teaching self-advocacy to students with disabilities

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10 ABOUT CAMPUS / NOVEMBER– DECEMBER 2007 E ARLIER THIS SEMESTER, members of my office, including me, spent considerable time debating the merits of different job titles. Should we be disability services providers, disability specialists, service coordinators, or disability educators? What is the difference between providing services for students and being an educator? As is so often the case in education, it was a student who provided the inspiration that led me to choose the title and, more important, the approach of a disability educator. Christine opened her conversation with the excla- mation “Why is it that I’m eighteen and I’m just now learning to live with this disability thing?” A dozen thoughts entered my mind at once.As a member of the Services for Students with Disabilities Office at The University of Texas, a large public institution, I had at my disposal a number of services and referrals designed to help Christine manage in higher education.To com- pensate for her poor motor skills, I could provide her with note takers and lab assistants.To allow for her elec- tric scooter, I could direct her to ramps and elevators. To minimize the effects of her slowed processing speed, I could offer extended time on her exams. Before I could offer any of these services, Christine continued, “I’ve lived with a disability my entire life.I didn’t real- ize it could be this big; it’s everywhere. I feel so alone. I have so many questions.” In Christine’s worldview,I wasn’t just a service provider. I was a companion—someone to join her in the process of learning about herself; someone to mit- igate the feelings of isolation and confusion; someone to validate her questions.To paraphrase student devel- opment author Robert Kegan, I was “good company” for Christine. Christine didn’t need a list of services or referrals.What she did need was someone to join her in the journey of learning about her disability. More specifically, Christine sought good company as she tackled the challenge that Kegan, author of In Over Our Heads, describes as “the demand that we control our issues rather than having our issues be in control of us” (p. 133). As I closed my office door and settled in for what I suspected would be one of many conversations about Christine’s discovery of self, identity, and disability, I asked myself,“What is the difference between accom- modating or providing services for students with dis- abilities and serving as a disability educator? How does one convince a student to manage his or her disability? How does an educator encourage a student to learn about self-advocacy?” My answer: accommodating Teaching Self-Advocacy to Students with Disabilities By Deborah McCarthy Prior to entering college, most students with disabilities are taught to rely on parents, teachers, doc- tors, and others to arrange for educational accommodations. In college, the job is theirs.What is the disability educator’s role in helping students manage this frequently difficult transition? Published online in Wiley InterScience (www.interscience.wiley.com). DOI: 10.1002/abc.225 © 2007 Wiley Periodicals, Inc.

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Page 1: Teaching self-advocacy to students with disabilities

10ABOUT CAMPUS / NOVEMBER– DECEMBER 2007

EARLIER THIS SEMESTER, members of myoffice, including me, spent considerable timedebating the merits of different job titles. Should

we be disability services providers, disability specialists,service coordinators, or disability educators? What is thedifference between providing services for students andbeing an educator? As is so often the case in education,it was a student who provided the inspiration that ledme to choose the title and, more important, theapproach of a disability educator.

Christine opened her conversation with the excla-mation “Why is it that I’m eighteen and I’m just nowlearning to live with this disability thing?” A dozenthoughts entered my mind at once.As a member of theServices for Students with Disabilities Office at TheUniversity of Texas, a large public institution, I had atmy disposal a number of services and referrals designedto help Christine manage in higher education.To com-pensate for her poor motor skills, I could provide herwith note takers and lab assistants.To allow for her elec-tric scooter, I could direct her to ramps and elevators.To minimize the effects of her slowed processing speed,I could offer extended time on her exams. Before Icould offer any of these services, Christine continued,“I’ve lived with a disability my entire life. I didn’t real-

ize it could be this big; it’s everywhere. I feel so alone. Ihave so many questions.”

In Christine’s worldview, I wasn’t just a serviceprovider. I was a companion—someone to join her inthe process of learning about herself; someone to mit-igate the feelings of isolation and confusion; someoneto validate her questions.To paraphrase student devel-opment author Robert Kegan, I was “good company”for Christine. Christine didn’t need a list of services orreferrals.What she did need was someone to join herin the journey of learning about her disability. Morespecifically, Christine sought good company as shetackled the challenge that Kegan, author of In Over OurHeads, describes as “the demand that we control ourissues rather than having our issues be in control of us”(p. 133).

As I closed my office door and settled in for whatI suspected would be one of many conversations aboutChristine’s discovery of self, identity, and disability, Iasked myself,“What is the difference between accom-modating or providing services for students with dis-abilities and serving as a disability educator? How doesone convince a student to manage his or her disability?How does an educator encourage a student to learnabout self-advocacy?” My answer: accommodating

Teaching Self-Advocacyto Students with

DisabilitiesBy Deborah McCarthy

Prior to entering college, most students with disabilities are taught to rely on parents, teachers, doc-

tors, and others to arrange for educational accommodations. In college, the job is theirs.What is the

disability educator’s role in helping students manage this frequently difficult transition?

Published online in Wiley InterScience (www.interscience.wiley.com). DOI: 10.1002/abc.225 © 2007 Wiley Periodicals, Inc.

Page 2: Teaching self-advocacy to students with disabilities

11ABOUT CAMPUS / NOVEMBER– DECEMBER 2007

addresses the immediate need, while disability educa-tion addresses the longer-term process of guiding stu-dents such as Christine through pivotal questions suchas “What is this ‘disability thing’?”“What can I learnfrom this disability?” and “What does having a disabil-ity mean?” In short, disability accommodations areabout academic skills and performance. Serving as a dis-ability educator is about facilitating the process of iden-tity development and self-advocacy that is so crucial tolearning. Promoting learning for all students—especiallystudents with disabilities—is about taking the time toask and accept questions. Being an educator is aboutengaging in mutual learning. Being “good company”on a student’s journey to self-advocacy requires a will-ingness to introduce new thoughts and ways of think-ing. Kegan explains,“Educators seeking ‘self direction’from their adult students are not merely asking them totake on new skills, modify their learning style orincrease their self-confidence.They are asking many ofthem to change the whole way that they understandthemselves, their world and the relationship between thetwo” (p. 275).As educators, we are familiar with theconcept of challenge and support.We agree that to pro-mote learning, it is best to meet a student at his or herstage in the developmental spectrum and proceed fromthere.

Yet in relation to students with disabilities, ourAmerican higher education system demands a degreeof self-advocacy that students such as Christine oftenfind daunting and unfamiliar. Prior to her life at theuniversity, Christine’s “disability thing” was a commu-nal effort among parents, teachers, and caregivers. Herparents, teachers, and friends managed her disability forher. Rarely, if ever, did anyone ask Christine what shewanted.Adults prepared modification plans for Chris-

tine rather than with Christine. Christine, as the “child”or the “disabled,” was the receiver, not the author of heraccommodations.

From preschool through the last moments of highschool, accommodation and success rather than self-advocacy and student development are the predominantframeworks.The central legislation that governs accom-modations for America’s primary and secondary schoolstudents is the Individuals with Disabilities EducationImprovement Act of 2004 (IDEA).The goal of the edu-cational system is to educate by “strengthening the role. . . of parents and ensuring that families of [children withdisabilities] have meaningful opportunities to participatein the education of their children at school and athome” (p. 3). In other words, parents and teachers worktogether on behalf of the student. Parents are encouragedto be an active advocate for their student. Students them-selves are frequently left out of the process.Why worrya student such as Christine when there are parents,teachers, and administrators who can speak for her?

The irony of Christine’s situation is that in anattempt to ease her way and expose her to as much aca-demic learning as possible, those who cared about hermay have overlooked the self-advocacy skills that Chris-tine needs in order to be a successful student in highereducation. By making day-to-day decisions for Chris-tine rather than soliciting her input, parents and teach-ers may have unknowingly hindered Christine’s journeyto self-advocacy and learning.

In higher education, Christine must own her disability. The decisions to request or live withoutaccommodations, the planning necessary to use accom-modations, the responsibility for negotiating detailsonce the accommodations are granted, the differentia-tion between what is a disability and what is simply dif-ficult, and all other issues related to having a disabilitybelong to Christine. She, like many students with dis-abilities, finds herself face to face with a sobering real-ity: a student with a disability must find—and use—hisor her own voice. Familiarizing students with theprocess of requesting accommodations and the largereducational framework that surrounds accommodationsin higher education is a necessary service. Engagingstudents in the process of asking questions is the firststep that educators can take to prompt self-advocacy.

Deborah McCarthy is a student affairs administrator in theServices for Students with Disabilities Office at TheUniversity of Texas at Austin. Deborah was born with cere-bral palsy and is committed to advancing understanding ofdisability issues and higher education.

We love feedback. Send letters to executive editor MarciaBaxter Magolda ([email protected]), and pleasecopy her on notes to authors.

Serving as a disability educator is about facilitating theprocess of identity development and self-advocacy that is so

crucial to learning.

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Arthur Chickering and Linda Reisser propose in Edu-cation and Identity that “when learning experiences makeroom for feelings as well as ideas and beliefs and facts,integration and integrity flourish” (p. 424).

ONE PRIMARY FEELING that educators canhelp students acknowledge is uncertainty.Thereality for all students—especially those with

disabilities—is that there are elements of life that can-not be controlled and questions that cannot beanswered.When Amy, a student with leukemia, asks me,“Can I take fifteen credit hours this semester and be stu-dent body president?” my honest answer is, “I don’tknow.What are the benefits if you can and the risks ifyou can’t?”When Amy suggests that by taking fifteencredit hours, she can finish her degree in four years andthat the experience of being student body president willgive her practical experience she needs for futureemployment I say,“Those are great advantages.What arethe risks?”When Amy explains that she may risk herhealth by pushing herself to do too much, I respond,“What does ‘risking your health’ really mean to you?What, if anything, can you do to mitigate the risks? Ishaving a degree in four years rather than four and a halfor five worth the cost to you?”Amy’s answer:“I wish Iknew whether I will still be in remission five monthsfrom now.” Rather than attempt to reassure Amy withplatitudes, I acknowledge her uncertainty by stating,“I’m sure you do want that certainty.This is an uncom-fortable decision for you.What I can offer is the reas-surance that whatever you decide, I think you’veconsidered everything you can at this point.” Byacknowledging the uncertainty of students with dis-abilities, disability educators help them learn to take cal-culated risks.We teach them not only where to look foranswers but how to weigh options.We remind studentsthat more often than not, learning comes from the

process of evaluating options and evidence rather thanimmediately knowing a definitive answer.

Often, when I meet with a new college student andask him or her to tell me about the disability in ques-tion, the student says,“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask mymom; she manages all that” or “Can you call my doc-tor? She can tell you.” Many of the students who makesuch statements are in the top 10 percent of their grad-uating class and are highly motivated students.These stu-dents often have a history of being active leaders onsports teams, in debate, in volunteer organizations, andin many other cocurricular activities.Why, then, do theyseem so unwilling to adopt self-advocacy? Perhaps theanswer is that these students are not unwilling to betheir own advocate.They may just be ill prepared andunaware of the need for self-direction.Almost literallyovernight, students move from a system in which some-one else such as a parent or teacher managed the “dis-ability thing” to a completely self-directed system.Unfortunately, the autonomy that the Family Educa-tional Rights and Privacy Act promotes is a shock tomany students.Add to this surprise the reality that themajor tenets of disability legislation for higher educa-tion (Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act and theAmericans with Disabilities Act) calls for equal access,not guaranteed academic success, and it’s no wonder thatmany students find the task of self-advocacy over-whelming.

The educational challenges of self-advocacy mate-rialize when we consider John, a student with dyslexiawho attempts calculus in his first semester of college.John, unaware that he must request accommodations,expects to use the double time he is used to being givento complete an exam.When the instructor takes hisexam after the time limit imposed on everyone in theclass, John is distraught. John’s distress increases when helearns he earned a 49 percent. John asks his parent to call

Almost literally overnight, students move from a system inwhich someone else such as a parent or teacher managedthe “disability thing” to a completely self-directed system.

By acknowledging the uncertainty of students withdisabilities, disability educators help them learn to takecalculated risks.

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and fix the problem and is even more confused whenhis professor and the disability services office request tospeak with him directly.When asked why he did notrequest accommodations for his exam, John states,“Noone set them up for me.”

Whether he realizes it or not, John has just openedthe door to learning and self-advocacy.As a disabilityeducator, I respond to John by asking, “Can youdescribe how you received accommodations in thepast?”When John tells me that his teacher used to “takecare of it,” I suggest that he and I meet to discuss bothwhat I can do for John and what John can do to avoidsimilar frustrations in the future. By presenting John’soptions in relational terms—what I am responsible forand what he is responsible for—I am introducing himto self-advocacy.

For the second exam, John remembers to requestaccommodations and earns a 60 percent. But he is angrywhen he discovers that he cannot retake the exam as hedid in high school. “My high school teachers let meretake the exam until I passed,” he explains.As educatorscommitted to teaching students self-advocacy, we have aresponsibility to help students and parents alike recog-nize the change in educational standards between highschool and higher education. Successful advocates under-stand the rules of the system in which they advocate.Often, students with disabilities discover the new rulestoo late.With John and similar students, the educator’sapproach is not to change the institution’s standards butto encourage a new way of thinking for John. Ratherthan fault John for the unrealistic expectation that he beable to retake an exam, I encourage him to review ourprevious conversations by asking,“Do you rememberour first meeting, when we discussed the possibility that

you would use accommodations and not have the aca-demic results you wanted? What can you do to preparefor the next exam? Now that you know the way theaccommodations process works and what to expectwhen using your accommodations, how does thatchange your plans for future exams?”

For the final exam in his calculus class, John uses atutor, schedules his exam to allow him to use reduceddistraction testing, and requests extended time. He stud-ies and earns an 80 percent. He is ecstatic until he real-izes that with a 49 percent, a 69 percent, and an 80percent, he is likely to fail the course.“I did everythingright this time. I worked so hard,” he explains.“Theaccommodations aren’t working!” Face to face with thehard realities of student frustration, educators can easilyempathize with John. It is not so easy, yet it is necessaryto acknowledge John’s struggle but ask the harder ques-tion,“Are you sure the accommodations aren’t work-ing? You went from a 49 percent to an 80 percent.Whatwill you do in your next math course to avoid the 49percent?” Posing such questions won’t guarantee thatJohn will be successful in his next math course.Theprocess of asking the question, though, will remind Johnof his responsibility to both speak up and plan for hisneeds.The question will, in a small way, move Johncloser to self-advocacy and autonomy.

EVEN MORE IMPORTANT than defining thenew rules for students like John is the process ofhelping students frame new expectations. For

students with disabilities in particular, the need toinform others of a disability themselves instead of rely-ing on parents, teachers, or medical professionals con-flicts with the common college student theme “I want

For students with disabilities, the need to inform others of adisability themselves instead of relying on parents, teachers,or medical professionals conflicts with the common college

student theme “I want to be like everyone else.”

By presenting John’s options in relational terms—what Iam responsible for and what he is responsible for—I am

introducing him to self-advocacy.

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to be like everyone else.” Beth, a student who experi-ences debilitating pain, demonstrates this conflict whenshe explains why she will not accept a reduced courseload even though she knows she needs to take fewerthan twelve credit hours per semester. She says,“I amnot going to allow pain to hold me back. I am donewith labeling myself as disabled. I want to be like mypeers. I do not want to feel inferior.”

What does a disability educator do with Beth’sstatement? Of course, we can and should promote con-fidentiality.We can also counteract the “I’m the onlyone” sentiment with statistics about the numbers of stu-dents who access disability services and who experiencesimilar disabilities.We can accept the statement at facevalue and allow Beth to refuse the reduced course load;we can attempt to convince her that she is not inferioror that her disability is not a negative reflection on her,or we can take advantage of an important opportunityto promote advocacy and understanding by acknowl-edging the conflict that this situation presents.We canexplore deeper questions such as “Why do you feel infe-rior when you take care of your needs?”“If it’s OK fora friend who has cancer to take fewer hours, why isn’t itOK for you?” and “What are your expectations for your-self?” Here again, the questions don’t necessarily haveanswers. Beth may still risk her own academic success inorder to identify with “everyone else” who takes twelvecredit hours. In the process of posing these questions toBeth, we introduce the possibility that she has optionsand that learning to recognize and evaluate options arecritical skills in self-advocacy.

Two months—and several university deadlines—after my initial conversations with Beth about herreduced course load, she returned to my office in tears.Having decided to take fifteen credit hours, she nowfound herself unable to manage her course load.WhenI asked her how I could help, she said,“Make it OK forme to drop economics.”When I explained that drop-ping the course beyond the drop deadline would inter-fere with financial aid and that the final decision toallow the drop rested with an academic dean, she said,“It has to be OK. I’m disabled.The dean will allow thedrop if the disability office supports it.”

One of the more difficult tasks that educators facein relation to students with disabilities is guiding stu-dents through the process of differentiating betweenwhat is difficult because of a disability and what is dif-ficult because challenge is inherent in learning.To say“no” to a parent’s request that an administrator wake astudent each morning is easy; there are alarm clocks.What should we do, though, when a student such asBeth presents a situation in which disability, personalresponsibility, and a sense of entitlement are all in play?How do disability educators hold students accountablefor the consequences of their decisions and encourageself-advocacy? How do we say “no” without silencingthe student’s voice? How do we counteract a student’ssense that a disability entitles him or her to better gradesor different rules?

There are no easy answers.There is, however, theopportunity to introduce a frank discussion about cal-culated risks by asking Beth,“Do you remember ourdiscussion of possible consequences when you decidedto take fifteen hours? You took a risk, and you feltstrongly about needing to take that risk.Would youmake the same decision again?”To help Beth examineher sense of entitlement, I might ask,“Why does yourdisability exempt you from the university deadlines?”and “What is it specifically about your disability thatmakes economics rather than another course so diffi-cult?” Encouraging reflection and reinforcing herresponsibility for independent decision making mayaffirm her developing sense of self-advocacy. As further affirmation, educators can offer the assurancethat a student did not fail, even though a decision didnot play out as expected. Beth is not a poor student or abad person because she overestimated her physical ormental abilities. She is learning about her “disabilitything.” She is beginning to address her disability in termsof her personal goals and her capacity to meet thosegoals.This learning process takes place gradually andsometimes haltingly; there will be moments of successand failure.We can assure our students with disabilitiesthat what Kegan calls “the messy learning phase inbetween not knowing and knowing” (p. 147) about adisability is progress in itself.As educators, the promise

One of the more difficult tasks that educators face is guidingstudents through the process of differentiating betweenwhat is difficult because of a disability and what is difficultbecause challenge is inherent in learning.

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we can make to Beth and other students on the road toself-advocacy is that we will be there to celebrate, con-sole, and learn with them. In short, we can promoteinterdependence. Chickering and Reisser describe inter-dependence as a student’s ability to make autonomousdecisions while remaining connected with those whoinfluenced the decision. By reminding our students ofour interest in them, we demonstrate that although thedecisions belong to the individual student, we, as edu-cators, remain invested in their learning process.

FINALLY, disability educators have a responsibil-ity to reinforce the notion that effective advocacyis a journey—a lesson I learned firsthand as a stu-

dent with a disability. In the spring of 1992, severalmonths before the Americans with Disabilities Actbecame a reality, I was a college senior facing the possi-bility that I would not graduate. I had a 3.97 grade pointaverage with more than 130 credit hours. I had spentthe previous year as a visiting student at Oxford Uni-versity in England.The one requirement that stoodbetween me and my diploma was the ability to run amile in a set time. As a young woman with cerebralpalsy that affects my legs and coordination, there was noway that I was going to run a mile in fourteen minutes.Similar to Christine, John, and Beth, I fretted. I won-dered,“How can I be so bright and feel so inadequate?How could I come this far only to be held back?” Ispent several weeks convinced that I wouldn’t graduate.In the end, a committed faculty advisor helped me findthe courage to speak with a physical education instruc-tor by asking me the simple question,“What do youwant?”When I responded that I wanted to graduate,that educator said,“Then let’s figure out what you haveto do to meet that goal.”With that statement, my advi-sor demonstrated that I could make my own decisionsand ask for help simultaneously. Interdependence andself-advocacy could coexist.

In the end, I agreed to swim rather than run.Thecatch was that I swam for the duration of the springsemester, whereas my peers ran one mile in one after-noon.When I explained my agreement to my advisor,she said, “How do you feel? Is it fair?” It wasn’t asmooth or balanced agreement. It isn’t an agreementthat I would concede now. It was, given my self-advo-cacy skills at the time and the level of disability aware-ness at my institution, a solution I could tolerate. Myadvisor continued,“Choose your own battles, but doyou realize that you don’t have to prove your worth?”With that question, my advisor subtly introduced me toone of the hard realities of life in general and life witha disability in particular. Successful advocacy doesn’talways result in fair or ideal solutions. Sometimes, thegrowth and increased knowledge that come from self-advocacy are more powerful than the fairness of thesolution. In my case, the decision that I be required toswim for the duration of a semester was unfair.Yetbecause I negotiated that decision for myself, I felt ameasure of satisfaction with the outcome. Further, I rec-ognized that I could accept the decision to swim for asemester or I could continue to seek another solution.In short, I had some control over my own views of dis-ability and the issues I would push because I was dis-abled.

Now, when I conduct disability presentations forstaff and students, I usually start with this personal story.The contrast between a physical education requirementand a high grade point average catches attention quickly.Participants angrily ask,“Why didn’t you go to disabil-ity services?”“What about the Americans with Disabil-ities Act?”“What about equal access?”These questionsare proof that the options available to students with dis-abilities and the expectations placed on educationalinstitutions change quickly.The Americans with Dis-abilities Act did not exist when I attended college.There

Sometimes, the growth and increased knowledge that come from self-advocacy are more

powerful than the fairness of the solution.

Culturally, we are just beginning to explore an identity thatpromotes persons with disabilities as people with valued

lives and valuable contributions to make.

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16ABOUT CAMPUS / NOVEMBER– DECEMBER 2007

��

was no disability services office on my campus. Equalaccess was a legal term rather than a growing culturalexpectation.

Sometimes, it is useful for us to remind buddingadvocates to be patient and persistent. We need toremind today’s students that effective advocacy, likelearning, takes place gradually and sometimes haltingly.To the majority of our current students, the Americanswith Disabilities Act, the disability services office, atten-tion deficit disorder, bipolar disorder, and generalaccommodations are all familiar terms. None of thesewords was part of the lexicon of higher educationtwenty years ago. Indeed, within two generations, wehave moved our understanding of disability from thatof a moral sin to a medical oddity and beyond, to amore relational and social model.The Disability RightsCommission notes,“The notion of discrimination iskey, in other words, disabled people do not face disad-vantage because of their impairments but experiencediscrimination in the way we organize society.Thisincludes failing to make education, work, leisure andpublic services accessible, failing to remove barriers ofassumption, stereotype and prejudice and failing to out-law unfair treatment in our daily lives.” Culturally, weare just beginning to explore an identity that promotespersons with disabilities as people with valued lives andvaluable contributions to make. Disability historiansPaul K. Longmore and Lauri Umanski observe,“George Will, syndicated columnist, has called [disabil-ity] ‘the last great inclusion’ and the culmination of thecivil rights era” (p. 2).

Anyone who works in higher education in generaland in disability services specifically knows that disabil-ity advocacy has a long way to go. Our students regu-larly face physical barriers and discouraging attitudes.Teaching students about the history of people with dis-abilities provides a perspective that may help them rec-ognize that advocacy is a relational process. Asself-understanding grows, so do the potential andresponsibility for self-advocacy. Furthermore, educationand disability reflect society’s fluid understanding ofwhat it means to be a person with a disability.This rela-

tionship contains challenge, opportunity, change, diffi-cult questions, and mutual learning for all involved.

AS EDUCATORS, we are often the first tointroduce the question of self-advocacy; we arethe catalysts for extraordinary self-development

and learning. If we seek to prepare students with theskills that modern life demands, then we are chargedwith the responsibility of encouraging advocacy in allstudents. For students with disabilities, self-advocacy isnot preferred; it is essential. It is my belief that all edu-cators are charged with answering the question that wasasked by the Wingspread Group on Higher Educationand the Johnson Foundation:“What will we do todayto ensure that next year’s graduates are individuals ofcharacter, are more sensitive to the needs of community,more competent in their ability to contribute to soci-ety, and more civil in their habits of thought speech andaction?” (p. 9).What we can do is explain rules, frameexpectations, and ask difficult questions.What we cando is be good company for our students with disabili-ties as they learn to speak about their needs and inte-grate “the disability thing” into their views of self andthe world around them.

NOTES

Chickering,A.W., & Reisser, L. (1993). Education and identity.San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Disability Rights Commission. (2006). The social model ofdisability. Retrieved May 17, 2007, from http://www.drc.org.uk/citizenship/howtouse/socialmodel/index.asp

Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act of2004. (2004). Public Law 108-446. Retrieved May 16,2007, from http://www.nichcy.org/reauth/PL108-446.pdf

Kegan, R. (1994). In over our heads:The mental demands of mod-ern life. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Longmore, P. K., & Umanski, L. (2001). The new disability his-tory: American perspectives. New York: New YorkUniversity Press.

Wingspread Group on Higher Education & JohnsonFoundation, Inc. (1993). An American imperative: Higherexpectations for higher education. Racine, WI: JohnsonFoundation, Inc.

Teaching students about the history of people withdisabilities provides a perspective that may help themrecognize that advocacy is a relational process.