Featured Student Voice: Lisa Cho

Lisa Cho is a rising junior from San Diego that enjoys writing everything from research to storytelling. Through sharing her vulnerable experiences, she hopes to make one more person feel seen, heard, and less alone while encouraging readers to view familiar issues from a new perspective.

I have heard this question countless times, and no two people ask it the same way. Some put weight on why, wondering what disability or illness makes me “deserve” accommodations. Others lean on the word you, questioning how someone with such achievements could need accommodations at all. To them, accommodations mean one of two things: either I am incapable, or I am receiving an unfair advantage.

Accommodations are legally protected supports that remove barriers and provide students with disabilities equal access to education. They are not one-size-fits-all, because every disability creates different barriers. Researchers Allyson Harrison and Irene Armstrong argue that extra time on tests has become a routine accommodation in many postsecondary institutions. It may be the most recognizable accommodation, but not all accommodations are about time. Modified participation requirements let a student with social anxiety pursue courses that match their interests and abilities, rather than whether they can demonstrate learning in one specific way. With preferential seating, autistic students can focus on learning instead of becoming overwhelmed by sights, sounds, or classroom activity.

Because of narcolepsy, I face a choice when an assignment is due at midnight: rush through it and sacrifice my learning, or stay up and lose the sleep I need to focus on the next day. Extended deadlines let me try my best without chasing the clock. Walking between classes, drowsiness can turn dangerous in an instant. Flexible breaks allow me to go to the health office and return to class safely, ready to learn. But more than anything, accommodations make me feel understood. My behaviors stopped being read as choices and started being recognized as symptoms. I want my teachers to know how much I value the time, energy, and passion they pour into teaching.

In the article Accommodation Nation, Rose Horowitch writes that wealthy families have turned accommodations into another admissions advantage and put the entire idea of fairness at risk. But abuse of the system doesn’t erase why it exists. People commit tax fraud, yet we don’t eliminate taxes because of it. More often, the greater problem is stigma. When the entire system gets judged by the actions of a few, those who genuinely rely on them pay the price.

During AP Physics, my classmates were discussing how they could help each other on a test while others criticized them for cheating. Their words weren’t directed at me, but they didn’t have to be. Every “You’re too smart” and “You’re so lucky” from my peers echoed in my head. I began to wonder if I belonged in the same category as the classmates swapping answers. My thoughts spiraled. Without my accommodations, would I still earn the grade I got? If not, did that mean I didn’t belong here?

The calculator on the Calculus exam doesn’t give the answer. It removes the barrier of tedious arithmetic so the exam measures what it intends to measure: your understanding of calculus. Accommodations work the same way. Using them didn’t make me a cheater.

Then I asked myself a different question. Why had I taken Physics in the first place? I wanted to be there for the lectures that sparked my curiosity, to push myself academically, the chance to learn from and alongside my classmates, and the group projects that brought us together. Having accommodations didn’t make me any less deserving of those experiences. My disability was invisible—that didn’t make it any less real.

My best friend told me her parents didn’t want her to receive accommodations for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) since they only exist in the classroom. They believed that support would leave their daughter dependent, less capable, and unprepared for the real world. This misconception is common. A national study of U.S. medical students found that nearly one in five students who reported needing accommodations never requested them, despite acknowledging they needed assistance. By contrast, only 2% of requests were denied.

Yet the real world isn’t free of accommodations. It’s built on accessibility. We walk through automatic doors, listen to audiobooks, and turn on closed captions without a second thought. When accessibility can’t meet every need, accommodations ensure people can still participate fully. Neither is a shortcut; they’re simply different ways of creating access.

In seventh grade, I boarded a plane listening to the alphabet song on repeat and downloading Duolingo. By the time I landed at LAX, I knew the letters A through G and how to say “Hi, my name is Lisa.” The language barrier began to fade through teachers who spoke clearly and slowly and chose simple words. I mispronounced words. I put sentences together backward. My classmates, who would later become my closest friends, met every mistake with patience instead of laughter. Slowly, I found my voice. Whether the barrier is language or disability, support doesn’t make the path easier—it makes the path possible.

Because of those accommodations, I have been able to pursue my education and keep working toward my dreams. My disability is part of me, but it doesn’t define my intelligence, effort, or potential. If anything, it gave me something I might never have gained otherwise: empathy for struggles that can’t always be seen. A disability doesn’t make someone any less able; it simply casts a shadow over what they’re capable of. And support lets that ability shine.

So the next time someone asks, “Why do you have accommodations?” I hope they pause before assuming the answer is weakness or unfairness. Every student deserves to learn in an environment where support is met with understanding instead of suspicion. Maybe the better question was never why a student receives support, but what barrier that support is helping remove.