In 2001 Lars Perner had been hired to three visiting-professor positions without having set foot on the campuses. But when it came to getting a tenure-track job, Mr. Perner didn't have the same luck. Twenty-five on-campus interviews resulted in nothing but a stack of rejection letters.

In one instance Mr. Perner, who studies marketing, learned that some interviewers described him as standoffish. He had thought his presentation was loose. He had even cracked a few jokes.

At that point, Mr. Perner says, his thick Danish accent wrapping each word, "it was time to re-evaluate." What those interviewers didn't know was that Mr. Perner has Asperger's syndrome, a neurobiological disorder at the milder end of the autism spectrum. People with Asperger's have average or above-average intelligence but have difficulty with social interaction, often do not like change, and sometimes exhibit unusual or repetitive behaviors. Some people with Asperger's also concentrate or obsess on a particular area of interest. In Mr. Perner's case, having Asperger's means it is hard for him to maintain eye contact, recognize faces, and interpret body language — all abilities that affect a first impression.

So Mr. Perner tried a different approach: He started mentioning his Asperger's in a personal note in his job applications. The strategy worked. Today he is an assistant professor of marketing at the Imperial Valley campus of San Diego State University, a position he has held since 2003. He says as far as he knows his disclosure did not hurt him at all in the hiring process. What's more, being open about his diagnosis has allowed him to make necessary adjustments in the classroom. For example, Mr. Perner photographs each of his students on the first day of class to help him remember their faces.

Stephen Roeder, dean of the Imperial Valley campus, says he has heard "not a single complaint or negative comment" about Mr. Perner, whose condition is not always obvious. "Talking to him, the only clue sometimes is his facial expression or lack thereof." And Mr. Roeder says that Mr. Perner's experience shows that it is best to be forthcoming about a diagnosis of autism. "Talking about it up front dispels any misconceptions," he says. "That's the great thing about his openness; people could come to him and talk if there were any issue." But many other professors who have autism choose not to tell their colleagues. They say that too few people, even among faculty members, understand the diagnosis and that if they reveal it they will be pitied or perceived as less capable.

Despite those concerns, academe is generally considered a more welcoming environment than most for people with autism. They get paid to talk at length about their area of interest in a realm where eccentricity and limited social skills are often seen as signs of genius rather than cause for scorn. "Universities are probably the place where we get the kindest treatment, where we are respected and valued the most," says Mr. Perner. But, as quickly as the words come out of his mouth, he stops himself. "I tend to romanticize the university. There are definite challenges."

New Diagnosis

There is no way to know how many people in academe have autism because many do not discuss their diagnosis and many more who meet the criteria go undiagnosed, autism experts suspect. The faculty members with autism interviewed for this article say they have met others on their campuses who they suspect have autism but have not been diagnosed, or keep the diagnosis to themselves. Asperger's syndrome, which because it is a mild form of autism is probably the most common form in academe, is a relatively new diagnosis. Although Hans Asperger, a Viennese physician, wrote about the syndrome in 1944, it was not listed in the American Psychiatric Association's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the guide used by health professionals to diagnose mental disorders, until 50 years later.

So most academics with Asperger's would have learned of their diagnosis as adults, and had to adjust to the knowledge that neurological differences were behind many traits that had always set them apart. It takes time to deal with the stigma of having a mental disorder, says Michael John Carley, who has Asperger's and is executive director of the Global and Regional Asper-ger Syndrome Partnership, a group for adults with the condition. Often autism conjures up images of people with very limited abilities who may be nonverbal, unable to care for themselves, or prone to extreme behavior problems. Those with Asperger's, however, can typically function on their own with little to no accommodation.

"Obviously there are still prejudices. Even in the most well-intentioned situation, someone could pity you for having this diagnosis and view you as broken," Mr. Carley says. "The only formula that I tell people is, you better be right about when and when not to disclose." It is warnings like Mr. Carley's that concern a visiting professor of astronomy and physics at a small college in Pennsylvania, who asked not to be named because he has not told colleagues about his Asperger's diagnosis. Nearly a decade has passed since he got his doctorate and he is still searching for a tenure-track job. Job hunting is difficult, he says, because he struggles to make small talk or socialize for an extended period of time. He worries that disclosing his diagnosis would hinder his efforts to get a tenure-track position.

"A hiring committee gets about 100 applications and they're looking for any little thing that can weed people out," he says. "Obviously they can't discriminate based on physical disability, but I wonder how they would react if I said I have mental differences from the norm." The professor says he gets along well with his current colleagues, but does not think his diagnosis is important for them to know. As it is, he says, they perceive him as an introvert and realize that he's not one to "stand around for 30 minutes and shoot the breeze." Things would change if he got tenure, though. Then, he says, he would tell people, without making a big deal about it.

Relieved by Explanation

Dawn Prince-Hughes took a different approach to her diagnosis of Asperger's five years ago at age 36. The adjunct professor of anthropology at Western Washington University says she was relieved to have a name for her differences. It allowed her to explain to others why she isn't any good at small talk and why, when she enters a room, she looks at everything, not just the people. Ms. Prince-Hughes says that despite her difficulties, her colleagues know she has something unique to offer. In fact, she says, having Asperger's syndrome makes her a better anthropologist. Social norms that most people take for granted never came naturally for her, so she can see things with a different eye, an advantage in her line of work.

She wasn't always so at ease. As a student, she says, she never fit in, and dropped out of high school when she was a sophomore. She was homeless for five years and worked as an exotic dancer for three. A visit to the zoo changed everything. Ms. Prince-Hughes observed the gorillas, and they taught her how to connect with others, she says, something she hadn't previously understood. The gorillas became the subject of her college studies and her professional research. Last year she published a memoir, Songs of the Gorilla Nation: My Journey Through Autism. Today, as water flows audibly in the background, Ms. Prince-Hughes speaks matter-of-factly about the impact that her diagnosis of autism has had on her. She prefers to talk on the phone from the bathtub. "I do my best thinking in the water," she says. "The sound of the water and the feel of it on my skin and even the smell of it is so constant that it grounds me."

Ms. Prince-Hughes is still working on the social aspects of her research-based position. It can be difficult for her to understand people's intentions, and often after speaking with someone, she must replay the conversation in her head to understand what transpired. With practice, though, Ms. Prince-Hughes has been able to adjust. She used to inquire about people's personal lives if she sensed from their body language that something was wrong. Now she realizes that doing so is considered invasive. At the same time, Ms. Prince-Hughes says that having Asperger's is part of who she is and something that she never wants to completely mask. By being open about her diagnosis, she can be herself while also ensuring that those she is around are comfortable. So she believes that other faculty members like her have a lot to gain by not hiding their condition.

"If you have Asperger's tendencies to the point where you can get a diagnosis, your co-workers already know there's something different," she says. "I think work relationships are more likely to suffer without that kind of disclosure."

http://chronicle.com Section: The Faculty Volume 52, Issue 8, Page A10

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