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International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education

ISSN: 0951-8398 (Print) 1366-5898 (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/tqse20

Actively navigating the transition into college: narratives of students with learning disabilities

David J. Connor

To cite this article: David J. Connor (2012) Actively navigating the transition into college: narratives of students with learning disabilities, International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 25:8, 1005-1036, DOI: 10.1080/09518398.2011.590158

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2011.590158

Published online: 26 Aug 2011.

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Actively navigating the transition into college: narratives of students with learning disabilities

David J. Connor*

Special Education, Hunter College, CUNY, 695 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10065, USA

(Received 28 November 2009; final version received 17 May 2011)

Students with learning disabilities (LD) are particularly vulnerable in making the school-to-college transition where they negotiate a complex constellation of challenges that include academic demands, social expectations, and emotional/ personal growth. Although a substantial body of knowledge exists about college students with LD, it is largely predicated upon both extrinsic supports available to ensure a successful transition into college and ways to maintain that success. In contrast, intrinsic knowledge as the basis of agency exerted by individuals with LD to strategize for their own success has received comparatively little attention. This study uses narrative methodology guided by a theoretical frame- work of disability studies, to render three nuanced portraits of college students with LD. Participants demonstrate ways in which they manage to navigate the academic, social, and emotional/personal realms when transitioning into college. In doing so, they reveal instances of self-knowledge that are often hidden or overlooked, revealing numerous instances of agency.

Keywords: college; learning disability; narrative; disability studies

Introduction

Prior to the Education for All Handicapped Children Act in 1975, college atten- dance for students with learning disabilities (LD) was limited to a small number.1

However, in the last three decades, the number of college students with LD has more than tripled (Stodden, Conway, and Chang 2009). By the mid-2000s, 23% of students with LD attended a 2-year college and 11% attended a 4-year college (Gregg 2009). Although the numbers represent increased access to college-level learning, only 28% of these students manage to graduate (Emery 2009). These sta- tistics suggest that students with LD experience significant difficulties in attempting to successfully navigate college. It is common knowledge that typical students face new challenges transitioning from high school to college because they shift from a system where adults manage their lives to one of self-management. Due to the nat- ure of their disability, students with LD are particularly vulnerable in making the school-to-college transition. These students must negotiate an additional constella- tion of disability-related challenges within the interconnected realms of academic demands, social expectations, and emotional/personal growth (Heiman and Kariv 2004).

*Email: [email protected]

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education Vol. 25, No. 8, December 2012, 1005–1036

ISSN 0951-8398 print/ISSN 1366-5898 online � 2012 Taylor & Francis http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2011.590158 http://www.tandfonline.com

In the academic realm, most students are expected to learn largely via lecture format. Additionally, demands in reading increase over what was experienced in high school both in terms of the volume and complexity of material studied. These demands are magnified for students with LD. Furthermore, some students with LD face greater difficulties than their non-disabled counterparts in: concentrating on the task at hand, determining the saliency of information presented in class, applying test strategies, and managing time, all potentially contributing to higher levels of anxiety and lower grade point average (GPA) scores (Proctor et al. 2006). In turn, low scores may trigger punitive measures. For example, students who excel in sports may lose the right to represent the college in prestigious teams, thereby exac- erbating feelings of inadequacy and frustration (Hishinuma and Fremsted 1999; Hishinuma 1999). Indeed, struggling in “standard” classes such as Freshman Com- position (Bell 1999) can undermine a student’s basic confidence and cause physical symptoms such as stomach and head aches (Gregg and Ferri 1998).

In the social realm, like typical students, those with LD must create new friend- ships within a highly diversified community where individuals are hyperconscious of social status. Falling behind academically or feeling inadequate in college can severely impact notions of self-worth in relation to peers (Cunningham 2001). Fur- thermore, interpersonal confidence, academic aspirations, and anxiety are all inter- twined within in the general experience of students with LD (Mitchell and Sedlacek 1995). Such simultaneous experiences can cause students with LD to feel more socially inept than their non-disabled peers (Schmitt 1994), giving rise to a range of responses from withdrawing inward (Hammerschmidt 2004) to “acting out” (Vee 2001).

In the emotional/personal realm, some students with LD question aspects of their own identity, including the nature and impact of their LD (May 2001; Piziali 2001). Many begin to see themselves as adults functioning in a complex world from which – until attending college – they have been protected (Pelkey 2001). Others are successful in meeting the learning demands of college and feel validated in their previously self-questioned autonomy (Miskell 2001), and feel the beginning of self-actualization (Mooney and Cole 2000).

Surveying previous studies

In surveying recent studies on college students with LD from the last seven years (2002–2009),2 a review of the literature yielded information about the academic, social, and emotional/personal realms. However, these findings largely emphasized the external sources of support to students rather than self-initiated efforts to ensure their own success. Although it is important to know how one can support a student with LD in their transition to college, it is even more critical that they develop the capacity for independence. The lack of research on students’ self-initiated actions is a critical gap in the literature because its absence reinforces traditional notions of students with LD being passive, waiting for – or being directed toward – assistance. First, I provide a succinct synthesis of existing literature on external support strate- gies for students with LD as they transition to college and address the shortcomings of this approach. I then present my findings that are primarily focused on the actions of students themselves, illustrating instances of self-direction and inherent survival skills.

1006 D.J. Connor

In the academic realm, for example, researchers often conclude that appropriate preparation in high school for increased academic expectations in college is essen- tial (Beale 2005; Foley 2006). In addition, it is crucial for students to register with the college’s Office of Student Support Services, provide recent documentation of their disability, and explicitly state their needs (Hadley 2007). If documentation is not recent, students must be reevaluated at their own expense (Kravets 2006; Madaus and Shaw 2006). For students who have not already done so, they must come to know the specifics of their learning disability and how to describe it to oth- ers (Milsom and Hartley 2005; Mortimore and Crozier 2006). Informing professors, counselors, and tutors of the specific needs of students with LD can lead educators to successfully teach specific strategies to manage general organization, study skills, and note taking (Allsopp, Minskoff, and Bolt 2005; Butler, Elaschuk, and Poole 2000; Ruzic 2001). Additionally, students with LD can request and use assistive technology for reading that, in turn, helps them focus, builds stamina, and reduces stress in managing their load (Hecker et al. 2002; Kirby et al. 2008). Finally, they are also urged to take advantage of peer-tutoring (Vogel, Fresko, and Wertheim 2007), and develop an Academic Support Plan3 along with professional counselors from student services (Gretzel, McManus, and Briel 2004).

In the social realm, it has been argued that the adjustment for students with LD to college life is no different than for their non-LD peers (Estrada, Dupoux, and Woman 2006). There are, however, many complicating factors that challenge this generalization. For example, some students are required to negotiate new situations in which they may have multiple “minority” identities in addition to LD such as race (Durodoye, Combes, and Bryant 2004; Green 2006) or social class (Rojewski and Kim 2003). Students from working class or poor backgrounds are more likely to work full- or part-time when attending college, reducing opportunities to social- ize (Heiman and Kariv 2004) and adding pressure to keeping up with college work (Trainin and Swanson 2005). For both students with and without LD, success is partially predicated on finding the balance between work and play (DaDeppo 2009; Heiman 2006). In addition, when attending college, a student’s self-image often shifts, influenced by new academic knowledge and exposure to a more diverse peer group (Troiano 2003). Students with LD are faced with the choice of self-disclosure about their LD to new friends. For a variety of reasons, many opt not to self-dis- close (Cornett-DeVito and Worley 2005), a choice they sometimes maintain after college (Madaus 2008).

In the emotional/personal realm, students with LD see college as a new begin- ning, an opportunity to redefine themselves, including reframing their disability and its relation to their identity. In one study a student with LD shares, “I always felt myself as falling short of other people, or ‘normal’ people as I would often say” (Reiff 2004, 196). Others have echoed this sentiment, describing how integral LD is to their personalities, impacting their behavior, particularly attempts to “fit in” with other students (Rodis, Garrod, and Boscardin 2001). Most students with LD are uneasy about the conundrum of competing in a merit-based system while rely- ing on accommodations and/or the help of others (Hall and Webster 2008). The col- lege environment for students with LD is not always hospitable, causing some to feel embarrassment, guilt, and regret in asking for their legal accommodations (Ryan 2007). Even when experiencing success, they may still struggle against “the notion that they are somehow broken” (Olney and Kim 2001, 582). Finally, levels of anxiety experienced by many students with LD can negatively affect their

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1007

physical well-being (Cohn 1998; Davis et al. 2009) and emotional state (Blake and Rust 2002; Lufi, Okasha, and Cohen 2004).

For every student who successfully manages these multiple demands of postsec- ondary education (Lee 2005), there are three students who do not (Gregg 2009). This ratio paints the college landscape as “bleak” for students with LD who are both “unprepared” when entering and “underserved” when attending institutions of higher learning (Gregg 2007, 219).

Research question and potential significance

The question this research seeks to address is: what are the ways that students with LD strategize to successfully negotiate the academic, social, and personal/emotional realms through their first year of college? Researching ways in which students with LD actively negotiate these realms is important because it can: (a) identify student actions that contribute to academic success; (b) delineate ways in which students with LD navigate the social demands of college; and (c) capture any shifts in the stu- dents’ thinking about their identities and the degree to which they consider LD an integral part of that identity. Findings in these areas can be useful in making recom- mendations to college faculty and support staff, and college-bound students with LD.

Theoretical orientation

The theoretical orientation for this study is largely undergirded by two mutually supportive components: narrative inquiry and disability studies. The first component uses personal narratives to foreground individual experiences that are recognized as the source of information and analyzed with a view to answering the research ques- tion. Narratives encompass all experiences, from the mundane to the extraordinary, with each event considered a potentially valuable source of knowledge. The narra- tives in this research are situated within the everyday context of college for students with LD, and consist of a series of episodes, each one an interlocking element of the larger story. Narrative stories are one of the most widely used ways of commu- nicating all aspects of life (Polkinghorne 1997). As such, the complex, lived experi- ences and thoughts of people researched are made accessible to others. Richardson (1990) claims that through telling, listening to, and understanding stories, “. . .people make sense of their lives and the lives of others” (7). Personal narrative is recognized as an authentic form of self-representation, a powerful claiming of voices that have been neglected and subsequently obscured within traditional research (Clandinin and Connelly 2000; Connor 2009). Elbaz-Luwisch (1997) explains the value of, and tensions within, the nature of narrative ethnography:

Narrative researchers often work on a small scale, do not aspire to generalization in the usual sense, nor do they promise immediate practical benefits; yet they make strong claims for the authenticity and power of narrative research. They aspire to true collaboration and to the giving of voice to participants, yet still work from within tra- ditional academic structures which value individuality, originality and ownership of intellectual products. These paradoxical circumstances give rise to confrontation with traditional modes of research. (76)

Narratives, therefore, “aim to persuade rather than prove their claims,” offering “descriptions and explanations of situations and circumstances from which the readers

1008 D.J. Connor

may cull insights into their own practice” (Fairbanks 1996, 321). A story’s “validity,” believes Ellis (1997), “. . .can be judged in whether it evokes in readers a feeling that the experience described is authentic and lifelike, believable and possible; the story’s generalizability can be judged by whether it speaks to readers about their experience” (133). The field of special education has steadily grown in its recognition of the value of qualitative research, including narratives (Brantlinger et al. 2005). It is also impor- tant to note that the telling of personal stories and the staging of data as narratives invite participants to exert significant control over how they are represented within research about LD (Connor 2008; Keefe, Moore, and Duff 2006).

The second component of the theoretical orientation of this research is disability studies, a field that challenges the conceptualization of disability as primarily a medical condition, instead casting it as a phenomenon situated within a social and cultural frame of understanding. Linton (1998) explains:

. . .the term disability is a lynchpin in a complex web of social ideals, institutional structures, and government policies. As a result, many people have a vested interest in keeping a tenacious hold on the current meaning because it is consistent with the prac- tices and policies that are central to livelihood or their ideologies. (10)

In contrast, disability studies claims disability as a marker of identity, a social posi- tion that is created and imposed upon people according to widely held, yet arbi- trarily constructed, notions of normalcy. As Garland-Thomson (1997) clarifies, “Disability then, is the attribution of corporeal difference – not so much a property of bodies as a product of cultural rules about what bodies should be or do” (6). In his seminal work on stigma, Goffman (1963) describes “a cripple” who bluntly states, “people expect you to know your place” (120), conveying the (often unspo- ken) rules of society in terms of where people with specified bodily differences “belong.” According to Oliver (1992), researchers have, to a large degree, been complicit in “othering” people with disabilities within limited, abnormal, medical- ized understandings while simultaneously neglecting issues of equity and access to all aspects of society. He notes, “Disabled people have come to see research as a violation of their experience, as irrelevant to their needs and as failing to improve their material circumstances and quality of life” (105). Disability studies therefore, in and of itself, can be considered as a counter-narrative to the deficit-based master script that dominates the discourse of disability. As Seibers (2008) explains:

Disability studies does not treat disease or disability, hoping to cure or avoid them; it studies the social meaning, symbols, and stigmas attached to disability identity and asks how they relate to enforced systems of exclusion and oppression, attacking the widespread belief that having an able body and mind determines whether one is a quality human being. More specifically, disability studies names the states of social oppression unique to people with disabilities, while asserting at the same time the positive values that they may contribute to society. (4)

Many of the writings within disability studies have been in the form of personal narratives, serving as powerful testimonies of lived experiences that conflict with the master script of disability (Couser 1997, 2009; Seibers 2008; Snyder, Bruegge- mann, and Garland-Thomson 2002).

Until a decade ago, scholars who researched education and disability operated within the constraints of special education. In serving as the default box for any

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1009

and all issues pertaining to disability and education, special education came to monopolize what could and could not be said about disability. Given the field’s his- torical orientation within science, medicine, and psychology, it has steadfastly resisted other ways of knowing, including epistemologies of people with disabilities (Gallagher et al. 2004). Working in the field of learning disabilities for 25 years – as a teacher of students designated LD, professor of a certification program for teachers of students categorized LD, and a researcher interested in the phenomenon of LD – I have always viewed the field of special education to be highly problem- atic for many reasons, including those cited above. Of particular interest has been the field’s fierce adherence to positivism (Kauffman and Sasso 2006) and subse- quent refusal to engage in a dialog about the plurality of research methodologies (Connor, Gallagher, and Ferri 2011), including its denial of narrative as a valid source of information (Connor 2008).

Of note is that the subfield of disability studies in education (DSE) arose in response to special education’s hegemony on what constitutes valuable research. Examples within the core tenets of DSE include: (1) placing people with disabilities central to theories of disability; (2) privileging knowledge derived from the lived experience of people with disabilities; (3) working with people with disabilities as informed participants or co-researchers; (4) valuing disability as a natural part of human diversity, rather than a dysfunction; and (5) supporting disabled students in the development of a positive disability identity (American Education Research Association n.d.). Disability studies, therefore, provides an appropriate framework in which to consider how students with LD actively navigate societal norms, prac- tices, and expectations within college settings that oftentimes misunderstand, mis- represent, and marginalize them. In sum, by foregrounding underrepresented epistemologies, this study provides valuable knowledge generated and shaped by individuals with LD.

Methodology

This research took place at an urban university of over 20,000 students in the North Eastern part of the United States. Three participants were interviewed for this pro- ject (see Table 1). All participants applied to be part of the project in response to a flyer posted on the college campus. All participants self-identified as having LD (verified, with their permission, by the Office of Student Services), and were inter- ested in participating in research that could potentially help other students with dis- abilities. Despite working with such a small group, the study sought to encompass as much of a range of diversity as possible. This is reflected in variations of gender, social class, age, and ethnicity. In addition, the type of LD, along with co-existing disability classifications, serves to trouble notions of homogeneity in how students experience life in and out of educational institutions.

Data collection and analysis

Participants were individually interviewed three times each for 75 minutes. The interviews took place in a private setting over a period of three months, allowing personalized one-on-one dialog that helped build mutual trust. Each interview was audio taped, transcribed soon after, and a typed copy was sent via email to each participant to be read in preparation for the following interview. This pattern

1010 D.J. Connor

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International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1011

allowed participants to engage with the researcher in the “funnel approach,” a method guided by the original research question. In this approach:

The researcher explores possible sites, subjects, sources of data, and procedures for data collection. On the basis of results from the initial data collection, the groups/sites/ conditions are identified more specifically, thus providing increased focus on the phenomenon under study. This process leads to more narrow data collection, concen- trating on those data that reflect the specific phenomenon that has emerged. This pro- cess may be repeated, becoming more focused until the conclusions are concentrated on a specific component or limited number of components of the study. The data col- lection, analysis, and interpretation has become more focused, directed or narrow, from a more general beginning. (Wiersma 2000, 208)

This study employed a four-step funnel approach based upon data gathered through interviews. In step one, emerging themes and/or incidents of interest shared by par- ticipants in their first interview were identified, meriting further exploration and a deepening of knowledge (Seidman 1998). Each participant’s data were reduced and coded into broad areas pertaining to the three realms being studied: the academic, social, and emotional/personal. In step two, the data were organized into sub-cate- gories of themes; these themes were revisited with participants in a recursive cycle. After three interviews, a fourth and final meeting was held to review all the infor- mation transcribed, clarify any outstanding issues, and discuss tentative findings. In step three, the data were considered in relation to: (i) the intention of the research (identifying student actions that contribute to academic success; delineating ways in which students with LD navigate the social demands of college; and, as part of the emotional/personal realm, capturing shifts in students’ thinking about their identities and the degree to which they consider LD an integral part of their identity); (ii) the purpose of narrative inquiry; and (iii) the core tenets of disability studies. In step four, the data were arranged for purposes of description and interpretation. In addi- tion to interview transcriptions, other data were gathered throughout this project in the form of observational, methodological, theoretical, and personal notes (Richardson 2000) with the aim of understanding both the lives of participants in a holistic sense, and the general nature of the research process. Finally, participants also elected to bring documents such as commendations, awards, and transcripts, which were included as additional data.

Interpretation of data

A “dialectical process” acknowledges the multiplicity of potential understandings through interpretation (Seidman 1998, 107). However, through using “successive approximations toward an accurate description and interpretation of the phenomena” (Wiersma 2000, 202), a convincing rendering becomes possible. In qualitative inquiry, the strength of knowledge claims will always be contextualized, situated, and partial (Lincoln and Denzin 2000). Although there are truths in these findings, they do not claim to be universal or absolute; instead, they arise from “having a par- tial, local, historical knowledge [. . .that] is still knowing” (Richardson 2000, 928). A mission of this research is to co-create convincing representations of knowledge held by three college students with LD using their narratives to answer the research ques- tion posed. This narrative knowing, in turn, will then ultimately be interpreted by

1012 D.J. Connor

readers and accepted or challenged to varying degrees, based upon each reader’s understanding of the world (Bahktin 1986).

Staging the data

In the following sections I describe the college experiences of Amber, David, and Mary (pseudonyms of participants). First I present a brief introduction for each per- son before articulating their specific concerns in attending college. After that, I con- centrate on the experiences of each participant in academic, social, and emotional/ personal realms, focusing on what individuals did to meet the expectations, demands, and challenges of their situation(s). In staging data this way, the agency exerted by each student with LD becomes evident.

Student narratives

Amber

Amber is a 19-year-old woman of East Indian descent who is easy-going and highly articulate. In her second year of college, Amber lives with her parents and younger brother in an affluent neighborhood nearby. She was “officially” identified as hav- ing both a learning disability and attention deficit disorder (ADD) when attending a private middle school.

Academic realm

Amber’s strengths include being well organized and having the ability to write descriptive essays. However, she also has several areas of concern. For example, Amber can easily feel overwhelmed when attempting to determine, recall, and make connections among salient information, including “numbers and dates.” Further- more, Amber has visual–spatial processing problems, causing her to feel frustrated when expected to ascertain information from graphs and charts, or envision a partic- ular time, place, or situation. Her primary fear lies in taking classes that require memorizing a lot of dates. She recalls:

. . .I’ve never, ever done very well in a history class. . .I didn’t understand the relation- ships between the different battles or any kind of major event. I guess a lot of it has to do with the geography too. You have to know where it’s happening on the globe so you can visualize it better.

Here, the skills required for success in the class are her areas of weakness – manag- ing a significant amount of numbers and being able to mentally envision a picture.

Amber’s primary academic concern is continuing to develop critical thinking skills when synthesizing large bodies of information or diverse sources of knowl- edge in order to create original ideas. Given the difficulties described, how has Amber responded to these challenges? Self-management appears to come relatively easily. She admits to being “organized” and “independent.” For instance, after read- ing the undergraduate catalog Amber followed through on the invitation for students with disabilities to register with the Office of Student Support Services, recalling: “. . .a counselor that I met just filled out cards to say I had to have extended time.” As a result, she gives professors, “a form that says I need extra time, and it tells

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1013

them where they have to send the exam. So they’re aware they’re signing a form to give me extra time. . .but they don’t know why.” Being given the option of addi- tional time is very important for her as it allows Amber to better strategize how to approach academic tasks. She explains:

You just don’t have to rush because rushing tends to lead to wrong answers. I’ve done that a lot of times. And also I just read sentences over and over and over, not under- standing them and I’d skip them and come back to them, and if I didn’t have that time I’d read it and still not understand it and waste all of my time reading it, and not get the other questions.

Additional time serves as a psychological safety net, because in practice, Amber rarely uses it. She states, “. . . I mean it’s good to have it. I’ve been close to running out of time, but I’ve been able to manage it so that I had ten minutes left and it was okay.” One of Amber’s personal goals is to improve her academic performance without relying on extended time, seeing “. . .if I can focus, calm down, trying on my own.”

For Amber, college is largely managed without stress. She reveals, “I kind of expected it to be how it was. . .academically I didn’t think it would be very chal- lenging, and it hasn’t been super challenging. I don’t think I can handle that.” In many ways Amber is laid back, content to occupy the middle ground between over- and under-achiever. Reflecting on her academic performance in freshman year, she describes herself as doing, “Not fabulously, but not horribly. Average. Good. . .” At the close of the first semester, she was “in the B range,” and by her second, she accrued a GPA of 3.5 (B+). Amber explains, “I’ve never really gotten a lot of As, so it’s not like I’m used to seeing them or it’s not like I’m striving for them. I strive B plus or higher. . .I’m not a very high achiever, I’ll admit that.”

Other strategies employed to ensure her academic success include developing an informal rapport with professors, including meeting them on an as needed basis, self-generated study cards, skimming large bodies of text, and highlighting the text before taking notes from it. Amber proudly asserts, “I always did my work, I never missed an assignment.” She is aware of the demands of college and the need to “keep on top” of coursework, revealing, “What I do when I get school work is write it in my calendar when things are due and when I should start working on things, and when I can plan.” When facing certain challenges, Amber self-encourages, internally reminding herself through the task, “Focus! To stick with it, you have to finish it.” Finally, it is important to include that Amber is prescribed Adderall to help her focus, lessening interference from ADD. She opts to take prescription drugs strategically, timing them with increased expecta- tions of college work. Amber shares, “I will take it if I am doing tests or for homework where I need to concentrate greatly on one. But I don’t take it on a regular basis.”

Social realm

Amber has spent time finding the balance of taking prescription drugs: the type, the dosage, the frequency. She is aware of how it affected her general disposition, and by extension, her social relations, explaining:

1014 D.J. Connor

I think taking that Concerta medicine – that didn’t agree with me at all – for a period of time. I don’t think I was clinically depressed, but I didn’t feel like myself. My med- icine definitely affected me socially, I would attest to that. I guess if my medicine affected me socially, then ADD must have as well, because I took it for ADD.

The medicine acted as an inhibitor, reducing what her friends termed “babbling,” allowing her to internally monitor what she was about to say before actual articula- tion.

Given Amber’s social class, it is interesting to note that she would be expected to attend an Ivy League university anywhere in the country. “I really don’t want to go to a mainstream college,” shares Amber, stating that her parents “weren’t unhappy [with her current choice], but. . .they probably would have wanted me to go to a better school.” However, her public university has a good reputation, and in many ways can be considered a “safe bet” for a student with LD who falls in the middle range of the academic spectrum. In this respect, Amber’s choice of college was quite strategic. That said, she admits to not being used to the social diversity within the college, an institution known for both racial and ethnic diversity, along with a tradition of educating working class (“first generation”) students. Amber shares:

I feel the people here don’t care about being in school, to be here. I don’t see them going anywhere . . . I was amazed at the way they speak, and I can’t judge how they dress. . . A lot of them are really rude. They just talk in class... But then I have some classes where a number of students seem interested and seem like they want to learn. There’s a mix.

In surveying clubs to join, Amber notes that there was little of interest to her in terms of racial and ethnic groups, and she did not want to join the Indian club. However, the Environmental Club appealed to her as she self-describes as being “very environmentalist.” Even so, this venue did not forge new friendships but rather “acquaintances,” with Amber noting, “I mean I don’t hang out with any of them, but I talk to them when I see them in school.”

Altogether, Amber reveals, “I have maybe four people who I talk to on a regular basis. They’re all in the classes I’m in.” On a related note, she recalls, “I never really had a lot of friends in high school, either.” This, she infers, is because she thinks differently compared to others. “I mean I’m a friendly person,” Amber explains, “but I think I differ in my opinions. It all stems back to the European aspect of thinking, and I don’t think like an American thinks.” By this, she explains, the materialism of her female peers has traditionally made it “. . .hard to connect with a few of the girls.” Amber’s “cultural location” is complex. Born of East Indian parents raised in England, with herself raised as American, she com- ments, “Obviously, I’m not Asian. . .I don’t really want to join the Indian group [at college].” Nonetheless, she claims: “I don’t feel excluded. I just feel that there’s too many people, and how am I supposed to make friends?”

Emotional/personal realm

For Amber, the emotional tenor of her transition into college was mediated by developing a serious relationship with a boyfriend, a student from a nearby Ivy League school. She admits, “I hang out with him all the time. And I know it’s good

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1015

and bad, but I don’t know how to meet people in this school, it’s really hard.” While she reports that her relationship provides the opportunity for emotional growth, development, and maturity, it also inhibits the growth of new friendships. In reflecting on the year, Amber notes, “I think I became a more emotional person in a way because I had a boyfriend.” She continues:

That teaches you a lot about yourself and about being with someone. You test yourself. You just kind of see what person you can be, learning to love someone else, be with them all the time. I’ve developed more I think because of being in a relationship.

When asked to consider how she felt about having a disability, and whether she had shared that information with her boyfriend, Amber responded by stating:

I feel like it’s such a harsh word – ‘disability.’ I don’t consider myself to have a dis- ability, just a less strong aptitude in certain areas. But I wouldn’t go around shouting out, ‘Oh, I have a disability.’ I think that’s a strong word.

That said, Amber also informs, “I was never hostile toward being labeled. . .I had wanted to know why I wasn’t doing well in subjects.” She had previously shared the information with her boyfriend, who also had been diagnosed as having ADD and also took prescription drugs.

Interestingly, she narrated her boyfriend’s tale of being diagnosed at the behest of his parents, stating:

He says he doesn’t think he has it, and I don’t think he has it. But then again, anyone can say that they have it. . .I don’t think he ever did get extra time. But I don’t think he needed it. He has some Ritalin or some kind of medicine and he says it helps him concentrate.

In sharing these thoughts, Amber illuminates some of the ambiguities around diagnosing ADD and prescribing drugs. Brantlinger (2003) has observed that it is usually middle and upper class parents who urge diagnosis of this condition, namely educated people who are invested in securing the best college options for their children. To state the obvious, Amber reveals the not uncommon situ- ation of both members of a college couple taking prescription drugs to help them concentrate.

David

David is a 19-year-old Italian-American of middle class background. His educa- tional trajectory includes having attended specialized public schools for students with learning and social problems, being home schooled, and then attending private specialized schools where he excelled academically and felt strained socially. Origi- nally identified as learning disabled and having ADHD in school, David also became identified in college as having Asperger’s syndrome, a condition with which he self-identified the most. David predominantly struggled in terms of organization and concentration, as well as experiencing significant difficulties within ongoing social interactions in general.

1016 D.J. Connor

Academic realm

Unlike the other two participants in this study, David transitioned into further edu- cation as part of an advanced college program, sustaining a full, rigorous course load. His academic track record in high school was excellent. He comments, “My marks have always been perfect or close to that in school. I guess part of it is my ADHD wasn’t that much of a problem in high school – they put up with it there.” David combines highly competitive tendencies with a perfectionistic streak, taking great pride in his academic prowess. His academic propensity lies in stark contrast to his social aptitude, with the latter influencing a series of unfortunate, profoundly harrowing experiences that came to severely mar David’s initial experience in col- lege. He reveals:

Academically, I hate to brag about it but. . .frankly, I love to. My first semester, I was tormented to the point of pretty much breaking down, I still got a 4.0. And I think the semester after that, I think I also got a 4.0... in my entire time at college I’ve only had two classes in which I didn’t get a 4.0. . . Well, the 3.75 was a fluke because one tea- cher graded me down out of sheer animosity, no more, no less. She didn’t like me so she dropped my grade a bit. The other one was a horribly incompetent and erratic pro- fessor.

David’s social alienation by other students is a complex phenomenon involving all those concerned. Many of his words and actions were neither understood nor toler- ated by his peers. For example, having great self-pride in academic abilities meant David unwittingly projected a sense of superiority at his peers’ expense. He shares:

I discovered that intellectually, compared to the special ed. kids, the advanced program crowd were – how should I put it? – pushovers. And if we had a class debate or an argument, an intellectual argument, or generally had to give opinions in class, I could basically make light of anything that they did. Or I could easily. I could soundly beat their arguments. It was simple for me.

Dismissing peer competition, he aligned himself with professors, viewing them as intellectual equals. This, too, inadvertently contributed to his status as social pariah. Although David notes, “If your mind’s a wreck, you’re not able to do schoolwork,” he somehow managed to pull through the year with a GPA only a few points off 4.0. Given the level of stigmatization, how did he manage to academically survive his first year?

David responded to social ostracization, in part, by further channeling his ener- gies into proving his status as the most academically proficient student. He describes his dorm room:

It was impeccable. It was kind of bleak except for my trophy rack, which consisted of a wall on which I scotch taped all of the “A” papers I got. It helped keep me sane. . .it would be fun to at least have this rack of these good papers to remind me that at least I’m doing well in some regards. That felt nice, so I did it.

Decorating his room with A-grade papers provided him with a reason to continue, while ironically exacerbating the rift between himself and peers who perceived David as odd, someone to avoid, and ultimately eject from the dorms.

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Given the level of hostility directed toward David, it is amazing that he was able to focus so intensely on his academics as a way to see him through his initial year. Also, he had registered with the Office of Support Services for Students with Disabilities, ensuring double time in an alternative location for all examinations. He values this option, explaining:

. . . it would take me out of the classroom and avoid the stress of being around the other students taking the [test]. . .it would have been highly uncomfortable for me to sit there and about half of them wished that I’d just disappear down some subway hole or something, get hit by a truck. So it was a good thing it happened that I was given the chance to leave the room. Double time I’ve always had since I was a kid, I expect it. Without time I freeze up, usually. I panic, do nothing.

Here, David takes comfort in knowing he is less pressured to perform within a more rigid timeline. Like Amber, David also takes prescription medication (Con- certa) to help him stay focused. Both admit to taking it when they feel they need to as opposed to on a daily basis.

Social realm

David admits that social relations are his Achilles’ heel, “cause[ing] me a problem from pre-school on.” He reveals, “I’d never had a group of friends, I’d never felt comfortable in school.” Being unable to “tune in” to social cues and expectations has significantly impacted David’s abilities to understand everyday situations and make friends. He illustrates:

Normally you’ll probably go around and you’re constantly tuned in to a stream of data from other people. They are always broadcasting information, without using words, just gestures, tones of voice, suggestions, allusions, nothing really direct, but it’s all there. You notice it. In fact you probably take it for granted. Now a person with Asperger’s syndrome doesn’t actually see this. Or rather they can see it, but it doesn’t make any sense to them. They don’t automatically pick up on this. It’s about as much sense to you as Chinese.

In discussing how he negotiates social situations, David states:

I don’t, I fail miserably, and I get confused. And then I suffer and wait around for a very, very, very long time never knowing what’s going on. And I stick it out, and keep up false hopes and I live with a lot of misery because I don’t know what the hell people mean.

It is important to note that while David tacitly knew his own social limitations, attending college for the first year thrust them irrevocably to the forefront of his existence. Fearful that the offer would not be repeated, David reluctantly accepted to live in a dorm. Immediately, he found dorm life “appalling,” revealing, “I had a horrible time. I lost fifteen pounds. It was not a pleasant part of my life.” His peers immediately found cliques, niches, leaving no “transfer or overlap or room for other people.” Overall, David shares, “It was pretty quick. Within two or three weeks I was already isolated. After that, I never really had a chance to fit in.” He recalls that people were always busy, prior arrangements were canceled, leaving him alone and suspicious. The dorm environment disintegrated into both active and passive

1018 D.J. Connor

demonstrations of hostility toward David. Examples include “walking up to an ele- vator and seeing everyone go take the stairs,” and “saying ‘hello’ to a room full of people and getting nothing back.” He notes:

If I’m walking straight up to a person and saying “hello” and having them pretend they’re not there. . .that’s pretty bad. I mean a lot of people say pain is physical, but “sticks and stones can break my bones, words can never harm me.” The sticks and stones can break your bones, but the bones you can put in a freaking cast. The words? Get enough of them, get enough people treating you poorly, looking at you as a freak, a monster, it’s unpleasant, indescribable. That doesn’t go away as easily. It doesn’t heal up in six weeks with good medicine. That sticks around.

Finally, in a response to a petition by students to remove David from the dorms, the college administration intervened, and he moved back home to live with his par- ents nearby.

It is no exaggeration to say that David’s attempts at socializing during his first year of college left him severely traumatized and tempted him to drop out. How did he manage to survive a hostile, humiliating, and public situation? There are sev- eral components that contribute to his survival. First, David understands the situa- tion from multiple perspectives. To begin, David admits that he is difficult to like and knows he acts “oddly” in comparison to others. He attributes the dorm situa- tion, in part, to his own nervousness and fear of a new environment. Yet, he is also aware that, “Since they did start isolating me, it spread,” acknowledging, “Being around me would reduce their [social] status, especially in the advanced college program.” David also admits to taking a “very philosophical approach to it, and a highly analytical one,” casting himself as an outsider, “. . .what Edward Said calls the demonic other.” He explains:

Basically groups tend to define themselves by what they are not, by who they aren’t. They need an enemy or a contrast or for someone to contrast themselves to establish who they are. In the case of the kids in the dorms, many of them weren’t really com- fortable. . . living away from home for the first time, drinking heavily, [using] more drugs than they had ever used before, in a different social environment. . .The situa- tions were different than what they had encountered before. In order to fit I assume it was convenient to have a person to demonize, namely me. By establishing I had all of the qualities they found disgusting, they were able to feel closer to one another by their cooperation in isolating me. I suppose that is an optimistic view of my time there because it gives me a lot of power, but I do suspect...that did play a role in it.

A second factor that contributed to David’s survival is his acceptance of, and even pride in, the Asperger’s label, a label he had previously not acknowledged. He explains, “To some extent it was a bit of a relief. . .I didn’t want to be imprinted with the Aspie label after the dorms. . .[but] it becomes obvious, a little hard to deny.” In fact, it can be argued that his own experience in the dorms politicized David about disability issues in general. He states:

Most of the kids in the dorms just were nice to groups they were told they have to treat well. In other words, they were wonderful to the gays, the Blacks, the Latinos, a little less I guess to the Muslims. . .But when it comes to the socially disabled, you see their true colors, and they’re pretty ugly. As soon as they believe that’s it’s not really bigotry, then no holds are barred, you can treat them however you want. It’s not really bigotry to isolate an Aspie socially. He’s just weird. He doesn’t fit in.

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1019

Here, David raises the point of multicultural awareness that excludes disability cul- ture. As a result of his growth in social awareness, David went on to join a group of college students who pressure college administration on issues of access and quality of life. Subsequently, the college is in the process of creating an awareness program about students with Asperger’s syndrome. Since working in this direction, David notes that “. . .The administration had been much, much nicer to me.”

Finally, to survive socially, David befriended mature students and several profes- sors rather than younger peers. He believes older people have, “. . .taken a few more knocks than the youngsters, or have actually committed themselves to a cause or a person instead of running around and doing whatever gets them on top socially.”

Emotional/personal realm

David admits to entering college with the notion of wanting “Opportunities of ‘Wow’!...college sex. . .and fun,” quickly coming to learn, “Not so much sex, not so much fun.” Instead, he experienced “sheer trauma” becoming a “survivor” in “Hell.” As the sole remaining student in a hostile environment, he self-describes as a “fluke,” asking, “Why is it that I am still here talking to you while everyone else with social problems got wiped out?” Depicting himself as a victim of post-trau- matic stress disorder, David explains:

I had every single symptom when I was at the dorms. Increased startle response, para- noia, nervousness, flashbacks. Flashbacks are pretty bad. . .to terrible social events at the dorms. I couldn’t get away from my social failings, ever. They were constantly there, following me. Because I would go to sleep and I’d dream about them, and I’d wake up, and I’d daydream. . .and it would be about them. I could try to go and take my mind off it, and inevitably it would come right back. And sometimes I’d just be walking along, and the world would disappear around me, and I’d just be inside of a memory.

His self-descriptions are vivid, convincing, alarming:

At one point I say I went through my day as tense as a hunted animal. That’s not poe- tic license; that’s not a dramatization. That is just literal. I literally went through my days, looking around, wondering if I was going to be sniped or hunted, or otherwise cut down. I know it sounds twisted, paranoid, horrific, but I was just always on the look out. . .I found there was a nice area of the school where there was a nice wall against my back. It was hard to see if a person was there, and I just stayed in that area. Occasionally there were other people there. Then I just kind of hid there, kept my head down.

David’s sense of isolation impacted him not just socially and emotionally, but also psychologically, leaving him feeling exposed, humiliated, depressed. At the same time, he was aware that when isolated, the “little stuff to slight him and break him down” continued to chisel away at him, making him feel that “No one cares, because it’s not big and dramatic, it’s not visual. All you see is one guy is disinte- grating. . .and that guy scares you.” How was David able to manage such an overwhelmingly negative predicament? He comments:

I don’t know if there’s a God, but I’d say there but for the grace of my friends and family go I. My friends are an exceptionally loyal devoted lot. My family has been

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very involved in my life. They take care of me. I’m kind of incompetent on my own. They help me, patch up my papers for me; help me with research when I fail to do it properly; save my ass when I am depressed. Get me help, comfort me. Ditto my friends.

Here, David reveals his inner-circle of support, a core of devoted family members and a small cadre of friends. Although he did remarkably well to negotiate what must have seemed to him as insurmountable challenges, the experiences took their toll. David ended the year feeling emotionally drained, electing to take some time out and contemplate attending other colleges.

Mary

Mary is a 40-year-old working class Italian-American who graduated high school despite struggling with academics. After working for years as a secretary, Mary followed her instincts and was evaluated in her mid 20s, and subsequently classi- fied as LD. She confesses, “I was miserable. . .people my age are getting law degrees at 25 and I have a seventh and eighth grade reading level. I wanted to die. Even the report took me days to read.” However, over ten years later, Mary’s drive to secure her bachelor’s degree is a testimony to sheer determination.

Academic realm

Entering college at age 26 was both exciting and anxiety-inducing for Mary. There was excitement at the prospect of intellectual stimulation, new opportunities, and the chance to counter issues of low self-esteem. There was anxiety at the thought of academic demands. She shares, “I didn’t know how to write. . .I just felt like I never had an imagination. . .I thought I was stupid. . .I couldn’t go to school, couldn’t read.” On entering, she describes:

I had to take a placement test, and I took the test and I failed the math and the read- ing. I did OK on the writing. So I was put in the Reading Remedial class, and I was in the class and I was the only American in the class. The midterms I failed very badly. . . and then I also had an eating disorder.

Persevering in these very difficult circumstances, Mary focused on her basic reading, writing, and speaking skills. Fourteen years later (including a four-year hiatus to study macrobiotic cooking), Mary is now two-thirds of the way through her bache- lor’s degree with a GPA of 3.97. In order to survive on her own terms, Mary takes one class per semester. She is very much aware of her own abilities, explaining: “. . .reading is the hardest, because actually my speaking is getting much bet- ter. . .Writing is good. It’s reading is my downfall for everything.”

During her considerable length of time at college, Mary has carefully planned her own support system, strategizing to pass each class with a grade of “A.” She explains, “I take one class at a time, and every time I start thinking of taking two, or a couple of times I registered for two and I had to drop it. . .If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.” As part of her regimen, Mary availed herself of all the college services available to help students with LD. For example, during her first two years, she recalls, “I went to the Reading/Writing Center every Saturday. I had a reading and a writing tutor.” Later, when she later declared her major in Italian and studied

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1021

abroad, Mary also worked with an Italian tutor for several years. Tapping into strengths, Mary prepares for classes meticulously. She explains, “I learn from listen- ing. I listen over and over and over, so. . . I learn tools. . . .I have the tape recorder. I just do a lot of work for each class I take.”

Effectively managing time has played a significant part in Mary’s ability to han- dle her program. She acknowledges the need for considerably more time to process information, and budgets accordingly, admitting the inconvenience, stating, “I’ll be able to do, just do maybe two hours of school work within a three hour time slot, because I’d have to take breaks. It’s just so frustrating, so frustrating at times. . .It’s hard.” Much of Mary’s life revolves around balancing the demands of school with other responsibilities. She spends a lot of time in the library’s individual soundproof cubicles, explaining, “I go in there, spend the whole day in there and do my work. Disabled students are allowed to reserve those rooms.” Armed with her “trusty tape recorder” and taking advantage of double time, Mary is able to process information in her own manner at her own desired speed. An objective is to continue building capacity for the increasing demands of her daily studies. She confides:

Eventually I have got to do it in Italian Literature, because this is really getting to the core of the reading and the comprehension – having to read thirty to forty pages a night. I can really only do ten pages a day, or maybe fifteen. That’s dedicating the whole day.

Mary’s previous (and ongoing) struggles with various addictions drove her to take more control of her decisions and actions. Interestingly, Mary’s success in employ- ing strategies associated with addictions inspired her to transfer the same principles to the act of learning. For example, she regularly repeats self-affirmations such as, “I deserve an education. Mary deserves an education. You, Mary, deserve an educa- tion.” In addition, she is very much aware that her significant achievements are the result of steady and consistent incremental movements. “Taking the baby steps” is part of the answer for Mary. She reveals, “What I need to do is remember now, starting Monday, I need to start. . .” and at the same time realize, “. . .today I’m planting the seeds. . .” Calling to mind the college students featured in the work of Reiff (2004) who all “reframe” their disability identity, Mary draws extensively from her own experience with LD to view it as a positive aspect of herself, integral to who she is. For instance, her work as a tutor in both Italian language and macro- biotic cooking is informed by her own experiences of disability. Mary states with a measure of pride, “I know what it’s like to struggle. So when I teach people, they like me because I’m patient and tolerant.” In grappling with her own current limita- tions, Mary has developed into a teacher of subjects in which she excels, no longer self-defined primarily by what she cannot do. This, in turn, propels her tenacity. “My goal,” Mary states, “is to have my masters by the time I’m fifty. That’s only ten more years. . .I’d be ecstatic.”

Social realm

Mary’s dedication to studying leaves her little time to socialize in college. Moreover, she guards against potential distractions. She recalls that when starting college:

I was working full time, and I was coming at night. And I was just taking the one class, so I didn’t do much socializing...I had no time for socializing because I was

1022 D.J. Connor

working full time, I was going to my twelve step groups, and I was coming to school. And then I was showing up for tutoring.

While Mary is of a friendly disposition, being a generation apart from most students can potentially cause complications. She explains:

When the professor is not available and you have to get somebody’s phone number. I tried that and a lot of times people don’t want to be bothered or they see me as a threat and all I want to do is help. . .Sometimes these younger students, they get resentful. At first I didn’t believe it when a friend of mine would tell me, but. . .so now I know I gotta ask other people, and try to show up for these study groups.

Here, she reveals how she feels perceived by younger students along with the simultaneous need to make these connections which are meant to help in under- standing and managing academic work.

Mary also expresses caution toward socializing in college for several reasons. First, she notes, “I didn’t want to get lost in these friendships when I gotta get my schoolwork done, because there’s a lot of issues that come up.” Second, she knows from experience and does not want to repeat previous patterns, “. . .in high school, I worked too much on my social and not on academics, and I didn’t have anything to show for it.” Third, Mary resents other students who she deems intrusive in her affairs. In one instance, she describes a “girl” who is:

always asking me how many classes I’m taking, and it’s annoying. I just say I work full time. Try to keep it simple. You don’t know what I do outside this school. It’s like, what do you care? I don’t care how many classes you’re taking.

Here we see Mary protective of her privacy from people “being nosy,” guarded about her restricted funds and uncommon approach in securing her degree one class at a time.

Mary prefers to use her limited time to socialize outside of college, yet she is always aware of her not-yet-graduated status, discreetly keeping it under wraps. As a consultant on macrobiotic food, she secretly delights in some of her clients having PhDs being reliant on her knowledge. At the same time, in certain social situations, she can feel the sting of her reading difficulties. For example, when attending an elegant party for lawyers, a man made the comment to her that, “You can get a book that you don’t think is so great, but in the public eye it’s good. So all you need is a fourth grade education and a pair of eyes.” While the words appeared innocuous to the speaker, Mary felt her heart sink, thinking:

Yeah. . .right. I don’t think so. Not in my case. He was making it seem like anybody could read. “A fourth grade education and a pair of eyes.” You know what I just thought of that second? Yeah. . . and all of that work I have to do on a daily basis to just. . .reading college textbooks. . .but even when I’m reading books, any book!

Mary is very discriminating in her choice of social situations. She prefers to socialize outside of college, not seeing the purpose of mixing with equally busy, mostly younger students. While mingling in the professional world, Mary does not reveal her status as an undergraduate student, thereby preserving an image of her- self akin to others within the social circle.

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1023

Emotional/personal realm

In many ways Mary has developed a life of self-sufficiency. She describes herself “very apart” from her family, and involved in an on–off relationship “with lots of breaks.” Mary remembers starting college, thinking, “I don’t want to be like my mother. I don’t have to submit to a guy – stay in a relationship because of financial insecurity.” For her, it is important, “. . .to be able to stand on your own two feet and be an educated woman, and be respected for that.”

Education, for Mary, is arguably a priority above all others in life. She has emerged from a girl who fell through the cracks and was overlooked in school to a woman who has confronted and managed addictions, faced fears of authority, and strategized how to work within her own limitations – yet always pushing her own boundaries. She explains:

I was afraid of authority. . .so I did a lot of that too. Which today is not the case. I deal with the person directly. I am not afraid. In recovery, over the last. . . fifteen years, I’ve really learned how to really stand up [sic] to the plate, approach people, confront people. . . like nothing gets me because I guess I can’t allow that to happen.

She admits that formerly, “Everything was about doing for others, in a negative way,” and now, “My life is how to be of service, how to help other people. But I’ve got to help myself first. And then by helping other people, I feel good about me and I grow.”

As reading is the area in which Mary struggles the most she admits, “When I’m sitting home reading by myself, it’s very hard, it’s very painful.” She explains:

I get flashbacks from childhood and my adolescence. . .I have to go through so much self-care to go through a couple of hours of schoolwork. I get so tired, I have to take a break – it’s very frustrating. It really is emotionally painful.

As previously mentioned, Mary has created models of self-sustenance based upon her successful experiences in addiction programs. These provide her with a sense of discipline and control over things she has difficulty managing. She describes the model as:

Just for today, I don’t have to drink, or do drugs, or eat, or gamble or. . .everything! Debt. . .money. It’s just for today. . .It’s sort of “inch by inch is a cinch.” So that’s how you do the study time, that’s how you do every thing – bit by bit.

Mary is satisfied with her academic accomplishments, yet is sometimes painfully reminded of her struggles. In contemplating the man at the party who made a refer- ence to anyone with a fourth grade reading level, she reveals:

I didn’t need to challenge him or anything, You need to know my stuff. . . But it’s an emotional. . . it’s like a wound. Like somebody just saying something like that. Then I feel ‘less than’ or ‘Not true! You don’t know how all the people have to work so much harder. You don’t how lucky you are.’ Well, everybody has gifts, different gifts and talents.

Mary’s own gifts and talents are considerable. In some ways, she views them as substitutes for children. In a contradictory admittance Mary reveals, “I would like

1024 D.J. Connor

to have children,” before quickly shifting to, “. . .I’d resent them. . .because [it would mean] I’m not finishing school, even though at the time it sounds wonder- ful.” Yet she also admits, “When I see a woman with her daughter, I get sad because I have a lot of love to give.” At the same time, Mary acknowledges, “My reality is that, it’s okay, because it’s a miracle I’m even in college where I come from and what I’ve done.” In a self-conciliatory manner she notes, “My child is piano, yoga, macrobiotics, and Italian. I have four children. By the time I’m forty- five I want to have a lot to show for it.”

Discussion of findings

In returning to the research question, what are the ways that students with LD strat- egize to successfully negotiate the academic, social, and personal/emotional realms through their first year of college? This study reveals ways in which three individu- als all managed to survive these areas. The following section: (a) identifies ways in which students’ actions contributed to their academic success; (b) delineates ways in which students with LD navigated the social demands of college; and (c) dis- cusses shifts in the students’ thinking about their identities and the degree to which they consider LD an integral part of that identity. In addition, I illustrate how each area is informed by using a Disability Studies in Education framework.

Self-directed actions toward academic success

Narratives of all three participants revealed self-directed actions toward academic success, sometimes in the face of great adversity. An overview of self-strategies in Table 2, all culled from participant experiences, shows some commonalities within ways to negotiate academic expectations, some of which have been documented in existing research. These strategies include: self-identification to the Office of Sup- port Services (Beale 2005; Foley 2006), claiming accommodations such as extra time (Hadley 2007), being proactive in notifying their professors of LD (Allsopp, Minskoff, and Bolt 2005; Ruzic 2001), generally managing time well (Proctor et al. 2006) and, for Amber and David, the use of prescription drugs (Gregg 2009).

While having commonalities, these stories are also quite diverse, reflecting the individualized approaches to managing academics and strategizing for success. Con- sidering that LD is not experienced the same way by two people (hence Individual- ized Education Programs in K-12 education), it is interesting to note that traditional research about LD has largely been geared toward theories of prediction, control, and replication of academic interventions (Gallagher 2010). What this study high- lights is how each individual’s response to their own LD differs considerably, even though all three can be considered as proactive in their general self-management: Amber’s highly organized manner, her admission of not being a high achiever but being comfortable “in the middle;” David’s perfectionism, pride, and intellectual prowess that viewed academic work as a lifeboat to escape the open seas of rejec- tion – while admittedly draining the energy expended to distinguish himself from others; Mary’s self-understanding of strengths and limitations that gives rise to self- nurturance, determination, and careful choices customized to her own schedule within her greater life plan.

In utilizing a DSE framework, students with disabilities were positioned as active agents in their lives. This research did not view students with LD through a

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1025

Table 2. Self-strategies used by college students.

Realm of experience

Amber David Mary

Academic � Being independent � Keeping organized (dates, times, assign- ments)

� Registering with the Office of Support Services for Students with Disabilities

� Using the option of extended time

� Developing an infor- mal rapport with pro- fessors

� Self-encouraging � Taking prescription drugs strategically

� Dedicating himself to work

� Working with family and friends to help with time management and organization

� Aligning himself with professors

� Being proud of aca- demic proficiency (papers as trophies)

� Registering with the Office of Support Ser- vices for Students with Disabilities

� Taking prescription drugs strategically

� Carefully planning her own support system

� Scheduling one class at a time

� Attending The Reading & Writing Center

� Securing a Reading- Writing Tutor

� Incorporating her strengths in learning styles

� Using tools, e.g. tape recorder

� Balancing time � Utilizing the quiet cubi- cle in library

� Regularly self affirming � Cultivating specialty areas she enjoys (cook- ing, piano, Italian)

Social � Monitoring prescrip- tion drugs for adverse effects

� Surveying clubs to join

� Recognizing that his- torically she has had few friends; admitting that she does not want many in college

� Self-reflecting � Self-monitoring � Growing an awareness of social issues, including inequities for people with dis- abilities

� Joining a student group to negotiate with college adminis- tration

� Developing a small cadre of friends

� Placing social events and interactions in per- spective; keeping socializing low on her priorities

� Keeping herself to her- self in comparison to peers

Emotional/ personal

� Accepting of LD and ADD labels

� Cultivating a serious relationship with boy- friend

� Being emotionally intimate with her part- ner

� Accepting of Asper- ger’s label (and ADHD), and attendant issues

� Taking pride in his sense of survival

� Engaging in a support system of family and friends

� Being highly indepen- dent

� Enjoying teaching; meeting interesting people

� Accepting of LD, including pace of aca- demic classes

� Recovering from vari- ous addictions; self-dis- ciplining

1026 D.J. Connor

deficit-based lens prevalent throughout traditional special education research, but rather “presumed [their] competence” (Biklen and Burke 2006, 166), primarily understanding participants as problem solvers responsible for their own academic success (tenet, example 1). In addition, by privileging the knowledge of participants from their lived experiences (tenet, example 2), I deliberately sought their direct contributions to the knowledge base about LD in an effort to counter reductionistic, decontextualized accounts of LD that position individuals exclusively as in need of intervention. Furthermore, I explicitly shared my philosophy as a researcher of valu- ing “disability” as a natural part of human diversity (tenet, example 4), and my desire to work with people with disabilities as informed participants (tenet, example 3) who understood the purpose of the research.

Navigating the social demands of college

Both Amber and Mary choose not to make many friends at college, but for different reasons. Amber is disadvantaged by several factors including the overall difficulty to meet others in a college with over 20,000 students on its vertical cam- pus, posing real problems concerning opportunities to socialize (“I just think there’s too many people”) for someone who has not experienced a wide social circle (“I never really had a lot of friends in high school”). In addition, Amber’s mismatched upper middle class expectations of others within the public institution, and negotia- tion of her own culturally complex identity (being upper middle class, ethnically Indian, born American, of British–Indian parents), serve to distance herself in terms of social class (“I was amazed at the way they speak. . .a lot of them are really rude”). She survives by managing social situations as they arise, not particularly invested in cultivating acquaintances to grow into friendships. At the same time, she yearns for a greater connection to others, but eventually concludes that the cul- ture of the college inhibits this possibility, acknowledging some “acquaintances,” but few friends. This was a major factor in Amber’s decision to change institutions.

Mary, on the other hand, purposely does not encourage friendships because she fears losing control of her chosen path, having a history of putting the needs of friends and family members before her own (“Everything was about doing for oth- ers”). Like Cunningham (2001), she is now intent upon upholding her own self- worth (“I’ve got to help myself first”). For Mary, social life is a series of careful choices that fit around her college and work schedules, and minimizing it helps with her mission (“Just for today. . .that’s how you do the study time, that’s how you do everything”). It is worth noting that because Mary has survived not only her first year, but a decade in college, she has become an expert in knowing and managing her needs – recognizing that potential friendships and social situations would distract from her own goals (“I didn’t want to get lost in these friendships when I gotta get my schoolwork done, because there’s a lot of issues that come up”).

Indeed, the social demands of college appear to be as formidable as academic demands, and in the case of David, even more so. His story verifies how impaired social skills can significantly impact every day of an individual’s life in college (Mitchell and Sedlacek 1995). Thoughtful and insightful, David’s observations allow a glimpse into how he understands a world that is not configured to match his thought processes, but instead appears like a never-ending series of traps waiting to close upon him (“I fail miserably. . . get confused. . .then I suffer and wait around

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1027

for a very, very, very long time”), reminiscent of Schmitt’s (1994) own debilitating account of social awkwardness. Describing his disastrous experience within the dorms, David first appears embittered and angry. Although this stance does not entirely disappear, it does give way to being philosophical and practical; philosophi- cal in that it is rationalized as the need for human bonding at another’s expense (“Groups tend to define themselves by what they are not”); practical in that he strongly urges the college administration not to permit another student to experience what he did (“The administration has been much, much nicer to me”). While David did maintain difficulties in making friends among peers, he also managed to befriend some students as well as build strong relations with several professors, creating a social network (“People who have actually committed themselves to a cause”) involving respect and understanding (Heiman 2006) that served as a coping mechanism (Heiman and Kariv 2004).

Reflecting on the value of these stories, DSE acknowledges disability as primar- ily a social construction within the context of culture. As such, LD is a very com- plex phenomenon that is experienced by people simultaneously in both shared and unique ways. Shared instances include understanding stigmatization and forms of oppression according to a specific classification (such as LD) (Goffman 1963); unique instances occur through intersectional analyses with other markers of iden- tity such as race (Erevelles 2006), social class (Connor 2008), gender (Ferri and Connor 2010), and sexual orientation (Claire 1999). Analyzing disability from multiple interstices opens up ways in which categories can inform us – and each other – in more multidimensional, nuanced ways. For example, it can be argued that the social class of the three participants significantly influences ways in which they coped with academic and social demands of college. Amber’s relative self-confi- dence in academics appears to be related to a degree of assertiveness, cultivated in private school practices that prepare middle and upper middle class children for pro- fessionalization in the workforce. She has no qualms about actively seeking the accommodations that she is entitled to, chatting informally with professors, spend- ing lots of time with an Ivy League boyfriend, abstaining from actively pursuing friendships with mostly working class peers, and taking prescribed medication as “normal.” Ultimately, supported by her parents, she leaves with relative ease – in terms of confidence and finance – for an opportunity at her boyfriend’s elite college. Likewise, David’s middle class background allowed him to initially experience col- lege life in dorms, and when that was unsuccessful, to return to his parents’ home. His coping mechanisms included using parents to help with college registration and other bureaucratic tasks he admitted having great difficulty with, and capitalizing upon their ability to support him at meetings with administrative personnel.

In contrast to Amber and David, Mary’s response to the demands of college were influenced a great deal by her working class origins, including the ongoing negotia- tions of a lingering sense of, “Given where I come from and who I am, I shouldn’t be here.” Many of her strategies cull from principles and mantras taken from a pot- pourri of self-help organizations in which she participated. Unlike the other two par- ticipants, Mary works full-time to support herself in college, and financial pressures influence her choices in strategizing the best use of time, including studying over making new friends. To reiterate, in this instance of contemplating social class, DSE recognizes the limitations of disability as a “stand alone” category and encourages more complex intersectional analyses that accurately portray, and help us understand, the lived experiences of people who have been labeled disabled.

1028 D.J. Connor

Contemplating disability integral to identity

All participants speculated upon the meaning of LD in relation to how they per- ceive themselves. Amber, David, and Mary all revealed ambivalence – albeit in dif- ferent degrees – toward their LD labels, feeling incomplete in some way (Olney and Kim 2001), falling short of normal (Reiff, 2004). For example, Amber consid- ers herself “a bit” LD, wincing at a complete acceptance (“I feel it’s such a harsh word”), but not significantly LD, and is willing to disclose her status when neces- sary, e.g. to obtain testing accommodations (Hall and Webster 2008) or, similar to Pelkey (2001), when she feels like it. Interestingly, Amber’s story involves an intense relationship with her boyfriend, also identified as having ADD. In some ways, she “places all of her eggs in one basket” by cultivating this relationship, admittedly at the expense of expanding her circle of friends (“I hang out with him all the time”). This situation can be variously interpreted as Amber’s proactive choice to have a serious boyfriend who provides emotional satisfaction, the conve- nience of not having to invest in creating new friendships, or her difficulty in con- necting with others.

David’s sense of identity is severely impacted by his experiences, and his per- sonal growth is clearly affirmed through self-acceptance of the Asperger’s label. In fact, David developed a keen sense of self-awareness in his attempts to interpret words and actions directed toward him (“They’re always broadcasting information, without using words, just gestures, tones of voice, suggestions, allusions, nothing really direct”). Conversely, he recognizes that, as an integral part of who he is, an increased self-awareness of his own words and actions when interacting with others is an absolute necessity albeit an ongoing challenge. The impact of David’s experi- ences was so severe that, at the end of his sophomore year, like Cohen, he experi- enced anxiety and depression (1998), felt he did not “fit” (“I had a horrible time. . .It was not a pleasant part of my life”), and withdrew from college. However, overcoming his temptation to leave altogether, David did return, and has impacted upon institutional policies through activism (“It gave me a lot of power”), crediting this decision to a very supportive network of family members and college friends.

In Mary’s case, her self-reliance, self-direction, and self-sufficiency are truly impressive. Garnering what she knows from managing a history of addictions (food, alcohol, and drugs), similar to the narratives of several others (Cunningham 2001; Vee 2001), Mary employs everything she can in order to support her academic suc- cess (“I’ve really learned how to really stand up. . .approach people, confront peo- ple”). In early middle-age, she sees the fruits of her longtime journey (“I feel good about me”), yet knows there is still a distance to travel (“When I’m sitting home reading by myself, it’s very hard”). Like the participants in Reiff’s (2004) study, Mary is also philosophical about her LD, seeing it as a part of who she is, and the reason for many choices she is required to make. Arguably, Mary’s desire to be educated has superseded other important aspects of life, including marriage and children. Although there are still mixed feelings about these decisions, Mary appears to reconcile that her current situation matches her needs (“My reality is that, it’s okay, because it’s a miracle I’m even in college”). Like Miskell (2001), she takes quiet pride in being autonomous – balancing her own gifts, talents, and interests with demanding college work.

In reflecting upon using a theoretical framework informed by DSE, a narrative methodology is compatible in working with people with disabilities as it is a form

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1029

that allows individuals to share their experiences, attitudes, and feelings, in addition to having some control over self-representation. As scholars Barnes, Mercer, and Shakespeare (1999) have advocated, the primary concern of research on disability: “. . .should be a focus on exploring the experience of disability at the micro level, with particular reference to the attitudes and feelings of the individual with an impairment” (34). Furthermore, within research, they suggest, “Attention is given to the role of choice, meaning and agency in the experience of impairment/disability” (37). The sentiments of Barnes et al. are the basis of this study, namely that stu- dents with disabilities were engaged in research that emphasized a positive disabil- ity identity (tenet, example 5), that is, focusing on what they can do. In sum, although participant stories reflect selected findings identified within existing litera- ture, by researching students with LD not as passive subjects, but in relation to their own agency, these three narratives reveal the complexities of individual experiences – as each person negotiates the simultaneous demands of academic, social, and emotional realms of college life.

Instances of discord

The narratives of Amber, David, and Mary are multifaceted, and do not fit neatly into any one perceived trajectory of transitioning into college life. In addition, throughout the research process, instances of ambivalence, discord, and irony arose that served to raise further questions about notions of disability.

For example, the very concept of disability labels proved somewhat problematic. While all three participants had been documented as having a learning disability, only Mary defined herself primarily as such. In contrast, Amber preferred talking about ADD, even stating: “I don’t consider myself to have a disability, just less a strong aptitude in certain areas.” In many ways, David has always been hard to cat- egorize. Having attended specialized schools for children who struggle in demon- strating “appropriate” behavior and learning, he was also described as “learning disabled and gifted” by the college administrators with whom he clashed. At age 18, when determined as having Asperger’s syndrome, David fiercely embraced the label, in part because it appeared to justify his own notions of intellectual superior- ity (“I could basically make light of anything that they [other students] did”). Given their preference of self-identification, this research could have been framed as students with various disabilities who struggle in learning. Yet all three originally self-identified as LD, suggesting that the people with multiple labels use each one when and where they choose, even interchangeably, despite labels technically repre- senting different categorizations. In other words, the “messiness” of disability defi- nitions emerges, including what ironically appears to be a distinct hierarchy within a stigmatized group: ADD supersedes LD; Asperger’s supersedes ADD and LD.

In terms of ADD Amber mentions, “Anyone can say that they have it,” suggest- ing easy access in obtaining the label and medication – particularly for college students of her social class background. Her comment brings up the strategic “seek- ing out” of a somewhat current socially sanctioned disability, and opens a can of worms about the reality of this and other “invisible” disabilities, including who gets certain labels and the benefits and/or disadvantages those labels bring.

Despite academic success, all three participants felt the pressure to leave college for various reasons. Amber believed she did not “fit” in terms of social class, yet having proved she could handle college, transferred to an Ivy League school at the

1030 D.J. Connor

end of sophomore year. David experienced severe depression and took a leave of absence, living within the comfort zone of his parents’ home. He did eventually return and graduate, and is now struggling to find a career compatible with his per- sonality and skills. Mary vacillated between pride at what she had accomplished to date, and self-doubt about continuing the long road she has chosen. It became clear that while attending college, all three, to some extent, and for different reasons, questioned their place there.

Finally, as a person who has taught, studied, and advocated for students with disabilities, I empathized with all participants. In particular, I came to a deeper understanding of how difficult life can be for a person with Asperger’s syndrome. David’s unfiltered comments, while natural to his way of being in the world, were often scathingly critical of everyone’s actions, including my own (in particular, I recall one sarcastic inference to being a “neurotypical asshole”). I became fascinated by how “off-putting” David could be to almost everyone he came into contact with, even his “allies.” Appearing as brash, insensitive, and uncaring, he was, at the same time, decidedly fragile, very vulnerable, hyper-aware of his inability to successfully communicate, and highly frustrated by living in a social world that seemingly could not understand him, nor he it.

Recommendations

As previously stated, the number of students with LD attending college is greater than ever, yet the graduation rate is only 28%, making it an area of serious concern. While modest in terms of scope, the findings of this study can be used for the basis of suggestions to college faculty, support staff, and college-bound students with LD and other disabilities.

In general, a strong argument can be made for disability to be reflected as a form of diversity in admission policies, akin to other “minority” markers of identity such as gender, race, ethnicity, and religion, and not merely as a matter of legal compliance. As such, students with disabilities can be welcomed, and become an integral part of college life – from cohabiting in dormitories to participating in stu- dent council. Given what occurred in David’s dorms, a policy to both support stu- dents with Asperger’s and educate their non-disabled peers should be in place in all colleges.

Understanding how to manage the first year in college could be made easier for students with LD in a number of ways, including: senior–freshmen mentorship pro- grams between students with LD; membership in self-advocacy groups (Luna 2009); participation in minority and/or disability forums and panels for the larger community; college-produced booklets about LD, including stories by people with LD; informa- tive newsletters from the Office of Student Support Services; cultural events such as disability-themed film festivals; and guest speakers with LD, ADD, or Asperger’s. In sum, these suggestions reflect a culture of awareness and participation that allows stu- dents with LD and other disabilities to combat stigmatizing stereotypes and view their “difference” as natural and an integral part of who they are.

The focus on students with LD self-strategizing helps view them from a strengths-based approach. In shifting the emphasis from disabilities to abilities, there is a recognition that everyone has mixed abilities, and our notion of “success” is highly contextual, dependent upon many factors with LD. If students with LD orally shared their narratives at orientation and/or in printed material, freshmen

International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 1031

would quickly see ways others have managed their transition into college. In addi- tion, the narratives in this study confirmed the value of ensuring provision for diverse forms of academic support for students with LD, from using additional time to benefitting from peer-tutoring.

The suggestions above dovetail with ideas to provide social and emotional sup- port. Many students with LD and other disabilities feel they do not sufficiently approximate desired norms, and feel they “fall short of other people.” The conversa- tion Mary overhears at a party temporarily “reduces her,” taking her a while to regain a sense of worth. In a world saturated with stigmatizing messages and widespread misunderstandings about disability, self-doubt can still pervade, making it easy for students with LD to drop out of college – even if they have good grades. Thus, the option of having an academic adviser with a background in LD would be helpful to many students with LD. As an ally, an advocate, and a problem solver, this role could prove of vital importance in turning the tide for the 72% of students with LD who currently do not graduate.

These narratives reaffirm that people with LD are more dissimilar than alike. Learning disabilities are highly individualized, and we should be wary of mono- lithic representations wherever they are depicted. Furthermore, any discussion of learning disability should involve an in-depth analysis of the context in which learn- ing takes place. The more faculty are aware of, and utilize, universal design in their teaching (Burghstahler and Corey 2008), the greater access all students will have to learning at the college level.

Conclusion

The stories of college students featured in this study confirm the value of narrative within the field of learning disabilities. Readers likely picture the episodes described, recognizing instances of ingenuity employed by each participant as they calculated how to succeed in college. These stories are rare, a testimony to the indi- vidualized experience of students designated as LD (and ADD, and Asperger’s). As such, their purpose is not to represent in the mind’s eye a composite model of a college student with LD. Instead, they remind us of the unique experiences of indi- viduals considered learning disabled. Finally, and importantly, these stories offer insights into the agency of others, connecting us with lived realities that are largely unfamiliar to us – and from which we can learn many things, deepening our under- standing of learning disabilities and their attendant issues.

Notes 1. In this study, the concept of LD adheres to federal definitions and also incorporates

related/overlapping conditions such as Attention Deficit Disorder, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, and Asperger’s syndrome.

2. Please note that other studies of interest outside of the 2002–2009 parameter were included.

3. An Academic Support Plan, created with academic specialists working within the Office of Student Support Services, documents a student’s needs and is the basis for ongoing discussions between students and professional support staff.

1032 D.J. Connor

Notes on contributor David J. Connor is an associate professor in the School of Education, Hunter College, City University of New York. His academic interests include narrative methodology, learning disabilities, disability studies, inclusive education, and teacher education. He has published three books (one co-authored with Beth Ferri, another co-authored with Jan Valle) and numerous articles in a variety of journals. Further information can be found at www. drdavidconnor.com.

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