1. The Reality of Equal Opportunity:
Some Factors Impacting
on the
Achievement of Undergraduates
with
Visual Impairment
Libby Hudson
A dissertation submitted to the University of Bristol in accordance with the requirements of
the Degree of Master of Education in the Graduate School of Education
September 2013
1

2. Synopsis
Since 1999, there has been a clear increase in the proportion of UK-resident
undergraduate students registered as having a disability. There has also been an
improvement in their overall attainment, when measured against peers with no
known disability. Nowadays, equal percentages of final year disabled and non-
disabled students attain upper- and lower-second class degrees, but the
proportion of disabled students attaining first class honours degrees still falls short
of total equality. There is also some uncertainty about how many disabled
students leave university without completing their degrees, or take longer than
usual to complete their studies.
This research project focused on students with visual impairment (VI), and set out
to determine what factors, both positive and negative, participants felt were having
the greatest impact on their achievement. Responses from semi-structured
interviews with eight students are reported here, and it is argued that Self-
Determination Theory provides an effective and satisfactory explanation of some
of the ways in which staff attitudes affect student retention and achievement.
Whereas previous studies have suggested that negative staff attitudes remain the
primary barrier to full inclusion, participants' accounts reported here suggest that
many of the staff they encounter are ready to work with them to overcome
practical and technological barriers, and to do so in ways which meet students'
fundamental need to experience autonomy, competence and also, to some
extent, relatedness. There are also indications that, although complex problems
occasionally arise, technological developments are generally improving access to
learning materials for students with VI. Taken together, these findings may
provide some explanation for the apparent improvement in attainment. However,
evidence is also offered to support the view that social isolation remains an
important barrier for many students with visual impairment, with the greatest
negative impact being on those who are totally blind.
2

3. Acknowledgements
In many ways this dissertation represents the cumulative outcome of three years'
study in the Graduate School of Education at the University of Bristol, so I want to
take the opportunity to thank all the staff involved with the M. Ed course: the
lecturers for the intellectual stimulation they have provided and the admin and
library staff for their assistance. I particularly wish to record my gratitude for the
university’s wonderful AddLIbs service for disabled and long-distance library
users, which made possible some things that would otherwise have been
impossible.
Studying part-time on top of a full time job creates a number of difficulties, and not
just for the student. I need to thank my family for their sympathy and support and
for putting up with forgotten birthdays and more than usually unimaginative
presents. I am grateful to my line manager at RNC, Nicola Smith, for making it
possible for me to manage my work load so as to fit with university attendance
requirements. There isn’t space here to thank all the colleagues with whom, down
the years, I’ve discussed so many of the access issues touched upon here, but I
am particularly grateful to Teresa and Grahame Allen, Lukasz Kowalski, Adelaide
Rodell, Kate Stevenson and Laura Vickers for their advice; any errors that may
remain herein are my own. I am additionally grateful to all the students I've taught
at the Royal National College for the inspiration they have provided – in so many
ways - over the last nine years.
Special thanks are due to my good friend Ruth Stanier, for her support,
encouragement, and help with proof-reading, throughout the whole course.
Heartfelt thanks are due to all my participants: for their time they gave me and the
trouble they took, as well as for their openness, honesty and generosity of spirit. It
was a privilege and a pleasure to work with them.
Finally, I am truly and deeply grateful to my supervisor, Jo Rose, for her valued
support, good advice and patience.
3

4. For many, the reality of equal opportunity can be judged by the
distribution of positions and rewards (degree classifications) in
relation to gender, ethnicity, race, disability and social class.
Unequal distributions, whilst not direct evidence of discrimination
(in any of its forms) at least raise questions about equity and
justice. (Stowell, 2004: 499)
4
Declaration
I declare that the work in this dissertation was carried out in accordance with
the regulations of the University of Bristol. The work is original except where
indicated by special reference in the text, and no part of the dissertation has
been submitted for any other degree.
Any views expressed in the dissertation are those of the author and in no way
represent those of the University of Bristol.
The dissertation has not been presented to any other University for
examination either in the United Kingdom or overseas.
Signed ______________________
Date: _____________

5. Contents
Introduction and Literature Review..........................................................................6
Ethics......................................................................................................................25
Methodology...........................................................................................................28
Results....................................................................................................................32
Discussion..............................................................................................................56
Bibliography ...........................................................................................................65
Appendix I: GSoE RESEARCH ETHICS FORM....................................................69
Appendix II: Recruitment Blog and Research Agreement.....................................75
Appendix III - Interview Questions........................................................................82
Appendix IV – Technical matters............................................................................85
Table 1: 2011-12. Degree results by class and disability marker ….......…9
Table 2: Summary of participants’ details …….……………………...…….34
Figure 1: Some braille signs (Appendix IV) …………….………………..85
5

6. The Reality of Equal Opportunity:
Some Factors Impacting on the Achievement of Undergraduates
with Visual Impairment
For many, the reality of equal opportunity can be judged by the
distribution of positions and rewards (degree classifications) in relation
to gender, ethnicity, race, disability and social class. Unequal
distributions, whilst not direct evidence of discrimination
(in any of its forms) at least raise questions about equity and justice.
(Stowell, 2004: 499)
Introduction and Literature Review
Using the results tables for the academic year 2012-13 (HESA, 2013 a), it is
possible to calculate that 9.29% of those successfully completing first degrees
that year were known to have a disability. This represents a significant
increase from 1998-99, when only 5% of those completing degree courses in
the UK1
had a declared disability (Pumfrey, 2010: 67). Since these increases
occur in the context of an overall rise in undergraduate numbers, it would
appear that efforts to widen participation have been successful. However,
various caveats need to be considered.
In the first place, Viney (2006: 50) cites a UK labour-force survey as setting
the percentage of the working population that have disabilities at 19.3%, and,
although disability and 'special educational needs' are not entirely
interchangeable terms, this is broadly consonant with the original estimate in
1
All statistics refer to UK-domiciled students.
6

7. the Warnock Report (1978) that 20% of schoolchildren have some kind of long
term special need. Although a proportion of this figure would include people
with levels of cognitive difficulty that would preclude study at undergraduate
level, the figures nevertheless raise questions about whether people with
disabilities are still under-represented at UK universities.
Secondly, although there has been an increase across all categories of
disability, it has to be considered that the overall increase may partially be
accounted for by a growing awareness of, and willingness to disclose, certain
kinds of less visible disabilities. For example, Pumfrey (2010: 67-9) records
that Autistic Spectrum Disorder (ASD) was not a recognised category when
the graduates of 1999 embarked on their courses, whereas 152 UK-domiciled
HE students were registered as having an ASD in the academic year 07-08.
This, however, is a modest increase compared with the rise in students
registered as Dyslexic: from 2,809 in 98-99 to 14,854 in 07- 08.
Thirdly, it is, as Pumfrey (2008) concluded, very difficult to estimate that
proportion of students with disabilities who drop out before completing their
degrees. The Higher Education Statistics Agency (HESA) do not publish any
such analysis, and the more general “non-continuation” figures (HESA, 2013
b) do not lend themselves to a sufficient level of exactitude. With specific
reference to visual impairment (VI), Bishop and Rhind (2011:178) suggest that
Richardson and Roy's (2002) findings are still valid and that visually impaired
students are “less likely than students with no reported disability to complete
their programmes of study.”
7

8. Another hidden figure concerns the number of students who take longer than
usual to complete their degrees. Following research covering a range of
universities in Canada, Reed and Curtis (2012:418) reported that staff
estimated that only 83% of students with VI complete their studies and that,
on a typical (4 year) programme, they take on average an extra 1.5 years to
complete.
Finally, there is the matter of degree results. Pumfrey (2008) found a clear
pattern: students with disabilities were more likely than their non-disabled
peers to achieve lower-second and third class degrees and less likely to gain
first or upper-second class. They were also less likely to obtain unclassified
degrees - but, given uncertainties about non-completion rates, perhaps not
too much significance should be read into this last statistic.
Recent results show some levelling out of the numbers [See Table 1]. In 2011-
12, percentages of disabled students achieving upper-second class degrees
(just over 45%) were broadly equal with those who had 'no known disability’.
However, there is still a gap between students with disabilities who achieve a
first class degree (13.96%) compared to those with no known disability
(15.94%).
No known
disability Disability
First class honours 56540 15.94% 5070 13.96%
Upper second class honours 161865 45.64% 16560 45.59%
Lower second class honours 90440 25.50% 9870 27.18%
Third class honours/Pass 21570 6.08% 2360 6.50%
Unclassified 24245 6.84% 2465 6.79%
Total 354670 36320
Table 1: 2011-12. Degree results by class and disability marker (percentages derived
from figures supplied in HESA,2013 a)
8

9. As well as Reed and Curtis (2012) cited above, a range of studies from other
countries, for example Australia (Ryan, 2011), Ireland (Hanafin, Shevlin,
Kenny and McNeela, 2007), and the United States (Trammel, 2009;
Morningstar, 2010; Reynolds, 2012) suggest that issues of recruitment,
retention and achievement are sufficiently similar to draw international
comparisons across 'western' cultures.
Before outlining some of the key factors identified in these studies as barriers
to achievement, it is first necessary to explore the whole matter of
epistemology, since differing models of disability may affect the way services
are delivered, as well as affecting how those services are perceived by all
concerned, including researchers, and this may, in turn, colour perceptions of
key areas of difficulty.
The Epistemology of Disability and Impairment.
In the statistical evidence cited above, the word 'disability' is used fairly freely
but, as Trammel (2009:24) has noted, it is a word “charged with manifold
meanings and threatening stereotypes”. Much debate over the use of this
word centres on a struggle between two competing paradigms: the medical
(or ‘deficit’) model, which explains disability as largely arising out of individual
impairment, and the social model which sees disability arising out of society's
response to individuals with impairment. Proponents of the former might use
the terms “disability” and “impairment” interchangeably and so speak of
individuals “having” a disability or impairment, whereas those embracing the
social model would prefer to speak of individuals with impairments as being
“disabled” by socio-political structures.
9

10. Traditionally, Psychology has been associated with the medical model
whereas the alternative, often referred to as the (Emancipatory) Disability
Studies perspective, is regarded as an offshoot of Sociology. In recent years,
academics from both sides of the debate seem to be moving towards a
resolution of this conflict by developing a new pluralistic, or holistic, model.
The psychologists Goodley and Lawthom (2006), for example, reject the idea
of disability as “a biological given” (2006: 3) and call for a new alliance
between the two disciplines that will lead to new research based on “an
ethically stable vision of disability” (2006:203) which acknowledges the socio-
political context, but also recognises the need, as Murray (2006:38) puts it, to
“acknowledge the reality of another's internal experience”.
Similarly Riddell and Watson (2003:3-5) suggest that, because the deficit
model propounded the view of disability as an individual tragedy, in the early
days of the Disability Studies movement, proponents of the social model felt it
was “too dangerous” to acknowledge “individual pain and oppression”.
However, more recent cross-fertilization with feminist research and its precept
that 'the personal is political' has led to a growing understanding of the need
to attend more closely to individual experience, even though this may involve
acknowledging that not all struggles related to impairment will fade away with
the removal of disabling barriers in the socio-political environment. Crow
(2010) goes even further, arguing that keeping silent about the realities of
impairment has in itself proved oppressive and counter-productive, and calling
on disabled people to “reclaim and acknowledge our personal experiences”
(Crow, 2010: 213) in order to find truly inclusive ways of challenging
discrimination and injustice.
10

11. Taken together, these changes suggest a move to a more pluralistic or holistic
model , as called for by Ashworth, Bloxham and Pearce (2010), who cite a
number of studies which speak of the need to take insights from both medical
and social models in order to fully understand “the personal and collective
experience” (2010, 210) of people with disabilities.
Which Models are in use throughout Higher Education in the UK?
Although the 2005 Disability Discrimination Act was criticised by some
(including the Welsh Government, 2009) as still being tied into the medical
model of disability, there seems to be growing consensus that the subsequent
2010 Equality Act has moved closer to the social model (see, for example,
DRC, 2013). However the Disabled Students' Allowance (DSA) system, which
runs in parallel in both England and Wales, has been criticised (for example
by Viney, 2006) for still being based on the deficit model.
It can be argued, then, that although the social model now holds the status of
being officially preferred, the medical/deficit model is still very much in
evidence. One might describe the system as philosophically incoherent, but a
more positive view is that, pragmatically speaking, the UK is moving towards
a pluralist system.
This leaves us with an analysis of difficulties which can be conveniently
divided into three broad categories:
• Barriers that are an inherent part of individual impairment.
11

12. • Barriers that arise from systemic failures (either in individual institutions
or across society as a whole) some of which may be underpinned by
discriminatory attitudes or assumptions.
• Barriers arising out of the interaction between the individual and the
system: in particular the negative impact on the individual of dealing with
systems which are, or appear to be, discriminatory and oppressive.
Barriers to access: system and society
Hanafin and colleagues (2007) suggest that conflicting models of disability
also affect practice in the Republic of Ireland, which officially adheres to a
social model, but where the medical/deficit model appears to colour the
perceptions not only of lecturers but also, to some extent, of student peers.
Similarly, Bishop and Rhind (2011) concluded that, despite the introduction of
the Equality Act (2010) in the UK, “the greatest barrier of all may be the
ingrained and resistant attitudes of individuals, both within and outside of HE”
(2011: 194). Discussing research undertaken in Australia, Ryan (2011) also
concluded that an essentially medical approach dominates the perspective of
lecturers who, by and large, “continue to hold negative attitudes towards
students with disabilities” (2011:73). She goes on to argue that ingrained
attitudes cannot be merely legislated away; citing Hurst (2008), she suggests
that a focus on devising equality policies may prove to be a distraction from
more effective ways of bringing about change, such as staff training and
development.
In asking, “Access to what?” Ryan (2011) also makes the point that courses
may need to be designed more flexibly in order to allow disabled students an
12

13. equal chance to succeed. A similar point is made by Ashworth, Bloxham and
Pearce (2010), who note the potential for tension between the desire to widen
access and the need to maintain academic standards.2
In practice, this may mean that although some university departments are
ready to explore ways in which assignments might legitimately be modified to
make them more accessible, others may be reluctant to do so. There are also
complex issues relating to equity and fairness. Stowell (2004) points out that
there are many different conceptions of justice and equity, including
“procedural justice (fairness); distributive justice (merit or desert); social
justice (fair outcomes); and equality, egalitarian and equal opportunity” (2004:
496).
This might seem a long way from any practical impact on undergraduates, but
in several studies, students have mentioned unhelpful attitudes from some
staff as a barrier to access and some of these difficulties may stem from the
perception that students with disabilities are being given too much help.
Hanafin et al (2007) discuss the “backwash effect” of an academic culture
predicated on ideas of individual competition, so that providing students with
lecture notes comes to be seen not as a matter of equal access but as "a
burning issue” (2007:440), especially when construed as a private 'grace and
favour' arrangement which gives recipients an unfair advantage. In this and
many other respects their findings were in line with previous studies, in which
students identified attitudes and awareness as the main barriers to equitable
access, whereas staff tended to assume that the major issues were practical
and technological; see, for example, Shevlin (2004:18).
2
A tension which other writers have identified as also impacting on inclusive provision in schools.
See, for example, Lunt & Norwich (2009)
13

14. The technological matter that might seem to be most within the university's
control, that is the provision of reading material in an accessible format and,
crucially, in good time to allow the completion of necessary pre-assignment
reading, is consistently cited by researchers as a barrier, despite the
increasing use of electronic technology. Reed and Curtis (2012) comment on
this as a significant problem, and Bishop and Rhind (2011:187) particularly
noted difficulties arising because the student’s needs had “not been
communicated” in advance to teaching staff by the disability service.
Despite this, all those participating in Bishop and Rhind's (2011) study, which
was based on one particular UK university, had a high regard for the quality of
support from the disability service, through which their participation in the
study was arranged. Another anomaly was that participants expressed
satisfaction with their mobility support even though it: “necessitated the use of
an assistant for those students who were partially sighted or completely blind”
(2011:184); in other words, there seems to have been little provision for
independent mobility training. Furthermore, some of the barriers to mobility
noted in the study, such as problems with campus signage (including signs
directing users to the disability service office) and poor lighting, might have
been assumed to fall within the remit of the disability service.
Bishop and Rhind’s participants felt that support workers, such as note-takers,
were an “indispensable resource” (2011:186) but Reed and Curtis (2012)
found that, in some institutions, note-takers were not reliable. Other studies,
though not specifically relating to visual impairment, have also found
difficulties with disability support staff and have highlighted the need for
14

15. greater training. For example, support staff participating in research by
Ashworth, Bloxham and Pearce (2010) seemed well-motivated but felt
themselves to be under-prepared, in terms of knowledge and skills, to provide
appropriate support.
Another difficulty noted by Bishop and Rhind (2011) was a lack of appropriate
accommodation – again, one might perhaps assume that this would have
been a matter where the disability service might intervene, but it appears that
in some universities the disability service regards itself, and is regarded by
others, as having quite a limited remit. Hanafin et al (2007) comment that one
of the problems with provision is that it is piecemeal, and needs to be more
integrated, but does it necessarily follow that the disability department should
do everything? Trammel (2009) seems to think that it should, and argues that
expecting students to approach teachers directly for assistance is
unsatisfactory and increases their risk of being stigmatized. Coleman-
Fountain and McLaughlin (2012) also comment on the amount of time and
energy it takes to deal with issues arising from stigma, such as “the
management of social discomfort” (2012: 4) including the potentially
psychologically draining process of explaining yourself, the nature of your
disability and your specific needs.
Barriers to Access: Some Implications of Impairment
The final comment above is particularly telling because, for many people with
impairment, both time and energy may be in relatively short supply. Viney
(2006) notes that many people with impairments will need more time to
complete tasks and experience problems with fatigue. Reed and Curtis
(2012) comment that many VI students find the reading requirement
15

16. inherently burdensome even without the access difficulties mentioned above.
There may be a variety of causes contributing to fatigue, such as physical and
practical difficulties in accessing texts, concentration problems or, in some
cases, simply taking longer to 'process' text (Ashworth, Bloxham and Pearce,
2010:215-218)
Additionally, students with visual impairment may have particular difficulties
with certain specialist types of text. For obvious reasons, maps and diagrams
are problematic, and Viney (2006:68) also notes problems with mathematical
content which can cause difficulties for braillists and large print users. Tables
and charts can also present a high degree of challenge, though guidance from
the European Blind Union (2013) makes it clear that suitably constructed
spreadsheets can be “relatively accessible”. Where there are problems in
accessing materials this can have the knock-on effect, noted by Reed and
Curtis (2012), of making it difficult for students to participate in group
activities.
Furthermore, not all arrangements designed to facilitate access are problem-
free. Technical difficulties may arise with highly specialised equipment that
cannot always be resolved by the university's technical support staff (Shevlin
et al, 2004), and 'human-centred’ solutions, such as the use of scribes, can
create further difficulties (Hanafin et al, 2007) as well as, in some cases,
giving rise to concerns about authenticity.
The DSA system is designed to address many of the practical and
technological difficulties. Students choosing to identify themselves as disabled
can apply for extra funding for a variety of types of support, including any
16

17. appropriate technology identified during an individual assessment of their non-
medical needs. For students with VI, this may result in the provision of
equipment such as laptops with accompanying support software (speech
access and/or magnification programs), scanners with Optical Character
Recognition, braille display boards and electronic braillers (see Appendix IV).
Funding also typically includes a notional number of hours of personal
assistance from, for example, note-takers, readers, amanuenses, proof-
readers and, in some cases, academic mentors.
Although, as noted above, the DSA is open to the criticism that it throws the
emphasis back on individual need and technological problems, it has to be
recognised that it is merely one arm of a broader movement towards equality;
other measures enshrined in the Equality Act, 2010 (and the Disability
Discrimination Acts which preceded it) support the social model of disability,
by requiring universities to make “reasonable adjustments”, such as allowing
extra time for exams and assignments, in order to make courses accessible to
students with impairments. (DRC, 2013)
17

18. Individual in Interaction with the System
As noted above, researchers have consistently found that staff attitudes often
form part of a significant barrier. It is not simply the practical consequences of
the attitudes (such as failure to provide accessible hand-outs at lectures) that
causes difficulties: attention needs to be paid to the way unhelpful attitudes
may affect student motivation and engagement. In this respect, Psychology,
often seen as inherently hostile to the social model because of its emphasis
on internal worlds, may prove helpful. In 1994, Beaty robustly refuted the idea
that students with visual impairment were inherently more likely to experience
psychological problems leading to social dysfunction, but at the same time
recognised that prevailing attitudes could have an impact on psychological
well-being, and called for further research to improve understanding of “the
subtle relationships among psychosocial adjustment and academic
achievement for visually handicapped students” (Beaty:19943
). Reeve
repeated the call more than a decade later calling on researchers to
investigate how “the experience of disabling attitudes and environments affect
the emotional well-being of disabled people.” (Reeve, 2006: 95)
The same call is effectively repeated by many contributors to Goodley and
Lawthom's “Disability and Psychology” (2006) which effectively outlines ways
in which Psychology can support the social model of disability – a key theme
being the impact of oppression and marginalisation on individuals. For
example, Murray noted that the experience of exclusion can often be de-
motivating, with typical effects being “depression, feeling useless, lacking
confidence, being stressed, expressing anger” (Murray, 2006:37). Reed and
3
A web-based article with no page numbers.
18

19. Curtis (2012) suggest that both staff and students perceive students with VI
as having problems with social isolation
Efficacy, Motivation and Self-Determination Theory
It could be argued, then, that one of the effects of a disabling culture is that it
undermines an individual's sense of self-efficacy, as defined by Bandura
(1997): belief in one's own capacity to achieve through appropriately directed
effort. Bandura stated that a strong sense of self-efficacy was causally related
to the effort people put into achieving goals and their perseverance and
resilience in the face of barriers and setbacks. However, Deci and Ryan
(2002, 2012) have argued that Bandura's social-cognitive approach is flawed
because it is based on a fragmentary understanding of the self, one in which
facets of personality are not seen as inherent to the individual but are rather
elicited by certain social contexts. They prefer an organismic approach which
views personality as a self-unifying system. In their view, it is not enough to
state the benefit to the individual of experiencing a sense of efficacy, rather we
need to recognise that human beings have a fundamental psychological need
to experience autonomy, competence and relatedness.
Autonomy they define as an innate tendency toward “holistic self-regulation”:
a drive toward goals that are consonant both with our sense of ourselves as
integrated and self-directed beings, and also with our need for relatedness, to
be members of the wider community, “caring for and being cared for by
others” (Deci and Ryan, 2002: 7). Deci and Ryan (2012: 86) argue that Self-
Determination Theory (SDT), which posits these three core psychological
needs (autonomy, competence and relatedness) has greater predictive power
19

20. than other models of motivation. Although we all possess these drives, their
fulfilment depends upon “social contextual factors” (Deci and Ryan, 2002:5)
which can either support or hinder the development of relatedness,
competence and autonomy. In an educational context this means that, for
example, when autonomy is supported, individuals will seek out challenge at
an appropriate level in order to extend and develop their competence and
enhance their skills.
Reeve (2002:183) asserts that “two decades of empirical work” support the
proposition that “students benefit when teachers support their autonomy” and
that key qualities include being responsive, flexible, empathic and
encouraging. Reeve notes that such teachers may often be seen as
ineffective because they avoid the controlling and directing strategies that
undermine autonomy; however, he insists that autonomy support can also be
clearly distinguished from a distanced or laissez-faire approach. What
students need from their teachers is time, effort, energy, a clear sense of
structure and (meeting the need for relatedness) a sense of warm
“interpersonal involvement” (Reeve, 2002: 193-5). Reynolds (2012) also notes
the importance of high levels of personal involvement (which she refers to as
“high touch”) in supporting the achievement of students from non-traditional
backgrounds who also have a range of needs and impairments.
A number of studies not explicitly related to SDT seem to offer some support
for certain of its key ideas. For example, Shevlin et al (2004) found that what
their participants valued most was “self-sufficiency enablement” (2004: 27) - in
other words, perhaps, a structure that supported them to develop
competence. As regards the need for both autonomy and competence,
20

21. Hanafin et al (2007) stated that independence and choice were key criteria for
students. Similarly, Reed and Curtis (2012), citing a number of other studies,
identify student frustration over independence as a significant factor
negatively affecting their chances of completion.
Researchers from other theoretical stances have also found support for the
emphasis that SDT places on relatedness. For example, Gibson (2012), noted
that friendships and other social networks are an important source of support
for disabled students, and Bishop and Rhind (2011) found that parental
support was regarded by many students as a key factor increasing their ability
to cope with difficulty.
Relatedness and Resilience
Reynolds (2012) relates the importance of connection to others to theories of
resilience. As Meadows (2010) explains, resilience is no longer thought of as
a facet of an individual's personality, rather it is a multidimensional
phenomenon, involving “many different aspects of an individual and many
psychological processes” (2010:276). Individuals have certain vulnerabilities
or risk factors which are counter-balanced by protective factors. Fergus and
Zimmerman (2005:399) distinguish between protective factors which are
“assets “ (within-individual qualities such as intelligence, self-efficacy or self-
esteem) and those which are “resources” (externally available help, such as
parental support or adult mentoring). They argue that vulnerability and
resilience are not polar opposites; rather there are high-risk aspects of
individual's lives that render them more vulnerable to poor outcomes, whereas
the assets and resources available to that individual may reduce the risk.
21

22. Meadows (2010:277) refers to the value of learning to overcome risk within a
supportive environment as the “steeling effect”, and cites research conducted
with individuals who were children during the Great Depression by way of
illustration.
Using this analysis, one can regard varieties of impairment as a form of risk
for disabled students; their ability to achieve good outcomes may depend not
only on the assets and resources available to them, but their ability to use
those protective factors (an ability which, in itself, becomes an asset) to
increase their chances of a good outcome.
Reynolds (2010) additionally cites findings by Morningstar et al (2010) that
relate the achievement of self-determination to the development of skills in
“self-advocacy” and also to factors such as “hope” and “psychological
empowerment” (Morningstar et al, 2010:87). In this study, these two latter
qualities are measured solely by how much “hope” or “empowerment” an
individual feels they possess. The implication seems to be that there is no
useful distinction to be drawn between being hopeful as opposed to having
hope. This further suggests that the factors that determine achievement rest
squarely on the shoulders of the individual: a theoretical position which is
somewhat different from SDT as classically defined by Deci and Ryan (2002).
It could be argued that placing so much emphasis on within-individual factors
results merely in an inversion of the medical model: instead of looking at
individual deficits, we are now looking for evidence of individual super-skills
and qualities. Whilst there may be a case for acknowledging and the
achievements of disabled individuals, there is a danger that this may result in
22

23. a loss of focus on what society (be that individual institutions or the broader
political and social world) is doing to enable or disable individuals with
impairments.
This risk is acknowledged by Reynolds (2012:251) who states that, in
reflecting on her study, she came to realise that her unconscious assumptions
were still dominated by an individualist model. By re-framing her thinking, she
was able to conclude with a series of recommendations centred on societal
and institutional change. Reynolds (2012) also took note of work by
Schneider (2010) in which she asserts that, in order to thrive, all students
need to feel that they are involved in caring and making a contribution to their
community. This sort of phraseology seems to connect more closely to the
classic SDT definitions of relatedness, as well as chiming very closely with the
UK's “Every Child Matters” initiative (LSIS, 2012)
Research questions
This study, then, sets out to determine what factors students with visual
impairment perceive as having an impact on their ability to achieve: the
barriers they encounter and the effectiveness of support they receive to
overcome those barriers. Whilst acknowledging not only the realities of
impairment but also the qualities and talents that some individuals may
possess or develop, the main focus is on the interaction between individual
and institution, from the students' perspective. Furthermore, the study seeks
to establish the explanatory power of Self-Determination Theory in this
context. The research questions are as follows:
23

24. • What barriers have students encountered?
• What support have they received?
• To what extent are the barriers and the support similar to, or different
from, those identified in previous studies? Are there any indications of
what changes underpin the overall improvement in outcomes for those
who complete degrees?
• Does Self-Determination Theory offer any insight into the way staff
attitudes and institutional policies may affect retention and
achievement?
24

25. Ethics
The main ethical difficulty related to the matter of confidentiality. Because
severe visual impairment in the young is a relatively rare phenomenon, the
risk of compromising anonymity by giving too many details about individuals
and their degree programmes needed to be balanced against the risk that a
minimal level of detail might render the date too vague to be helpful.
All participants were consulted on this issue and most expressed a lack of
concern, a typical comment being: “I haven't said anything to you that I
haven't already said to people at the university”. When asked to choose an
identifying initial, many chose one related to their real first name or family
name. Even so, the decision not to present results as a series of case studies
was taken to protect confidentiality, not just for participants themselves but
also for some of the other individuals and institutions concerned. This was
seen to be of particular importance in relation to comments of poor or even,
arguably, unprofessional practice, because the person or institution concerned
had no right of reply. For the same reason, the researcher insisted on the use
of a disguised initial where a participant had been involved in a formal dispute.
Furthermore, whatever the official name of each university's support team or
department, a range of terms is herein used interchangeably (for example:
Disability Office, Access Office, Disability Support Centre); this, in any case,
reflects practice among participants. Finally, in this respect, one participant
was withdrawn from the study because his case is being pursued through the
Office of the Independent Adjudicator and it was felt that it was not within the
25

26. scope of this study to deal justly and fairly with the many complex issues
raised.
Although there is a clear precedent for practitioner research in this field, the
researcher's employment interests, which involve preparing young people with
VI to enter the world of Higher Education, was discussed with peers and in
supervision. The research was felt to be relevant and appropriate, and it was
understood that the interests of the researcher would most effectively be
served by an honest and open enquiry. Participants were invited to reflect on
the value of their pre-university experience, but this was not the main focus of
the study and for this reason, and also because the researcher's interest
might be seen to diminish the credibility of the findings, very little detail has
been included in the results section. The thinking behind this decision was
explained to participants when a draft of the results section was sent to them
for checking, and they expressed themselves satisfied with this.
The background information given to participants about the purpose of the
research and the employment position of the researcher (who teaches at a
Special Further Education college) was agreed in a supervision session. This
information was available both in the form of a blog (see Appendix II) and as a
separate document. It also formed part of the research agreement (see
Appendix I) which was sent to all participants. Those who wished to
participate after reading the agreement were asked to either digitally sign at
the foot of the research agreement document, to be returned by email, or to
send an email stating that they had read the document and were in
agreement. All interviews were conducted either by email or via Skype;
26

27. agreement to recording of the Skype conversations was obtained in advance
and also checked at the start of each recording.
As regards the welfare of participants, in the absence of any evidence to the
contrary, it was assumed that they were all competent to give consent. The
researcher was mindful of the issue of stereotype threat (see, for example
Steele and Aronson, 1995), that is the possibility that reminding people about
their marginalised position in society might have a negative effect on their
mood and later achievement. Obviously, this was a particular concern for
those about to sit final or end of year exams; however, the relevant results
suggest that participation had not had a negative impact on participants'
achievement. Care was taken during interviews, whenever students talked
about difficulties they had encountered, to ask them how they had persevered
and succeeded, and to ask about other sources of support. The research
agreement had also reminded participants of the right to withdraw if they
became upset and mentioned the possibility of contacting a counselling
service if they deemed it necessary.
In general, as had been hoped, participants reported that they had either
enjoyed the process or found it interesting, and had been glad of the
opportunity to reflect on their experiences in this way. In addition to this, the
checking process resulted in the researcher kept in contact with each
participant for at least a month after the final interview.
27

28. Methodology
Choices of method have been intended to facilitate hearing the voices of
disabled students. A number of authors have stressed the importance of this,
including Fuller et al (2004) and Goodley and Lawthom (2006), who suggest
that qualitative methods are to be preferred as the path of resistance to the
'scientism' of medical model ('disabling') psychology. At the same time, the
understanding of the interview process has been informed by the post-modern
rejection of the paradigm of a disinterested interview objectively mining facts
and recognition that “both respondents and interviewers ... [are] …
constructive practitioners” in the creation of meaning (Gubrium and Holstein,
2012: 33).
Recruitment
A blog which briefly outlined the purpose of the research was posted on
Blogger (hosted by Google); various organizations were then asked to
consider providing links on their webpages. These were: the Royal National
Institute for the Blind, the researcher's employer (a special FE college) and a
residential special school. 'Optometry Today' also kindly offered to provide a
link, and two of the researcher's colleagues posted links on their Facebook
pages. The Disability Support department and the Student Union at the
researcher's university offered to put up large print posters and hand out
braille notices, but these did not lead to any contacts. Most participants were
recruited through the weblinks or by snowballing; further details are given in
the 'Participants' section below.
28

29. Interviewing
Once participants had contacted the researcher, they were initially offered a
choice of face-to-face interview or interview by Skype, using only audio.
Some disliked using Skype, or were reluctant or unable to engage with the
technology, so they were offered the chance to answer questions by email
instead.
Interviews were semi-structured, with a series of questions and prompts (see
Appendix III) offered as a basis for discussion. In the case of interviews on
Skype, wherever possible, this schedule was sent to participants in advance.
Not all participants chose to read through the questions beforehand. Those
interviewed by email were sent the same list of questions and prompts, and
invited to reply to as many as they saw fit. The researcher than read the
replies and sought further clarification as necessary.
Transcription
At first it was assumed that an absolutely faithful rendition of the conversation
required transcription of all hesitations and other tics of speech. Oliver,
Serovich and Mason (2005) describe this as the naturalistic approach and
state that it depends upon the view that language in itself represents the real
world. They contrast this with “denaturalism” which assumes that speech
contains the meanings and perceptions that we use to construct our reality.
This insight proved helpful, as experience on transcription of the first two
interviews dictated that effort spent on recording hesitations, throat-clearing,
and other noises off, was a distraction from getting to grips with the meaning
29

30. the participants were trying to convey. Furthermore, the naturalistic approach
usually goes hand in hand with an analysis of body language – clearly not
relevant in this case - and the ensuing analysis may often seek to elaborate a
hidden layer of meaning. It seems, in some respects, to empower the
interviewer at the expense of the interviewee rather than respecting the
mutuality of co-construction of meaning. Later transcripts therefore cut out
‘um’, ‘er’ and any repetitions that were deemed to be non-significant. The
content of emails was merely copied, although obvious typing errors were
corrected.
Coding and Analysis
After the transcription, each interview was coded. In the first place open
coding was used as described by Charmaz (2009), namely within a context
that recognises the interviewee as an active co-constructor of meaning and
imposes on the researcher the discipline of again attending to participants'
voices rather than immediately imposing their own interpretation.
After three interviews had been transcribed and coded, the researcher began
grouping codes thematically and also made use of memo writing, again as
described by Charmaz (2009). This reflective process facilitated coding at a
deeper, more strongly theory-based level.
Although the question set remained the same, these emergent theories
inevitably coloured the ensuing interviews. In most cases, it seemed
necessary to return to the earlier interviewees with some supplementary
30

31. questions to test the validity of the emerging thematic analysis. The
supplementary interviews (three by Skype and three by email) were all
completed within a fortnight and from this point on coding became more
heavily thematic.
Checking
Participants were sent a copy of the first full descriptive draft of the results to
check for accuracy; some minor amendments were made as a result of this; it
was explained that results would need to be edited down and re-drafted in a
more analytical frame. Data was also updated when participants sent in
details of exam results or changes to their plans.
Participants
Originally nine participants were recruited: five males and four females.
Reasons for removing the details of one male participant are discussed in the
Ethics section. Five of the participants were former students at the college
where the researcher is employed; of these, only one, T, was not previously
known to the researcher. K and A made contact after finding the link on the
college's Facebook page; M was already in touch with the researcher for other
reasons and helped to recruit Q and T. After completing her interview, K
posted a link on her Facebook page and it was this that drew the attention of
E and R. G was told about the research by a former teacher – it is not clear
how she became aware of the project.
31

32. Seven of the participants described their ethnic background as “White,
British”, one as Middle Eastern. All the participants were registered as blind:
four were totally blind, four partially sighted. Four had additional needs: M
was a care leaver, R had been treated for depression whilst in secondary
school, T has a mild hearing impairment; and A is on the autistic spectrum.
Results
Patterns of study
Of the 8 participants, 7 were currently on an undergraduate programme. The
exception, Q, had withdrawn from first year study programmes at two different
universities, but had just been accepted onto a vocational degree programme.
Of the 7 currently engaged, two had previously dropped out of an
undergraduate course at other universities: one, T, at the end of his first year
and the other, M, before completing a repeated first year. In total, the
experiences recounted relate to eight different universities across England
and Wales.
Of those remaining, one, R, had been obliged to move from Joint to Single
Honours and also repeat her first year, and E already knew that, for purely
personal reasons, she would have to repeat her current year, which should
have been her final year. Only three of the eight, then, had so far not needed
to repeat a year: G and K were both in their final year; A in his second year.
32

33. Table 2: Summary of participants’ details. (HEI= Higher Education Institution)
Note: In the following section, round brackets only occur if they were used by a
participant in an email response; square brackets are for material inserted by the
researcher, usually for clarification. Comments on paralinguistics are inserted
between <and >.
33
Vision Additional
disabilities/
Other ‘non-
traditional’
Schooling Discontinued/ Disrupted /
Results.
A
(male)
Reads 28 Bold;
can read
Ordinary Print
with effort.
Magnification:
4 x
Autistic Spectrum
Disorder (ASD)
Mainstream
until age 9,
then Special
school,
Special FE
End of second year; no
disruptions.
E
(female)
Totally blind.
Speech + Braille Member of
ethnic minority
Mainstream
school,
Special 6th
form
Will need to repeat third
(final) year for personal
reasons.
K
(female)
Preferred print
size: 16.. None
Mainstream
school, briefly
mainstream
6th
form, then
Special FE
No disruptions.
First Class Honours Degree
G
(male)
Colour inversion
+ Magnification
20-24x (+Braille
occasionally).
None
Mainstream No disruptions.
First Class Honours Degree
M
(male)
Totally blind.
Speech (+ Braille
if necessary)
Initially, Care
leaver;
currently,
parenthood
Special
school,
Special FE
Discontinued once, during
repeated first year; new
HEI, new subject. Passes in
all modules so far.
Q
(female)
Reads18 Bold;
can read
Ordinary Print
with effort.
Initially, none;
currently,
parenthood
Special
school,
Special FE
Discontinued at two
separate HEIs; starting
afresh Autumn 2013
R
(female)
Effectively
totally blind.
Braille user.
Previous Mental
Health issues
Mainstream
school,
Special 6th
form
Moved from Joint to Single
Hons. Will have to repeat
first year.
T (male) Totally blind.
Speech (+ Braille
when necessary)
Mild Hearing
Impairment
Mainstream
school,
Special FE;
later FE in
mainstream
Discontinued once at end
of first year; new HEI, new
subject. Has passed first
year.

34. Access to text-based resources
Findings suggest that there have been a number of general improvements
relating to practical access issues. Arguably, one of the most significant, in
terms of impact on achievement, relates to exams. Although Bishop and
Rhind (2011) don’t comment on examination arrangements, which may
indicate that they were not felt to be problematic, 59% of Reed and Curtis’
(2012) participants reported problems with exam arrangements, often to do
with the provision of texts. In contrast, all the participants in this study, with
the exception of M (to be discussed later) were very happy with all the special
arrangements, including the provision of alternative format materials;
additionally, two participants (T and G) had been provided with modifications
to assessment tasks which they both felt allowed them to demonstrate
achievement on the modules concerned.
T, who began his first undergraduate course in 2007, reported that the
interface between Virtual Learning Environments (VLEs) and access software
has much improved in the last few years. Most of the participants who
commenced their studies on or after September 2010 did not report any
problems with VLEs; the only exception being E, who initially needed support
due to her own relative lack of experience with access software. Reed and
Curtis (2012) noted that even though VI students can download presentations
from a VLE, the presentations themselves may be inaccessible; M
encountered this problem in 2009, but neither he nor any other of the
participants reported any difficulty with this on their current courses. It seems
to be increasingly common for lecturers to post relevant materials in advance
– thereby making it easier for VI students to follow what is being discussed in
34

35. a lecture - but K commented that some still need reminding. The fact that
VLEs now interface well with smartphones also makes access increasingly
convenient, though problems may arise if lecturers are unaware of this facility.
A commented that – consequent to a public reprimand, followed by a later
(private) apology - he has now taken to emailing all his 'new' lecturers to
introduce himself:
“You'll probably see me in the front row, looking at my mobile phone – for
the record, I will not be on Facebook or Twitter – unless you're particularly
bad!' ”
However, access to reading material continues to be a significant issue, for
most participants, when it comes to the acquisition of texts for independent
study tasks and assignments. Both G and A emphasised that careful forward
planning is essential. G stated that all his needs were met by the alternative
formats team, so long as he was well-organised:
“I haven’t the luxury of changing my mind on an essay or putting it off.”
In A's case, however, it seems the onus is largely on him to obtain suitable
reading materials for assignments. Although many of the 'classic' texts are
freely available on the internet, there can be an issue with modern works.
Many late twentieth-century texts either do not yet exist in electronic format or
may still be affected by copyright restrictions, or both. Even contemporary
texts which must, one assumes, have been created electronically, can be
difficult to get hold of. He has to do a lot of “chasing up” himself” and has
found some academic publishers more helpful than others. On one recent
occasion, a member of staff said:
“'Why on earth are you going to university when you're registered blind –
don't they have other places to go?' … It's worth saying that I think that was
just some old bigot rather than an official policy … but …. getting the
publishers to get themselves moving can be very difficult.
35

36. “There was a book [Title] by one of our lecturers [Name], but he couldn't get
hold of an accessible copy of it – and I remember explaining to him that this
is commonplace – and he was horrified that he couldn't even get his own
book in an accessible format - I think that says it all.”
A does not regard his situation as typical – in fact he sees himself as “lucky”
because he has the support of a mentor and a cooperative department:
“It is a much bigger problem than I think anybody who provides you with
funding may make it out to be. It's all, 'Oh, this is done anyway’ – when, in
reality, it isn't.”
A also said he had found it easier to deal with this issue because his
university had been honest about the problem, although also very committed
to offering support. Their motto, he said, was, “If you're not happy, we're not
happy”, and it seems that, for him, this usefully underlined the point that
perfection is not guaranteed. He had deliberately chosen this university over
another which had offered what he felt to be glib assurances that he would be
able to get whatever he wanted; on the basis of what he already knew from
his own experience and anecdotally, he felt they lacked any real insight into
the likely difficulties.
For a few students – still very much a minority, and only on certain courses –
access to reading materials is not such an issue. There are a variety of
reasons for this. One is the increasing availability of electronic texts, which
may form the bulk of required reading in some courses. K, who has relatively
good sight, stated that she managed with only 4 hours library support per
week. E, who is totally blind, acknowledged that there was still plenty of
scope for increasing the availability and accessibility of academic books, but
also stated that she personally had had sufficient support to access the
36

37. material she needed, despite the fact that she had not had the necessary
skills to do so when she first began her course.
Access to texts had been such a big issue for M at his first university – with
one core text arriving three months late – that he chose his new (distance-
learning) course precisely because he anticipated that access to core texts
would be guaranteed:
“I'd learnt from that experience … I knew exactly what I wanted to do.”
He has had no problems so far and anticipates that, if he chooses his modular
options carefully, that will continue to be the case. He is very comfortable with
speech access – which does not suit everybody - and illustrated the
advantages of using it in conjunction with smart phones and pods: Regarding
a recent text he commented:
“I read it in JAWS in 9 hours ... a standard audiobook would have taken me
36 hours.”
Both K and M are on courses with a strong computing component, which may
partly account for the ready availability of materials, since most texts will be
contemporary. K spoke enthusiastically about the way new technology is
opening up access for people with visual impairment, and was, in fact,
engaged in a dissertation on that very subject at the time of her interview.
Given the advantages that technology offers people with VI, it is perhaps not
surprising that most participants were enthusiastic about the DSA system. As
Bishop and Rhind (2011) noted, it offers them the equipment they need to
work more effectively. When asked whether they felt DSA placed too much
37

38. emphasis on the individual's impairment, most felt this was a non-issue. K
commented that:
“It's easier to provide people with equipment rather than try and change
everyone's opinions and attitudes.”
E's response seemed grounded in the pluralistic model of disability:
“I feel that our individual needs should be accepted, respected and
cherished, to ensure a harmonious and supportive society.”
T described DSA as an “empowerment thing” and this may provide another
important explanation for the popularity of DSA: it supports students' sense of
autonomy. Although one or two participants had had problems with staff who
delivered the equipment, or with the functionality of some items provided,
almost all of them viewed the assessment process very positively. Their
accounts suggest they were able to fully engage with the assessment
because their views were listened to and respected.
Access to specialist (non-text-based) resources
Technological advances notwithstanding, access to specialist learning
materials, such as graphics, also continues to be an issue, and (as noted by
Bishop and Rhind, 2011: 187) the difficulties are exacerbated in cases when
the disability office has not shared details about a student’s needs in advance
with the academic department concerned T commented that this was still
something of an issue for certain modules on his current course. In relation to
a unit on coding, one lecturer said:
“ 'To be honest, I don't have the time to put it all into an accessible format
for you. There are 16-17 chapters here, full of code.' Which is fair enough
….. but the [Access] department is made of 3 people … and two of them are
part time – so it was taking ages.. I ended up being 3 months behind.”
38

39. R, who took a gap year before starting her degree, was disappointed to find
that:
“The disability department had not informed my lecturers that I was blind
and that I was coming along – and when I challenged them on it, they said,
'Well, we can't disclose that information for confidentiality reasons,' and I
thought that was a huge shame ... had they been able to disclose that
information, they would have had potentially two years in which to prepare
things.”
When it came to charts and diagrams, R's lecturers did have the wherewithal
to produce tactile diagrams for her, but there was a significant flaw:
“They had print labels on ... raised up print, which I can't read, so ... I didn't
go to my seminars … I spent my seminar time putting braille labels on these
diagrams ..... my [VI-trained] support worker and I were spending 6 hours or
more a week braille labelling diagrams for a one- or two-hour lecture ...it
was ridiculous – I was emailing the disability department going , 'Please can
you help? … The situation's not working,' …. I got no response to that and in
the end I felt I had to drop the course.”
Inevitably, perhaps, technology itself sometimes become the barrier: R’s
problems with her subject were compounded by difficulties with a popular
statistics software package, which didn't work well with access software,
despite the existence of an ‘access bridge’ designed to allow the programs to
work together. E, studying the same subject at a different university, had
problems with the same package, even though her DSA assessor had flagged
up the problem in advance and arranged specialist tuition to help her prepare.
G, despite having a stronger Maths background and some sight, also found
the system unworkable:
“My note-taker couldn't cope … [and] the assistive tech guy in the library
couldn't crack it even using that access bridge.”
Both E and R were allocated one-to-one support, with varying degrees of
success. E felt that she and her support worker made an effective team,
whereas R, who knew E, and was aware that her experience had been
positive, was disappointed to find that she felt completely sidelined:
39

40. “I sat there while my lecturers told us what to do and my support worker
just did it all.”
So it seems that the assistance G and E received supported their sense of
autonomy and competence – they were reliant on others but still felt 'in
charge' – whereas R's sense of competence was undermined by the
problems with both diagrams and software. These difficulties were further
compounded by her sense that her appeals for support were proving
ineffective.
The issues with that particular software package serve to illustrate the finding
(also noted by Shevlin et al, 2004) that when problems with specialist
hardware or software do occur, university technicians are not always able to
help. M and T, who might be described as expert users, typically deal with the
often highly complex problems they encounter through consultation online
with other blind users; T explained:
“I know there are blind people out there who have done what I'm doing now
– maybe not the same degree … but similar classes, modules on other
degrees … they can provide advice … what software might work best … what
kinds of things to look into … that's been a help.”
The use of internet communities to overcome barriers is not one that seems to
have received much attention from other researchers in this field, though T
and M have clearly been used to working in this way for some time, and have
found it particularly useful when dealing with the interface between technology
and taught content, in relation to the study of IT systems. M explained that
one of the ways he had prepared for his new course was by researching
potential software issues in advance. T, anticipating difficulties with one of his
modules, went to the trouble of finding a blind student in Australia who was
40

41. studying an almost identical course and then passed the details on to his
lecturer:
“He actually got in touch with the guy who ran the course in Australia.”
At the other end of the scale, sometimes old-fashioned solutions have proved
most effective. For the mathematical element of his course, T relies on a
personal assistant – a Maths graduate – who can talk him through the
examples that the lecturer puts up on the board. When it comes to diagrams,
a blind lecturer in G's department advised the use of 'German film' (a plastic
sheet, which, when placed on a rubber mat, can be drawn on with a ball-point
pen to create tactile graphics). Both lecturers and note-takers made use of
this to help G make sense of graphic material.
Staff attitudes
Many of the participants offered examples of staff and students working
together effectively. Bishop and Rhind (2011) identified the attitudes of both
students and staff as being of key importance. However, whereas other
studies4
have identified staff attitudes as a significant barrier, participants in
this study felt that, on the whole, the attitude of academic staff was not a
barrier. Although there was at least one notable exception, to be discussed
later, words used by participants to describe the attitude of most of the
lecturers they encounter include “fantastic”, “brilliant”, “excellent”, “caring” and
“supportive”. The behaviours they describe, such as listening, offering advice,
and actively engaging with access problems, all suggest a culture which is
autonomy-supportive and allows student to experience themselves as
competent, thereby enhancing motivation and facilitating engagement at a
variety of levels.
4
E.g. Shevlin et al, 2004, and Ryan, 2011
41

42. Reynolds (2012) noted that feelings of gratitude were common among her
participants and, as some of the comments above indicate, many participants
in this study also expressed a deep sense gratitude for the support they had
received, particularly emotional support and encouragement. E said she
would be “eternally grateful” for the support and care she had received. R,
too, expressed warm appreciation of the support she had had from the
“absolutely fantastic” lecturers in the subject that eventually became her
single honours course, and the efforts they made to encourage socialisation
between students on the course.
R’s comments further suggest that she benefited from what Reynolds (2012)
describes as a 'high-touch' culture: the “interpersonal involvement” and
“emotional positivity” which Reeve (2002: 184, 195) citing a range of studies,
defines as autonomy-supportive. A, too, commented on lecturers’ availability.
He stated that he feels the need to explain himself to them:
“‘This is who I am – I'm not thick – I'm not lazy – please could you help me
out?'”
but, having done so, he usually gets positive responses to any requests for
help. He also benefits from the support of a mentor, allocated to him as a
result of his DSA assessment:
“What she does is recommend certain literature and certain methods of
doing things to really bring down the level of work, so I am able to pull out
the best.”
In A's case, his mentor seems primarily to be supporting his sense of
autonomy and competence, but others have also found that relationships with
support staff can enhance their experience of relatedness . K, for example,
42

43. described how, although she and her note-takers initially followed the
convention of sitting apart in lectures, she had since become “good friends”
with all of them and this had been one way in which she had overcome
feelings of social isolation.
It is, however, important to note that there were exceptions. In his final year,
G had problems on one particular module. The lecturer had taught a similar
module, by distance learning at another university, and stated that there had
been blind students on that course who had not needed the support
requested by G. G described how this lecturer:
“....singled me out in lectures and made no effort to support me
…..insinuated my note-taker was not up to scratch ...[and] …. refused to
offer the personal tutor any information.”
Although G had the support of the disability services team, it appears the
dispute was not resolved because the academic department supported the
lecturer's stance. G was able to drop the marks from this module so they did
not affect his degree result; but he still intends to pursue a formal complaint
about the episode, which,
“....caused me a lot of anger and upset, plus the module taking up far more
of my time than is justifiable ... It does cause me distress that I haven’t been
able to perform at my best .”
It is interesting to speculate how much more G would have been affected by
this problem if it had occurred at an earlier stage in his studies.
43

44. Life and Living
Perhaps the most important finding that this study has in common with others,
and in particular with Reed and Curtis (2012) is that many students identified
social isolation as a significant barrier. Q cited a sense of isolation as a major
factor in her decision to leave her first university and, comparing university
with her experience of special education, commented:
“You kind of go from knowing everyone, and everyone walking past you in
the corridors saying 'Hi' and having a chat, to having to make your own way
… having to make yourself stand out.”
.
Like Q, M felt that a lifetime in special education had not prepared him for the
university environment:
“I'd never been used to buildings that big – or that many people around ….
It's another stress to put on top of everything else.”
He was conscious of a need for:
“Just somebody – you know – if you’re doing some work or whatever and
you’re not entirely sure what X is or Y is – or you want someone to proof
read this or just read that through and make sure they understand it in the
same way.”
G, from a mainstream background, also found “settling in" very tough. K, with
experience of both mainstream and special education, felt that socialisation
was easier for her, due to her relatively good vision, but spoke of what she
had learnt from her 800-follower Facebook page, targeted at people with VI:
“I know some people can be very lonely at university, especially if you're
totally blind. …. I think some people find it hard to interact with others …. I
know a lot of totally blind people drop out of uni.”
K and T were the only two participants who reported positive experiences of
group work. Reed and Curtis (2012:423) stated that some of their participants
found working in groups to be a barrier, “believed that students without
44

45. disabilities are nervous around them”, and thought this exacerbated their
difficulties with socialisation more generally. A shares these concerns:
“I think what is a- sort of – testament to the – the fear that is surrounded by
me – is that every time somebody stops me and wants to ask me a couple of
questions – whatever it's to do with …. They will always start with something
to the effect of, 'I don't mean to be rude and I apologise if I offend you...'
Every time. <Laughs> …..
“I did a little test …. When the Student Union elections were going on ... I
know the route from where my taxi drops me off to the library ... I walked ….
backwards and forwards over a period of two or three days – ten times with
the cane, ten times without … The ten times I walked with the cane I was
never stopped – the ten times I didn't have the cane and was just walking,
looking fully sighted, as it were – I was stopped every time. ... And on one
occasion I did actually stop and tap someone's shoulder and say, '….is there
any particular reason why you didn't stop me as I walked past?' And the
comment was. 'I didn't want to disturb you' or 'I didn't think you'd be
interested'.”
R also sensed some discomfort, when living in halls and sharing a kitchen
with several others. She thought she could overcome this by being “very
open” about herself and her needs. One thing she needed to try to explain to
them was her need (for safety's sake) to have 'a place for everything and
everything in its place', but she also had to try to get them to understand that
she herself would have a problem with this. She says she told them:
“’If I ever make a mess ... it’s not like I'm dirty or anything, it's just that I
don't see it – so just tell me’.”
However, it seems that her flatmates did not really understand, or were unable
or unwilling to comply. Relations gradually deteriorated and reached the point
where R felt that one or more people were deliberately rearranging the
contents of her food cupboard. The Disability Officer declared herself
'disgusted' but R was not aware of any attempt to resolve the situation;
45

46. eventually, her parents stepped in and arranged private accommodation for
her, which she happily shares with two sighted friends.
In fact, the most successful sharing arrangements reported by participants
seemed to be either completely solo but with many close friends nearby
(which was T's preference) or sharing with only one or two others. K was
happy sharing with a VI friend from college, and G felt he was “lucky” to be
placed with a very helpful and supportive flatmate:
“Without his support and friendship I don’t think I would have managed”
Another issue affecting participants' ability to settle into university life was the
matter of independent mobility. Unlike the students in Bishop and Rhind’s
(2011) study (though actually in keeping with the findings of Richardson and
Roy, 2002), participants in this study expected to be able to navigate their
regular routes independently and were disappointed when support was
lacking to enable them to do so. It is possible that this discrepancy is
explained by the fact that almost all the participants in this study had spent
some time in special education establishments where this would be a normal
expectation.
Q, before attending her first university, had chosen not to apply for a DSA
assessment and, in any case, did not need specialist mobility training,
because she had enough sight to be able to make use of a simple tour of the
campus, which she assumed would be offered as standard. However, no such
tour was provided, and Q found the disability officer somewhat
unapproachable so felt unable to ask, although later regretted this:
46

47. “I wasn't used to getting lost and not knowing where things were ...I always
used to know exactly where I was going …. it was frustrating ...”this doesn't
happen to me – I don't get lost.”
Q's comment here shows that her competence difficulties with mobility
affected her at a deeper level; they also affected her sense of autonomy, of
who she was, a person in charge of her own life. This may serve to explain
why other students also found it difficult when their disability services
department refused them support to navigate routes that were considered
irrelevant to their academic needs.
M, for example, was told that his mobility induction would not cover access to
the library – since everything he was entitled to could be provided through the
special access centre. Whatever the rationale behind such as decision, it
could be seen firstly as stigmatizing and excluding – M was effectively shut
out of the library – and, secondly, as an attack on M's sense of autonomy and
competence. He was not simply being refused the chance to navigate an
important route independently, he was being denied a say in what routes were
important; one could read into that an implication that he was not deemed
competent to make such decisions. M found his own solution to the problem:
“I knew I'd need to go there to get (PDF) books put on CD and things like that
... Luckily for me when I was going to and from lectures I went past the
library, so when … [someone] explained to me where they were, I found
them.”
M encountered further difficulty when, because of problems with his
accommodation (and perhaps also because he was seeking out a sense of
relatedness, of belonging to a community, that university life was not
providing), he took the decision to move back to his home town, only a short
bus ride from the university city. He found that no one was prepared to help
47

48. him learn the routes to and from the bus stops. M ultimately resolved the
problem by accessing the support he was entitled to from social services as a
care leaver; they, too, were reluctant to pay for his mobility training, but initially
offered to provide a taxi instead. Eventually, perhaps after exploring in full the
financial implications, they concurred with M that mobility training was the
most effective solution to the problem.
Similarly, R wanted to use DSA funding to provide mobility support so that she
could access local food shops independently, but the university's disability
officer felt this was not a proper use of public funds. R's solution was to make
direct contact with an independent mobility trainer, who then came to the
university to help her argue the case:
“My mobility teacher said, 'Well, if I don't show [R] where the shops are, she
won't be able to get her food and she'll starve,' and they said, 'Well, yes, but
Student Finance won't support that'.”
In these two latter cases, it might well be that the disability officers were
correct in stating that the funding guidelines are too narrow to allow such a
use. However, both M and R clearly felt the need to resist being in a position
of dependency on others and took steps to regain control of their own lives.
Dealing with difficulties: the importance of self-advocacy
As the experiences of R and M may serve to illustrate, the usefulness of Self-
Determination Theory in explaining factors that affect student retention and
achievement is often most clearly demonstrated by exploring how students
respond to issues they perceived as barriers. In common with the participants
in studies by Morningstar et al (2010) and Reynolds, (2012), many of the
participants in this study had not only had to develop skills of self-advocacy,
but had come to understand how important this was to enhancing their
48

49. chances of achieving. K, for example, though grateful for the support she had
received from almost all staff, commented:
“Some of the lecturers aren't very ….. used to dealing with people with
visual impairment … if they're showing Power Points on the screen, they
don't send them to me in advance … you have to keep nagging … I usually
go up to them in person.”
Interviewer: Did you feel awkward about doing this?
K: “I don't know about “awkward” - it can be a bit of a hassle …But, if you
don't ask for help you don't get it, do you ? …. You have to know what you
want, and you have to make sure you get it.”
Following comments made by Trammel (2009), participants were asked if they
felt burdened by the extra work involved in explaining their needs to others.
T's response could be taken as typical:
“I just see it as something that's necessary and you've got to do it, so I never
really thought about …. any problems I might have with it, …. right, it needs
to be done – this is what they need to know – this is what I need to tell them
… and I need to do it so that I can get the best help possible for my degree .”
Both R and G were also emphatic about the importance of speaking out about
problems. R said:
“You've got to be kind-of pro-active ... if I see a problem then I try to pounce
on it … so that it doesn't become something bigger … people aren't
telepathic and if you don't come out of the woodwork and say, 'I've got a
problem,' then there's nothing that can be done.”
R's difficulties were multiple. Although the mobility problem discussed above
was ultimately resolved, she remained frustrated by the fact that the
university’s braille embosser was broken “for over a year” and, as far as she
was aware, the only measure taken to get round the difficulty was that an
external company was contracted to produce Braille exam papers as
necessary.
Then there was a further problem with reading materials for assignments:
49

50. “I had four assignments due in …. I needed an awful lot of stuff scanning -
my [specialist] support worker was ill for a few weeks and then she got onto
it ….[but]... one person can only do so much and that's between supporting
me in lectures. I had to ask ….[for] ….a month's extension, and I got two
completed, and I had to ask for another month's extension to get the other
two completed. The assignment extension people were liaising with the
disability department ...and saying, ''We don't usually provide students with
a two-months' extension.'”
R felt that she was being blamed for a problem that was none of her own
making, the university's failure to provide more than one trained support
worker. This was also beginning to cause difficulties in some of her lectures:
“The [non-specialist] support worker could not describe … I would say,
'What are they talking about?'
'Oh well – it's just a diagram.'
'What sort of diagram?'
'It's a tree diagram.'
'What's the tree diagram got on it?'
'Oh – oh, just numbers.’
We had a discussion in our lecture ...[about]... 'The Scream' – the painting –
and they were all talking about it and I said, ' What are they talking about?'
'Oh, it's just a famous painting.'
'What's it of?'
'Oh – it's of a man.'
When R brought up this issue, she was dismayed by the response. The
Disability Officer began by saying that R could not expect that all staff would
have basic training in working with VI students; it was normal for them to have
to learn ‘on the job’. She then went on to comment on R's sixth-form
placement in a special school. It's possible that she was unaware that, for R,
this had provided an escape from a deeply unhappy experience in
mainstream which had culminated in episodes of depression, self-harm and
attempted suicide:
“It wasn't said entirely seriously - it was … : <puts on over-bright over-jolly
voice> 'Oh – well you have been quite spoilt … haven't you?'”
It may be instructive in this respect to compare R's experience with that of T,
who encountered a problem when studying hexadecimal code. He felt
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51. uncomfortable complaining about his usually very reliable assistant, but in this
instance she did not have sufficient experience to explain what was displayed
on the board. He was relieved to get a very positive response from the
Disability Service:
“[They said,]'We'd rather you came and spoke to us if there's a problem
because, at the end of the day you are the most important person in this
whole situation and if it's not working for you then we want to find
something that does work.' ”
T also reported that the head of department would regularly stop to talk to him
and ask about his progress and any problems he was having. These differing
responses seem to come from very differing cultural positions: one viewing
the disabled student as a valued individual, and the others responding as if to
a needy child. R recognised that the use of the word ‘spoilt’ was intended to
be light-hearted, but:
“I thought: 'Well, do I lie down and accept that?' and I thought, 'Well, no.”…
It does show, really, a lack of understanding of what I need.”
It appears that at least some of the academic staff who dealt with R agreed. In
fact one of them supported her when she decided to take a complaint (about
this and a range of other issues) to the Dean. Another commented to her
afterwards:
“‘Look at it this way, [R], we should be ‘spoiling’ all of our students'.”
In the end, R's complaint was rejected, despite an acknowledgement that the
state of the embosser was “a failure” on the part of the university. She was
deeply disappointed by this result but, in explaining her decision to stay on at
her current university, commented that the warm support of her lecturers had
made “all the difference.”
51

52. M's experience of staff support was quite different. After discussing a range of
problems in the interview, he was asked if he'd found anybody “genuinely
helpful” and replied.
“I don't know. <Pause> There was one guy – there were a couple of people.”
It seems that there were increasing concerns about M's attendance. He
recounted how one member of the disability services staff had encouraged
him to visit his old college to seek assistance with acquiring a highly
specialised braille resource, but when he returned the next day he was
reprimanded by another member of the same team for his absence. This
seems unusually controlling behaviour to adopt towards an undergraduate.
Reeve (2002) states that research shows staff may resort to controlling
behaviours in response to problems with student engagement but that such
behaviours are counter-productive because they further undermine student
autonomy. However, he also comments that a distanced or laissez-faire
approach can be equally damaging.
The department's approach to M's exams could be seen as laissez-faire, even
though it was in accord with his original learning agreement:
“They'd send me the exam and I'd just do it at home on my own computer –
I had access to the internet – I could cheat whenever I liked ... there was no
supervision ... there was a time when …. I sat down to do the exam and I
didn't get it – I rung up because it hadn't arrived and I didn't get it until
about two weeks later.”
At the end of M's first year, it was clear that he would need to repeat. He
attended a meeting:
“We all said we'd all made mistakes.”
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53. It was then proposed that M's programme of study should include modules no
longer on offer to other students. M assumed that this was because the
relevant texts would be readily available but, as the new year started, the
same problems reoccurred and M quickly “lost interest” in the course
altogether.
In the meantime, Q had left her first university, where she felt isolated and
generally ill-at-ease, spent several happy months on the Camp America
programme and then begun afresh at another university in the same city as
M, whom she had known since her college days. Although feeling more
socially confident, Q discovered too late that her decision to live in the city
centre meant she was accommodated several miles away from all the others
students on her course, who lived in a student village a few miles out. The
subsequent isolation seems to have compounded doubts that she was
already having about the value of her course.
“I enjoyed it to a point, but part of me was thinking.... 'I don't actually know
where I'm going with this ... what I want at the end of it.... my dad was
saying, 'Just get through it' and I was thinking 'Yeah, but if I get through it
and then can't get a job at the end of it...' … As much as I love reading and I
love good books, there's bigger things in the world.”
M was, by this time, thoroughly disenchanted with academic life and the two
soon formed a much closer relationship. Q then discovered that she was
pregnant, and she and M made the joint decision to abandon their studies and
move to a small community where close friends were already settled.
Now, as Q embarks on her new course, she and M plan to move to an area
where she has strong family and friendship ties, and sufficient childcare
53

54. support to enable them both to successfully complete their studies. Both have
chosen courses with a much stronger vocational element than their original
degrees. Reflecting on this, Q commented:
“I don't want to be a mum on benefits all my life. I want a job, I want to
have a steady income because I've got a child …. that's made a big difference
to me personally because it's given me focus … it's not going to be easy
because, yeah, it's a lot of work, and my visual impairment on top of
that ...well, it never makes things easier … There are times when being a
mum is pretty stressful …. [but] I'm glad …. I don't actually think I've missed
out – it's given me that grounding …. I could have seen myself drifting
through life... [now] as tough as it's going to be, I actually feel like I can do
something.”
Q's comments about her own motivation seems to fit well with Deci and
Ryan's (2002:18) definition of the highest level of autonomous motivation as
being when goals are totally congruent with ideals and values. Furthermore,
her determination to “do something”, also suggests a parallel with Reynolds'
(2012) findings that participants had a strong sense of social responsibility
and a drive to make a contribution to the society they live in.
Similar comments apply to other participants in this study. For example, as
well as running a website which helps students with VI to keep connected, K
also attempted to set up a Disability Society at her university; A has made
use of his advocacy skills to campaign on behalf of other students with
disabilities. As a result, he has developed quite a wide circle of acquaintance
and seems to enjoy the experience of making a contribution to the community.
He has been invited to apply for the recently-created post of Disability
Champion.
54

55. Other participants also expressed altruistic attitudes; for example, E defined
the vision of “success” which motivated her as:
“The gaining of knowledge, understanding, empathy and morals in order to
help your society and the world in which you live.“
R, discussing her motives for participating in this study, said:
“By talking to people like you …. I'm hopefully improving someone else's
experiences …. I feel really sad when I hear about any other people going
through the same thing as me.”
R's comment shows she is under the impression that her experiences are not
unusually negative. In fact, at various points in her interview, she described
herself as “lucky”. A used the same word in relation to his departmental
support, and G in relation to the friendship of his flat mate. More generally, the
high praise expressed for academic staff they encountered, and the sense of
gratitude discussed above, might be seen as suggesting that most
participants felt the support they received was certainly not something to be
taken for granted. It seems that, on the basis of anecdotal evidence, most
participants felt that their experiences were not out of the ordinary. M and K
discussed their perception that drop-out rates were high amongst some
students with VI; M said that there were several “stories going round on the
internet” which matched his bad experience at his first university; and E and R
both spoke about friends who had experienced difficulties at other
universities. Although G and K, both achieved first class honours, which
makes them exceptional in some respects, the interviews took place before
the final exams, so they were not necessarily aware of this distinction.
55

56. Discussion
The categorization of visual impairment covers a wide range of conditions (varying
by, amongst other things, extent and stability of impairment, age of onset, and co-
morbidity); it is therefore arguable that there is really no such thing as a 'typical'
person with VI. However, the question then inevitably arises as to whether the
experiences recounted here can be considered as in any way representative of
that of the experiences of other undergraduates with VI. It would require a much
larger study to resolve that question authoritatively, perhaps ideally one which is
longitudinal, tracking at least one generation through from recruitment to
graduation. In the interim, it would surely be helpful to have more statistical
information available on outcomes for disabled students in relation to non-
continuation and length of time taken to complete degrees.
There can be no doubt that the recruitment method resulted in a bias towards
people who had spent two or more years in special education establishments (G
being the only exception). Some implications of this point, such as the value
participants' placed on independent mobility, have been briefly touched on above,
but it is beyond the scope of this study to determine whether, and to what, extent
educational experiences in mainstream and special provision affect the academic
aspirations of young people with VI (a question raised by Reed and Curtis, 2012)
and their ability to adapt successfully to academic life. However, this is surely a
matter of legitimate interest for possible future research.
The researcher’s position as a teacher at a special college for people with VI
gives rise to various questions concerning the validity of the findings. Did
participants feel they were speaking to, as it were, an’ insider’, someone at least
56

57. partially belonging in “the VI world”? R’s use of the phrase, “people like you”,
suggests that she did not think of the researcher in this way, but then she and the
researcher had not met before. Those who had done so (A, K, M and Q) may
have felt differently. There are issues of authority here, as well as of familiarity. In
the context of a 90-minute interview, shared familiar ground can have both
advantages and disadvantages: there is the possibility of reaching a greater depth
of understanding, but also a risk that one or both parties will leave an assumed
shared understanding as implicit when it might more fruitfully have been made
explicit. Finally, there is the matter of the researcher's own views and bias:
however open-ended interview questions may appear to be, it needs to be
recognised that, if interviews are understood as joint exercises in the making of
meaning, the researcher's own position will inevitably help to shape the meanings
that emerge.
Another factor affecting the generalizability and validity of the findings is the
question of whether the project was most likely to draw the attention of people
who felt they had special cause for complaint. Two particular points of comparison
with other studies are especially relevant here. The first is the sense of gratitude
that many participants expressed towards those who had helped them, and the
second is the stress many of them placed on the value of speaking out.
Bishop and Rhind (2011) and Reynolds (2012) also commented on the feelings of
gratitude reported by their participants. However, it is worth considering that
studies based on student perceptions may be biased by an element of modesty,
which might incline some participants to downplay their own achievements and
slightly exaggerate the helpfulness of others. Some comments repeated here
provide evidence that some lecturers are making extra efforts to support blind
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58. students, but were most of the lecturers encountered really “fantastic” or simply
doing a good job?
On the other side of the coin, it might be hypothesised that some participants
would have found it difficult to be self-critical and might therefore be more inclined
to blame others for any perceived failure. However, this brings us to the
comparison with the findings of Morningstar et al (2010) and Reynolds (2012),
both of which provide support for the idea that disabled students are increasingly
aware of the importance of self-advocacy and therefore also perhaps increasingly
ready to speak out about perceived injustice. It is also worth noting at this juncture
that the issue raised by R about the training of support staff is in accord with
concerns raised by Ashworth, Bloxham and Pearce (2010) and Bishop and Rhind
(2011).
Although Trammel (2009) suggests that students may find having to approach
teachers directly to explain their needs a negative experience, the findings of this
study suggest that a positive response from staff may increase students'
perception of themselves as autonomous and competent. However, it might be
fruitful for future research in this area to explore whether those with more obvious
disabilities receive more sympathetic treatment than those with less visible
impairments. This issue does also raise concerns about what happens to those
individuals who feel unable to approach staff directly. If, in order to achieve,
disabled students require better self-advocacy skills than their non-disabled peers,
does this mean that the Higher Education system is still discriminatory? One
possible response is to this is that it has long been argued that blanket
assumptions about people with disabilities are unhelpful and that those they
encounter should always aim to see 'the person, not the condition’. It may
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59. therefore not be unreasonable to expect that those university students who, by
nature of their impairments, have highly individualised needs, should be able to
communicate those needs effectively. As R commented, “people aren't telepathic”
and so the development of skills in self-advocacy should perhaps be seen as an
essential part of any programme designed to prepare young disabled students for
adult life.
It is impossible to say with any certainty how much of a difference it would have
made to M, at his first university, if he had either been offered, or been better able
to argue for, support more appropriate to his perceived needs. However, the
experience of other participants in this study does offer support for Reynolds'
(2012) suggestion that a 'high-touch' culture can have a positive impact on the
retention and achievement of students with additional vulnerabilities or
impairments. A, T and R, all spoke very highly of the support received (though in
R's case specifically limited to staff in one academic department together with one
trained support worker). Given that there are clearly limits on how much support
lecturers can provide, A's experience in particular suggests that the use of
postgraduate student mentors may be an effective and efficient way of providing
'high-touch' support.
Reeve (2002:186), having described autonomy-supportive practices, as
“responsive … supportive … flexible” comments that it is much easier to
recognise the opposite, controlling, approach: typified by rigidity and inflexibility.
Where disputes have arisen, findings suggest that it is not simply the decisions
themselves which are contentious but also the language in which they are
couched. In other words, despite reports of more positive staff attitudes, when
attitude does play a part in any perceived problem, it generally tends to become
59