Reduced Course Loads: Cons

In my previous post I discussed some of the advantages of taking a reduced course load in university. Now, it’s time to delve into the disadvantages.

I’ve found that there are a variety of drawbacks to taking a reduced course load.

The first thing that came to my mind when I started writing down ideas on this topic was the comments you’ll get from abled people. For example, it’s common practice in small-talk for people to ask what year of university you’re in. But what do you say when you’ve been in school for three years, but you’ve only completed first-level classes and are therefore technically in your second year of studies? That you’re in your second year? That’s what I generally go with, but then comes the follow-up: “Oh, so you only have two years left!” Do you correct them? Do you just laugh and agree?

I’m sure this would be less of a problem for non-autistic students, but for many autistics small-talk is mystifying at best and terrifying at worst. The last thing we want is to be regularly put in a position where we have to choose on the spot whether to lie for the sake of the conversation or correct the other person and make things uncomfortable. But since most people assume that you’ll take at most five years to complete a four-year degree, students taking half of a standard course load will frequently have to make that choice.

A second drawback to taking fewer courses is that your peers will complete their degrees faster than you. This means that rather than building a peer group over the years and having people you can readily work with on assignments, you’re starting from scratch every time.

Being a disabled university student is already an isolating experience for a variety of reasons. You have less energy available to spend on socializing, you’re more likely to have a mental illness like social anxiety, you take longer to do your work than your peers and need longer breaks in between— making group work that much harder to coordinate, you can’t physically be on campus for as long… The list goes on. Now, add to all that the fact that you have to start the process of finding study partners over again for almost every class.

Another con of reduced course loads is that programs tend to be structured assuming you’ll be taking four to five classes per semester. The first parts of all your classes will likely only run in the fall semester, and the second parts will likely only run in the winter semester. This can quickly make prerequisites very hard to manage, especially if you need to drop any classes for whatever reason.

Take me for example. This past fall, I tried taking Astrophysics and Multivariable Calculus I. My plan was to take a second year physics class and Multivariable Calculus II in the winter semester, because I needed Calc II as a co-requisite for the physics class. Unfortunately, my financial situation took a turn for the worse in the fall and I ended up having to drop both of my fall classes. This left me in a kind of educational limbo: none of the prerequisite classes were being run in the winter, and I didn’t have the right prerequisites to take the winter classes that were running. I ended up having to take an involuntary year off until next fall, which is the soonest any classes I can take will run.

The takeaway? It’s all very well and good to say you’ll take two classes per semester, but it just doesn’t happen when the classes you need only run once per year.

The last thing I want to mention is a bit harder for me to talk about because it hits pretty close to home. I’ll say it bluntly: it’s discouraging knowing you have so many years to go before you’ll finish your degree. In my previous posts, I’ve gone over some of the things that make it so much harder for disabled students to attend university. But one of the hardest things for me is knowing that I’ll be throwing myself at these barriers for the better part of a decade before I’ll see the other side. And then there’ll be grad school, something I can’t even begin to prepare for because I’m channelling all of my energy into just surviving my undergraduate studies.

Through it all, there’s that voice in the back of my head telling me it’s impossible, telling me to just give up, that it’s selfish of me to spend so much time and money floundering in a system designed to keep people like me out.

I don’t know how to mitigate the disadvantages that come with a reduced course load. What I do know, however, is that there need to be more conversations about them. I’m sure there are other students going through the same challenges as me, but when you’re living it you feel so alone. It’s hard for me to even write about this stuff because it gets so close to my insecurities, but I really want to let other disabled students know that they aren’t alone in experiencing these challenges. Together, I think we can start to change things.