Challenging the System of Adjustments

By Mia Nicole Davies

Posted December 28, 2020

Being disabled in academia is tricky at any stage: whether you’re still in school or finishing your PhD (not that I’m there yet), getting any kind of help, support, or even just recognition involves navigating complex and sometimes discriminatory bureaucracies. Even though I wasn’t officially diagnosed with many of my health conditions until I was fifteen, with the help of my somehow all-capable mother I was able to get the adjustments I needed. I quickly embraced my newfound disabled identity: while I didn’t immediately figure out what my limits were, having names for what I was experiencing, what made me feel like something was wrong with me, gave me more confidence over my life. When I applied to university, I disclosed my disabled status on the application, and my current university reached out to me before I even enrolled to discuss how they might be able to support me. Even before my first classes started, I had a Schedule of Adjustments lined up, with extra time on exams, automatic extensions on essays, and a direct point of contact for support. I’ve even had a chance to work with my university’s representatives for disabled students and staff to create a more equitable, accessible environment.

Notably, one thing I pushed to change was my university’s policy on lecture recordings: while students with health issues could not be penalised for not attending classes, the fact that lecturers could opt out of recording lectures meant that I couldn’t fully access my education; in fact, after a likely Transient Ischemic Attack, I chose not to go to the hospital simply because I did not want to miss the next day’s lecture. The existing solution was to give such students a recording device, but this created more problems for an already disadvantaged student, who had to find classmates to entrust with the device and take notes for the class. (Notetakers aren’t an option for students with health conditions that don’t require them 100% of the time.)

Of course, with many classes being remote this year, I am able to access my education from bed even when classes are not recorded for later viewing. This flexibility has been invaluable: I have found myself much more able to handle the stress of large workloads and more on top of everything in my life. Having fewer physical obligations has also meant that my health is better overall since I have more time to attend to my needs. It is so important that remote learning remain possible in coming years.

Considering that in my first two years of university physical inaccessibility was a primary problem for me, it would seem that the adjustments I have in place have now made my education completely accessible, and that I have no setbacks compared to my able-bodied peers. However, my situation actually highlights one of the most glaring issues with the current system of adjustments: it assumes that disadvantages from a disability can be totally removed by having students select some options off a menu. By operating as if executive function can be immediately dealt with by giving a student extra time, or that sick days can be balanced out by extensions, the system denies the fact that even with all needed adjustments in place, being disabled can and often does negatively impact a student’s academic experience.

Even with barriers removed and support in place, the system of adjustments does not account for the very real impact that disabilities, chronic illnesses, and neurodiversity have on students even at the best of times. This shortcoming has had a negative toll on my mental health and sense of self: after all, on paper it would appear that there is nothing stopping me from achieving just as much and just as highly as any non-disabled, neurotypical student. No amount of acknowledgement or adjustment can change the fact that I can’t fix my brain or the effect that it has on my body, even in a more flexible and forgiving setting. I am still trying to come to terms with the fact that my health causes me to struggle academically. I still find it hard to engage fully with my learning, even if I can do it in bed. I have a tendency to dismiss these issues and convince myself that I am simply not good enough, that I am brandishing my disability as an excuse for my own shortcomings.

I know I am not the only one who deals with this cognitive dissonance. Trying to explain to staff (who can only do so much in this system, even if they genuinely would love to support students more) that I am still struggling despite having adjustments in place is especially difficult if I am trying to explain it to myself too. I don’t know exactly what the answer is, or what disabled and neurodiverse students can do: accepting and learning to live with the levels we reach under the current system feels too much like admitting defeat for my comfort, especially if there is a way to make academia more accessible for all of us.

Mia Nicole Davies is a student at the University of Edinburgh, and also currently a writer, editor, and developer for the publications Mxogyny and TABOU. They can be found at @miandavies on Instagram.