Dear BC,
Something is hurting my heart, and as this place holds a piece of my heart, I wanted you to know. I live with several chronic illnesses that dangerously began to flare over winter break. I contemplated taking the semester off, but things briefly started to look up, so I got excited for another semester with classes that I genuinely was looking forward to. Then, my body had other plans, and I spent the first month of the semester in and out of the hospital. Countless IVs, nights in beds that were not my own, and even my first ambulance ride.
Most of my professors were stellar, and my care team was too––all making sure that I could catch up to my classmates, engage in the material, and heal at the same time, once things were calm again.
However, BC, what I want to tell you about is the exception to that love that I felt. I was asked by a professor to withdraw from a class as I allegedly had missed too much material, even though I was well within the number allowed by my disability accommodations. The situation was quickly swept away from the professor and up to the level of deans and higher-up administrators. I had caught up in this class with the help of classmates, and so I continued attending.
Higher-ups were not happy. Instead of healing and catching up in school, I was being torn-up inside over nasty emails from administrators. The school, including disability services, had decided to override my disability accommodation––which, after speaking to multiple lawyers (yes, it eventually got to that level), is indeed disability discrimination. I was summoned to a hearing in front of a panel of professors and administrators for being non-compliant with the repeated requests for me to withdraw from a class that I not only was caught up in, but had a remarkable grade in as well.
Once lawyers, money, and the school’s reputation came into question, suddenly, the whole situation was dropped. The hearing was canceled. I was “permitted” to continue in the class. My ungraded work came back as an A+. But there was no explanation and certainly no apology for the trouble it had caused me and the time we all had wasted.
The administrators got to go back to their desks and forget about the situation, but I don’t have that luxury. Just because I stopped having to fight tooth and nail for my right to be in that class, doesn’t mean it’s over for me.
I dread Wednesday mornings now. Logging into that Zoom classroom ties my stomach into knots. I’ve had the actual conversation with my medical team: “Don’t send me to the ER on Wednesday mornings unless I’m actually dying,” because I’ve been threatened that if I miss one more class (even though I still would be within my accommodation) I’m back in hot water again. My mind keeps me up at night––what if, on a Wednesday, my car breaks down, the internet in my apartment goes out, or my service dog gets sick? What if my health does get worse?
“It’s just one course,” some people said. You can take it next spring. But, it’s not. It’s not about the class. It’s about a prestigious university that values cura personalis doing the exact opposite of that. It’s about the people who told me to come back to being a student when I’m “all better” and that they’re “looking out for my health.” Well, my medical team cleared me for classes, and about the “better” thing––I hate to break it to you, but “chronic” in chronic illness means chronic. I will not be better next semester.
It’s been made clear that I am not wanted here at BC––is that too bold of a statement? Perhaps. But, I am a disabled person. It is an inseparable piece of the resilience, work ethic, heartbreak, and passion that makes me, me. You can’t claim cura personalis and then make it known that my disability is not welcome in this space. If I am a whole person and disability is a piece of that whole, then I am not welcome here.
However, when we shout “we are BC!” at a football game, the BC we students refer to is not the same BC who unlawfully wanted me out. It’s my friends, it’s this newspaper, it’s the long nights laughing in your dorm, it’s the joy you feel in your 4Boston placement, it’s the homily that hits home, or the professor who invites the class over for dinner. That’s the BC we fall in love with. It’s the BC who will lay down our lives for another, even when that meant my friends bolstering me to stand my ground because it wasn’t “just about a class.” It’s this BC where I am welcome; it is this BC where we find our home. And to the other BC, I hope we can learn from this.
Sincerely,
A Disabled Student
Previously the Campus News Editor and Catholicism 101 Editor, Olivia dabbles in The Torch’s writing and photography. She is a senior studying theology and applied psychology and human development with a minor in journalism. She is unashamedly passionate about youth ministry, Haiti, all things charismatic, the Oxford comma, and CatholicTV––where she can often be found as an on-camera news reporter or host of the To the Heights podcast.
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