Dear Professor

Usually you know me; I'm only rarely just another face in the lecture hall. I raise my hand, I ask questions, and I try quite hard in your class. Usually, then, you like me.

But that's no excuse. When I give you my accommodation letter, you should understand that the accommodations I will be receiving are non-optional. There's an entire office of friendly-but-insistent staff ready to back me up. I am entitled to my digital text. I'm entitled to a word processor on essay exams I'm entitled to a notetaker. I will even give you a whole 'nother letter that details exactly what to do. Please just do it.

Because I don't want to be in the position where I have to push you. I don't want to risk a letter of recommendation for grad school because I had DSP get on your case to get me a notetaker and that makes you think I'm obnoxious. I don't want to do worse in your class because I couldn't get notes without getting up in front of the class and begging someone to take notes for me. These are not things an able-bodied student has to worry about, and it sucks.

And the funny thing about all this is: if you give me these accommodations, I can continue to be the student you liked so much. With a word processor, I can get my ideas onto paper without cutting myself short because my hand seized up painfully after a couple of sentences. With a notetaker, I can concetrate on your material in lecture and participate more actively. And with my digital text, I don't have to triage which heavy textbooks to bring lest I be exhausted and in too much pain to actually get through lecture. This things make me the best student I can be, and as a teacher, surely you want that.

Indeed, what I don't understand is your apathy and reluctance. I have outlined in writing exactly what you should do, and yet you can't be arsed to read it long enough to follow very simple instructions. I can't even trust you to read aloud exactly what it says in the italics on the page, because you just arbitrarily stop halfway through. Can it really be that your privilege so blinds you to the needs of students that you expect a beatific smile from the poor little cripple girl just for not-even-doing-all-of your job?

Well, you are the same professor whose office is up two flights of stairs with no elevator in sight. So I'm gonna go with "yes."