HIGHER EDUCATION CONTINUES TO LOWER ITSELF.

An Inside Higher Ed columnist engages in constructive self-criticism about those "inclusion and accessibility" statements that are among the clutter the deanlets and deanlings are pushing onto course outlines.

Put yourself in the shoes of a student whose learning is affected by some condition -- visible or invisible, physical or psychological, rare or common. Would [a generic legalistic] statement make you feel academically at home? I believe that we can improve our statements on inclusion and accessibility in three respects: language, tone and scope.

Read on, and we see that in addition to the kind of physical disabilities practitioners have long respected and worked with, we slip in the special education and enable continued social promotions.

If students successfully navigate the legal landscape of the institution, their request will then be “reviewed,” and it will be “assessed” whether their request is “reasonable” and “appropriate.” The tone suggests that our students should prepare themselves for some scrutiny. To some, those lines might even sound borderline accusatory. The assumption seems to be that the student’s accommodation request -- their idea of how they learn best -- might be unreasonable or inappropriate. I believe that this sends the wrong message and can function as a deterrent. Instead, let’s assume that our students want to do well in our class and that they have some idea of how they learn best.

Let's stipulate for the sake of discussion that nobody in class is attempting to game the disability bureaucracy. Read on, though.

I often wonder who determines the norms of learning, anyway. Who decides what’s “reasonable” and “appropriate”? Who decided, for example, that we learn best being confined to chairs and sitting still for an extended period of time? In ancient Athens, Aristotle’s students learned while walking. This practice was so characteristic of Aristotle that his school came to be known as the Peripatos, named after the covered walkways (the peripatoi) where the members met. Sure, some ideas about how to alter the learning environment are impractical. But some alterations, such as standing desks or walking meetings, seem quite feasible.

Maybe in twenty-five centuries we've gotten a few things right?  At the same time, the essay is about "inclusion and accessibility."  If we're conducting class by wandering around, aren't we creating an environment more difficult to the people confined to wheelchairs or relying on sign interpreters?

Then comes the special education.

The statement above implies that unless our students’ learning preferences are tied to a “documented learning difficulty” or “disability,” they don’t warrant accommodation. This excludes all those students who would benefit from an altered learning environment but who do not have a disability that gives them a (legal) basis to ask for it. I suggest that we significantly broaden the scope of the statement. Let’s make the statement on inclusion more inclusive.

I’m thinking of students who learn better when they move, or who feel more comfortable meeting with the instructor in a public space instead of in private offices. I’m also thinking of those who come to class without the text, not because they didn’t care to purchase the book but because they cannot afford it, or those who have to miss classes to take care of their child or to attend parole appointments.

Whether or not any of these examples are likely to apply to our individual students is relatively unimportant. The crucial point is to make students feel like they are not alone. Instead of planting the idea that certain personal circumstances and ways of learning are somehow abnormal, we should normalize that we all face different obstacles in the classroom.

The author prays that additional accommodations will somehow strengthen students.

Our students might face similar (or even different) challenges after they graduate. Thus, instead of lowering our expectations by removing challenges (e.g., meeting deadlines), we should help students meet our expectations and take ownership of their learning by facing their obstacles and trying to overcome them as best as possible.

Sounds more like enabling underachievement then hoping you'll get less of it to me.