Acceptance, Not Awareness

April 13, 2025April 13, 2025 Kara Jorgensen2 Comments

Every year I look forward to April with equal parts anticipation and dread because it is Autism Acceptance Month. Note that I did not say Autism Awareness Month. As an autistic author who has written a series with an autistic protagonist, I love being able to promote my work and have people read a story from the perspective of an autistic character. Seeing other autistic authors promote their work and being able to connect with them means a lot to me. Within the community, it’s a great time to share resources, connect with others, celebrate our unique weirdness, but outside the community is another story.

In 2025, everyone should know what autism is. We are past the point of awareness, and with the awareness of neurotypical or allistic folks comes ableism and eugenics. If you don’t know Autism Speaks is an organization that calls for an end to autism, which most autistic people take issue with for obvious reasons. They promote ABA (conversion therapy for autistic people that most autistics oppose), they talk over autistic people in favor of promoting allistic caregivers/parents, and they discuss autism in terms of deficits or geniuses, which is problematic. The worst part is that they are one of the loudest voices during April. They are the ones promoting blue light bulbs and puzzle pieces.

The awareness that Autism Speaks and other parent-centric organizations bring is often riddled with eugenics and deficit-centered language. We are talked about only in how our existence is a burden to others or how our neurotype disturbs those around us. Bringing awareness to our neurotype in this way is like only talking about an amputee in terms of what they can’t do without their arm or leg. It is important to discuss the difficulties disabled people face in their daily lives, but we shouldn’t only discuss the far ends of the spectrum: how burdensome we are and inspiration porn.

This is where Autism Acceptance Month comes in. The idea of acceptance is that we accept all of that person, struggles, good days, bad days, things we’re good at, our humor, our communication styles, and the things that make us different from neurotypicals. Accepting autistic people pushes back against the narrative that organizations like Autism Speaks promotes that we are burdens or problems that need to be solved. If we are accepted as just a different neurotype, then we are equal with allistic people, and in turn, they should also be willing to bridge the gap to aid in meeting our needs rather than the onus falling on autistic people. Things like ABA therapy are basically obsolete because their whole premise is to make autistic people appear to be neurotypical while forcing autistics to disregard their needs in favor of what allistic people want them to do. If autistic people are on equal footing with allistics and are accepted, there is no reason to essentially dog train an autistic child into not stimming or ignoring that the lights of hurting their eyes. We can simply let them do their thing as long as they aren’t hurting themselves or dim the lights a little.

If we acknowledge that a lot of what allistic society dislikes about autistic people is that they are “weird” or doing something that they feel they cannot do in polite society, like be direct, wiggle, not disregard their sensory needs; society as a whole will be better for it.

Everyone deserves to have their needs met and to communicate in ways that get to the heart of the matter even if it makes others uncomfortable. Society as a whole needs to take a hard look and ask itself why does directness bother you? Why does stimming make you so uncomfortable? Why it is a bad thing that someone needs dimmer lights, headphones, or comfortable clothes in order to function? Why does having “childish” interests or a weird special interest have to be a bad thing? Overall, why do you even care?

So much of the pushback stems from people who are uncomfortable that someone else is saying, “No, I need this or want this, and I’m going to do it” rather than demurring and conforming. Our society is so obsessed with conforming that the reason autistics stick out so much is that we are terrible at it, but the better question is why are you all doing it in the first place? If something doesn’t jive with your in terms of fashion, food, office politics, etc., why do you force yourself to do it instead of questioning how we got here and what the point is?

Our society is riddled with systemic issues, and peeling away the notion that we have to conform to whatever is the norm is the first step in freeing ourselves from these systems. Stepping back can show you the cracks and the deep fissures that cause others so much pain, not just for autistics but anyone who isn’t the white male cis het majority. Acceptance of our differences instead of the awareness of our differences is far more freeing and can ultimately lead us down a much better road.

My End of 2023 Reflection

December 31, 2023 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

I’m not going to lie, I have been putting off writing a yearly review of 2023. By and large, this year has been awesome. My book won awards, I had a record number of preorders on The Reanimator’s Soul, I wrote a whole book, things have gone well– more than well. On the other hand, there were things that happened that upset me and have continued to grate on me all year. My fear is that this reflection will come off as unnecessarily bitter, which I don’t want for you (my readers) or for myself. I don’t want someone else’s assholery to poison my soul and that is something I will be working on as we move into 2024, especially since so many great things happened this year. Without further ado, let’s get into it.

Things That Went Really Well

This year has been awesome, and I want to thank my readers for that. Without you all, I wouldn’t have had nearly as good a year. You all were so enthusiastic about The Reanimator’s Soul‘s release in October, and you all put up The Reanimator’s Heart for a bunch of awards/categories. As someone who is a bit self-deprecating when it comes to awards, I was shocked to see my books repeatedly put up. Seriously, thank you all. The Reanimator’s Heart won third place in BBNYA 2023 (Book Blogger’s Novel of the Year Awards 2023) out of over 250 entries. My books are also up for the Indie Ink Awards in several categories, and The Reanimator’s Heart won “best historical fiction” in the Queer Indie Awards.

The Reanimator’s Heart was also Meet Cute Bookshop’s LGBT romance read for September. Hell, MY BOOK WAS IN A PHYSICAL STORE! That alone just blew my mind. I was also interviewed by Geeks Out about my books/writing. More importantly, my books got more fan art! I love artwork so much, and every time I find out that someone was moved to create something based around my characters I am just over the moon. Few things make me happier than fan art. I also commissioned art from OblivionsDream and really want to do that again in 2024.

I don’t want to go into sales numbers and all the nitty gritty of that, but I had a good year in that regard. I’ve been trying to build on the momentum of The Reanimator’s Heart‘s release with book two, and I think I achieved that. I had the most preorders I have ever had, which I did not expect at all. My sales overall have been strong (for me), and I’m hoping I can keep that up in 2024 as well. I’m also hoping that the various awards and such will sort of keep stoking that fire.

Things That Didn’t Go As Great

I need to get better at writing consistently. It’s something I have struggled with this year. Overall, I wrote quite a bit, but I often feel like my attention is all over the place. Stretching my attention muscles is something I really do want to work on going forward as well as getting into a more consistent writing routine. This year had some chaos that I know messed specifically with this. If I’m mentally doing not great, my writing suffers first, and when my writing isn’t going well, I can’t get mentally balanced. It is a vicious cycle.

When I was called for jury duty in July, my OCD kicked up. This was compounded by some assholerly caused by another author who repeatedly made my life miserable by being a bully to me and others I know. The first instance of this didn’t cause me that much angst back in February because, while angry about how they treated someone else, I muted/blocked them, deleted my reviews of their books, and said good riddance. Unfortunately, several months later (when my OCD was already acting up) they reappeared when they got in a beef with someone else I know. The bullying person somehow got access to conversations where several of us talked about our shared experiences of them being weirdly passive aggressive or being a straight-up bully, and they made our lives miserable. I ended up having to lock my Twitter for a bit because I was getting cryptic replies and ghost rts, despite having the other person blocked everywhere. It was stress I neither needed nor wanted.

Going forward, I need to move on. I know I have been stewing on this because this person hasn’t been negatively impacted at all, despite bullying ND people several times this year that I know of, because they sick their followers on anyone who even mentions they have behaved poorly. If you follow me on social media, you may have heard me mention that my hair fell out from stress; this was why. My brain doesn’t want to leave it alone, but it isn’t healthy to dwell and frankly, calling them out on it will only backfire on me. I have to accept that and focus on maintaining my mental health in 2024 and working on my stress levels. Taking care of my brain is something I need to get better about. My plan in 2024 is to forget they exist and wait til karma catches up with them or they pick a fight with the wrong person.

Things I’m Thankful For

Let’s clear the air of negativity by ending with talking about the people and things I am very thankful for this year.

All of you. Seriously, every one of my readers who have read my books, suggested them to others, left reviews, made art, replied kindly to my posts, you all have made my life so much brighter this year. I wish nothing but the best for you in 2024, whether that’s success, prosperity, peace, healing, I hope you get it.

My partner. My partner has been going on a journey of their own with their gender, mental health, neurodivergence, etc. This year has been tough for both of us, but my partner has been nothing but supportive, kind, and loving, even when dealing with their own stuff. I love them immensely and cannot wait for another year with them.

My author friends who are my social network, my moral support system, and vast wells of knowledge. I couldn’t ask for better peeps to hang with than all of you. I plan to keep cheering you all on in the coming year.

And of course, my students, who make my daily life so much brighter, richer, and sillier.

Overall, this was a really fantastic year, and I just wanted to thank all of you [again] for making it one.

I’ll be posting a goals for 2024 post soon, so stay tuned for more on that in the coming weeks. I hope you all have a safe and happy new year!

Personal Life

Neurodivergence and Jury Duty

July 30, 2023July 13, 2023 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

Sometimes it’s easy to forget I’m autistic. I have sort of built a life for myself where my weaknesses are minimized and my strengths are (mostly) highlighted. My job allows me plenty of decompression time, I can sort of pick my time slot, and my schedule is very predictable 90% of the time. The problem comes when I’m thrown a curve ball, and I’m repeatedly reminded that the world isn’t built for my brain.

In the first half of July, I had jury duty. To be clear, I didn’t get picked, but I had to attend jury duty selection, which means a week of my life was put on hold with a metaphorical piano hanging over my head. The funny thing is, I think actual jury duty would be far easier for me to deal with than the selection process, but let’s talk about the ways in which this was not an accessible or smooth experience for me as an autistic person.

Faces on cameras

It is overwhelming for me to stare at 60+ people on camera and know they are staring back at me. When I taught remotely early on in the pandemic, I didn’t require my students to show their faces, and I didn’t show mine. Every face is a lot of data or background noise/sensory input to deal with. Being on camera, even if I’m meant to be idle while waiting, feels performative. I’m hyper aware of every micro expression I am or am not making. As autistics, we’re often penalized for our resting bitch face or lack of expression, so I sat there for hours schooling my face into something close enough to mild interest that no one would say anything. On top of this, there were no captions (if there were, I couldn’t figure out how to turn them on). It’s hard to understand people when Zoom is cutting in and out, and I assumed I could turn it on and never asked anyone to do so preemptively. Things got garbled, especially when I was trying to listen and not look at myself or other people.

Schedules? Don’t know her

This was honestly the worst part. I never knew when anything was supposed to happen, or we’re told one thing but other instructions contradict it. One paper says you will hear from us by 5:30 PM, the woman on camera says 5:00 PM. The orientation itself wasn’t bad, but it was 3+ hours of instructions and time killing followed by being stuck in OCD purgatory (more on that later). I didn’t know if I was allowed to get up and go to the bathroom or if I could run my dogs outside really fast. The same thing happened during the selection process when we were initially told they would tell us who was on-deck to speak to the judge, so if we needed to get water or pee, we could. Then, they stopped telling us and just started calling people. The flipflopping on the setup was frustrating because as soon as I thought I got a handle on what was going on, it changed. On top of this, you never know what day you can or will be called. They say check your email after 5 PM every day this week to hear about the next day. That’s a lot of time to have zero predictability in my schedule. By Wednesday, I had no idea what day it was and felt completely unmoored. I didn’t even know if there was a possibility of being called on Friday. The paperwork made it seem like yes while the judge that talked to us made it sound like it didn’t happen. Nothing makes sense in jury duty selection.

Checking OCD trigger central

I have checking OCD (I came to understand that’s what it was during a therapy appointment during the pandemic). It used to manifest as checking my dad’s Fitbit all day while he was at work to monitor his heart rate because the fear was if I don’t check, he might have a major heart event, not realize it, and die. Since he passed, my checking OCD has been mostly under control. On the first day of jury selection, they said the worst thing they could have to me, “Check your email every 15-20 minutes.” Now, to normal people, this translates to check your email at least 2-3 times an hour. My paranoid, anxiety ridden self took this as check your email every 5-10 minutes, don’t believe it, refresh it, do it again, and check your phone. I was so afraid that I would get involved in something and miss an important email that I basically sat at my computer from 11-4:00 (when I got an email from them) doing nothing but futz around on Twitter and check my email. Once I realized I got an email AND a text if they needed me, that curbed my checking anxiety a bit, but the feeling of being yanked back into that spiral was horrible.

Yes or no questions

I hate yes or no questions, especially when people demand it be a yes or no under penalty of law for lying. Logically, I know I’m not being hauled off to jail for not 100% correctly answering a question (note: I don’t mean untruthfully, I mean not correct), but the fear is there. It trips me up in answering things because I don’t want to answer in haste and lie, but then, I think too hard about a question and get confused. Have you ever taken a standardized test or read a government form and had to parse it out for 10 minutes because you think you know what it’s asking, but you don’t want to be penalized if you’re wrong? That’s the autistic experience of dealing with the legal system, and people wrongly assume you’re lying if you spend too long thinking before you answer. I, unfortunately, was called to speak to the judge to see if I qualified for a case. The questions that were asked confused me, and I said as much. “Would you be prejudiced against a defendant just because they’re a defendant?” I sat there for a second not understanding why anyone would feel that way, asked the judge to explain it because it made zero sense to me, only to realize that was exactly what they were asking. My favorite was the judge asking if I had any conditions or anything that might make it impossible to fulfill my duty as a juror. I have never been a part of jury duty, so I honestly have no frame of reference as to whether or not I would be a functional human being in this situation or if I would just power down and dissociate. It’s hard to answer when I honestly don’t know. If you say that though, people look at you like you’re crazy, so I kept that to myself but said something else that got me disqualified from the case.

Bonus: misgendering!

Always fun when you have to use your full legal name for something when it’s a name you never use. I tried putting (Kara) next to it and still got full named. In a pre-service survey they ask if you’re male, female, or nonbinary. I put nonbinary. I’m 90% sure I did. On Zoom, I filled in my pronouns as they/them. I wore something gender neutral, I moved my computer to only show me from the shoulders up, I had my hair pulled back. I did everything I could and get miss-ed and ma’am-ed by the judge repeatedly. Once he said, “men and women” and “he or she” repeatedly during his warm-up speech, I figured it was a lost cause, but it still was like the moldy icing on the already stressful cake. Before someone says, “Why didn’t you say something?”, we all know rule one of jury duty and the legal system in general is don’t bring attention to yourself.

Kara, what was the point of this?

This was not meant to be a rambling complaint-fest. I wanted to point out that something most people find to be a minor inconvenience is actually stressful for some of us. Obviously, there’s always the financial stress of missing work when you get called for jury duty, but in this case, it’s more so the mental stress and anxiety this whole process causes in people who need clearly delineated information, consistency, and predictability. A week of constant anxiety feels like overkill for such a mundane process, but that’s what it was. The worst part is, I don’t even know what accommodations someone could ask for if the process is supposed to be random. Randomness inherently runs counter to what I need, but I wish the expectations and schedule could at least be more clear cut and not taken for granted by those who deal with jurors every day. For jury duty to be the fair and equitable process it hopes to be (though we all know its not), accommodating neurodivergent jurors would be a great place to start.

Personal Life

Being the Professor I Needed

May 28, 2023May 16, 2023 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

As an adjunct professor, I have a few guidelines for myself that aren’t in any university handbook. They include

Never be the horror story professor students remember for the rest of their lives.
Be the professor young me needed as an undergrad (even if I didn’t know it).
Institutional/systematic change begins in the classroom.

The first one is probably slightly selfish on my part as I like being well-liked, but number one trickles down to the next two. While I know not every student is going to like my class or me, the goal is to teach them as best I can, support their learning, and have them leave my classroom knowing more or feeling better than when they went in. Will students sleep through my class or play on their phones the entire time? Absolutely. But in regards to my third guideline, I’m no longer calling those students out, and I’m doing my best to continually learn, grow, and create a less ableist classroom for my students.

I’m neurodivergent, but I’m [generally] the kind of neurodivergent teachers like. I hyperfocus, I’m type A with my classwork, I ask questions and participate if I’m comfortable, and I have been the kid who is “a pleasure to have in class.” My partner is also neurodivergent and spent his entire school career with unmedicated ADHD. No matter how hard he tried, he struggled to pay attention or take notes, he fell asleep in class (due to struggling to sleep), and his ability to memorize things despite trying to hours was abysmal. He couldn’t help it. I watched him struggle, and I watched professors get frustrated with him or treat him like a terrible student who didn’t want to be there, a student unworthy of college. This was hammered home by coming from poverty, being Latinx, and not fitting traditional masculine standards for someone AMAB. One of my favorite teachers (now a friend and mentor) helped him a lot in her class, and I never forgot how much he appreciated her help and compassion. She could see he was trying when others wrote him off.

When I graduated with my MFA and started adjunct teaching, I decided I wanted to be a professor like my friend/mentor. I wanted to be the professor students looked forward to like I did her classes. The problem is, it’s easy to fall into hard-ass mode. Students are human. They’re obnoxious, they push your buttons, they don’t pay attention, and it was easy to see them as just trying to make my life difficult by not doing what they’re supposed to do. I took it personally when they didn’t do their work, especially when I knew they were fully capable of doing the work and turning it in. It was an incredibly stupid way to look at it, and I didn’t see it until I was sitting at an adjunct meeting at the one university I worked at and heard the older adjuncts talk about their students. I hated how badly they talked about their students, how they automatically assumed they were all trying to pull a fast one on them, but especially how no one seemed to care about the ones who were trying.

There are two things that changed my attitude real quick: how they spoke about international/non-native English speaking students and how they spoke about neurodivergent students.

I had a class that was 75% international students, and to this day, they were one of my absolute favorite classes. I stopped knitpicking their grammar flubs. I corrected them, but I didn’t take points off or factor it into their grades. These eighteen year olds had been in the US for like two weeks and were expected to write essays in perfect English. It was an absurd standard, so I didn’t hold them to it. Toward the end of the semester, one of my students mentioned how they were glad they didn’t have to stress so much in my class because other professors were taking points off for every mistake. These bright, wonderful students I bantered with and were proud of were being penalized for not being native English speakers. Then and there, I decided I would never take off points for grammar or spelling. There’s a difference between careless typos and other language-isms if you’re willing to pay attention. Besides, big picture essay issues are far more useful to correct than knitpicky grammar checking.

When we began to suspect my partner had ADHD, I dove into research for how to better support him and myself. We’re a neurodivergent couple, so what works for us doesn’t work for neurotypical people. After doing more research on autism and ADHD, I started to notice that a lot of what other professors complained about like not paying attention, doodling, having earbuds in, etc. are often neurodivergent coping mechanisms. Often ND people are paying attention, but they aren’t performing listening or focus in a way that NT people recognize. When I was a college student, I spent a lot of my time with my head down, but because I was taking copious notes, my professors didn’t criticize me for it. My doodling partner got in trouble. While I couldn’t easily listen to background noise back when I was in school, nowadays, I probably would have headphones in. I stopped bothering students when I thought they weren’t paying attention or they appeared to be multitasking. At this point, I say to myself they are adults; if they are just f-ing around instead of doing something to help focus, that’s on them.

The pandemic and moving online made me reevaluate if the policies in my classes were ableist or cruel or absurd. As an undergrad, I dragged my half-dead corpse to class when I was ill because we were docked points if we were absent too much and professors wouldn’t provide notes if you missed class. In my junior or senior year, my grandma got brain cancer and died not long before finals. I was spending all my free time at the hospital and not missing class because I was afraid my professors would think I was making stuff up (the joke was that grandmothers died a lot during 8 AM classes). Thinking back on it, I hate that I had to worry my professors thought I was a liar and not that I was young adult going through shit I never asked for or could have foreseen. I didn’t want students to go through that in my classes. I’ve made it my policy that you can basically miss as much class as you need as long as you stay active in regards to doing your work (which feels like the basic consequence of your actions). If a student asks for an extension, I give it. If a student who was otherwise active in class disappears, I reach out to see if they’re okay. The demographic of students in college classes is changing. It isn’t mostly upper middle class white kids with no job apart from school. A lot of my students are taking care of their siblings, their children, their disabled relatives, or their working full-time jobs (or the equivalent of). On top of that, some of my students have chronic illnesses. I have my own inflammatory issues where I have flare ups, and I know how to feels to have anxiety that makes leaving the house feel impossible. My policy has become put your health and well-being first, and we’ll figure it out if you need to catch up.

The worst thing is that I feel like what I’m doing is the bare minimum. There are things I know I could do that would make my classes more accessible, but I haven’t had the time or spoons to do it yet (like recording all my classes again and posting them on Youtube or somewhere else). I can’t make universities more accessible on a whole to those who aren’t native English speaking, neurotypical, or those unaffected by illness. Academia is notoriously ableist, and while some universities are trying to be less racist, they are sorely behind in making academia accessible as the student body changes. My hope is that if enough of us start to enact policies that support our students, we will bring about structural change within academia that helps not only the students but professors who need those same accommodations but aren’t comfortable to ask.

Personal Life

My Blind Dog

March 12, 2023February 21, 2023 Kara Jorgensen2 Comments

This post was inspired by a Twitter post about ableism in veterinary medicine and how people treat disabled animals, so CWs for discussions of ableism, medical treatments of a pet, eyeballs.

picture of a black dog with a grey muzzle. His tongue is out and his eyes are a little asymmetrical as the right one is cloudy and a little smaller than the left eye

For a little background, my dog Finn developed uveitis sometime between 2019 and 2020. Uveitis is inflammation of the interior chambers of the eye, and for most pets who develop it, there’s no known cause. At first we thought maybe he had allergies because his eye looked red. Then, we realized his eye was bulging, so we took him to our vet, who sent us to a veterinary ophthalmologist. He got drops, but they weren’t enough and the uveitis progressed into secondary glaucoma, which is basically high internal pressure inside the eyeball due to the eye not draining properly. Glaucoma can be very painful, and the vet gave us the option of removing Finn’s eye or trying to get it under control with drops. Finn is pretty old. He’s a rescue, so we aren’t really sure how old he is. He’s probably older than Edgar, who is now twelve, and we were hesitant for him to be under anesthesia if we could help it. I decided I would try the eye drop routine, and if it didn’t work, then we would discuss removing his affected eye. This kicked off the several month journey of sixteen eye drops a day. The only good thing about this was it happened during Covid, so I was home and able to give him drop four times a day and have them be fairly evenly spaced.

It was a lot of work. I understand why some people would have opted for the eye removal from the start, and I don’t begrudge them for that. I was lucky in that Finn is very cooperative about getting his eye drops (apart from flopping back to sleep mid drop), I was willing to shell out the money for all the drops and vet trips, and my job is such that I could do his eye drops on a regular basis. After many months and many not cheap trips to the ophthalmologist, Finn’s glaucoma went into remission and his uveitis is stable. He only gets steroid drops twice a day and we no longer need to visit the vet unless something changes (knock on wood it doesn’t).

What weirded me out the most during all of these vet trips is that during one of the final trips before the vet said we didn’t have to come back, he emphatically pointed out that Finn’s eye would never be normal. My partner and I were like, “Yes?? Okay.” An eyeball that’s been swollen with fluid to the point of losing some of its traditional structure isn’t going to magically fix itself. The vet repeated that his eye would never look normal and reminded us he would always be blind. The vet obviously doesn’t know that I have a degree in biology, so we just nodded along looking confused as to why this needed to be stressed to us.

In the car on the way home, my partner and I started talking about how weird it was. How many people were thoroughly convinced their dog’s eye would magically return to normal or that their sight would return after internal damage was done? How many people were mad that their dog’s eye was no longer perfect? Frankly, neither of us could care less what Finn’s eye looks like as long as it isn’t causing him pain. He’s totally blind in his right eye, and it looks a little recessed in the socket and cloudy as if he has cataracts. But he isn’t in pain, he’s happy, and he’s a (knock on wood) healthy senior dog, albeit toothless. I imagined our vet getting angry calls from pet owners who were now “stuck” with disabled or non-aesthetically pleasing pets due to various eye ailments. Looking at my sweet boy, I cannot imagine being mad or loving him less because his eye is a little messed up. It’s part of him, it adds character. As someone who has been an “unsightly” chronically ill person, it strikes a cord with me that people even think this way about their pets. So much so that people will actually get prosthetic eyes put into their dog’s sockets after an eye removal. Your dog doesn’t care it’s missing an eye. The other dogs don’t care. The only one who is upset is the owner, and that feels like something one should spend some time examining.

On top of all this, Finn is blind. His right eye is completely blind and his left eye has limited vision. We are fairly certain he can see about 2-3 feet in front of him, and he sees better when the sun is of middling brightness or not at a direct angle into his eye. Too bright or too dark and he can’t see well. Because of this, he bumps into stuff. He bounces off of things outside, he overshoots the patio and gets lost, he sits on his siblings, much to Katie’s dismay. To us, it isn’t a big deal. We always go out in the yard with the dogs, so someone always keeps an eye on Finn to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. We carry him down the deck stairs and follow him up them to make sure he doesn’t fall. Every accommodation we make for Finn to keep him safe is minimal effort on our parts. The scariest thing is going down the stairs with him when it’s icy because we’re always afraid of potentially falling and hurting him, so we go down on our butts with him in our lap. Once again, not a big deal.

It’s upsetting for me to think of how many people would think any of the minor accommodations we make for Finn are a burden or too much to deal with. He’s my dog, and when we got him, there was the implicit understanding that I would do everything in my power to keep him safe, happy, and healthy for as long as I could. Pets end up in the dubious category of living being and property, which I think is what leads to this weird brand of ableism with owners being upset that their pet is “defective” or not aesthetically pleasing. If my pet isn’t picture perfect, people will assume I’m a bad owner or that I don’t take care of them or that I bought a dog that was “defective.” I friggin hate the word defective. My dog has a medical condition. He isn’t defective because he’s blind in one eye, his eye isn’t a source of embarrassment or shame, and his smooshy little face has been and always will be Instagram worthy. Your disabled pet doesn’t have a design flaw and should never have the same language applied to them that you would a broken TV or ripped pair of pants.

In the back of my head, I always wonder what people who say these things about their pets would say about other people to their faces or behind their backs. If you call a creature who loves you unconditionally defective because they’re disabled, what do you say about disabled people or how would you treat people you know if they suddenly became disabled? The worst part is knowing that vets also perpetuate this language and attitude. I don’t think my vet brought it up for any reason other than to temper our expectations, but in the post I mentioned at the very beginning of the blog, this person’s vet said cruel things about their disabled cat and treated the non-disabled cat better. Vets and pet owners need to do better. The chronically ill and disabled people in your life hear what you say when you don’t think there’s anyone around to get offended, but not all issues are visible and we hear you.

Personal Life

On Classroom Accommodations

October 9, 2022September 28, 2022 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

A post online the other day brought up something that hits on two major intersections in my life: teaching and being neurodivergent. The post talked about how professors/teachers need to stop treating students’ accommodations as charity they allow them to have and something that allows a marginalized person to participate more fully in the class/discussion/college community.

If you don’t know what accommodations are, they’re often things like giving a student with ADHD more time in class for tests or allowing a diabetic student to eat in class if their blood sugar is low. In order for students to receive accommodations in class, there are often a lot of hoops they have to jump through, such as having a diagnosis, getting a doctor to write up the accommodation, having the school approve it, having it passed out to the professors and signed off on, AND the professor still can sort of shrug it off. The student can always complain to academic affairs or whatever office deals with IEPs/accommodations, but that requires energy and cooperation from the office with no promise that the professor will ultimately cooperate or not hold it against the student for pushing back.

Something I instituted in my class this semester is a self-diagnosis policy. Often students who are autistic or have ADHD struggle to get a diagnosis as an adult or find getting a diagnosis could actually work against them (I have avoided an official autism diagnosis because you can be denied organ transplants among other things. Look it up; it’s an awful, ableist policy centered around “quality of life”). Since my classes are writing-focused, there aren’t tests, which makes allowing for extra time or other accommodations easier (no dealing with the Academic Support Center, etc.), but I have had students with anxiety, migraines, stomach issues, etc. who end up missing class more than the average student. My policy is now that as long as you keep up with your work and give me a heads-up, we’re good.

There’s some professor out there who is going, “But if I let one do that, they’ll all do that!” Shockingly, they don’t. They really, really don’t. I have had students reach out to me due to extenuating circumstances or medical issues, and so far, they always keep up with their work. The rest of the class continues on as is. Those who need it, use it. Those who don’t, don’t. If you’re not sure why this matters for quality of life, let me tell you the story of why I stopped going to a professional to get my hair cut.

As a little background, I have eczema crop up all over my body. In the past, before I started taking a biologic, it was severe, and it’s aggravated by chemicals, fragrances, etc. to the point that I only use one kind of shampoo. I also have sensory problems where things most people take for granted REALLY bother me. People touching my head or face is not a fun experience. The hair dryer is hell as it is hot, loud, but the stop and start of it just frays my nerves after while. Even a hairbrush running across my scalp bothers me if I’m stressed enough.

My aunt was going to one hairdresser who was younger and very nice. I asked my aunt to ask her if I could come to the salon with a wet head, so she didn’t have to wash my hair (aka avoid the shampoo and copious head touching). She agreed, and I went. Everything went great. My hair looked nice, and she even asked if I wanted my hair dried or left damp the second time I visited her, and from then on, we just left it damp to dry naturally. I have straight hair that dries quickly, so it looks fine after. Avoiding having my hair washed and dried made getting a haircut far less stressful. I actually didn’t hate it, though the talking throughout was less than ideal but doable.

The problem came up with my preferred hairdresser switched days and salons, and I couldn’t see her. I was desperate for a haircut before the semester started that year, so I booked an appointment with someone my other aunt used in the same salon. Big mistake. She ran roughshod over my needs. I came with a wet head, and she made me get my hair washed. I protested, and she just ushered me over the shampoo girl anyway. It caught me by such surprise that I just sort of blanked instead of fighting it further. Everything went downhill from there. My head already was itching. I told her what I wanted and showed her pictures, and she went rogue because a different length would “look better with my face.” I asked if she could not blow dry my hair, and she ignored me again. By the time I left, I was ready to cry. I was angry and frustrated that she ignored things she could have easily accommodated and completely overstimulated me. It’s been several years, and I haven’t gone back to get my hair professionally cut for fear that any accommodation I ask for will be treated like I’m being dramatic.

I keep this trip to the salon in mind when students tell me they’re struggling with something or need something to help them succeed. It isn’t “special” treatment, it’s creating equity in the classroom by leveling the playing field and removing barriers that would hinder a students’ ability to function. By ignoring an accommodation, at best, you’re making things harder than they have to be. At worst, you are actively harming your student. The hairdryer made me more overstimulated, making it harder to get through the haircut experience. The shampoo full of fragrances I didn’t want them to use actively harmed my skin, and I got an eczema flare on my scalp and neck the next day.

Something other teachers might want to consider when a students asks for an official or unofficial accommodation is that not every disability or illness is visible or consistent. I have IBS. Luckily it’s IBS-C, which doesn’t interfere too much with my life. Imagine having IBS-D and telling your professor you can’t come to a workshop class because you’re in the middle of a flare (aka frequent bathroom trips) but you will send in your feedback to your groupmates in hopes of getting credit. And your professor fires back, you look fine most of the time and to get credit, you have to be present bodily. Should your student have to disclose that they are worried about shitting themselves in class in order for you to let them do their work remotely? On the neurodivergent side of things, I don’t tell everyone I’m neurodivergent because people have some weird assumptions they will apply to you. If you say you’re autistic, people will treat you differently if they don’t know you and what you’re capable of. Students shouldn’t have to make themselves vulnerable and open to potential ridicule or ableism by disclosing specifics.

As we head into the middle of the semester, I want you to think about what your reaction to reading this was. My fear is always that someone says, “If they can’t handle it, they shouldn’t be here.” Why shouldn’t they? Why shouldn’t an autistic student or a chronically ill student be at school? What about their condition precludes them from accessing a good education? What makes their education less worthy than that of their neurotypical or non-chronically ill peer? The bootstrap attitude is ableist bullshit, and if you’re reaction was to question the student’s value or fitness, I hope you will seek out chronically ill or neurodivergent authors to work on yourself because you really don’t belong in a classroom if you’re going to actively hinder your students. To those who want to better support their students, I hope you will allow for unofficial accommodations in your future classrooms.