Learning Disabilities In Higher Ed: Community College Alum Open Up About Getting The Services They Needed

Across California, tens of thousands of students with learning disabilities are navigating higher ed. But not all of them are getting the support they need, and many have to learn to advocate for themselves.

The first time Tammy Carrillo enrolled at East Los Angeles College (ELAC), she didn’t know she had a learning disability. She also hadn’t thought of herself as college material.

At her continuation school in Montebello, most teachers “looked down” on her and her classmates, she said. “It was kind of like: We were going to school, but we were expected to fail.”

Carrillo grew up in poverty, watching her single mother struggle to make ends meet. By the time she enrolled at ELAC, she was also traumatized after witnessing two friends get killed. She was timid, and she had no idea what to major in. Students around her proudly declared: “I'm a nursing major,” or, “I'm going into business.” Carrillo just felt overwhelmed.

“It didn’t make sense to me,” she said. “So I just figured: It’s me. I’m the one who’s lacking something. I’m the one who’s not smart enough to be here.”

She grew tired of struggling aimlessly. Then, she quit.

A second try, with help this time

Fifteen years later — and with three children of her own — Carillo decided to re-enroll at ELAC.

But despite being highly motivated, Carrillo was terrified. She didn’t want to return to school just to quit all over again.

She wanted to earn more money to give her children a better life. She wanted to follow in her aunt’s footsteps, who graduated from USC. She also wanted to honor her friends. They’d all been shot at during a drive-by when they were teenagers, but only Carrillo survived.

“We were all kids, and they never got a chance to have what I have,” she said.

But even with a light course load, she struggled again, especially in math.

She described her experience to a mentor. Her mentor listened closely and recommended that she look into ELAC's Diverseabilities Student Program and Services (DSPS), which provides support for students with learning, physical, or psychological disabilities.

After speaking with DSPS office personnel, Carrillo agreed to be assessed for a learning disability — but she was initially hesitant.

“What does this mean?” she wondered. “Does this mean I can’t learn properly? Does this mean I can’t graduate?”

Through the assessment, Carrillo was diagnosed with a processing deficit. “That just means it takes me a little bit longer to get to where I need to,” she said.

ELAC provided her with a note-taker and a personal counselor. She also qualified for priority registration, more time to finish exams, and the option of taking them in an alternate space with a proctor. When Carrillo didn’t have a note-taker, she used an electronic smartpen, which pairs audio notes to written notes, so she could “go back and just hear what I needed to hear and maybe redo my notes if I missed something.”

Her academic experience transformed. “It was a totally different ball game for me,” she said. “I loved going to ELAC.”

She graduated from ELAC in 2021, then went on to earn a bachelor’s degree in psychology at Cal State L.A. Come fall, she’ll be starting a master’s program in rehabilitation counseling. Her goal is to help students with any kind of disability.

On her graduation day, Carrillo paused to take it all in. She was in her car, clad in a cap and gown, with her mom and children in tow. “Knowing where I've come from, it was a huge accomplishment,” she said.

Being told 'school is not for you'

Like Carrillo, Christopher Elquizabal attended a continuation school in Southern California. He was removed from his home when he was a teenager. At school, a counselor told him college was not for him, and Elquizabal believed her.

“I never thought I was a good student,” he said. “I always struggled academically.”

Instead of college, Elquizabal’s counselor encouraged him to go to night school and earn a certificate. Soon after, he signed up for a medical billing program.

But one of Elquizabal’s friends had pushy parents, and they were forcing her to go to college. “I'm not going by myself,” she told Elquizabal. The next thing he knew, he was enrolled at Fullerton College.

He signed up for courses in Chicano studies, Africana studies, and social psychology and found himself captivated. The college’s Disability Support Services office also diagnosed him with an auditory processing disorder and provided him with services. Suddenly, school wasn’t so hard.

After transferring to Cal State Long Beach, he began to focus on students with disabilities, in part because of his coursework.

“I started noticing that a lot of Black and brown students, in particular males, tend to be funneled into special education programs, and they have a high propensity to also be diagnosed with — or at least qualify for services — under ‘emotional disturbance,’” he said.

Elquizabal then went on to earn a master’s degree at Harvard, where he focused on the school-to-prison pipeline. There, he thought about all the times he was forced to miss recess or placed in detention, usually after “shutting down” when struggling in class.

After getting the accommodations he needed, Christopher Elquizabal went on to earn a doctoral degree in education at USC.

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Courtesy of Christopher Elquizabal

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He also learned that “if you’re Black and brown, you're more likely to end up in special education, which then leads to behavioral interventions, which then leads to the likelihood that you're going to end up in prison.”

Ultimately, Elquizabal earned a doctoral degree in education at USC, where his dissertation focused on students with disabilities in higher ed. Today, he is the dean of Student Accessibility and Wellness Services at Cerritos College.

He encourages prospective students with learning disabilities to visit campuses and ask about the services and programs that might be available to them. He also encourages campus leaders to recognize “the disability community is one of the largest minority communities on campus.”

“We tend to sort of slice up students into identity pieces,” he added. “But the reality is our students are also undocumented. Our students are also LGBTQ. Our students are also Black. Our students are also part of foster care, they’re parents. We see every population in our office.”