Jordan, IK (2001) Colleges Can Do Even More for People With Disabilities,
Chronicle of Higher Education 15 June 2001.

The way it's worded is always different, but the gist is the same. It's what
I call "the Question," and it goes something like this: If there was a pill
that could cure your deafness, would you take it?

It doesn't seem to matter that the topic under discussion, or the purpose of
the interview, is about the education of deaf college students, or the
impact of technology on deaf people, or my reflections on the importance of
the Americans With Disabilities Act. Somehow or other, the Question always
slips into the conversation.

My answer has been the same since the first time I heard the Question early
in my presidency of Gallaudet University: No, I would not take the magic
pill even if it existed. After 35 years, my deafness is such an integral
part of who I am, and I am so comfortable with it, that I cannot imagine
becoming a hearing person again.

Long ago, I learned that dwelling on what I cannot do is a futile and
unproductive exercise, whereas attending to what I can do is consummately
fulfilling. That is our philosophy at my institution, where deafness is the
norm, and the only barriers to personal, academic, and professional success
are self-imposed.

Beyond our 99-acre campus in northeast Washington, D.C., however, lies a
world full of obstacles for millions of people with disabilities. Even
today, as the nation enters the second decade after the passage of the
Americans With Disabilities Act, which has had an enormous impact on nearly
every aspect of our daily lives, far too many disabled people have yet to
become full participants in the American experience.

Certainly, life before the A.D.A. was rampant with physical and social
barriers that prevented disabled people from making even rudimentary
decisions. Many were trained in sheltered workshops, or warehoused by
families and educational systems embarrassed by their very existence, and
convinced they had little potential for success.

Being deaf, I at least had the opportunity for a fine, accessible
undergraduate education at Gallaudet and the chance to go on for graduate
degrees. However, when I entered the University of Tennessee's graduate
program in psychology in 1969, I did so realizing that it would be a rough
ride. I neither expected nor received any special accommodation. As a
consequence, day after day I sat through classes understanding little if
anything my professors said. I depended on the good will of my classmates to
share their notes with me, and I spent long nights in the library in order
to keep up with my classes. It was both a grueling and lonely period, and
most deaf students had similar experiences at the time. Had I been blind or
a wheelchair user, it would have been considerably more of a challenge, as
most campuses were not accessible to individuals with mobility disabilities.

More than 30 years later, it is now commonplace to find deaf and
hard-of-hearing students -- accompanied by sign-language interpreters or
having access to real-time captioning -- taking classes in universities
throughout the country. Similarly, students in wheelchairs zipping across
our campuses, or blind students reading Brailled texts and using specially
equipped computers, have become familiar. They may continue to spend time in
the library or compare notes with classmates, but it is not for the same
reason that I did. Thanks to the A.D.A., many communications and other
barriers have been removed, and disabled students are guaranteed the right
to equal educational opportunity.

That level of access didn't come easily. Like the civil-rights and women's
movements several decades ago, national protests galvanized
disability-rights demonstrations -- starting with those inspired by students
with disabilities at the University of California at Berkeley in the 1960's
and 1970's. The most pivotal moment occurred in March 1988 with the "Deaf
President Now" movement at Gallaudet University.

After months of searching for a new president, and despite the groundswell
of support for the appointment of a deaf person to the position for the
first time, Gallaudet's Board of Trustees chose the one hearing candidate
from the final shortlist. To make matters worse, although she later denied
it, the chairwoman of the board was quoted in the news media as saying that
"deaf people are not ready to function in the hearing world."

When news of the board's decision reached the students, who fully expected a
different outcome, they took their case to the American people. Gallaudet
students, along with alumni, faculty members, administrators, and other
supporters, closed ranks. They blocked the entrances to the campus, marched
to the U.S. Capitol, buttonholed members of Congress, and captured the
media's attention.

One week after the demonstration erupted, it became clear that public
opinion had weighed in solidly on the side of the protesters.  Recognizing
this, the Board of Trustees reversed its decision and appointed me president
of Gallaudet -- where I had served as a member of the faculty, department
chairman, and dean of the College of Arts and Sciences.

The Deaf President Now protest also had an important influence on the
passage of the A.D.A. in 1990. We put disability rights into the spotlight
and, according to Iowa Democratic Senator Tom Harkin, one of the champions
of the A.D.A., rekindled a sense of urgency among members of Congress to
make it the law of the land.

Today, deaf and hard-of-hearing people in every part of the country enjoy
communications accommodations made possible through the A.D.A.:
sign-language interpreting, captioning, and the telecommunication relay
service. In the same way, the A.D.A. has literally and figuratively opened
wide the doors of opportunity to individuals with mobility, learning,
vision, or other disabilities.

In return, people with disabilities contribute in no small way to the
country's booming economy. The Wall Street Journal reports that
"handicapitalism" is thriving, as businesses take advantage of the
opportunity to buy from and sell to the almost 50 million people who are 15
years and older with disabilities in the United States -- and who have
annual discretionary incomes totaling $175-billion. Companies that once
balked at making and paying for accommodations for disabled people are now
going beyond what the law mandates to market products and services to them.

In addition, companies also are accommodating disabled people as employees,
with significant payoffs. Studies by Dupont over the past 35 years give
evidence that workers with disabilities perform as well or better than other
employees. For example, in one survey, as many as 97 percent of disabled
employees were rated average or above in safety, while 90 percent were rated
average or above in the performance of their job duties.

Although it has been less studied, Americans in general have also received
an unanticipated benefit: a more accessible society for everyone. Curb cuts
make life easier for people who use wheelchairs and for mothers pushing baby
strollers. Captioning gives deaf people access to television and helps
speakers of other languages learn English. Books on tape are a boon to
people who are blind and to commuters who spend hours driving long
distances. In other words, building access for people with disabilities also
builds access for countless others who benefit from the elimination of
barriers.

Perhaps nowhere is the spirit of the A.D.A. more alive than within higher
education, the birthplace of the disability-rights movement. Because of its
commitment to pluralism, academe holds a deep appreciation for how students,
faculty members, and administrators with disabilities enrich their
institutions.

For example, the Society for Disability Studies, founded in 1982 by a group
of social scientists, has grown into a national organization committed both
to research and to action. At its recent annual conference in Chicago,
topics included such issues as disabilities-identity politics, the
educational construct of disability, and the intersection of disability
studies and medicine. That kind of discourse, as well as the growing number
of disability-studies programs, underscores higher education's recognition
and validation of disabled people and their concerns.

Since becoming president of Gallaudet, my message has been that deaf people
can do anything except hear. And indeed, in the last decade I have seen a
change in the national attitude with regard not only to people who are deaf,
but toward those with other disabilities. Many Americans no longer focus on
what people who are disabled cannot do (hear, walk, see), but instead, they
appreciate what we can do (everything else).

Yet, as heartening as this change in attitude is, it cannot make up for the
lack of educational resources and training needed to help all disabled
children realize their potential. It cannot make up for those who persist in
thinking of disabled individuals as "less able," thereby fostering lowered
expectations for the disabled children they teach or work with in other
ways. Nor can it make up for the disproportionately high unemployment rate
among disabled individuals.

Although we have made great progress, much more remains to be done. Higher
education must use its considerable resources and influence to smooth the
way for an important group of "other" Americans.

For example, it is up to us to highlight "issues of conscience" so that they
help shape public opinion and foster change. We can accomplish that by
hiring and promoting people with disabilities, by insuring that our
publications and other promotional materials include images of people with
disabilities, and by providing exciting and promising internship
opportunities to our students with disabilities.

In addition, as more individuals with disabilities join our student bodies,
we should be forming partnerships with elementary and secondary schools to
help them understand how best to prepare those students for college. In our
desire to accommodate students with disabilities, we should in no way lower
our expectations of them. Keeping standards high and preparing students to
meet them is crucial to those students' future success.

Our career centers should work with employers to help them understand what
disabled individuals can bring to the workplace. A good example is a
high-tech company at which several Gallaudet graduates are currently
employed. Rather than view the special communications needs of their deaf
employees as a problem, the company offers sign-language classes to everyone
on the staff and encourages hearing employees to sign up. The company
realizes that the benefits of employing people who are deaf far outweigh any
real or imagined inconveniences.

Colleges should also take on thorny issues. We must encourage testing
services to revise their practices and create computerized exams that blind
students can take more easily. Similarly, we should demand that faculty be
more flexible and responsive to the very real needs of students with
dyslexia and other learning disabilities. In that way, we make it clear to
everyone that our institutions are committed to going beyond the letter of
the A.D.A to the all-inclusive spirit that underlies it.

I am reminded of one of Norman Rockwell's most famous paintings, the classic
Thanksgiving dinner scene. It is part of a series that Rockwell painted to
depict the four freedoms identified by Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1941:
freedom of speech and expression, freedom to worship God in our own way,
freedom from want, and freedom from fear through a reduction of armaments.
Representing freedom from want, the bountiful table was Rockwell's vision of
what should be possible for all Americans.

Certainly, we have not completely achieved F.D.R.'s four freedoms, yet I
remain optimistic. Had you told me 30 years ago that I would be
communicating effortlessly via e-mail, watching captioned television
programs and videos, visiting museums with exhibits made accessible to me
through text, or simply calling in a pizza order using the telephone-relay
service, I would have been incredulous.

Today, I predict that still more marvels of accessibility will emerge and
further blur the distinctions between those with and without disabilities.
Even more important, I fervently believe that we can develop a better
climate of support and understanding between the hearing and the deaf, so
that everyone may participate fully in all aspects of life.

I. King Jordan is the president of Gallaudet University.

Copyright © 2001 by The Chronicle of Higher Education



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