How many of you had the good fortune of attending or visiting St. Andrews Presbyterian College in Laurinburg, North Carolina? My teaching career began at that small liberal arts college with a big mission: to be one of the first accessible college campuses in the U.S. “Wheelies” and “Walkies” lived and learned together, mentoring each other along the way. The inclusivity of the community enveloped you and shaped the daily lives of students, faculty, and staff, as well as the future vocations of many.

Alex (that is not her real name) was the first advisee that I met with as a professor. She came early to an appointment she had made with me before the start of the fall semester. Alex wheeled into my office, parked her chair just in front of my desk, and began a lively conversation. After exchanging a bit of small talk, she handed me a letter from Accessibility Services. She began to describe her disabilities using the terminology given to her by physicians and counselors, even though she wasn’t required to share all of that information with me. Then, she carefully reviewed the letter, describing the specific types of accommodations she was approved to receive.

You may be aware that at the beginning of the semester in academic institutions, students who are approved to receive accommodations must meet with each of their professors to review a letter describing the unique nature of their needs—recording lectures, note-taking assistance, extra time on tests or assignments, a non-distracting test-taking environment, etc. When Alex was a student, professors did not receive much, if any, training on how to handle these meetings or make reasonable accommodations. I’m glad that things have changed since then.

I tried to listen as carefully as I could to Alex. Later, I wondered how it felt to have to describe to four or five professors each term the type of environment you need for learning. Working with Alex and other students with disabilities since then has given me the perspective to reimagine classrooms, meeting rooms, and worship spaces as inclusive places where varied embodied needs are assumed and understood. I aim to eliminate systemic barriers to inclusion.

Teaching and mentoring for disability justice requires prioritizing the well-being of people with disabilities and gaining a deep understanding of what disability justice advocates identify as “ableist” and “colonialist” assumptions.

“Ableism” is built upon the assumption that non-disabled people are the norm and should have more social capital than people with disabilities; it informs systemic discrimination against people with disabilities.

“Colonialism” is the practice of assuming economic and political power over another territory, people, and the natural resources of another social group.

Jay Dolmage, a professor of English rhetoric, writes about Academic Ableism.

Think about the overt and covert social messages that convey to you what it means to be valuable in academic settings.

• A single expert presides over the knowledge and the room; everyone else is a beginner.
• Develop the mind, even if it comes at the expense of the body.
• Individuals are lauded for their achievements, while collaborative work may receive little or no recognition.
• Diverse learning needs disrupt classroom efficiency and “higher level” learning.
• A hierarchy of experts determines who is deserving of accommodations and distributes resources in an environment of presumed scarcity.

Numerous overt and covert social messages convey what it means to be valuable in academic settings. What are some of the overt and covert social messages that shape your understanding of what is valued in educational or other institutional settings?

Examining these messages prioritizes the well-being and rights of people with disabilities. Dismantling academic ableism requires a cultural shift in higher education–changing approaches to leadership, subjects seen as the core of the curriculum, teaching in the college classroom, and mentoring.