Considering the sensory and social needs of disabled students in higher education: A call to return to the roots of universal design

Abstract

Universal Design for Learning is a pedagogical approach that aims ‘to improve and optimize teaching and learning for all people based on scientific insights into how humans learn’ (CAST website, n.d.). Originating in the context of K12 education in the United States, the core principles involve the provision of multiple means of representation, engagement, and action/expression. Despite high instructor satisfaction with UDL, evidence of effectiveness for students’ learning is insufficient. Effectiveness aside, the purpose of this policy research note is to describe additional issues in UDL specifically relating to disabled students. First, I argue that the core tenet of UDL to meet all learners’ needs by emphasizing variability in approaches to learning (and consequently avoiding reference to ‘disability’) may inadvertently marginalize disabled students. Second, I argue that the focus on instructional design as a panacea to meet the needs of ‘all people’, including disabled students, is insufficient. This potentially distracts well-intentioned educators from more substantive challenges experienced by disabled students, relating to the built environment. Until the sensory and social needs of disabled students are met, instructional approaches like UDL cannot provide an equitable learning experience for many disabled students. Therefore, I argue that higher education leaders should attend to the sensory and social environments of university campuses before retrofitting inclusive pedagogies to the current typical university campus.

Introduction

Disability occurs when a person’s capacity to carry out basic actions of daily life or to participate in the world around them is compromised or limited (World Health Organization, 2011). Therefore, while a person may not explicitly identify as disabled, they meet the agreed criteria for disability when their capacity to engage in everyday activities is impaired to some degree. Alongside students who are socio-economically disadvantaged, and/or or who are members of Irish Traveller and Roma communities, students with disabilities are a priority group under Ireland’s National Access Plan (2022–2028; (Higher Education Authority, 2022) for equality of access to higher education. This recognition is timely as the global rise in disability is reflected in higher education, with an increase of 268% in students registered with Disability Support Services in Ireland between 2009 and 2021 (AHEAD, 2021). Although I refer here to the Irish context, my arguments are relevant to any context in which there is both an increase in disabled students’ participation in higher education and an increase in promotion of Universal Design for Learning principles to meet learners’ needs.

Universal Design for Learning (UDL) is a pedagogical approach that at its core, aims to meet the needs of diverse learners in the classroom, including the needs of disabled students. It is in the context of the increasing popularity of UDL that I reflect here on the needs of disabled students and the extent to which these needs are currently met. My aim is to highlight the neglect of disabled students’ sensory and social needs in higher education, needs that must be met before students can adequately engage in learning. These sensory and social needs may be sidelined by enthusiasm for pedagogical approaches centred on instructional design. Regarding language, there are varying preferences for person-first language (e.g. students with disabilities) and identity-first language (e.g. disabled students) among disabled communities (e.g. Taboas et al., 2023). Some people (especially among the Deaf and autistic communities) use identity-first language to claim the centrality of disability to their identity and to signify pride or acceptance; others prefer person-first language to describe themselves as a person in the first instance, with the disability or health condition secondary. Therefore, as recommended elsewhere (e.g. Buijsman et al., 2023), I alternate between person-first language and identity-first language.

How do disabled students experience higher education?

It is impossible to adequately condense the complex and intersectional experience of being a disabled student in higher education. The experiences of people with even the ‘same’ disabilities are not equivalent, and disability intersects with other marginalized identities, like race, class, gender, and sexuality (Goethals et al., 2015; Miller et al., 2019). Nonetheless, broadly speaking, disabled people have substantially lower rates of higher education qualifications than people without disabilities (CSO, 2016), anticipate stigmatization relating to their disability from peers and academic staff (Sapir and Banai, 2023), experience repeated requirements to disclose disability as emotionally taxing (Blockmans, 2015), and experience health-related disruptions to their academic engagement.

Meeting the needs of disabled students may be especially challenging in the context of disabilities not immediately observable to another person, that is, disabilities described variably as ‘invisible’, ‘hidden’, or ‘non-apparent’ disabilities (Sapir and Banai, 2023). There is debate over the overlap or distinctiveness of these terms (Thompson-Ebanks and Jarman, 2018); here, I use the term ‘non-apparent’ to refer to all physical and psychological characteristics that are not consistently and readily apparent to an onlooker, that compromise or limit a person’s capacity to carry out basic actions of daily life and/or of societal participation, in contexts where additional supports are not provided. Examples include neurodevelopmental conditions (e.g. autism and ADHD), psychological disorders (e.g. depression) and medical conditions (e.g. type 1 diabetes). Some sensory disabilities are highly apparent; for example, a person who is partially sighted and who uses a cane has an apparent disability. In contrast, a person who is partially sighted but who does not use a cane could be considered to have a non-apparent disability. If a disability is not visible or known to an instructor, they may not make the adaptations needed to enable student success. Furthermore, students with non-apparent disabilities carry an additional stressor as to who and when to disclose their disability to, which continually complicates their university experience (e.g. Habenicht et al., 2021). Despite benefits to disclosure in the form of tangible supports like accessibility equipment and exam accommodations, there are myriad barriers to disclosure and disability registration, including (1) negative experiences in prior stages of education, (2) stigma, (3) credibility (needing to evidence the disability), (4) not considering themselves to have a disability, and (5) a desire to develop a ‘normal’ identity (Moriña, 2022).

How do we meet the needs of students with non-apparent disabilities?

In principle, the academic needs of disabled students are met through the implementation of pedagogical approaches like UDL. The UDL approach draws on the universal design movement which intended to promote design of spaces or items that could accommodate all users, to the greatest extent possible, without specialized adaptations. Early proponents articulated seven design principles (Center for Universal Design, 1997); these were that the product or feature should allow equitable use, be flexible in use, allow for simple and intuitive use, communicate the necessary information effectively to the user, minimize hazards, require low physical effort, and provide appropriate space for approach and use. Universal design subsequently inspired UDL; for those unfamiliar, this is a popular approach that aims ‘to improve and optimize teaching and learning for all people based on scientific insights into how humans learn’ (CAST website, n.d. [emphasis added]). Originating in the context of K12 education in the United States, the core principles are by now, well-known, involving the provision of multiple means of representation, engagement, and action/expression. UDL has displaced other well-intentioned approaches including differentiated instruction, which involves altering or modifying the curriculum and instruction to meet the needs of students with differing abilities (rather than accounting for these needs at the outset) (Hall et al., 2004). Despite the overlapping goal of meeting the needs of diverse learners, one key distinction between differentiated instruction and UDL is that UDL intends, a priori, to meet the needs of all learners; differentiated instruction meets differing needs as and when these needs arise. In principle, adopting a UDL approach should obviate the need for disability disclosure, because education is accessible for all students without any special accommodations (Cumming and Rose, 2022). This is typically viewed as an advantage of UDL, given the barriers to disclosure noted already (Moriña, 2022).

Does UDL meet the needs of disabled students?

Unfortunately, as has been articulated well elsewhere, evidence for the effectiveness of UDL for student learning is lacking (Boysen, 2021; Murphy, 2021). For example, Almeqdad et al.’s (2023) meta-analysis of ‘effectiveness’ (as specified in the article title) does not clearly evaluate effectiveness for learning, but rather includes studies on experiences of learning about UDL (rather than learning through UDL; Tomas et al., 2021), or attitudes towards STEM (Nasri et al., 2021); neither of these outcomes truly reflect effectiveness. Addressing this issue, King-Sears et al.’s (2023) meta-analysis included only controlled studies that assessed academic performance. Although this reported a moderate benefit of UDL for academic achievement, only three of 20 studies (Allen et al., 2018; Aronin, 2009; Simmons et al., 2010) were conducted in post-secondary settings, constituting a very narrow evidence base for UDL for university learners. Besides, the literature supporting the UDL guidelines is also problematic. For example, an in-depth review of the evidence cited as underpinning checkpoint 1.2 ‘offer alternatives for auditory information’ (Matthews et al., 2023) concluded that 71% of the articles were either outdated, not clearly relevant to UDL, or both. Despite the UDL checklists, the complexity of what actually constitutes UDL makes it difficult to evaluate. In the absence of mandatory conscription to UDL, UDL implementation is likely conflated with instructor motivation and engagement with continuous professional development both of which could enhance student learning. Therefore, the added value of UDL remains uncertain. Besides this critical issue of effectiveness, additional issues include (1) the problematic framing of disability and (2) neglect of disabled students sensory and social needs.

The problematic framing of disability in UDL

Regarding (1), critical disability theory (Gillies, 2014) recognizes that many of the challenges people with disabilities face are not related to their impairment, but rather are imposed by societal social structures and strictures; UDL proponents tend to agree. While claiming not to focus on the needs of the ‘standard’ or ‘normal’ student, UDL documentation is peppered with disability-neutral terms like ‘all individuals’ and ‘all students’. Although well-intentioned, avoiding the term ‘disability’ constrains opportunities for disabled people to advocate as part of the disabled community and reduces the potential for disability as a ‘valued and agentive identity’ in the classroom (Dolmage, 2015). Baglieri (2020) summarizes the core issue, that ‘while UDL research is resisting deficit views of disabled students by providing plurality in instructional design, there is less disruption of the desirability of the normate or normative curriculum itself’ (p. 24). Is it fair to expect UDL to achieve this ‘disruption of the normative curriculum?’ That might be too much to expect of a single pedagogical approach, but UDL should not perpetuate a normative curriculum by avoiding reference to disability. Closing opportunities to discuss disability might hinder disabled students’ opportunities to learn by deterring new insights into how their needs might be met beyond UDL. Put simply, avoiding reference to disability makes it more difficult to talk about. Consequently, it becomes more challenging to fulfil what Brabazon (2015) describes as the universities’ ‘public service role’, at least with respect to disability.

Neglect of sensory and social needs in UDL

Regarding (2), discourse around disability supports more broadly has focused on academic supports and/or physical access to the campus. Significantly less attention is given to the ‘sensory environment’, which can be distracting and/or overwhelming for students with sensory processing differences (e.g. autistic people or those with ADHD), as well as those with chronic illness (Sapir and Banai, 2023). If I delivered a module in an over-crowded, poorly ventilated room, with music blaring, I could not anticipate that much would be learned by neurotypical students as the students’ sensory needs are clearly not met. The typical university campus can, in its own way, be equally prohibitive for learning for many neurodivergent students (Dwyer et al., 2023). For example, (Nolan et al., 2023) identified several problematic sensory features including background noise, poor or overly bright lighting, desks located too close together, and crowding during transitions from classroom to classroom. In a review of neurodivergent students’ experiences, (Clouder et al., 2020) noted that social anxiety, fear of loneliness, and perhaps critically, a lack of spaces free from over-stimulation are barriers to socialization for some students. In addition to the more recognizable challenges experienced by many disabled and neurodivergent students (e.g., specific learning difficulties; fatigue), the elevated stress associated with sensory processing differences, and the isolation as students need to withdraw from social spaces that do not accommodate their needs, are secondary contributors to their university engagement. Before a student can engage with a UDL curriculum, their sensory and social needs must be met by the built environment in which in-person learning takes place. Ironically, although UDL is inspired by universal design principles from architecture, it overlooks the relevance of built or sensory environment for learning, and how that environment facilitates or does not facilitate social integration for disabled students.

Sensory environment admittedly features in checkpoint 7.3 which recommends educators ‘minimize threats and distractions’ in the learning environment, to create a ‘safe space’ for learners. Educators are guided to ‘vary the level of sensory stimulation’; however, offering variety does not offer students an escape from sensory stimulation that is aversive for them. Additionally, checkpoints 9.1 ‘promote expectations and beliefs that optimize motivation’, 9.2 ‘facilitate personal coping skills and strategies’, and 9.3 ‘develop self-assessment and reflection’; intended to ‘Provide Options for Self-Regulation’, do not include any information about sensory needs, although self-regulation for neurodivergent students is very much entwined with sensory processing dysregulation. Therefore, the existing checkpoints are insufficient to account for learners’ sensory needs and overlook the relevance of sensory processing to self-regulation.

What next for UDL?

Few would argue that designing a curriculum with inclusion in mind is a harmful pedagogical approach. UDL has certainly ‘opened a door’ (Baglieri, 2020) for academics to upskill in their consideration of accessibility and inclusion. Further, student and teacher satisfaction with UDL are frequently reported to be high (e.g. Cumming and Rose, 2022). However, given the lack of evidence for effectiveness, it is important to critically reflect on the value of UDL. In particular, the erasure of disability in UDL documentation, and the inability of UDL nor any instructional design approach to overcome the challenges of the built environment, requires contemplation.

Conclusion

There is a welcome appetite to increase inclusivity of university curricula; however, there is a risk that disability culture and the sensory needs of disabled students are deprioritised as UDL gains momentum. Although UDL offers plurality of instructional modes which should benefit disabled students, significant barriers to disabled participation in university life remain in the form of unmet sensory and social needs. It is time for proponents of UDL to return to their roots in universal design. Investment in the built environment, informed by the perspectives of disabled and neurodivergent students, is needed.