This guest post is by Carlos ‘Enrique’ Rafael who was accepted into University of Wyoming. Carlos is applying for the Spring 2026 Making a Difference Autism Scholarship via the nonprofit KFM Making a Difference started by me, Kerry Magro. I was nonspeaking till 2.5 and diagnosed with autism at 4 and you can read more about my organization here.
Autistics on Autism the Next Chapter: Stories You Need to Hear About What Helped Them While Growing Up and Pursuing Their Dreams was released on Amazon on 3/25/25 and looks at the lives over 75 Autistic adults. 100% of the proceeds from this book will go back to supporting our nonprofits many initiatives, like this scholarship program. Check out the book here. Would you like me to travel to speak with your school or company on autism and inclusion? You can contact me here for more details.
I did not begin my life with words.
For the first five years, my voice lived somewhere deep inside me, like a fossil waiting beneath layers of earth. Doctors called it autism. Administrators would later call it a limitation. But my mother called it possibility.
When I was first diagnosed, she did not see a closed door. She saw work to be done.
She drove me to therapies when other parents were planning playdates. She sat in waiting rooms with tired eyes and stubborn hope. She practiced sounds with me over and over again, celebrating syllables the way other parents celebrate touchdowns. I was five years old when I finally began to talk. Five when I was potty trained. Five when the world started to hear me.
But even before I had words, I had water.
Swimming was freedom. In the pool, my body understood what classrooms could not teach me. The water held me without judgment. It quieted the noise that so often overwhelmed me. I did not feel behind in the water. I felt strong.
Horse therapy gave me something different — connection. Sitting on a horse and feeling its steady rhythm beneath me, I learned balance, trust, and confidence. The horse did not care that I struggled with eye contact or processed the world differently. It responded to patience. To consistency. To heart.
School, however, was harder terrain.
Academics have never come easily to me. I have had to work through every assignment, every test, every grade. While some students seem to absorb information effortlessly, I excavate it — carefully, slowly, layer by layer. I study longer. I ask more questions. I try again when others are finished.
There were times when administrators saw my diagnosis before they saw me. They used the word “autism” like a ceiling — something meant to lower expectations and shrink my future. It hurt to feel underestimated, as though my dreams were too big for the label attached to me.
But teachers saw something different.
They saw my fascination with the ancient world. They noticed how my eyes lit up when we talked about fossils, prehistoric ecosystems, and extinct creatures. While I struggled in some subjects, science was different. Science made sense. Patterns, evidence, and discovery were things my brain loved.
I may not memorize poetry easily, but I can tell you about the Mesozoic Era. I can explain how fossils form. I can talk for hours about ancient life and the animals that once roamed the Earth. Paleontology is not just an interest for me. It is a calling.
While others see dirt, I see history.
While others see bones, I see stories.
Because of teachers who believed in me, I learned about the Connecting Pokes@7220 program at the University of Wyoming — a program designed to support students like me as we transition into college life. It is more than a program. It is a bridge. A chance. A statement that I belong in higher education.
University will not be easy. None of my schooling has been. I have worked through every year, every challenge, and every doubt. Autism has shaped my journey, but it has never defined my limits.
If anything, it has sharpened my focus.
Autism allows me to dive deeply into what I love. It gives me persistence. It gives me attention to detail — the kind of detail you need when brushing dust away from a fossil that has waited millions of years to be found.
Some people outgrow childhood dreams.
I have not.
I still dream of digging up dinosaurs. I dream of kneeling in the Wyoming soil, uncovering bones that tell stories older than humanity. I dream of contributing to science — of discovering something that expands what we know about life on Earth.
My journey has not been simple. It has been layered — like sediment building over time. Therapy sessions. Swimming pools. Horseback rides. Long nights of studying. Moments of discouragement. Moments of triumph.
And like any fossil, what emerges from pressure and time can be strong.
I did not overcome autism by erasing it. I grew with it.
I am not behind.
I am becoming.
One day, when I brush dust from a fossil beneath the wide Wyoming sky, I will remember the five-year-old who finally found his voice.
And I will know he was never buried.
He was waiting to be discovered.
Kerry Magro, a professional speaker and best-selling author who is also on the autism spectrum started the nonprofit KFM Making a Difference in 2011 to help students with autism receive scholarship aid to pursue a post-secondary education. Help us continue to help students with autism go to college by making a tax-deductible donation to our nonprofit here.
Kerry Magro, a professional speaker and best-selling author who is also on the autism spectrum, founded the nonprofit KFM Making a Difference in 2011 to help students with autism receive scholarship support to pursue post-secondary education. You can help us continue supporting autistic students by making a tax-deductible donation to our nonprofit here.
You can also consider having Kerry speak at your next event by submitting an inquiry here. Kerry speaks with schools, businesses, government agencies, colleges, nonprofits, parent groups, and conferences on topics including autism, employment, college success, mental health, inclusion, and bullying prevention.
