By Mary-Elizabeth Merrill

This weekend, I had the privilege of attending the sixth annual Stanford Neurodiversity Summit, held September 13–15. The theme was “Leveraging Neurodivergent Strengths to Create a Better Future Together.” Those words carried through every presentation, every panel, and every hallway conversation.

Walking into the Summit, I wasn’t just attending as a speaker or nonprofit founder. I was there as a mother of four neurodivergent children, a student at the University of Washington, and as someone who has lived the long, complicated journey of being neurodivergent myself. For much of my life, I felt unseen in classrooms that didn’t know how to meet me where I was. To stand at Stanford and be surrounded by people who not only “get it” but are committed to building better systems, it was both humbling and healing.

A Shift Toward Strengths-Based Approaches

One of the most powerful ideas that echoed throughout the Summit was this: true inclusion doesn’t come from asking “How do we make someone fit the system?” It comes from asking “How do we shape systems that recognize and nurture each person’s brilliance?” For so much of my own life, I believed I was the one who needed fixing. But what this Summit reminded me is that the problem was never me, it was the systems that weren’t built to see me.

I was honored to contribute my voice through several talks that came straight from my heart:

• The Power of Personalizing Education – exploring how learner variability and a whole-child approach can transform classrooms. I thought of my son, who thrives when teachers see beyond test scores and recognize his creativity and empathy as strengths.

• The Power of Potential – highlighting why embedding strength-based enrichment isn’t optional; it’s essential. Too often, our brightest neurodivergent thinkers are bored or discouraged because schools only focus on what they “can’t” do.

• Left Behind – naming a painful reality: dyslexic students are still overlooked in this country. I shared not just statistics but the story of watching my own child slip through the cracks until we found support outside the system.

As I spoke, I thought about the children who can’t yet advocate for themselves. They are the reason I stand in rooms like this, telling stories that are sometimes hard to tell.

Talks That Stood Out to Me

Beyond my own presentations, I was moved by the wisdom of others who shared their work and lived experience.

• Neurodivergence and Late Diagnosis – This session struck me deeply. As someone who didn’t receive answers until much later in life, I know the complicated mix of relief and grief that comes with a diagnosis. Relief because suddenly the puzzle pieces fit; grief because you wonder “what if?” What if my teachers had understood me earlier? What if my kids didn’t have to fight so hard for recognition? This session reminded me why early identification and compassion matter so much.

• Sensory Differences in Neurodivergent Individuals – I thought of one of my sons during every minute of this talk. What looks like “behavior” to the outside world is often a nervous system asking for help. I’ve seen how my son’s body reacts to loud cafeterias or bright classrooms, and I’ve watched how quickly others misinterpret those reactions. This presentation reminded me that when we honor sensory needs, we don’t just calm behaviors, we restore dignity.

• Improving Agency and Self-Determination for Neurodivergent Students through Diverse Collaborations – This was a reminder that our kids deserve more than survival; they deserve agency. I’ve always believed that empowerment comes when children learn to tell their own stories, not just live inside the stories adults create for them. Seeing concrete examples of how schools can lift student voices gave me hope for what is possible.

• Neurodiversity-Informed Education – Dr. Lawrence Fung shared how NiE shifts schools away from deficit-based thinking, where the focus is on what students can’t do, toward a strengths-based model that asks: What are this child’s unique abilities, and how can we adapt to the way their brain learns best? This resonated deeply with me as both a parent and an advocate, because I’ve seen the difference when schools choose to honor a child’s strengths rather than magnify their struggles.

Each of these talks connected to my own family’s story in profound ways. They weren’t just presentations, they were mirrors.

Real-World Impact

What set the Summit apart was its focus on action. This wasn’t about theory locked in an ivory tower. It was about lived experience turned into leadership, about research that translates into classrooms, workplaces, and homes.

One of my proudest moments was sharing my poster: Neurodivergent Shine: Empowering Dyslexic Students through Stories, Smart Tools, and Global Advocacy. This project is rooted in my nonprofit, Einstein Advocates, and in the stories of children, including my own, who deserve to be celebrated instead of sidelined.

Standing by my poster, I saw people pause, read, and then lean in with excitement. Many shared how meaningful it would be for their students and children to finally have books they can see themselves in stories that reflect their experiences instead of erasing them. Others asked thoughtful questions about the AI-powered dyslexia app and how it could support early screening and classroom strategies. Still others wanted to know more about the global advocacy work we are doing through Einstein Advocates and how they might connect with it. In those moments, I knew this was more than an academic exercise, it was a spark, a bridge, and an invitation to keep building together.

Listening and Growing Together

The heart of the Stanford Neurodiversity Summit is its vision, shaped by the leadership of Dr. Lawrence Fung, Associate Professor of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at Stanford University and director of the Stanford Neurodiversity Project. His work spans research, clinical practice, education, and employment, always grounded in the belief that neurodiverse individuals thrive when systems are designed to maximize their strengths and potential.

Being part of this Summit reminded me that listening is just as important as speaking. It’s easy to talk about advocacy, but it is harder and far more transformative to truly hear the voices of those whose experiences are different from our own. Sitting in sessions led by autistic adults, researchers, educators, and parents from all over the world, I found myself stretched in new ways.

I listened to stories that mirrored my family’s and students journey, and others that opened my eyes to realities I hadn’t yet considered. I was reminded that growth doesn’t happen in echo chambers, it happens in the uncomfortable but necessary spaces where perspectives collide and we learn to see the world through someone else’s lens.

For me, this Summit wasn’t only about sharing my work, it was about growing, being humbled, and being challenged. That is the gift of being in community, and it’s the gift Dr. Fung and his team create by making this Summit a space where all voices matter.

In many ways, his leadership reflects the same heart behind Einstein Advocates: a commitment to community-driven, strengths-based approaches that not only change classrooms and workplaces, but also change lives.

Moving Forward

Leaving Stanford, I carried both urgency and hope. Urgency because I see every day how children are still being left behind. Hope because I witnessed what happens when diverse voices come together with courage and compassion.

For me, this work is not abstract. It is my child coming home exhausted from masking all day. It is the tears of parents who feel invisible in IEP meetings. It is my own younger self, told I was “stupid,” who now knows she was never broken.

The Summit reminded me of this simple truth: neurodiversity is not a problem to be solved, it is a strength to be embraced.

And I believe with all my heart that when we come together as parents, educators, researchers, clinicians, employers, and most importantly, neurodivergent voices themselves, we can create a future where difference is not just tolerated but treasured.

That’s the future I want for my children. That’s the future I want for all neurodiverse children and adults. And that is the future I will keep fighting for.