A different reality: Podrasky copes with having a handicap on campus

On a drizzly spring afternoon, David Podrasky '05 leads a group of 20 prospective students and their families across the University campus, guiding them through the muddy greenery.

In most respects, this tour is like any other. The blond freshman sports a white, short-sleeve collar shirt with the Orange Key logo. He faces tour-goers much of the way, even when moving backward, answering the group's queries with gusto.

As the tour snakes toward FitzRandolph Gate, Podrasky tells them about the most popular majors and dining hall locations.

When the group reaches the historic Nassau Hall, he sends them up the front stairs flanked by bronze tiger statues, while he waits below. When they re-emerge and fall back in line, he turns to face them. And with a nudge of the joystick on his Chairman 2K wheelchair, they are off.

Podrasky is one of 62 undergraduates with a self-reported disability — learning, physical or health-related. Able to use his shoulders, biceps and wrist muscles, he is the only quadriplegic.

And he is prompting the University to think hard about how best to serve students like him.

With Vice Provost Joann Mitchell at the helm, the University's Disabilities Services Network — which assesses University accessibility for people with disabilities — is reevaluating its approach.

Ten years after its last assessment, Mitchell says the group has seen improvement, pointing to elevators installed in McCosh Health Center and Whig Hall.

Still, Mitchell is pushing for more.

"Are we doing everything we can? Nobody's going to say that," she said. "Have we made some real progress? I think everybody agrees that we have. I think there is a lot more that can be done."

All the newest buildings are accessible — the Frist Campus Center, the Friend Center and Wallace Hall. The 1990 Americans with Disabilities Act and the N.J. statutes require it by law.

But many older structures on the 256-year-old campus are not accessible.

From the University homepage, Podrasky pulled up a brightly colored campus map.

Dark green is completely accessible. Light green, only the first floor.

The yellow clusters — which signify no accessibility — bother Podrasky. They keep him from going to professors' office hours, hanging out in friends' rooms and having lunch at the eating clubs.

"Most people don't see the campus map this way," he said. "When buildings are inaccessible, it sends a message in a subtle way: People with disabilities were not thought of enough to be considered in designing this building."

Slowly, the University is recoloring the Ivy-clad campus.

But deciding how to mark up blueprints is no clear task.

Celebrated artifacts like Nassau Hall, Prospect House and Joseph Henry House are protected through the National Register of Historic Places, a list of about 2,500 structures. Alterations to these buildings must preserve the original design.

Saying these names and the word 'renovation' together makes some alumni and trustees cringe. And then there is the lengthy application process for permits from Princeton Borough.

"There are lots more hoops than we ordinarily would have to jump through," Mitchell said.

The University is searching for a consulting firm with legal and architectural expertise to address these issues — someone to survey the campus and envision a facelift for the master plan.

"We have tried steadily to modify what we can modify," said Kathleen Deignan, dean of undergraduate students. "There are limitations that are unfortunate but real facts of life."

Podrasky understands the differences in 19thand 21st-century building standards that limit his access at the University.

"Some of campus was made in an era when these issues weren't discussed at all," he said. "I don't think you can fault anyone for that."

Certain things, though, are hard to explain.

On an unseasonably hot spring morning, Podrasky would like to cut across campus to the music building to meet a friend for lunch. He has to loop around instead.

Halfway there, he stops at a partially completed, zigzag ramp behind Patton Hall.

In February, he could make it all the way up. Then construction workers started laying brick, but never finished the project.

"For a month it's been sitting like that," he said. "I come here once a week to check what's the status of this."

He turned around and wheeled away.

"Stuff like this goes on all over campus," he said. "You have to be aware, stop and look. It's a different reality."

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Coping with this reality is a challenge — for Podrasky and for the University.

Assistant Dean of Undergraduate Students Maria Flores-Mills spends a third of her time helping undergraduates like Podrasky. Depending on what students need and when, it can be much more.

"Right now it's at a balance," she said. "But it could get tipped very easily. Even two to three [students] with very serious disabilities would be almost impossible [for me alone to handle]."

These students' needs would be handled, she said, but it would require review and modification of her other responsibilities.

Through Association on Higher Education and Disability meetings, Flores-Mills knows what other universities are doing for disabled students. She senses that Princeton is somewhere in the middle.

"I don't think we're over the top, and we're also not constrained by what is absolutely required by law," she says. "I think we're somewhere in between."

Podrasky and other disabled students are forming an advisory committee to guide the University's other branches down a similar path.

"I would like to see the committee be a voice for undergraduates to address their concerns regarding disabilities on campus and for their recommendations not to fall on deaf ears," he said.

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The University's ears seem to be open, but planning ahead is key.

The administration tries to be "very hospitable," Deignan said. It needs advance notice, though.

"It's a two-way street," she said. "We expect a partnership."

Reassigning classrooms, assigning note-takers and readers, moving guest lectures. It all takes time.

Sometimes, groups scheduling events do not consider students with disabilities.

The groups are not insensitive, Deignan said, people with disabilities are just "not on their radar screen."

With limited resources, academics are a priority.

"Our obligation is to make sure that all of our academic programs are accessible," she said.

For Podrasky, this has meant picking up handouts for his religion course in the campus center instead of the department office and asking that his freshman seminar on stem cells be relocated.

He says the University has been helpful in catering to his needs.

"Whatever I've needed I've gotten," he said. "That's just not something you run into every day when dealing with various institutions."

Last semester, the University created a workspace for Podrasky — who lives off campus — in the Butler College study room and allowed him to use a University laptop.

He had tried using computer clusters, but couldn't fit his wheelchair under the benches. Also, desktop keyboards are harder to press than laptops and make them almost impossible for him to use.

"I'd never get anything done if I had to use a regular computer," Podrasky said.

"At the beginning of the year, I didn't have anywhere to work on campus," he said. "I could only do reading. [The study room] gives me more flexibility. It makes my life so much easier."

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The University requires freshmen and sophomores to live on campus, in one of the five residential colleges.

But for students with disabilities, living in the dorms is not always feasible. To live on campus, Podrasky would need a full-time nurse and facilities like a roll-in shower and a large closet for his medical supplies.

At home, his mother, Carol Mann, a registered nurse, cares for him. A state program pays for a student at the Philadelphia Biblical University to help a couple hours each night.

"I'd really like to live on campus, but those are pretty big obstacles," he said. "Do you know how much 12 hours of nursing care costs? That's an incredible amount of money — more than I'm paying for tuition each year."

Bonding with his RA group is tough for Podrasky. The University assigned him to Butler since it is centrally located and the dining hall is easily accessible.

To reach 1941 Hall, though — "the one entrance of one floor of one building that's accessible in the Butler quad" — Podrasky has to go through a men's bathroom. "That's no fun," he says, half-chuckling.

Podrasky cannot make many of the evening study breaks either. By 10 p.m. on weekdays he is back home in Yardley, Pa., a 25-minute drive from the University. He does not come to campus on the weekends.

"I drop by on occasion," he said. "Not living there I don't grow as close as they do. They let me hang out in their rooms when I stop by. There are really very few dorms I can actually hang out in and go into. That's a shame."

In designing the sixth residential dorm, Whitman College, the University carefully considered the needs of disabled students. With construction scheduled to begin in 2004, Whitman will be fully accessible, housing both underand upperclassmen.

Podrasky also cannot physically enter any eating clubs, the heart of the University's social scene and the main dining option for upperclassmen. None are fully accessible.

He has a year to decide whether to join a club. For now, he is not a big party goer.

"It's just not my scene," he said. But he would like the option to have dinner with a friend or go out on a Saturday night.

"The eating clubs are part of the Princeton experience," he said.

Because the clubs are owned and operated independent of the University, Deignan said the best the administration can do is encourage them to consider issues of accessibility.

Alice Teti '00, Inter-Club Council adviser, and ICC chair Dan Hantman '03 declined to comment about these issues.

Obstacles aside, Podrasky is determined to enjoy college life.

"I wanted to be part of the University community," he said. "I was afraid I was just going to come here and do my thing. [Students] at Princeton are just so awesome. It would be a shame to go here and not tap into that resource."

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A devout Christian, Podrasky has found his niche in Agape, a campus fellowship group.

At Agape's weekly "Primetime" meetings, he chats with other students, sings the Lord's praise and thanks God for keeping him alive.

Even after the swimming accident that left him paralyzed at 14, Podrasky's faith in God never wavered. It became stronger.

A talented athlete, who played soccer, wrestled and ran track, the tall and thin Podrasky lived for his mobility.

"All of my hopes and dreams were vested in my ability — that I could do it," he said. "I didn't need God. I didn't need anybody."

When his body failed him, he looked to his spiritual side for guidance.

"If you set your faith in earthly things, you're bound to be disappointed," he said.

It is a Friday evening in the Frist auditorium. Seated before a microphone, Podrasky shares with Agape the story of his accident and the painful recovery process that has followed.

The room is dark — seventy-five students and complete silence.

A photograph of a younger Podrasky appears on the movie screen. He is rigid in bed, unable to move. Tubes and wires surround him, like snakes.

The lights go on, and the photo fades.

"God has just blessed me tremendously," Podrasky said.

He wheels toward his mother in the front row. She is wearing a gray Princeton sweatshirt and smiling at her son.

The two exchange words, their mouths moving without a sound.

It is impossible to hear over the applause.