After all, how hard could it be for a law professor to send a few follow-up emails and make a few phone calls? But as a person with a disability, as someone who is accustomed to the oftentimes solo and always thankless task of self-advocacy, I was caught off guard.
To many, this might seem like an insignificant gesture. I will never forget the moment when she looked at me from across her desk and said, coolly and matter-of-factly, “Laura, this is not your problem anymore. Although I had known her for only two weeks, I felt confident that this poised, articulate woman would not dismiss my concerns and would counsel me on how to get the university to procure the needed assistive technology as quickly as possible.īut she did not merely help me to readjust the burden on my own shoulders she took it from me and carried it herself. I needed help, and I needed it fast.įor that help, I turned to then-professor Barrett.
And, in keeping with Murphy’s law, my personal laptop immediately broke, leaving me overnight with no reliable way to access my texts, take notes, or otherwise keep pace in class. The assistive technology purchased by the university, which would have allowed me to compete on equal footing with my sighted peers, did not arrive on time. Unfortunately, things got off to a bumpy start. But unlike many other students, I also needed to singlehandedly ensure that I had access to the tools and technologies necessary for me to succeed as a completely blind person. Like any new law student, my head swirled with hopes, thoughts, dreams, and fears. But long before I had reason to consider any of these qualities, I thought of Judge Barrett simply as an answer to my prayers.
Over the past week, scores of articles have been published on various aspects of Amy Coney Barrett’s character-her fitness as a judicial nominee, her acumen as a scholar, and her unapologetic commitment to the Catholic faith.
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