I was diagnosed with ADD and short-term memory loss when I started college around fifteen years ago. (Better late than never, I guess.) The only accommodation I really needed was a formula sheet for my algebra class to use on tests. There were no answers of any kind on this sheet, just formulas, e.g., a²+b²=c². I still had to do the actual work myself.
Somehow, though, my algebra professor took this to mean that I had a “cheat sheet” and constantly made nasty remarks about it, even trying to get my classmates to agree with him that it wasn’t fair that I had a “cheat sheet” when they didn’t. Thankfully, my classmates all told him he was being ridiculous and making everyone uncomfortable with his snarky comments.
I finally had enough and decided to stay after class to have an adult conversation about the comments being rude, unprofessional, and downright inappropriate, and to ask firmly but politely that they stop. Unfortunately, it’s hard to have an adult conversation when the other person refuses to be an adult. I explained that I needed the formula sheet because I have memory issues, and it in no way provided anything that my classmates didn’t have (since they had the advantage of keeping the formulas in their minds instead of on a sheet). Everything I said was met with more snark and condescension that was, honestly, childish.
Eventually, I realized that the man simply would not be reasoned with, so, irritated and out of patience, I had no choice but to pull out my nuke.
Me: *Frustrated* “Look. We can go back and forth with this as long as you want, but at the end of the day, you can either stop the nasty comments, or you can have a chat about the ADA [Americans with Disabilities Act] with my dad.”
Professor: *Scoffing, condescending tone* “Oh, you’re really going your father involved?”
Me: “Well, he’s your boss.”
And I watched this man’s soul leave his body.
Professor: *Tiny, horrified voice* “…what?”
I stuck out my hand as if to shake his.
Me: “Hi, [My First Name] [MY LAST NAME]. [Dad’s First Name] [OUR LAST NAME], head of the math department’s, youngest daughter.”
The professor’s eyes went wider.
Professor: “…daughter?”
Suddenly, he didn’t have a problem with my formula sheet. I still mentioned the issue to my dad, who looked into [Professor] and found that he had several complaints against him from students with disabilities. Dad promised to keep an eye on him, and they did indeed have a chat about the ADA and professionalism at the end of the quarter.
[Professor] had been teaching at the college for many years already; Dad had just taken over as head of the department that year, so that’s why he wasn’t yet aware of the preexisting complaints against [Professor]. They would have been addressed as soon as he found out about them, my having issues with [Professor] just led Dad to find them a bit sooner.
Related:
Thanks To ADHD And The ADA, You’ve Been HAD
