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Definitions and Naming Practices
Pedagogy and Accommodations Within the Undergraduate Classroom
Definitions and Naming Practices
I identify these letters as “accommodation letters," which is the term I will use throughout this article. One of the challenges of studying these letters is the wide variation in language and practices around these letters. Individual institution calls these letters something different. Clemson University, where I study and teach, officially calls them faculty notification letters, and my students at Clemson call them “SAS letters” (Student Accessibility Services letters). Other institutions have a range of naming conventions. However, as all these letters exist to establish and provide notification of accommodation, I use the term accommodation letters, while acknowledging its limits. As I will show, the framework of accommodation exists within an uneven power structure between students and academic institutions.
In using the accommodation letter, I imagine all correspondence between a university office and instructors of record sent on behalf of disabled and/or Mad students could fall under this broader definition of the term. I use the term “letter” as these documents often adhere to the conventions of a letter addressed to the instructor of record, although they are generally delivered through email communication or learning management systems (e.g., Canvas, Blackboard, etc.), not as a physical letter. An accommodation letter generally sets out a specific accommodation a student has been granted, such as time and a half on exams, the ability to record lectures, or the need for captions/ASL interpretation.
Naming is of particular importance for disability and Mad identity. I follow Margaret Price’s use of the term mental disability. She writes, “Following Lewiecki-Wilson, these days I’m using mental disability … this term can include not only madness, but also cognitive and intellectual dis/abilities of various kinds. I would add that it might also include ‘physical’ illnesses accompanied by mental effects (for example, the ‘brain fog’ that attends many autoimmune diseases, chronic pain, and chronic fatigue)” (Mad at School 19). While mental disability includes a wide range of identities and experiences, I also still use Mad as a separate term. Mad studies and disability studies have a great deal of overlap; these two terms represent two distinct theoretical traditions. I pull from disability studies and Mad studies to frame my rhetorical analysis. Following current practices, I also deliberately capitalize “Mad” when referencing the specific community (e.g. Beresford). Capitalization is often done to demonstrate the distinction of Mad as a reclaimed term of identity, not mad as a historical pejorative. As I will go on to show, the naming and the language of the mental disability and/or Mad identity is of particular importance for access and ableism within academic settings, as an act of disclosure.
The role of naming and terms is particularly important in disability and Madness communities and spaces. Price calls attention to this feature, noting, “The problem of naming has always preoccupied DS [disability studies] scholars, but acquires a particular urgency when considered in the context of disabilities of the mind, for often the very terms used to name persons with mental disabilities have explicitly foreclosed our status as persons” (Mad at School 9). I use person-first language (e.g., “person with autism”) as well as identity-first language (e.g., “autistic person”) throughout this essay. My deliberate rhetorical choice, though perhaps adding complexity for the reader, is done to recognize the distinct language preferences of community members and avoid preference to any one term or language practice; moreover, I do not want to imply there ought to be a universal terminology. There is a great deal of diversity in preferred language among individuals, as there is a great deal of diversity in mental disabilities and Mad identities. I hold that diversity is a positive and have chosen to reflect this in my term use.
While the accommodation letter exists to satisfy legal and institutional needs, it can also open dialogue between students with their instructor and the SAS office, ideally decreasing the access burden for the student. However, disclosure can be a risky endeavor for students and instructors. “In academia, where the mind is highly valued, there is fear among both students and faculty of disclosing any variations of the mind. The mentally disabled are often stripped of rhetorical significance and denied personhood, dismissed as rhetorically unsound” (Hitt 15). Rhetoric and writing professor Clay Spinuzzi reminds readers of the rhetorical nature of access: “Accessibility is a rhetorical enterprise, one that must seek consensus across very different stakeholders” (190). Those stakeholders include students, instructors of record, university staff (such as accessibility office coordinators), university administrators, and graduate instructors whose dual roles can contribute to difficulties when it comes to asking for and obtaining accommodations.