From uncertainty to confidence: Preparing young people with SEND for work

“I didn’t know what to ask, but I knew I was struggling.” That feeling has stayed with me, not just as a memory of school, but as a reminder of what so many young people with SEND still experience when thinking about their future.

Growing up, my experience of careers education was minimal. It felt like a tick-box exercise, brief conversations, surface-level guidance, and often decisions shaped by grades rather than potential. For students like me, who navigate the world differently, that lack of depth mattered. My careers education didn’t help me understand what skills I had or how I could develop them to fit into a workplace; it simply told me what jobs existed. But knowing a job exists is very different from believing you can do it.

As someone with ADHD and autism, both unseen disabilities, I wasn’t shown how a future workplace could be shaped around my needs. There was little discussion about adjustments, support, or how my differences might show up in a workplace. Instead, I was left trying to bridge that gap on my own: How would I cope? Would I be supported? Would I even belong? Without those answers, building confidence becomes difficult.

At home, my parents, who came to the UK as refugees, instilled in me a strong drive to succeed. They rebuilt their lives from scratch and wanted more for my sisters and me. But like many families, they didn’t have access to networks or insider knowledge about professional careers. So, I relied on search engines, guessing my way through possibilities like law, medicine, or dentistry, without truly understanding what those paths involved or how accessible they were for someone like me. That lack of connection, to people, to experience, to tailored guidance, creates limits. Not just in opportunity, but in imagination.

From experience to overwhelm

Work experience should have demystified that for me. And in some ways, it did. Through one placement, I observed a corporate law firm, which helped me realise I wanted to pursue social welfare law. But stepping into that environment felt overwhelming. I was used to the structure of school, the clarity, the rules, the predictability. Suddenly, I was in a space where expectations weren’t clearly explained. It felt like being a fish out of water.

No one had prepared me for workplace norms: how to communicate professionally, how to navigate social dynamics, or even what was expected of me day-to-day. For someone with SEND, that uncertainty can trigger anxiety, overthinking, and a constant fear of “getting it wrong.” I found myself overcompensating, trying to mask what I didn’t understand. What would have helped? Something simple but powerful: clarity.

A checklist. A conversation. An honest explanation of what working life looks like, and how I could navigate it in a way that works for me. More than anything, I needed to feel prepared. And preparation isn’t just about skills, it’s about empowerment.

Connecting more employers with young people with SEND helps break down barriers on both sides, giving young people greater access to opportunities, while enabling employers to tap into wider, often overlooked talent pools that can strengthen their businesses. Through its partnership with BASE and eight leading employers, CEC is making strides to increase the quantity and depth of employer opportunities for young people with SEND.

Building confidence for the future

Young people with SEND need to know not only that support exists, but what that support looks like in practice. We need to be shown how to advocate for ourselves: how to say, “I struggle with this,” without fear, and to ask, “What could this role look like for me?” Many of us don’t lack ambition; we lack the language and confidence to express our needs.

But this shouldn’t be something we’re expected to figure out alone. Support should be done with us, not to us. Open conversations are key, where employers ask individuals what they need and how they can be supported to thrive. Not everyone will know what support they need straight away, especially if they are undiagnosed or still figuring things out. Creating space for those conversations helps build the sense of belonging every young person deserves in the workplace and a one-size-fits-all approach to adjustments doesn’t work.  

For me, being acknowledged matters. Not just in name, but in action. I want support that recognises my needs and helps me build a “step ladder” into the workplace, not something that sets me apart unnecessarily, but something that allows me to thrive.

Looking ahead, I hope we start to change how we talk about SEND in relation to careers. Too often, the language focuses on limitations, what we “struggle with” or “suffer from.” But there is another side to that story. My ADHD means I can be incredibly creative and think outside the box. My autism shapes how I focus and engage deeply with topics I care about. These aren’t just challenges; they are strengths.

But we have to be careful not to swing too far the other way. Reframing disability positively shouldn’t erase the reality that it can be hard. The goal isn’t to ignore the struggle, it’s to recognise both sides and create environments where young people can succeed because of who they are, not in spite of it.

Representation also matters. Young people need to see role models, people like them who are thriving in different careers. Without that visibility, it’s easy to believe you won’t measure up.Today, I’m studying law and hope to work in social welfare, supporting people like my parents, who relied on charitable services to understand their rights. I’ve seen firsthand how accessible legal support can change lives. That’s what motivates me.

If we want young people with SEND to make positive, fulfilling transitions into work, we need to start earlier. We need to listen to them, involve them, and equip them, not just with information, but with the confidence to step forward.