Rice has a serious accessibility problem

By Jenna Perrone     4/8/25 9:50pm

Just over a year ago, disability scholar Bowen Cho ranked Rice 35th in a study of disability inclusion and access across 106 universities. Cho noted that the 10-minute transfer period between classes used by Rice and many other universities can pose an issue to students with mobility issues. 

In my experience, though, Rice’s accessibility problems run much deeper, right down to the very ground the school is built on. 

I broke my foot in November 2024. Despite almost constant pain, I put off going to the hospital for months. I lived on the third floor of the old wing of Baker College, a building without any elevators, and could not imagine how I would trek back and forth to my classes, let alone drag myself back to my dorm, if I ended up needing a cast or crutches. 

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When I finally did seek medical treatment, the doctor encased my foot in plaster, handed me a pair of crutches and a prescription for a knee scooter and sent me on my merry way.

I planned to skip classes and fly home to regroup, but back at Baker, I was faced with the seemingly insurmountable obstacle of making it up to my dorm to pack a bag. With all my friends in class and not a person in sight to help me, I subjected myself to the humiliation of crawling up the stairs. 

Once home, it took a week and a half to even find an accessible bed for when I returned to campus. With the issue of housing resolved, though, I thought the next three weeks with my cast would be inconvenient but ultimately doable. This could not have been further from the truth. 

When you’re not burdened with a broken foot, you don’t take the time to notice things like the incline of ramps or whether a knee scooter can be forced through the turnstiles at Fondren Library. When you are burdened with such things, though, this is all you notice. 

You notice that Baker is built on a slope, meaning you have to push yourself up a steep ramp to reach commons. You notice there’s no way to go down that ramp without gaining a frankly scary amount of speed, leaving you to wonder if you’re about to break more than just a foot. 

You notice that Baker only has two washers and one dryer accessible to people who cannot climb up and down stairs. You notice how embarrassed people get when they walk with ease into that laundry room to see you and your knee scooter waiting for them to move their laundry. 

You notice that an alarming number of people park their bikes on the wheelchair ramp outside Hanszen College, forcing you through an impromptu obstacle course when you’re trying to get dinner. 

You notice that when the only wheelchair ramp you know of leading up to Keck Hall is closed off, you actually have no idea how to get to your class that’s graded on attendance. 

You notice that despite the Americans with Disabilities Act guidelines clearly stating the need for “firm, stable, and slip-resistant” sidewalks without cracks or uneven pavement, most of Rice’s sidewalks are made of that awful pebbled material and are riddled with cracks and bumps. 

You notice that when it comes down to it, this campus is nearly impossible to navigate for someone with a mobility aid. 

Cho’s study should have served as a wake-up call for the Disability Resource Center, but Rice remains seriously lacking in the accessibility department. Some of these issues are easily remedied: college presidents can remind students that wheelchair ramps and accessible laundry rooms are there for a specific reason, and when ramps are closed, signs can be put up to point those unfamiliar with the building to alternate accessible entrances. 

Other issues, like campus sidewalks, are time consuming and costly to fix. But these are worthy expenditures and things that we should demand Rice administration prioritize in order to create a campus that is accessible to all students. 

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