College freshman Jennifer Reiss is a member of the Penn Democrats, the Kite and Key Society and the Benjamin Franklin Scholars student board. She comes from a long line of Penn alumni and will probably major in American history and political science.
Reiss also has cerebral palsy, a birth defect where the brain is damaged from lack of oxygen at delivery. She can walk independently but cannot cover great distances.
"Because the signals are kind of mixed in my brain, some muscles are underused and some are overused -- that's why it looks like I limp," Reiss says. "If I walk more than three miles a day, there is a possibility that I won't be able to walk the next day."
With a mom who is a physiotherapist and a dad who is a doctor, Reiss is well educated on the symptoms and risks tied to CP.
"I try to do a lot of myself -- as I grow in age, the muscles will get worse unless I do exercises. My mom gave me all these exercises, but I don't always do them," she says with a smile.
At the moment, however, Reiss is doing fine.
"CP is no problem at all -- I choose to do things that are not physically strenuous but that I can still enjoy."
There are, however, some issues her disability forces her to confront.
"I tend to trip a lot," she says. "Past 36th Street on Locust Walk, there are a lot of missing stones ... I have to be really cognitive of where I'm walking. I also try to schedule classes one hour apart so [as] not to be late."
These difficulties would pose a greater problem on a more dispersed campus.
"Compared to a lot of other campuses, Penn is pretty compact, so I don't have to walk long distances."
Reiss notes that her disability has not interfered with her new Penn relationships.
"I've always been sensitive about CP because you can't tell, but it's clear that something is wrong," she says. At Penn, "everyone has been so cool -- they're easy about it."
Because she has adjusted to life at Penn so well, Reiss has never used the services the University offers to its disabled population.
"For me to take advantage of Student Disabilities Services would not be right," Reiss says, adding that her mobility is good enough to allow her to do without constant assistance.
However, she notes that "it's good to have that safety net."
Penn Student Disabilities Services
For those who are not as fortunate as Reiss, Penn students have at their disposal the Office of Student Disabilities Services.
Opened in Harnwell College House in January 2002, SDS brings together services that were formerly located in the Office of Affirmative Action and Equal Opportunity Programs and the Office of the Learning Disabilities Specialist, as well as the Learning Resources Center.
SDS defines disability as "a significant impairment in a life function -- learning, seeing, walking," SDS Director Jerome Knast says.
The program also covers past alcohol and drug abusers, as well as the people who care for a disabled person.
There are about 200 physically disabled students at Penn, according to SDS records, and this number increases each year.
To become involved with SDS, students must self-identify themselves as having a disability.
"The process is confidential and voluntary," SDS Associate Director Alice Nagle says. "Students can disclose at any time they are here."
She adds that at the time of disclosure, a medical document by a professional is required.
The services that are made available depend on the type and degree of the physical disability.
"All accommodations are provided on an individual basis according to the prognosis and the duration of the disability," Nagle says.
This one-on-one approach, encouraged by SDS' student advisory board, is at the core of the office's mission.
"We want to provide a welcoming environment and allow [students] to participate in all activities," Nagle explains. "We do want to strive for inclusion. The effort is always to provide the level field for them. Accommodation is not an unfair advantage -- we're only providing equity."
SDS collaborates with Counseling and Psychological Services, the Women's Center and Student Health Services. In addition, each of the 12 schools has a liaison person between SDS and the students.
"Students will seek us out on an as-needed basis," Knast says. "If there are any changes or inconveniences, we can do cross-referrals."
If desired, this personal treatment can begin even before the student arrives on campus.
"Before a student moves in, the family meets with the house dean," Nagle says. "The student is introduced to the floor adviser and is informed about the emergency procedures."
Professors with students who are academically disadvantaged due to a disability are informed of their needs -- from extra time on exams to sign language assistants.
Most of the highly sophisticated technology some students require -- like hearing aids or dictation computer programs -- can be found in a dedicated space in the library, where more expensive equipment is kept.
Life on an urban campus
Education graduate student Sara Pagni has Thrombocytopenia Absent Radius Syndrome, a genetic dysfunction that entails a lower-than-average count of platelets -- the blood cells that assist in clotting -- which causes her to bruise easily. She is missing both bones in each arm. She can walk some distance but often has to use a wheelchair.
A graduate of St. Joseph's University, Pagni feels that the vastness of the Penn community makes her relationships on campus "less personal."
She notes that at St. Joe's, she was on a first-name basis with not only her peers, but also with administration personnel.
Despite Penn having 12 schools, "the programs are smaller in grad school, there is more personal contact," she says.
One major factor that made Penn her first choice was the possibility to take advantage of graduate housing on campus.
"Around here, there are no off-campus [handicap] accessible apartments," Pagni says. "Rittenhouse Square would be the closest."
With SDS' assistance, she handpicked an apartment in the Sansom East complex. She now has at her disposal a larger kitchen and bathroom, an intercom to the front desk, lower sinks and an automatic front door she controls with a remote.
However, Pagni feels not all structures at Penn are as accessible.
"I'm surprised with the [Penn ] Bookstore -- because it's new, I thought that maybe it would have automatic doors," she notes.
In addition, although the Graduate Student Center is wheelchair accessible, it does not have automatic doors, while the Franklin Building presents the problem in reverse, since it has steps and an automatic entrance.
Penn's architectural accessibility
Assistance for disabled students does not stop at SDS. Literally the whole campus is morphing to meet their needs.
"When we do a new building, we are required by law to follow ADA guidelines," University Architect Charles Newman said, referring to the 1990 Americans with Disabilities Act. He added that these standards are an integral part of the Penn Design Guidelines. "We work with the Office of Student Disabilities Services so that they get a chance to give their feedback."
The Division of Facilities and Real Estate Services stressed that it considers ADA guidelines as a baseline, not a goal.
To achieve this level of implementation, the University has bestowed $500,000 for accessibility renovations in 2004.
"The ideal sum would be $1 million, but there is a limit to how much you can spend and the projects you can manage," Newman says. With this sum, however, "we can make a lot of improvements," he says.
The Committee for an Accessible University created a priority list for buildings to be remodernized based on a survey of students' needs.
"The activism of the disabled is paving the way for everyone, especially if one considers the growing movement of lifelong education among the elderly," Senior Facilities Planner Daniel Garofalo says.
In addition to wide-sweeping campus renovations, there are funds set aside for an individual student's special requests, managed by the Architectural Barrier Removal Program.
"If a student has a requirement that goes above and beyond ADA standards, then we make adjustments for that student specifically in the areas he or she most uses," Garofalo says. "However, there are competing demands for funds."
He adds that the code requires that two out of every 100 rooms be handicap accessible, but there is no specific guidelines to define "accessible."
One plan in the making is the improvement of signage on campus to better mark accessible entrances.
Yet even this simple task may present some challenges, especially if one considers the age of Penn's buildings.
Because of their historical significance, many halls are listed as historic structures by both the City of Philadelphia and Penn. Therefore, they cannot be brought up to ADA standards without thorough examination and approval from the city's Cultural Resources Subcommittee.
The University is now requiring that all of its new buildings, such as Levine Hall or the upcoming Skirkanich Hall, be designed not only to be handicap accessible, but also to facilitate entrance to older constructions, such as the Towne Building.
Challenges and triumphs
Second-year College of General Studies student Suzanne Gurenlian has lupus, an inflammatory connective tissue disease; fibromyalgia, a rheumatic condition characterized by diffuse or localized pain, tenderness and stiffness of skeletal muscles; and ankylosing spondylitis, a condition where joints and ligaments in the back become inflamed and bones may fuse together. At times, she must use a cane or crutches, while on days when she has severe inflammation, she may not be able to get out of bed.
This situation is particularly burdensome when it comes to parking on campus.
According to Gurenlian, handicap parking spaces are few and ill-equipped to assist disabled students. Furthermore, because of this scarcity of spaces, she is often forced to park far away from her destination and must arrange for the extra transportation on her own.
Despite this problem, Gurenlian -- a transfer student from Camden County College -- says she loves attending Penn, both because of its excellent program in historical archaeology and the assistance SDS offers.
"It's wonderful," she says. "I would have transferred if it hadn't been for them."
Even without the confidentiality SDS provides, Gurenlian does not feel her disability is an embarrassment.
"I'm an ordained minister, and I see my disability as a blessing from God. How can I counsel [people who suffer from disabilities] if I don't know what they are going through?"
She adds that her situation has not affected her relationships with professors.
Aside from one particular case, the faculty is "very congenial when dealing with students with disabilities," she says.
Professors are not the only ones with whom Gurenlian has a positive connection. She says that as people learn about her disabilities, they become more accepting. However, the fact that Gurenlian's ailments are not plainly visible has caused some people to comment on the advantages she receives in the classroom, such as tutoring.
"They understood, but they didn't think it was fair," she says, speaking of a few of her classmates. "Sometimes I wish I had a visible disability. But I try not to let that get me down."
Counseling and Psychological Services
No matter the degree of assistance and acceptance, transition to college is often particularly challenging for disabled students.
"When someone comes to college, there is another period psychologically where they have to readjust to their disability," CAPS Director Ilene Rosenstein says.
For these students, CAPS does not offer a specific program, but rather varies its assistance according to the person's ailments.
Newly disabled students tend to take advantage of CAPS more often.
"They use the services more for accommodation" with their new situation, Rosenstein says.
She adds that on average, the number of disabled students who take advantage of CAPS "is the same percentage as the able-bodied students."
These low numbers are reflected in the issues disabled students choose to examine with a counselor.
"Some come in not to discuss their disability ... some are extremely ashamed, while others are fine," Rosenstein says. "The common thread is that students don't want to be identified as their disability."
