
Notes
3 Great for Business
The Business Case for Neurodiversity
Cognitive Diversity: Breaking Down Groupthink
Impact on Business Performance
Challenges and Accommodations
Designing Inclusive Workplaces
Notes
4 Human Functioning and Sensory Processing
Three Interconnected Systems
Sensory Processing: Foundation and Mechanisms
Sensory Thresholds and Processing Challenges
Coping Mechanisms and Perception Variances
Designing for Diverse Functioning
Notes
5 Sensory Intelligence
The Sensory Matrix™
6 Survey Findings
Survey One: All Neurodivergent Populations
Surveys Two and Three: Mixed Neurotype Population
Survey Four: Mixed Neurotype Scientific Population
Challenges in the Built Environment
Survey Five: ZHAW ADD/ADHD Sensory Challenges Survey
Design Strategies and Recommendations
Notes
7 Senses and Degree of Stimulation
Accommodating Sensory Needs
Auditory
Tactile
Olfactory
Gustatory
Proprioception, Interoception, and Vestibular
Notes
8 Environmental Influences
Neuroaesthetics and the Built Environment
Environmental Factors Affecting Workplace Comfort
Principles of Design
Elements of Design
Notes
9 Other Elements to Consider
Biophilia
Wayfinding
Multisensory Rooms
Safety and Well‐Being
Focus Flow
Notes
10 Degrees of Inclusive Design
Accessible Design
Universal Design
Inclusive Design
Equitable Design
Notes
11 HOK’s Approach to Inclusive Design
Organizational DNA
Defining Personas, Work Settings, and Gathering Profiles
Six Work Modes
Spatial Sequencing
Power of the 6 to the 48
Journey Mapping
Notes
12 Steps Toward Designing for Inclusion
Redefining Disability
Creating Inclusive Workplaces
Notes
13 Design Considerations
The Premise of Inclusive Design
Six Modalities of Work
HOK's Design Considerations
Notes
14 The Three‐Legged Stool
Leg One: Addressing Operational Strategies
Leg Two: Designing an Inclusive Built Environment
Leg Three: Enabling Individual Adjustments
Notes
15 Going Forward
Growing Awareness and Increasing Diagnosis
Technological Developments
Changing Landscape
More Comprehensive Approach
Notes
Afterword
Acknowledgments
HOK Contributors
Research Partners and Contributors
Advocates and Influencers
Spotlight Participants
Clients
Special Recognition
About the Author
About HOK
What We Do
Index
End User License Agreement
Chapter 1
Figure 1.1 Sargent Family ‐ Katie, Kevin, Kay, Kyle, Karly, and Er...
Chapter 4
Figure 4.1 Sensory thresholds
Chapter 5
Figure 5.1 Arup Birmingham, UK workplace: Social hub
Figure 5.2 Arup Birmingham, UK workplace: Contemplate zone
Chapter 6
QR Code 6.1 Sensory processing neurodiversity and workplace design report
Figure 6.1 Hypersensitivity to sensory stimulation
Figure 6.2 Hyposensitivity to sensory stimulation
QR Code 6.2 Sensory processing in the workplace: neurotype workplace survey...
Figure 6.3 Mixed neurotype scientific participants by age group
Figure 6.4 Mixed neurotype scientific survey: age variances
Figure 6.5 Challenges in the built environment
Figure 6.6 Variance in response by neurotype workshop findings
QR Code 6.3 Designing neuroinclusive laboratory environments
Figure 6.7 Scientific workplace plan
QR Code 6.4 Sensory‐Inclusive Office Environments for Workers with ADHD/ADD ...
Figure 6.8 Neuroinclusive scientific lab layout
Figure 6.9 Variance in response to auditory stimulation by gender identity
Chapter 8
Figure 8.1 KMPG New York office—gathering space
Figure 8.2 KMPG New York office—floor common space
Chapter 9
Figure 9.1 Introducing biophilia into the built environment
Figure 9.2 The U.S. Surgeon General's Framework for Workplace Mental Health ...
Chapter 10
Figure 10.1 AstraZeneca's Kendall Square scientific R&D hub
Figure 10.2 AstraZeneca's Kendall Square scientific lab space
Chapter 11
Figure 11.1 Persona profiles
QR Code 11.1 Gathering space matrix
Figure 11.2 Gathering space profile and postures—example
Figure 11.3 Six modalities of work—the six Cs
QR Code 11.2 Spatial zoning
QR Code 11.3 Spatial sequencing
QR Code 11.4 Journey map: a day‐in‐the‐life for a hyposensitive individual...
Chapter 12
Figure 12.1 Roadmap for inclusion
Chapter 13
Figure 13.1 ABW planning concept
Figure 13.2 NCE planning concept
Figure 13.3 MEMO planning concept
Figure 13.4 EBW planning concept
Figure 13.5 Design considerations for concentrate/focus spaces
Figure 13.6 Design considerations for contemplate/refresh spaces
Figure 13.7 Design considerations for communal/process spaces
Figure 13.8 Design considerations for create spaces
Figure 13.9 Design considerations for congregate spaces
Figure 13.10 Design considerations for convivial/social spaces
QR Code 13.1 HOK design considerations
Cover
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Preface
Begin Reading
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
What We Do
Index
End User License Agreement
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KAY SARGENT
Copyright © 2025 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. All rights reserved, including rights for text and data mining and training of artificial technologies or similar technologies.
Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey.
Published simultaneously in Canada.
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Library of Congress Cataloging‐in‐Publication Data is Available:
ISBN 9781394309337 (Cloth)
ISBN 9781394309344 (ePub)
ISBN 9781394309351 (ePDF)
Cover Design: Paul Mccarthy
Cover Art: HOK Group, Inc.
To all the individuals who contributed to this effort by lending your voices and sharing your stories: you are truly inspirational.
To my children—Katie, Kevin, Eric, Kyle, and Karly—who inspire me daily to try to make the world a better place and to lead with empathy and understanding. Love you!
To the leadership at HOK for enabling us to forge ahead on topics that need to be addressed and for your support and encouragement. And to my colleagues at HOK who grabbed the baton and ran with it. It is wonderful to see this research reaching into so many sectors—academia, healthcare, sports and entertainment, transportation, justice, and science and technology. Stay tuned as our teams continue expanding our research on inclusion.
We are witnessing an extraordinary societal shift toward inclusivity, one that acknowledges and celebrates the diverse ways in which individuals experience and interact with the world. This transformation is not merely a reflection of evolving societal values but a necessary response to the historical exclusion and challenges faced by neurodiverse individuals in the workplace. Advances in research, increased media representation, and expanded advocacy efforts have significantly contributed to this movement. More important, there is a growing recognition of the value that neurodiverse employees bring to the workplace, moving away from stigmatization and toward appreciation of their unique perspectives and skills.
As we embrace this change, there is an urgent need for new strategies and guidelines to design workplaces where neurodiverse employees can truly thrive, embracing a design ethos that goes beyond the traditional one‐size‐fits‐all approach. This book, Designing Neuroinclusive Workplaces: Advancing Sensory Processing and Cognitive Well‐Being in the Built Environment, arrives as a crucial resource, offering valuable insights and practical solutions for creating work environments that accommodate and empower neurodiverse employees.
My personal connection with this topic has evolved in many ways. Throughout my early research and development of the adaptive thermal comfort model and my research group's work on personal comfort systems at the Center for the Built Environment, I have long championed the importance of individual agency in controlling one's own environment. My recent work, a book called Experiential Design Schemas, co‐authored with Mark DeKay, addresses broader sensory systems and explores how nature‐connected spaces can bring delight and help everybody thrive. Our schemas can be used to create varying experiential intensities, and we argue that sensory diversity should be recognized as a new civil right, similar to accessibility.
More directly related to this work, I have had the privilege of attending presentations by Kay Sargent and other HOK team members at various conferences, where their work has consistently garnered enthusiastic support from audiences. However, it was in a more intimate setting—when Kay spoke with my students in my Sensory Space class at UC Berkeley—that the depth and impact of her work truly stood out. Kay discussed the neurodiversity spectrum and the importance of designing spaces that cater to both lower and higher sensory needs. Her reference to the World Health Organization's quote, “Physical, cognitive and social exclusion can occur at the point of interaction between the individual and the environment when there is a misalignment between them,” was particularly powerful. Kay's message was clear: while designers cannot change an individual's sensory or cognitive profile, they have a profound responsibility to create environments that accommodate diverse needs. This perspective resonated deeply with my students, many of whom felt a newfound confidence to share their own experiences. This engagement was not only eye‐opening for the students but also directly connected to the work we were doing in the class with Experiential Design Schemas. The students eagerly linked Kay's presentation to our efforts to document existing spaces and design new ones that offer varying intensities for different sensory systems.
One exciting outcome of Kay's engagement with my class is seen in the work of two student teams who participated in the Academy of Neuroscience for Architecture (ANFA) Student Design Competition, created to spotlight the transformative potential of combining neuroscience and design to enhance emotional and mental well‐being. Students were invited to conceptualize a community center inspired by the iconic Salk Institute campus designed by Louis Kahn in La Jolla, California. Drawing inspiration from the Schemas and HOK's neurodiversity guidelines, one team created a Center for Neuro‐Architecture that incorporated sensory zoning to address various sensitivities. Another team focused on designing a memory‐enhancing environment for Alzheimer's patients. Both projects demonstrated how neuroscience can inform architectural design to improve cognitive function and well‐being. These teams excelled in the competition, winning first and second place, highlighting the importance of integrating neurodiversity with architectural and workplace design.
Over the past decade, HOK has emerged as a leader in developing guidelines for neurodiverse workplaces, part of their broader commitment to inclusive and human‐centered design. The significance of HOK's pioneering work is reflected in the many other admirable design firms also making advances in this field, such as Gensler, HDR, M Moser Associates, and Perkins&Will, among others. HOK stands out not only in that they are advancing their own research and guidelines but are also dedicated to fostering a collaborative community within the design profession to make everyone stronger. Their contributions include making reports freely available, co‐hosting workshops, and including diverse voices from the field in this book's Spotlights. HOK's dedication to sharing knowledge and building community reflects a genuine commitment to advancing inclusive design.
Designing Neuroinclusive Workplaces serves as a comprehensive and invaluable resource on a complex and multifaceted topic. It offers a holistic description of neurodiversity, its attributes, and the language used to discuss it—emphasizing the significance of “words matter.” The focus on sensory processing is particularly relevant, given designers' ability to influence indoor environmental qualities that can significantly impact human response. Beyond providing design guidelines, the book addresses the process of designing for inclusivity and the potential effects on a firm's organization and culture.
Creating supportive, neuroinclusive work environments is a collective responsibility, extending beyond designers and consultants to include workplace managers, HR professionals, educators, students, and neurodivergent individuals themselves. This book empowers all stakeholders to advocate for and address diverse needs within their environments.
From my own experience, I value the varied ways that applied research can impact the design profession, from flexible design tools and guidelines to various forms of policies—green building rating systems, standards, and enforceable building codes. I see this book as an essential resource for fostering systemic, transformative change. Its comprehensive guidelines can stand on their own, or can serve as a foundation for other applications, whether firm‐specific, regional, or culturally adapted. The book's detailed approach and practical insights make it a vital tool for advancing inclusive design.
I am enthusiastic about this book not only for its depth of information but also for its forward‐thinking and inspiring tone. It reframes the design conversation in positive terms, focusing on creative opportunities that enable all individuals to thrive. By emphasizing the importance of designing for individuality rather than an abstract average, the book advocates for environments that offer choice and control. It celebrates the value of variability and the experiential richness it brings, challenging the monotony of static and uniform environments.
Ultimately, recognizing that everyone falls somewhere on the neurodiversity spectrum and has varying sensory needs is a powerful step toward creating more inclusive environments. I encourage readers to embrace the insights and guidelines offered in this book and take meaningful action toward more inclusive design. This book is a fantastic resource for anyone committed to advancing inclusive practices, and I am confident it will inspire meaningful actions across the design community and beyond.
—Gail Brager
Professor of Architecture
Director, Center for the Built Environment
University of California, Berkeley
We welcome the move to a neuroaffirming society, which recognizes the range of neurodivergent conditions in addition to autism and learning disabiity.
—Alison Clarke, chair of the task and finish group that developed the British Psychological Society's Neurodiversity Manager's Guide
HOK's team began exploring the topic of neurodiversity in 2016. At the time, many people were not familiar with the term. When a client asked about it, we had an answer, but we wanted to know more. So, we started to research the topic. What we found were a drought of information on how the built environment could be designed to support neuroinclusion. We saw an opportunity to rectify that and our team started to conduct research on the topic. In this book, we share what we have learned so far.
Words matter, and language is ever‐evolving. While we understand that different groups prefer different terminology, we have strived to use the most accepted nonableist and neuroinclusive terminology. The majority of neurodivergents and their advocates we talked to during this process said they prefer identity‐first language, such as “autistic person,” “ADHDer,” or “dyslexic person,” so we have followed that preference. These definitions reflect commonly accepted terminology synthesized from various authoritative sources in this evolving field as of 2024.
These are key terms used in the book:
Neurodiversity
: The breadth of human cognitive functioning, including both typical and atypical cognition
Neurotypical
: Individuals whose neurological development and functioning are consistent with what is perceived to be the predominant societal standard
Neurotype or neurodistinct
: A collection of traits common to people with similar neurological structures
Neurodivergent individuals
or
neurominorities
: People whose neurocognitive functioning differs from the predominant societal standards
Neurodivergence
: A naturally occurring variation in neurocognitive functioning that differs from the predominant neurotype
Personally, I dislike the reference to “typical” and “divergence.” We all function differently, so is there really any “typical” or “average” way to think or function? I would suggest that “neuropredictable” is a better term to use than “neurotypical.” But since these are the words most commonly used today, we will use them until we collectively make our language more inclusive.
Individual preferences vary. When interacting with someone directly, we can simply ask about their preferred terminology. Consider asking whether they prefer person‐first language, like “person with autism,” or identity‐first language, such as “autistic person,” and how they would like to be addressed.
Kai steps off the packed elevator into the lobby of his new office. His heart is pounding. Sounds assault him from all sides. Conversations echo off hard floors, phones ring nonstop, and the fluorescent light feels like it is pulsing through his body. He searches in vain for refuge among countless rows of identical gray desks. There is no landmark to guide him.
Zara is still struggling in the new open office. She flinches every time someone passes behind her workstation. The enormous company logos plastered across the walls flash in her peripheral vision and conversations between her coworkers on calls are overwhelming. She turns up the music playing through her headphones and wonders how she is supposed to focus.
Jamie gazes at the blank white walls of the meeting room, trying to concentrate on a colleague's presentation. Bright overhead lights make the text on their laptop screen almost illegible. The sterile room lacks plants or art, and there is no visual connection to the outdoors. The seats around the table are tightly packed, and there is no space to stand, move, or fidget without impacting others.
Does any of this seem familiar? These issues afflict millions of employees every day—some more severely than others. The unfortunate reality is that most of today's offices fail to accommodate the spectrum of people's diverse sensory needs.
This book describes how we can close this divide and use neuroinclusive design to create workplace environments where everyone can thrive.
Much of the current body of research focuses on single neurotypes, such as autism, obsessive‐compulsive disorder (OCD), or attention‐deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). Our goal is to take a more holistic approach and address the environmental impact, needs, and strategies of various neurotypes that fall under the neurodiversity umbrella. This more accurately reflects the dynamics one is likely to encounter in a general office population.
Current studies indicating that at least 20 percent of people identify as neurodivergent, but our most research studies indicate that 20 percent might be conservative. And in sectors like life sciences and technology, that percentage can be much higher. Yet neurominorities often suffer from “ableism,” a form of discrimination where neurodivergents are seen as lesser and negatively impacted by prejudice and lack of access or accommodation. To us, addressing the needs of a diverse population is an inclusion imperative and what good design should be about—empowering people. So, we decided to leverage our skills and develop material that addresses the needs of various neurotypes in workplace settings.
When you consider that:
Hearing loss or severe auditory impairment affects 6.2 percent of U.S. adults
1
Even with corrective lenses, 5.5 percent of American adults experience significant visual impairment or blindness
2
Mobility challenges or difficulty walking affect 6.8 percent of U.S. adults
3
These physical disabilities affect 18.5 percent of the population, and we have rightly adapted how we design buildings to meet their needs. Yet while at least 20 percent of people are neurodivergent—and that is on the conservative side—relatively little has been done to address their needs in the built environment. That needs to change.
Article 23 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights addresses workers' rights, recognizing the opportunity for gainful employment free of discrimination. This includes the right to “just and favorable conditions of work,” ensuring that employees are treated fairly and provided with suitable working conditions that uphold their dignity.4 As designers and architects, we have a responsibility to create inclusive work environments that support these fundamental rights.
As a firm, HOK wants to be a leader on topics impacting people in the built environment. We are always working to provide clients with more human‐centric, evidence‐based solutions. Our mission is clear: “HOK is a collective of future‐forward thinkers and designers who are driven to face the critical challenges of our time. We are dedicated to improving people's lives, serving our clients, and healing the planet.”
Early in our research on addressing neuroinclusion in the built environment, we shared the material around the firm for feedback and vetting. One colleague was so excited about the potential that she declared, “We're going to own this topic!” We quickly clarified that this was not our intention. No one is going to “own” this topic because it is too vast and important to control. Instead, our intention is to design the most inclusive environments possible, while sharing what we learn to help advance the entire profession.
The research on designing for neuroinclusion is constantly growing and improving. From the outset, we committed to leading on neurodiversity while openly sharing our findings. Though I know this was the right decision, there were times when I questioned it. The design profession is competitive, and sharing proprietary research is not common, but this topic is different. I recall a pivotal discussion with HOK’s then chief executive officer, Bill Hellmuth, where we agreed that some topics transcend competitive advantage and become a moral imperative. This is one of those topics.
We appreciate all the others who have waded in to help expand this knowledge. We need the industry to come together around neuroinclusion, set aside attempts to own the subject, and collaborate however we can. The last thing we need is 10 different neurodiversity checklists. Instead, we need one comprehensive resource that everyone can use. What if every design firm had created its own version of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) in 1990? That would have been chaos, and we would never have made the progress that we have to date on designing for physical inclusion.
Going far together was our goal when we began collaborating with the International WELL Building Institute (IWBI) on this topic in 2022. We co‐hosted several workshops that brought together members of the design community, neurodivergent individuals, neuroinclusion advocates, environmental and organizational psychologists, and HR professionals—a good start but still just the beginning. We will keep sharing what we learn and pushing toward true collaboration.
What is the corporate real estate and facility industry doing with this relatively newfound awareness of the imperative to design for neuroinclusion? Are we making systemic changes to create more inclusive and welcoming environments? The urgency becomes clearer every day as the number of neurodivergents in the workplace continues to grow.
Helping neurodivergent employees overcome barriers and facilitating the adjustments they need is crucial. We appreciate the importance of collaborating with our clients' HR teams as they address their own onboarding, training, and operational process, but we can't stop there. We need to address the environment as well. These challenges motivate our research and drove us to write this book. They fuel our desire to continue expanding our research into new sectors of the built environment, beyond the workplace, so people with a wide range of abilities can experience all types of spaces that meet their needs.
This topic touches many people, and we hope it will be a valuable resource for a diverse audience. We wrote this book to help:
Designers and architects create inclusive spaces
Organizations build neurodivergent‐friendly environments
Human resource (HR) professionals put in place more inclusive practices
Neurodiversity consultants hone their advocacy skills
Neurodivergents better understand their environmental needs
Academics and students learn more about neuroinclusive design
Throughout the book, we have incorporated diverse perspectives, including client stories in sidebars, spotlights on people who have influenced us, interviews with inclusion experts and thought leaders, and profiles of well‐known innovators and creators. We also share personal insights from our team that show why we are so passionate about this topic.
1.
U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “Disability Impacts All of Us,” CDC.gov, accessed October 28, 2024,
https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/disabilityandhealth/infographic-disability-impacts-all.html
.
2.
Ibid.
3.
Yang‐Tan Institute on Employment and Disability at the Cornell University ILR School,
2018 Disability Status Report: United States
, accessed October 28, 2024,
https://www.disabilitystatistics.org/StatusReports/2018-PDF/2018-StatusReport_US.pdf
.
4.
United Nations, “Universal Declaration of Human Rights,” (1948), accessed June 27, 2024,
https://www.un.org/en/about-us/universal-declaration-of-human-rights
.
What's a necessity for some should be open to all.
—Maureen Dunne, author of The Neurodiversity Edge
My journey into neuroinclusion and designing inclusive spaces is a deeply personal one, sparked by a client's question about designing for ADHD and shaped by my experiences raising five children with diverse cognitive profiles. It turns out that I had been living in my own case study long before I realized it.
This conversation started for me in 2016 when a client asked, “How do you design space for someone with ADHD?” As both a mother and a designer of various educational facilities, I had ideas. I shared a few thoughts about providing options, flexibility, and ways to reduce sensory stimulation, but I sensed my answer was insufficient.
I left that room with my curiosity sparked. My HOK colleagues and I started by reviewing existing neurodiversity research but found that, despite there being plenty of material related to hiring diverse individuals, there was almost none about how to design environments conducive to their success. We began to fill this gap, which took us down a path leading to where we are today.
A colleague with two autistic children with high‐support needs embraced the idea of expanding our research beyond what already existed, much of which focused on adolescent boys and educational facilities. We have heard similar suggestions from employers awakening to neuroinclusion issues and from parents wanting to ensure their neurodivergent children can be active participants in the business world once they come of age. My HOK colleagues were excited about the potential to show how evidence‐based design could create better and more inclusive spaces.
My thoughts about neuroinclusion began to form long before our clients ever asked about it. When my five children were growing up, there were signs that they each had their own set of specific behavioral traits and they processed information in unique ways. But neurodivergent awareness and diagnoses were far less common in the 1990s, before our understanding of neurodevelopmental variations evolved.
Figure 1.1 Sargent Family ‐ Katie, Kevin, Kay, Kyle, Karly, and Eric
I remember when Kevin came home at the end of second grade with a piece of paper that said he had been selected for the Gifted and Talented program. I had always hated that some kids were deemed “gifted” just because they thought differently and excelled at specific tasks. I knew Kevin was smart but always chalked it up to his natural curiosity, intense interest in certain subjects, and ability to think outside the box. There were times I was not sure he even knew where the box was.
At that time, Kevin was in the Spanish immersion program, so 50 percent of his school day, specifically math and science, was taught in Spanish. I loved that the program exposed kids to another language so early, and I embraced how it helped them see things differently as they relied more on their senses to aid in learning. They had to pay attention because they needed every clue to help them understand what was being taught and said.
Kevin's teacher shared that, of all her students, only two truly understood what she was saying most of the time during the immersive part of the day: Kevin and a native speaker. I expressed the desire to keep him in the program, but she encouraged me to shift him into the Gifted and Talented program, giving an example. She had assigned the class to create a Father's Day card using as many adjectives as possible. Kevin asked if they could also use adverbs, noting that when two adjectives are together, one becomes an adverb, so you could use only one adjective unless also using adverbs. She did not see his question as a challenge, but many other teachers would have deemed him a smart‐ass and penalized him. She explained that teachers in the Gifted and Talented program were trained to deal with students who see things differently and challenge the norm.
The Gifted and Talented students excelled in many areas, were often challenged in others, were overly energetic, and were always a handful. They were given more complex assignments over extended periods because they were deemed “smart.” This often posed a challenge because “smart” does not always equate to “organized,” and many struggled with daily tasks and complex assignments.
Kevin was never diagnosed as neurodivergent, but there were clear parallels between his cognitive traits and those of neurodivergent individuals. Many people have things in common with those who have official diagnoses. We do not want that to diminish the experience of individuals who are genuinely struggling or oversimplify their situations. Yet many more people than we realize are impacted by complex neuro and cognitive profiles. Addressing the needs of the neurodivergent community will positively impact not only those individuals but most of us to a far greater extent than we imagine.
A few years later, I was called in to meet with Kevin's sixth‐grade teacher, who was concerned that Kevin was doodling elaborate cartoons across the top of all his papers. The quizzes all had something else in common: they were all marked with an “A+” grade. I asked what the problem was since he clearly understood the material. For Kevin, doodling was a coping mechanism to channel his pent‐up energy and enable him to listen. I suggested she use this to her advantage by challenging him to draw the assignments. She grudgingly agreed. By the end of the year, it had proved so successful that she gave all students the option to draw or write their assignments.
To this day, Kevin is an unconventional thinker who sees things from a unique perspective. He is unconcerned about how others perceive him, which can be both a strength and a challenge. When interested in something, he goes all in—from teaching himself Japanese in a few weeks so he could watch anime without dubbing or subtitles to solving complex problems quickly. But if Kevin doesn't care about something, he will not engage. For example, at 30 he recently asked me how to address an envelope.
Kyle, Kevin's younger brother, faces a different situation. He is very intelligent but also incredibly stubborn and more concerned with social norms and others' opinions. Don't get me wrong, he has strong opinions and freely shares them. But from a purely social aspect, he seeks to belong. His intelligence allowed him to power through elementary school, but when assignments became more complex, he struggled. By nature, he is a procrastinator with a specific way of addressing problems and daily life. At age 13, I had him tested for ADHD.
At the time, the ADHD test was a parent‐completed form that seemed like a checklist for a serial killer. “Do they hurt animals?” “Do they set fires?” After completing that form, I was horrified by both the process and the general outlook. The assessment concluded Kyle had slight ADHD and OCD, but he has now come to believe that he was misdiagnosed and more likely has OCD with prominent symmetry and ordering symptoms.
Based on his initial diagnosis, his school developed an individualized education program (IEP) to allow him more time for assignments and presenting them in ways aligned with his processing needs. This should have given him access to tools meant to help him, but teachers often ignored the IEP. Ultimately, he realized IEP requests caused a negative bias against him, so he was better off forgoing them. Clearly, that is something we need to address in our education system.
Kyle was prescribed medication intended to help him focus, but it simply exacerbated his compulsive tendencies, which hindered his ability to complete assignments. As a result, he chose not to take it. Nor did he want to identify as different, so he rarely asked for accommodations if they were not offered.
In high school, Kyle started failing math, even though he was getting the correct answers. The teacher explained that there was a particular way she wanted students to answer, and although he was getting the right answer, he was not doing it her way. I pointed out that different people have different learning styles, which they often cannot change, but educators can change how they teach. If material is shared in only one way, teachers will likely miss connecting with many learners. The principal agreed and recognized that if educators were not accommodating, it would not bode well for Kyle and, frankly, many others in the class.
Many believe that standardized testing is an issue for neurodivergents. For Kyle, however, it was the arbitrary work leading up to exams that he had issues with. Ultimately, despite the difficulties of time restrictions on standardized testing, Kyle excelled on these exams and was always among the top scorers. He was one of only 12 students in a class of more than 500 who successfully graduated with an international baccalaureate diploma.
Kyle is wired to do things in a specific order, and if something got out of order, it would derail the entire process and even prevent him from completing the task. If he left his book at school, he could not do the assignment—even if we already had the same book from one of his older siblings readily on hand. He is a very linear thinker, and things had to happen in a specific order, as intended. Accepting alternatives is not an option. This created challenges in college, too. If he missed a class and fell behind, he felt he could not attend the next class because it was not in sequence. This created a domino effect and a self‐fulfilling prophecy of defeat. Kyle had to learn, sometimes the hard way, that workarounds are often necessary.
After Kyle's initial assessment, we met with a psychologist who specializes in working with ADHD/OCD individuals. This was the first time I heard Kyle openly talk about his experience in detail. He described feeling like there was a string tied to his back that he feared would get tangled if he was not careful. He shared how he always retraced his steps and would exit the same way he entered to avoid his “string” getting tangled. He had to force himself to overcome that feeling in high school because it became unmanageable. Kyle was so good at masking his repetitive habits that I never noticed his self‐regulating behaviors in our chaotic world. But these insights gave me a deeper understanding of who Kyle was and how he navigated the world.
My third son, Eric, joined our family when he was 13. He came from a situation where education was not actively supported and was already challenged in school. But he rose to the occasion, graduated, and went to college. He earned his associate's degree and started his bachelor's, but after a year determined it was not for him. A great reader, philosopher, and activist with the biggest heart, Eric began working and was a dedicated, reliable employee. He quickly rose to be a manager and now oversees several locations. His dedication and empathy make him a great leader. In his mid‐20s, he decided to finish his degree and signed up for classes. But he soon realized that, although he had mastered the material, taking tests and writing papers were challenging. He struggled to stay focused while working full‐time. In his late 20s, Eric decided to get tested and was diagnosed with ADHD. Medication has helped him stay on point, and he is thriving.
Understanding my boys helped me guide them toward opportunities where their talents will shine, and they have pursued careers that value their strengths. Kevin needs variety and challenges; he works as a project manager with organizations during times of transition. Kyle needs structure, the opportunity to be creative, and hands‐on experiences with shorter assignments and marked milestones. Today, he works as an art conservator. Eric needs to leverage his empathy and people skills while being actively engaged; a desk job is not a good fit. He works as a general manager for a series of shops in a college town.
Neither of my daughters has shown similar signs of atypical processing needs. Both have strengths and talents and fall into more predictable ranges than my sons. This could mean they are neurotypical or better at camouflaging, or perhaps it is because we know less about how cognitive diversity presents itself in women.
I didn't initially make a connection between what I did for a living and my children's situation. Once my curiosity was piqued, however, I began to find evidence in our family of how space impacts individuals. As professionals, my colleagues and I often discuss our obligation to leverage our talents and expertise to benefit our clients, but it is bigger than that. We have an opportunity to make a positive impact on neurodivergents and neurotypicals alike.
Early in our research into designing neuroinclusive space, a colleague asked, “Isn't this just good design?” In the end, yes, but not everyone practices good design, let alone evidence‐based design that aids in creating the best solutions. Designers have the education and intuition to understand how space impacts individuals. However, without applying evidence‐based principles, it is easy to get it wrong. Designers must apply both the science and art of design. The Montreal Design Declaration issued at the 2017 Montreal World Design Summit states, “Design is the application of intent.”
For example, most people understand that sensory stimulation can be overwhelming. Hence, many organizations have created quiet spaces, phone rooms, or pods to provide options for focused work. But often, in an attempt to make those spaces inviting, designers use bright colors or creative wall graphics. This undermines the purpose of the space by putting users in a confined space near design elements they may find distressing.
This is a prime example of why it is not enough to grasp the type of spaces needed for inclusivity. We must understand how the elements and principles of design impact occupants. And we need to apply this knowledge with intent and purpose.
Case in point: One day, I was having a conversation with a colleague of mine while sitting in a small phone booth for privacy. The booth was bright red, with a bold graphic on the wall and no window to the space. As we talked, he was becoming increasingly agitated. He finally blurted out that he needed to get out of the room. This was a vivid example of how space can impact mood and behavior and why we, as designers, need to deepen our understanding of how the spaces we design impact individuals.
We live in a time of increased awareness about neurodivergence, which is a naturally occurring variation in neurocognitive functioning. The unique ways they think, process, feel, and act differ from the predominant neurotype. Neurodivergents simply work on a different operating system.
Today, approximately 20 percent of the population is considered neurodivergent. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 28.7 percent of adults in the United States have at least one disability.1 For about 10 percent, that disability is invisible, or nonapparent.2 Many of these individuals are neurodivergent, yet those individuals (also known as neurominorities) remain one of the most underrepresented populations in the workplace.3
Our brains have more than 86 billion cells connecting in various ways, so it is no wonder there are naturally occurring variances in how they function.4 The brains of neurotypical individuals tend to function within a set of typical parameters and societal norms, resulting in broadly similar cognitive functioning. In contrast, the brains of neurodivergents tend to fall outside of these parameters, leading to differences in how they process information. These neurological variations can make communication and self‐expression challenging for them.
Challenges Faced by Neurodivergents
36 percent of adults with ADHD may not know they have it.
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Adults with unmanaged ADHD may experience an annual productivity loss of 22 days per year.
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Employees with ADHD face a 66 percent higher risk of being fired and a 200 percent higher risk of quitting.
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Depression affects a high percentage of neurodivergents.
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Nearly half of employed autistic adults work in positions they are overqualified for.
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The jobless rate for neurodivergent adults in the United States is 30–40 percent, which is triple the unemployment rate for individuals with physical disabilities and eight times higher than the rate for those without disabilities.
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The National Autistic Society in the United Kingdom reports that despite 77 percent of autistic individuals in the United Kingdom wanting to work, only 16 percent of adults with autism work, as opposed to 47 percent of other disabled people.
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A survey of 102 U.S. entrepreneurs found that 35 percent of them had at least four dyslexic traits.
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Underestimating and “othering” neurodivergents often leads to their isolation and feelings of being misunderstood. This marginalization can extend into both personal and professional lives, often resulting in workplace discrimination and underemployment.
Thomas Edison was an inventor who loved patterns and experimenting. He constantly questioned things, had an aggressive approach to learning, and was home‐schooled. As a child, Edison recited phrases to himself over and over. He read the entire public library collection in the exact order they appeared on the bookshelf.13 Having never earned a diploma, he may be considered unemployable today. Yet, by the end of his life, Edison had more than 1,000 U.S. patents to his name. In modern terms, he likely would be considered to either be autistic, ADHD, or perhaps both.
Neurodivergents have been responsible for a huge number of innovations. Even so, a large percentage of this talent pool remains untapped, underemployed, or unemployed. One explanation for this discrepancy could be ill‐informed bias and a lack of understanding about how to set neurodivergents up for success—something we hope to help dispel in this book.
In 1998, American journalist and neurodiversity advocate Harvey Blume published an essay in The Atlantic magazine titled “Neurodiversity: On the Neurological Underpinnings of Geekdom.”14 The piece highlighted the positive elements of neurodiversity. In that spirit, instead of focusing on the challenges, we prefer a strength‐based approach that takes advantage of the positive attributes of neurodivergents. These include:
ADHDers often exhibit strong imaginative abilities and typically achieve higher scores on creativity tests than non‐ADHD people. ADHDers can hyperfocus as well as experience attention deficit.
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The vast majority of dyslexics—84 percent—demonstrate above‐average capabilities when it comes to logical reasoning, recognizing patterns, evaluating scenarios, and making decisions.
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Autistic individuals can solve analytical problems 42 percent faster than non‐autistic.
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Autistic people tend to rely more on rational and logical reasoning and decision‐making, making them less influenced by misinformation and emotions.
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Autistic people have shown superior abilities in identifying patterns and working with systems.
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ADHD brains typically generate more Theta waves, which are associated with a profoundly relaxed state. This may help them excel at out‐of‐the‐box, creative thinking.
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Dyslexic leaders consider themselves as better communicators and are more willing to take risks than non‐dyslexic entrepreneurs.
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Neurodivergent employees often display cognitive advantages such as increased efficiency, creativity, focus, and memory, as well as possessing traits like honesty and dedication.
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The contributions of neurominorities to cognitive diversity in the workplace include bringing varied perspectives and approaches to knowledge processing.
Neurodivergents often are out‐of‐the‐box thinkers, creators, and innovators. Research conducted by Simon Baron‐Cohen, director of Cambridge University's Autism Research Centre, and his team discovered that “modern‐day inventors and autistic people share some traits to an elevated degree, and both have minds that are drawn to hyper‐systemize, for partly genetic reasons.” The study showed that autistic people were far more likely to be on the extreme hyper‐systemizing end and that individuals working in science, technology, engineering, or math (STEM) fields also had more autistic traits than those who do not work in STEM.23 This connection is significant, as the U.S. Bureau of Labor and Statistics has shown a growing need for skilled workers in STEM sectors.24 Researchers have identified specific skill sets common among neurodivergents that may benefit these fields, including increased focus, more deliberative decision‐making, visual acuity, logical thinking, and an affinity for technology.25
Typical does not mean better. If you describe something as typical or average, it is rarely a compliment.
The intense pressure people feel to fit in can unconsciously trigger a need for neurotypical‐passing, which includes behaviors like masking or camouflaging.26 Neurodivergent individuals might be suffering through a stressful meeting, or autistic people might force themselves to make uncomfortable eye contact or prepare for social interactions that are difficult for them. Research shows that camouflaging is unsustainable and can be harmful to the individual.27 “It can result in autistic burnout, illness, and job loss.”28