Action, Not Conversation: A Principal Consultant’s Call to End Accessibility Mockery at University

The Seamless Potential vs. The Staggering Reality

As a Principal Consultant at Accessible Technology Solutions, and someone who personally navigated the International Trade/ICT courses at RMIT University, I’ve seen firsthand the jarring disconnect between the promise of modern higher education and the reality faced by Students with Disabilities (PWDs). The irony is palpable: technology firms have made immense strides, offering tools and apps that can make education completely seamless for all. Yet, when it comes to implementation within these revered halls of learning, accessibility and usability seem to take a massive step back.

This creates a strange juxtaposition. Universities like RMIT can spend colossal sums on new, state-of-the-art buildings. However, fundamental elements of accessibility are either ignored or only addressed after significant, exhausting pressure. A key example from my time at RMIT was the necessary installation of Tactile Ground Surface Indicators (TGSIs)—the essential dots on the ground that signal a safe crossing or a hazard for the visually impaired. Given the high foot traffic of the campus—it was like a zoo—it was shocking that something so fundamental was neglected for so long. Ultimately, this practice makes you question the institution’s true commitment to safety and inclusion.

The Burden of Inaccessible Course Material

The issue goes deeper than physical infrastructure. Within the classroom, I constantly encountered teachers who thought nothing of thrusting inaccessible materials upon PWD students. For example, I was frequently sent PDF documents and images—scans of books—that were completely unusable by my screen reader. This is a baffling failure of modern digital literacy, especially since an accessibility checker is built into applications like Word and is as simple to use as Apple Pay. A few clicks can make a document accessible; yet, this basic step was skipped time and again.

Moreover, this failure to provide accessible material profoundly affects a student, both as far as marks go, and on one’s disposition. As former students, we need to navigate all the normal pressures of university life. There is simply no reason that we ought to be expected to do the work of the teachers for them as well—converting, remediating, and begging for accessible documents.

The Mockery of Support Services (ELS)

Most universities have a Disability Liaison Unit (DLU), or as they are known these days, Equity and Learning Support (ELS). Sadly, the university often makes a total mockery of these dedicated souls. While the ELS staff are often very helpful and charming, the teachers, paradoxically, do very little to follow their instructions. It’s almost as if some educators give the middle finger to both ELS and any “wretched student” who crosses their path. I was one of those students, both in the first half of the decade and later circa 2016.

I did have wonderful teachers who saw me for who I was, not what I was—and under whom I achieved excellent marks. However, some were dreadful. One teacher, whom we’ll call Mr. Z, was a beast. I had him for a subject called databases, which is quite visual in nature. Mr. Z had a lovely habit of not describing what was being conveyed via PowerPoint. This left me at a great disadvantage. It turned out Mr. Z had never had a blind student in 20 years and had no notion of working with a blind person. Frankly, given what transpired at the end of the semester, he did not care. I didn’t pass the subject, but my disappointment isn’t with the final mark; it’s with the underlying attitude of our higher education providers toward accessibility.

Accessibility is Not a Nice-to-Have

Here’s the thing: Accessibility isn’t a nice thing to have. It’s not a device or service that we should subserviently beg for. It’s an inherent requirement that goes hand-in-hand with usability. Accessible Technology Solutions has long argued that a product is only truly accessible once both these inherent requirements have been met. Otherwise, any claim of being accessible is a total fallacy.

In the case of RMIT and others, this should be a big wake-up call. Are you truly accessible, or are you just checking a box to be somewhat legally compliant whilst doing very little? As Elvis Presley once said, “A little more action, a little less conversation” is desperately needed. This is especially vital in education where good outcomes can make a difference in jobs for blind people.

Furthermore, the inequity is stark: research from organisations like Vision Australia shows the full-time employment rate for people who are blind or have low vision in Australia is significantly lower than their sighted peers, sometimes reported as low as 24%¹. This highlights that up to 70% or more are either unemployed or underemployed. Accessible education is a direct route to addressing this devastating gap.

I’m glad to report that my experience at RMIT (apart from databases and another subject) has allowed me to be gainfully employed now for close to 10 years and receive lucrative job offers from big players, but the inequity is still there for fellow PWDs. It’s past time these large halls of learning put their money where their mouths are. COVID has shown that even they are not untouchable. Hopefully, this post will be that catalyst for change.