Degree attainment in STEM fields

Accurate numbers for people with disabilities are difficult to obtain and vary with the survey methodology, how disability is defined, and how the questions are phrased. The US Census Bureau 2011–2015 American Community Survey estimates 5.8% of the noninstitutionalized population of US citizens and permanent residents between the ages of 18 and 34 years have a disability.⁶ The US Census Bureau 2010 Survey of Income and Program Participation estimates that 12.2% of the noninstitutionalized US population between ages 6 and 14 years have a disability,⁷ and 16.6% of those 21 to 64 years working age in the US population have a disability.⁸ At the same time, approximately 9% of K–12 students are enrolled in Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) programs.⁹ The IDEA data are perhaps the most reliable and informative metric because they hinge on the actual percentage of students who receive classroom accommodations for a disability; “disability” is functionally defined as an impairment that requires accommodations for the student to reach his/her educational potential. Table I lists the distribution of specific measures of disabilities among grade-school-aged children and highlights the difficulty in quantifying the number of people with a disability.⁸ It is unclear how a person with an amputated arm, severe depression, or anxiety would fit in this rubric. This distribution would change, and numbers would generally increase among an older population.

Table I. Prevalence of specific measures of disabilities among children younger than 15 years in the United States.⁸ This gives a snapshot of the distribution of disabilities that may be encountered in an educational setting. As the population ages, the prevalence will shift and increase in most cases.

There is a leaky pipeline in STEM degree attainment for students with disabilities. Representation among enrolled STEM undergraduate and graduate students dropped from 10% to 6%, respectively.¹⁰ Ultimately, people with disabilities account for less than 2% of STEM doctorates earned by US citizens or permanent residents.^10,11 Worse yet, based on the Survey of Earned Doctorates data, the percentage of STEM PhD degrees earned by people with disabilities has not increased since the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) in 1990.* Figure 1 presents data (as a percentage) for US citizens and permanent residents earning doctoral degrees at US institutions. If the data were renormalized for US citizens and permanent residents with disabilities earning STEM doctoral degrees as a percentage of total STEM doctoral degrees conferred at US institutions, the time trend would be negative. That is to say, the number of foreign national students earning US STEM doctorate degrees is increasing faster than the number of US citizens and permanent residents earning STEM doctorate degrees (see Figure 2). During this time, a slow but steady increase in the percentage of degrees earned by both Black and Hispanic students has been realized, but not for Native Americans or persons with disabilities. It is noteworthy that the percentage of all US STEM doctorates earned by Black and Hispanic citizens plateaued from 2003 to 2008 when the number of non-US citizens earning STEM doctorates at US institutions was rapidly increasing. Reasons for the relative longitudinal success of the Black and Hispanic populations compared to the Native American community and persons with disabilities is neither well understood nor well studied.

Figure 1. Longitudinal trends for STEM doctorates received by four different underrepresented groups. Open symbols represent data for years prior to the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). Closed symbols represent post-ADA data. Least squares trend lines fit to post-ADA data show no statistical increase in percent of STEM doctorates earned by US citizens or permanent residents with disabilities. Data from 2010 and beyond are not included because the Survey of Earned Doctorates changed the definition of disability in the questionnaire.

Figure 2. (a) Longitudinal trend for STEM doctorates earned at US institutions by US citizens or permanent residents who are Hispanic, black, or identify as having a disability as a percentage of total STEM doctorates conferred. (b) Trend of total STEM doctorates earned by these groups plus the total STEM doctorates earned by non-US citizens or permanent residents from US institutions.

It can be asked, what should the percentage of STEM doctorates earned by persons with disabilities be? Embedded in this question is the intuitive thought that by having a disability, a significant fraction of this group would naturally not have the mental (or physical or psychological, etc.) stamina necessary to meet the minimum requirements. The argument follows that the expected participation rate for persons with disabilities should be significantly lower than the proportional 10% of the population because some (most?) people with disabilities are not suitable for higher education.

The question then can be asked, are there arbitrary organizational or cultural structures that unnecessarily inhibit the performance of people with disabilities in STEM fields? Such an alternative phrasing of the question neither assumes inherent limitations on one’s capacity to excel nor presupposes a defined set of acceptable pathways toward success. In this light, it is worthwhile to investigate potential societal and structural factors that may be impacting the performance and persistence of people with disabilities in STEM fields, and consider equitable means to support the inclusion of people with disabilities in STEM.

Factors influencing decreased participation of persons with disabilities

There is a vicious cycle for persons with disabilities interested in STEM.^{Reference Daughtry, Gibson and Abels12} Many do not achieve their educational goals and become underemployed or unemployed. The April 2018 labor force participation rate for persons with disabilities in the United States is only 20.9% with an 8.0% unemployment rate, compared to 68.3% and 3.5%, respectively, for people without disabilities.¹³ Among the employed, there is a 4% salary gap for those younger than 29 years of age with and without disabilities. This gap increases to 13% in the prime earning period between 40 and 49 years old.¹⁰ Employment outcomes for persons with disabilities have not improved since 1990, and between 2008 and 2010, workers with disabilities left the workforce at five times the average rate.¹⁴ The consequent absence of successful persons with disabilities in prominent positions fails to provide the role models necessary to break societal prejudices or to serve as avatars for the next generation of students with disabilities.

This disparate outcome for students with disabilities does not result from a lack of interest in STEM fields by persons with disabilities. Students with disabilities desire to pursue a STEM degree at approximately the same rate as students without disabilities at the time of high school/college transition (21.7% versus 23.1%) and undergraduate/graduate transition (20.3% versus 21.3%).¹⁰ There is, however, a larger dropout rate for persons with disabilities following each transition.

The transition from high school to college is difficult for many students, particularly for students with disabilities. Most students struggle with the transition from the relatively structured high school/family setting to the new freedoms of being on their own. The life and study skills needed in high school are not necessarily adequate for the university/dorm setting. In high school, US students with disabilities are granted accommodations based on their Section 504 (S504) plan or Individualized Education Plan (IEP) determined by a panel of parents, teachers, and educational support staff; often students are not consulted while determining what accommodations will be implemented. In the college or university setting, the student is expected to assume leadership in anticipating and negotiating needed accommodations for classes and within the community—often for the first time and in addition to the stresses experienced during such a transition for all students. Centralized disability support services (DSS) do not offer the level of assistance that one may expect; the inherent role of DSS is institutional ADA compliance, not advocacy for students’ needs.

Once students fall behind their peers, they are less likely to persist through graduation. Unfortunately, only 24% of postsecondary students who received S504/IEP support in high school registered with Disability Student Services (DSS), as they exist in most US universities, prior to the start of classes, and only 60% of registered students at four-year colleges received accommodations.^{Reference Newmann, Wagner, Knokey, Marder, Nagle, Shaver and Wei15} Thus, few students register to receive the support needed to successfully launch a STEM career.

The University of Delaware (UD) is typical of a major research institution. Across all students, UD performs comparably to the national average, with a 25% initial enrollment in STEM, a 52% graduation rate in STEM, and 20% of undergraduate degrees awarded in STEM fields.^{Reference Chen and Kelly16} The 13% STEM dropout rate after the first year is primarily migration to other majors. Investigation of descriptive variables for the leaky pipeline indicated that having a first year GPA below 3.0 was associated with both switching from a STEM major and dropping out of UD. Failure to adequately secure needed accommodations places students with disabilities in an early academic hole that is difficult to escape. Of the 248 STEM students registered with DSS at UD, 149 have a current GPA below 3.0. Failure to successfully navigate the first year of college positions students with disabilities on track to neither persist in STEM nor actualize their career potential.

Societal factors contribute to persons with disabilities not seeking needed accommodations and contribute to feeling socially isolated. People with disabilities are caught between two communities and tend to identify with their race and gender. Disability is a descriptive characteristic. However, society tends to view people with disabilities through the prism of ability. For this reason, people with disabilities tend not to form a local supportive community in the manner of other underrepresented groups. It is instructive to note how this perception of one’s self plays into the language of identity. Only people with disabilities use “person first” language—I’m a chemist with a disability—that considers the disability ancillary to one’s sense of identity. All other classifications define and take precedent over the person—I’m a heterosexual, white, male chemist. Additionally, the descriptor for disability is inherently negative; the personal identity is being described by what they are presumed not to be.

There is still a significant degree of societal shame and distrust associated with having a disability that further drives peoples with disabilities away from a supportive community. Many parents and persons with disabilities are still grappling with what is “wrong” with the person. This leads to a late diagnosis and delivery of accommodations only after the student has fallen behind his/her full potential. Even with people appropriately diagnosed, proof that any accommodations are needed must be medically supported. And this, still, is often met with skepticism. While the need for accommodations for a person with visual, hearing, or mobility impairments are generally obvious, the need to accommodate people with less apparent disabilities (e.g., learning, depression, or anxiety) are often questioned, and the inclusion of people with “non-neurotypical” disabilities (e.g., autism, Tourette syndrome, or bipolar issues) is often socially resisted.

One significant consequence of the “vicious cycle” hindering degree attainment and the lack of a true “disability community” is the effective social isolation experienced by people with disabilities. The impacts of being a member of solo or token status (less than 15% representation) have been studied for the last 30 years.^{Reference Kanter17} Solo/token status has documented effects on the members of the minority group:

1. 1. Inducing feelings of high visibility that leads to added stress and performance pressure

2. 2. Increasing polarization between the two groups that leads to feelings of isolation

3. 3. Self-modification of the minority group’s behavior toward the majority group’s stereotype of the minority group.^{Reference Kanter17}

A marked decrease in memory and cognitive processing ability among underrepresented minorities experiencing solo/token status has also been documented.^{Reference Inzlicht and Ben-Zeev18–Reference Lord and Saenz20} It has been noted that solo status can lead to “stereotype threat”—a situation where individuals perceive that their actions will confirm stereotypes about their group.^{Reference Sekaquaptewa and Thompson21,Reference Steele and Aronson22} Both solo status and stereotype threat lead to decreased performance across different practical performance metrics.^{Reference Keller and Sekaquaptewa23–Reference Steele, Spencer, Aronson and Zanna26} In general, solo status and stereotype threat are additive,^{Reference Sekaquaptewa and Thompson21,Reference Kiefer, Sekaquaptewa and Barczyk24} affecting members of low-status groups (the disability community in this case) to a much greater extent than members of higher status groups.^{Reference Sekaquaptewa and Thompson27,Reference Aronson, Lustina, Good and Keough28} One proposed mechanism is decreased performance expectancies by members of disadvantaged groups in solo status situations.^{Reference Thompson and Sekaquaptewa29} Members of disadvantaged groups have a more negative reaction to the possibility of solo status^{Reference Cohen and Swim30} and develop more negative performance expectancies^{Reference Stangor, Carr and Kiang31} than do members of privileged groups. Performance expectancies are a better predictor of actual performance than solo status.^{Reference Sekaquaptewa and Thompson21}

Students with disabilities are more likely to attend two-year institutions (47%) than four-year institutions (42%), compared to nondisabled students who are more likely to attend four-year institutions (47%) than two-year institutions (42%).³² At the same time, students with disabilities are less likely to attend universities full-time, full-year (36.6%) than nondisabled counterparts (41.8%). They are more likely to attend school part-time or part-year (63.4%) than students without a reported disability (58.2%).³² Part-time students and students at two-year institutions are less likely to be exposed to research opportunities than their counterparts enrolled full-time at a four-year institution: 7.5% of graduate students with disabilities age 23 years or younger compared to 17.6% of graduate students without self-identified disabilities. The 23-year-old mark is significant because this is the age that one would start graduate school when finishing an undergraduate degree in 4 or 5 years.³³ Consequently, US citizens and permanent residents enrolled in science and engineering doctorate programs are less likely to be supported by a research assistantship if they have an identified disability (16.4%) than those with no reported disability (24.4%).³⁴ This further propagates along one’s career for opportunities to be on the best projects, write highly cited papers, receive awards, and land the best or most visible jobs.

Ideas to increase participation of persons with disabilities in STEM fields

Even though, or perhaps because, I have a disability—I broke my neck playing flag (American) football my freshman (first) year of college—I have struggled with justifying to myself what the appropriate interaction should be between a person with a disability who wants to be a fully integrated and contributing member of society, and a society that must change, or otherwise deviate from the status quo, to accommodate the inclusion by a person with a disability. As noted previously, there is a solid business case to be proffered as to why inclusion is beneficial to society. And moral cases can be made as well, be it allowing everyone to strive toward their full potential, supporting the dignity of living a productive life, or simply helping the disadvantaged and disenfranchised to fully participate in society’s bounty. Yet, the question remains. What are some simple guidelines to better facilitate the true inclusion of people with disabilities in STEM careers with maximum benefit and minimum effort for both the people with disabilities and society in general? My thoughts are not unique, and many have been similarly expressed by others in different formats.^{Reference Wong35,Reference Burgstahler36}

Create universal design that benefits everybody

“Universal Design” is the philosophy that products and environments should be usable by all people, to the greatest extent possible, without the need for further adaptation.^{Reference Burgstahler38,Reference Burgstahler and Cory39} Thus, an environment imagined that makes life easier for all users, not just people with disabilities is the goal of Universal Design. Universal Design is most often considered in physical spaces (see Figure 3). Automatic door openers, curb cuts, and adjustable-height counters are prevalent both around the research lab and around the town. These implementations are essential features for accessibility for persons with mobility impairments. In the lab, these are also widely used by staff with carts, people carrying equipment, and workers who may be significantly shorter or taller than average. However, Universal Design extends beyond the physical space to policies and procedures, to the access and delivery of information, and to organization of staff. Universal Design principles include equitable use, flexibility in use, simple and intuitive design, easy access to information, and tolerance for error.^{Reference Connell, Jones, Mace, Mueller, Mullick, Ostroff, Sanford, Steinfeld, Storry and Vanderheiden40} An environment imagined by Universal Design principles philosophically reimagines the physical, logistical, and organizational order of the workplace for the benefit of all users.

Figure 3. A visual representation of universal physical access in this photo of the blended ramp and steps at Vancouver, British Columbia’s Robson Square, designed by Canadian architect Arthur C. Erickson in 1980.