Finding out from a professor that I have what some consider a disability was painful and humiliating. My limitation is a catalyst for growth in my life, so I never once considered it disabling. And in my mind and prejudice, a disability is supposed to be visible.
Not necessarily, according to Rachel Tarp, a coordinator in UT’s Services for Students with Disabilities office (SSD). Some of the most common disabilities — which can include anything from learning impairments, ADHD and mental health issues — aren’t immediately visible to us.
“Seventy-five percent of students registered with us have disabilities that are not immediately or physically apparent,” Tarp said. “They have what we call invisible disabilities. It is our fastest growing population.”
Ross, who wears a hearing aid, is one whose disability is noticeable. When he first came to UT, Ross’ audiologist told him to register with SSD.
“It took a lot of work to get all the necessary paperwork together for SSD, but once I did, they processed it quickly,” he said. “[SSD] gave me equipment and showed me how to tell my professors what my needs are. At first, professors are a little nervous, but once I show them how to use a machine [that hooks up to the hearing aid], they are okay.”
SSD does a brilliant job of communicating the needs of students with visible disabilities to their professors. There are well established protocol and tools that are the product of a history of integrating students with visible disabilities into existing educational structures.
Students with invisible disabilities, however, need different, more individualized solutions. Too often, these students are met with inflexibility, cynicism and ignorance — and the effects are devastating.
At the beginning of a semester, a student with a disability is supposed to present to each of their professors a letter from SSD that specifically outlines the academic accommodations for which they have been cleared. An accommodation letter from SSD requires that UT faculty and administration engage on both intellectual and emotional levels with a student. But it is clear a lot of people on campus don’t have the know-how to do this.
“I hate doing this,” Brianne, who has an invisible disability, said of her experience talking to professors. “Some professors think I am trying to get out of doing the work. Some of them can be really hostile, and it hurts. I wish I could just tell my professors what I have, because then maybe they would understand. But the way some of them act, I guess it does not even matter.”
Brianne, who has one year left at UT, said she “just [wants] to get out of here as fast as I can.”
Tarp acknowledges that students can have negative experiences in college, but also said the SSD tries its best to do outreach at the beginning of every semester with the resources they have, including only five coordinators for the entire University.
“Colleges automate many of their services in order to handle large numbers of students,” she said. “There is a tendency to be rigid and see things in black and white. This is good for some things but does not always work well for the students we represent.”
As for myself, I still have not registered with SSD. I have the sneaking suspicion that it might complicate my relationships with some faculty, and that I will acquire a label of incompetence when I submit an accommodation letter.
We all have limitations, but they only become disabilities when understanding and flexibility with regards to the individual are subordinated to rigid automation with regards to evaluation. When this happens, attending UT becomes a discrediting rather than a liberating experience for the individual, and we needlessly sacrifice the commitment to diversity that is at the core of the University’s mission.
Mojiminiyi is a rhetoric and writing and nutrition senior
