MOST Harvard students, if invited to discuss their complaints and criticisms of undergraduate life, would probably hesitate for a moment and then offer something like. "Well, I hate getting up for my nine o'clock class," or "The heat never comes on when it's really cold" As last week's open meeting of the student-faculty committee on College life reminds us, not all students concerns are this frivolous. For Harvard's seriously disabled students, as speakers at the meeting made clear, even the most mundane details of everyday life can turn into serious problems; for them, virtually every freedom of college--from choosing classes to choosing roommates--is subject to some kind of restriction.

Federal regulations adopted in the late 1970s as additions to the Civil Rights Act mandate that the University make all essential facilities accessible to disabled students. But for the past five years, Harvard's promise of accessibility has remained unfulfilled. One disabled student, Rani Kronick, vice president of Advocating a Better Learning Environment (ABLE) recounts that in 1978, Harvard submitted to the federal government a transition plan outlining the University's effort to provide a choice of housing for handicapped students comparable to that of the rest of the Harvard community. According to that plan, by 1980 five Houses were to be made accessible to the disabled. Now, in 1983, only one House--Currier--is fully accessible to students with severe handicaps. Kronick says that she considered Harvard's failure to comply with the plan "a breach of contract."

Even in housing considered partially accessible, disabled students remain restricted and are often deprived of a chance to make friends and become full-fledged members of the college community. In Quincy House, the only handicapped-accessible River House, disabled students must use a service elevator and trace a complicated route to reach their rooms. The two wheelchair-accessible rooms in Quincy are singles, meaning disabled students cannot have roommates. Wheelchair-accessible rooms in Currier House are also exclusively singles. For disabled students, already set apart from the Harvard community because of chauvinism from the many students who fail to understand their problems, living in a single aggravates feelings of isolation. The disabled often have only minimal contact with other students.

In addition to housing, many University facilities are inaccessible. Students with impaired mobility, for example, cannot utilize such buildings as Sever Hall, Emerson Hall, and the second floor of Harvard Hall. The Science Center lecture rooms, though classified by the University as accessible, offer only limited space for a few wheelchairs--none of the seats can be reached. Located in University Hall, even the office of Thomas E. Crooks, faculty coordinator for handicapped students, is inaccessible, a situation ABLE President Lisa Chertkov '85 calls "completely unforgivable."

Even when they can get into classrooms, disabled students frequently encounter difficulties dealing with professors and teaching fellows; while many teachers show consideration towards the needs of handicapped students, others remain insensitive. For instance, one professor refused to show a deaf students a copy of his lecture outline. One section leader told a student unable to see the blackboard that "it was not his style" to make copies of his notes available to her.

Although disabled students often encounter similar insensitivity on the part of teachers (Kronick notes that "everybody has at least two examples"), they rarely report the problem. The student whose legal and moral rights have been violated "hates to push, for fear the professor will notice" and lower a grade, says Crooks. Chertkov agress, but adds that Crooks reinforces that fear, telling complaining students, "We'll push your complaint if you want, but this is the guy who's grading your term paper."

Disabled students face a score of additional challenges. The special shuttle van service has been highly erratic, creating difficulties for mobility-impaired students. Deaf students often have great difficulty communicating with friends, advisors, or even doctors, although the University does provide sign language interpreters for classes. Blind students often cannot find enough volunteer readers to enable them to complete reading assignments--only recently has Harvard made work-study funding available to readers. In addition, disabled students must suffer the loss of some shopping period privileges. The Registrar's office requires mobility-impaired students to submit a list of courses they intend to take several months before the start of each new term to insure those classes will be taught in accessible rooms. But as Chertkov asks, "If you can't visit a class, how can you know if you want to take it?" She also notes that if a disabled student decides to enroll in a course not on thier pre-registration list, the Registrar's office discourages the change. Thus, Harvard's pre-registration policy for handicapped students denies equal freedom of academic inquiry to disabled students.

SOLUTIONS to all these problems require structural policy changes. Some programs still in the planning stages might alleviate some of the difficulties of the disabled. Dotty Moser, coordinator for Harvard's program for the handicapped, said she was "very encouraged that some sensitivity programs targeted at the administration and faculty will be forthcoming." And she also sees hopes for a training program for drivers of the special shuttle van. The committee on College Life, in response to last week's open meeting, has initiated a review of current policies for the disabled.

But more than specific policies must change if Harvard hopes to improve the quality of life for disabled undergraduates. The University must establish a central office designed to improve communication with handicapped students and make a general commitment to assign greater priority to their needs. Until the attitudes of University officials change, disabled students will remain excluded from full participation in the Harvard community.

As is so often the case, reform cannot begin without greater communication. Crooks acknowledges that he does not have much contact with students and their difficulties, although he adds he would "like very much to improve that." Moser feels Harvard's system of mainstreaming disabled students leaves them without a clear sense of when to seek outside help. More fundamentally, the present University attitude makes disabled students feel annoying and burdensome. When students complain, "they're treated as if they were making waves," explains Chertkov.

Because the community of severely disabled students is small and closely knit, such impressions spread quickly. The University penalizes students when they seek help. Harvard's attitude, if not its policy, "tells disabled students 'You shouldn't have a right to equal opportunity. You're putting a burden on us and must accept inferior treatment,'" asserts Kronick.

Better communication could alleviate many of the difficulties the disabled must confront at Harvard. In many cases, ignorance and insensitivity--not structural shortcomings--cause the greatest hardships. A more sensitive atmosphere could temper many of the hardships handicapped students encounter. Finding out exactly what services disabled students want improved could save a great deal of confusion and frustration. When deciding which Houses to make more accessible during upcoming renovations, for example, the University ruled out Leverett Towers--which have accessible rooms--because other House facilities, including the Leverett library and Masters' residence, are not accessible. Instead, Harvard will attempt to improve accessibility at other Quad Houses. Had University officials discussed the matter with the students, they would have known that Kronick and others "feel strongly that it is much more important to have the roommates of your choice and live at the River than having those other facilities."

The problem "is not Tom Crooks," Kronick asserts, but rather the limited emphasis the University places on the concerns of the handicapped. "Crooks has numerous other duties, and he's overburdened," notes Chertkov. Harvard must recognize that making the college suitable to disabled students represents a major commitment and should establish a central office dedicated solely to disabled student issues. Such an office could function as an outreach program, contacting and helping disabled students rather than shifting all the burdens to them.

Despite the many unpleasant moments she has experienced as a disabled student at Harvard, Rani Kronick believes the University remains committed to the ideal of making a Harvard education--and a complete Harvard experience--available for qualified handicapped students. But until the University recognizes how sincere an effort is required to make that ideal a reality--until Harvard takes positive and constructive steps towards improving the quality of life for the handicapped--the Harvard experience for disabled students will be tainted by bitterness and frustration.