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What if a five-minute conversation could change someone’s life? What if a single children’s book could alter the trajectory of everything and maybe even save someone later in life?

Emma Pharis, BSW'24, wants you to know that it’s possible and, if you wanted to, you could probably make a huge difference in someone’s life. You might even be able to do it right now.

Pharis is neurodivergent, but she didn’t find that out until she was 13 years old. Until that point, she thought she was simply damaged goods.

“There’s an idea that neurodivergent kids don’t know they’re different,” she says. “You absolutely do. You just don't know why. Because we're not taught about neurodiversity as kids. You just think you're broken, you're wrong, a flaw in the manufacturing of human beings.

“When you grow up like that, and you have no explanation, you’re just trying your best not to stand out. You’re trying your best not to show anybody that you're different. So, your self-esteem is absolutely destroyed.”

Many of Pharis’s teachers growing up pretty much confirmed this sentiment by telling her she’d never graduate high school, much less university. Her initial motivation to succeed came from just wanting to prove them wrong — and she did just that.

“At the end of high school, I didn’t know what the future held for me,” she says. “But I knew something needed to change and that I would be part of it.”

Barriers to a better understanding of neurodivergent children 

Pharis began by supporting neurodivergent children and youth as an education assistant (EA) in Grande Prairie, and then supporting families in women’s shelters. Through those experiences, she came to understand how little most professionals and frontline workers know about neurodivergent people, and the barriers that make it hard for these usually overworked professionals to find out more.

Over time, her anger and sense of betrayal over how the education system/society treated her ebbed and was replaced with a passion to change things so that children like herself never have to go through the bullying and rotten treatment she suffered as a child.

Here’s the amazing thing she discovered along the way: one of the most impactful solutions to support neurodivergent children and youth doesn’t take much time or money. Big, expensive programs are often not as effective as one quick, easy and inexpensive solution: conversation.

Pharis’s research and experience has shown it can be as simple as identifying neurodivergent children and letting them know they’re different; in fact, to teach all kids from a young age that neurodivergent people exist and that no neurotype is superior or inferior to another. That the world is made up of a beautiful array of different minds, and the world needs minds of all kinds. That neurodiversity is a natural part of human diversity.

Just having a conversation that lets them know they’re not broken — just different — can have a huge impact. In her work at the shelter, Pharis saw this first-hand through conversations she had with the children she supported.

“It was really, really beautiful and incredible to see how just a simple conversation in a developmentally appropriate way could completely change the way kids thought about themselves and others,” says Pharis.

“The blame is no longer put on them. Even kids as young as two or three are able to understand far more than we give them credit.”

A side benefit of her role as an EA and working in shelters was having a window into the various professions that support neurodivergent and traumatized youth. She eventually decided that social work was her true calling. Of particular interest was the fact social work is built on a foundation of social justice, and, if there’s one thing Pharis knew, it’s that she wanted to make change and she wanted a profession that supported that mission. “Social work seemed to be the only profession where I could safely bring my whole self,” she says.

Field education, or practicum, provides future social workers with an opportunity to explore different aspects of the profession. As a national leader in field education, the ��ݮ����Ƶ����'s provides unique options, including a self-directed practicum that allows students the opportunity to pursue an area they’re passionate about. When she couldn’t find a placement geared toward her interest in supporting neurodiverse youth, Pharis decided to try a self-directed practicum.

Her sprawling project almost defies belief — especially for a short-term undergraduate project. First, she spent 300 hours diving into books, documentaries, and pop-culture artifacts like films, podcasts, news stories — basically absorbing everything that she could find that documented the lived-experiences of neurodivergent individuals of all ages, backgrounds and demographics.

Then Pharis leaned into her neurodivergent gifts, one of which makes it easier for her to spot patterns. Diving into the content, she surfaced with some common threads that confirmed her hypothesis: that it usually isn’t the elaborate programs that make the deepest and most lasting difference but rather it’s often the simple, authentic conversations that reflect genuine care, curiosity and willingness to learn. She says:

“Think of the damage to a child’s developing sense of self and mental health that could be avoided by just being taught that neurodivergent people exist.”

“Then they’d also know they’re not alone and could see and build relationships with people like themselves. Imagine growing up never knowing that one of the most core parts of your identity even exists. Think of the damage that causes. It’s astronomical.”

For the next 400 or so hours, Pharis took all these common threads and thought about ways to make life better for neurodivergent individuals in nearly every realm, from education, to health care, to public life, including parks and shopping malls.

Among her accessible resources and recommendations was a communication board tailored to aid non-speaking autistic children, but that could also support trauma survivors who struggle to communicate verbally, and those who don’t speak the language (and those who struggle to communicate verbally such as those who have had stroke, those with advanced dementia, etc.).

“It’s a huge safety issue,” Pharis says. “There are many autistic children who are non-speaking, who, if they're separated from their parent or their caregiver in a place like a mall, may have no way of communicating with others. So, if we had something like this communication board around the mall it would provide a way for children to communicate.”

A new journey begins from here

Pharis’s advocacy is already extending far beyond her practicum. She founded an Instagram page, where she shares practical resources, book recommendations and personal insights about neurodiversity. Her goal is to demystify neurodivergence and provide accessible, affirming content to anyone willing to learn. Looking ahead, she’s planning on turning the page into a full-fledged organization and is even in the process of writing a children’s book to help parents explain neurodivergence to their kids.

Needless to say, Pharis’s life journey to graduation hasn’t been easy, but she’s been driven by her passion to be part of the change. The one dark shadow behind this drive is cast by the many neurodivergent people who never fully recover from the thousand cuts they take to their sense of self and mental health growing up, some even end up ending their lives.

“I’ve spent my life watching people like me … my community, lose their lives to things that didn’t need to be that way,” she says. “That is why I do this work — to create the simple, yet not-so-small changes that can make a massive difference for neurodivergent people everywhere. For those raised without answers, and for those seeking them now. For those we’ve lost and for those still hurting and healing. And for the kids growing up today.”

“May we know, love and celebrate each other and ourselves.”