My difficult experience as a disabled learner

By Patience Achieng

At just 14 years old, my life changed in ways I never expected.

A stroke left me unable to speak or walk. After two years of recovery, I regained my speech—but my mobility never returned.

From then on, I relied on a wheelchair. What followed wasn’t just a physical challenge, but a deeply emotional and psychological battle to access something many take for granted: education.

Finding a school that could accommodate my needs was a frustrating ordeal. I faced rejection after rejection. Most schools lacked ramps, accessible dormitories, or safe bathrooms. Some dismissed me—not because of my academic ability, but because I supposedly “needed too much help.” When I finally found a school, I had to navigate an environment that wasn’t designed for me: being carried up staircases by classmates, isolated from activities, and often excluded from learning spaces simply because they were inaccessible.

Sadly, my experience is not unique.

Locked out by design: The reality of inaccessible schools

Across Kenya, thousands of learners with disabilities remain locked out of quality education due to inaccessible infrastructure. Most schools lack basic modifications such as ramps, elevators, wide doorways, and adapted toilets. Even where physical access exists, the absence of assistive technology, trained personnel, and inclusive learning materials continues to hold learners with disabilities back. For instance, visually impaired students often struggle without Braille textbooks, and deaf students are left behind without sign language interpreters.

But perhaps even more damaging than the physical barriers are the social ones. Discrimination, stigma, and deeply rooted misconceptions about disability continue to isolate learners and leave lasting emotional scars. This exclusion not only hampers academic progress—it takes a toll on mental health. I know the pain of being treated like a “bother,” of being made to feel like a burden simply because the system isn’t built to support difference.

A call to action for inclusive education

As a youth disability advocate, I’ve witnessed how this exclusion feeds into the cycle of poverty and marginalization. Education is a fundamental right, and inclusive education goes beyond mere presence—it is about true participation and belonging.

I urge the Kenyan government, the Ministry of Education, and stakeholders in both the education and infrastructure sectors to take decisive action. We need comprehensive policies that prioritize the modification of school facilities, training for inclusive education personnel, the provision of assistive devices, and the promotion of a culture rooted in acceptance and support.

Let us break the barriers—both physical and attitudinal—that keep learners with disabilities on the margins. The journey toward an inclusive Kenya begins with accessible classrooms.

The writer is a Nguvu Change Leader at Nguvu Collective