CW: Ableism
Rachel Young is a PhD student at the University of Rhode Island who has cerebral palsy. She has filed a federal lawsuit against the university for violating the Americans with Disabilities Act by failing to provide basic access. She describes how, because restrooms were not accessible to her on campus, she would not eat or drink for hours to avoid using the restroom, leaving her dehydrated and exhausted.
She says some classes were held in buildings without ADA-compliant restrooms, accessible doors, hallways, paths, or parking. She said that while URI’s president assured her the issues would be addressed, nothing was ever done. This case represents a particularly stark illustration of how the gap between policy and practice can have devastating effects, showing how colleges and universities so often fail to provide the accomodations necessary for disabled students to participate fully in academic life.
But the challenges facing disabled students run deeper than physical access. At Providence College, for instance, faculty member Justin Noia has suggested that the accommodations given to disabled students undermine the quality of the education itself. In an essay last year, he recalled a student who took an exam with a memory aid because she was allowed to do so as part of her accommodations. Noia said that made the grade “a lie,” since it no longer reflected mastery of the material.
Requests for accommodations are on the rise, Noia said, and while faculty members may disagree about whether their requests are appropriate, they grant them because the law requires it. Privately, he added, many faculty members believe there are disabilities that cannot be accommodated—that affect cognitive development, memory, or the ability to participate meaningfully in a classroom.
These perspectives are representative of a disturbing reality. While disabled students like Young have to fight for basic access to restrooms and classrooms, others face skepticism about whether their accommodations compromise academic integrity.
For example, during my freshman year I took psychology. After realizing that I didn’t do well on the first exam due to visual processing difficulties, I spoke to my professor. I knew the material, but the format of the exam didn’t meet my needs.
It was the first time I advocated for myself in college, and I was terrified to approach him. Luckily, my professor was kind and understanding. He suggested that I could have someone circle my answers instead of trying to do it independently.
That small adjustment made all the difference. Ultimately, I excelled in the class and even ended up making the Dean’s List that semester. Without the kindness of my professor, I would have struggled for the entire semester. My experience illustrates how critical it is for educators to recognize that accommodations are not about lowering standards—they are about ensuring that every student has a fair chance to demonstrate their knowledge.
Unfortunately, I am all too familiar with the inaccessibility of higher education. Over the past seven years, across two colleges, I’ve had to fight for appropriate accommodations myself. Even once they are approved, it has often taken weeks for them to be implemented, requiring multiple emails, forms, and phone calls.
Most recently, I’ve struggled at my local community college. I was told that peer note takers were not available for remote learning. This did not make sense to me. I then showed my accommodation agreement to three other people, all of whom agreed with me.
Subsequently, I was told by the former director of the disability services office that I had “misinterpreted” my accommodations agreement. The former provost even suggested that I transfer to another college after I expressed my frustrations in an email. Experiences like these highlight how students can be left feeling dismissed or even pushed out when they advocate for their rights.
In so many ways, the very system that strives to ensure equity can become the very barrier that leaves students waiting while their performance suffers.
The tension between legal compliance, faculty attitudes, and lived experience shows that disability inclusion remains a challenge for higher education. On one hand, the law requires accommodations and accessibility; on the other, cultural resistance and bureaucratic inertia often undermine those protections. Accessibility is not optional-it is a civil right.
Yet, when universities fail to provide accommodations or when faculty question the legitimacy of accommodations, disabled students are left to navigate environments that compromise both their health and their education. Disabled students should be able to access all aspects of college life. They should be able to take their tests, hang out with their friends, use the restroom, and eat lunch.
Rachel Young’s lawsuit reminds colleges and universities that equal access to education, facilities, and activities of daily living requires more than words from an academic official. It also compels them to come to terms with deeper cultural attitudes toward disability in academia.
When faculty see accommodations as a dilution of rigor, and administrators treat accessibility as an afterthought, disabled students are asked to succeed while dealing with systems not built for them. The road ahead calls not just for legal compliance but real equity, empathy, and the recognition that the inclusion of disabled students is beneficial for everyone.
Sources:
Noia, Justin. “Giving Students Accommodations Is a Disservice to Employers.” Times Higher Education (THE), Inflexion Private Equity , 22 Oct. 2024, http://www.timeshighereducation.com/opinion/giving-students-accommodations-disservice-employers.
Nagle, Kate. “News: URI Phd Student Says She Didn’t ‘Eat or Drink’ on Campus Due to Lack of ADA-Compliance.” GoLocalProv, GoLocal24, 8 Dec. 2025, http://www.golocalprov.com/news/uri-phd-student-says-she-didnt-eat-or-drink-on-campus-due-to-lack-of-ada-co.