20 Late Night Thoughts After a Covid-Dangerous Convocation – Emunah Woolf

So today I convocated at McMaster and was shocked and overwhelmed to see that the ceremony was inaccessible and also dangerous. The amount of unmasked people packed into First Ontario was both COVID-terrifying and a sensory nightmare. I requested accommodations to be able to sit, but they couldn’t find  me. I had to stand for prolonged periods of time throughout the day. When they finally found me, near the end of the ceremony, they apologized for my needs having “slipped through the cracks”, which is honestly a pretty fitting way to leave my accommodation experiences at Mac. Reflects all the rest of it perfectly.

I think a lot about disabled student experiences of accessibility, community, and care at Mac, and universities in general, really. The accommodations (notably, not accessibility) that I was able to access involved a long, difficult, vulnerable, frustrating process that had to be repeated, at least in part, yearly. I felt like I was not supposed to be in school, like I was an inconvenience, like I was the first and only person to be aggravated by the process. I was able to find a disabled community that helped me realize that none of that was true, lots of people are frustrated, and we are not inconvenient. If anything, we help create a culture where more can succeed and have our needs met. But not everybody can find and access this kind of community.

Community helped me to dream of a postsecondary environment that holds a feeling of belonging for disabled students and mandates a truly equitable and accessible classroom environment, one that centres community care and interdependence. We don’t actually have to be so individual about everything. The vast majority of fields rely on teamwork and group approaches, so I don’t see why our learning institutions value independence so highly. Disabled student knowledge has shown me how much more we can dream and achieve when we work together, each bringing forth what we are able to contribute, interdependently.

I don’t know why convocation was so unsafe; the past two years were done in a pandemic-friendly manner. It reminds me of how often I was told that certain accommodations weren’t possible, only to have them spring up now that able-bodied students need them. At the beginning of COVID, lots of nondisabled students started going through what my disabled friends and I have been dealing with – not being able to go to classes in person, worrying about getting sick, feelings of isolation, grief, loneliness… The difference? Quick solutions to lots of these problems that sprung up seemingly overnight. Clearly, with creativity and commitment, pedagogical norms can shift to become more ethical and accessible. Don’t tell me they can’t. It’s just about whose needs are deemed important to meet.

I know that a classroom where accessibility is prioritized, interdependence is fostered, and marginalized perspectives are valued is possible. I want to feel like I have valuable knowledge to add because of my lived experience, not feel like disclosing my disability will discredit my contributions. I want to be seen as innovative when I get support on a project from a classmate who I know has experience with the topic. I want to feel like professors want me to succeed and are empowered to fulfill my accessibility needs.

Disabled community led me to these reflections, to wondering why my needs are not met, rather than why I have the needs in the first place. I wish convocation was just me and my disabled, neurodivergent, Mad, weird, crazy, and/or chronically ill buds getting together outside with allergy friendly snacks and all needs considered. Oh well.