Recently, I attended a conference presentation ostensibly about accessible online learning, where I watched a man we’ll call Steve fumble over gadgets at the podium. After a few assurances that we would get started right away, folks, a woman’s face appeared on a large, projected screen. Catherine (not her real name) was introduced by Steve and began talking. The trouble was that nobody could understand what she was saying.
Catherine’s voice was a loud, jarring hum of electronic crinkles, like a jammed Skype call. It was impossible to understand her, not because of her speech impairment, but because the presentation was inaccessible. She was the epicenter of a technical disaster and there was no transcript to support the audience. Even so, we got the message from Steve’s quip: “What I love about Catherine is that she’s a real go-getter!” Catherine, a disabled woman, completed an online degree program. She was an inspiration. But what was she saying? Something about discussion boards, maybe. This went on for 10 minutes. Astonishingly, at the end, people clapped.
As online learning becomes the norm across Canada, faulty conversations about making online learning accessible are cropping up in higher education conferences. These conversations fall short when they fail to uphold standards of inclusivity that are at the heart of basic, proactive Universal Design for Learning (UDL) strategies – that is, when they do not include gestures of access such as transcripts, live captioning, or American Sign Language (ASL) interpretation. Or, when they present disabled people in stereotypical ways. In this case, Catherine was served up as a “supercrip” – a term commonly used in disability studies to describe someone who is celebrated for overcoming impairment by performing like a “normal” person.
Read more: Accessibility must be more than an add-on to online pedagogy | University Affairs