Accessibility Is Not Lowering the Bar: Universal Design in the Voice Studio
I advocate pretty fiercely for students with disabilities, neurodivergent students, and students with different learning needs. Sometimes there’s an assumption that accessibility means lowering expectations, and I think that fundamentally misunderstands both accessibility and good teaching.
An accommodation isn’t a shortcut. Flexible teaching isn’t lesser teaching. Giving a student another way to access information doesn’t mean we’re asking less of them.
One of the things I appreciate about Universal Design for Learning is that it starts from the premise that learner variability is normal. Students don’t all process language, sensory information, movement, emotion, music, or feedback in exactly the same way. So why would I expect every brain to learn singing the same way?
If I’m teaching registration, I might explain what’s happening anatomically. With another student, we might use imagery. We might use movement, listen to an example, look at something visually, or have me demonstrate it. I might record an exercise so they can practice with it later. One student might need the process written down while another understands it immediately after physically experiencing it. The technical goal hasn’t changed. We’re finding the doorway that allows that particular student to access it.
There are also always fidgets available in my studio, and I have flexible seating. Students don’t have to earn those things or disclose a diagnosis before they’re allowed to use them. If sitting perfectly still isn’t the skill I’m teaching, I don’t know why I would make sitting perfectly still a prerequisite for learning how to sing.
That doesn’t mean every support works for every student. Research on fidgets, for example, is mixed. Some studies have found improvements in attention or on-task behavior for certain students and under certain conditions, while other research has found particular fidget devices can become distracting. To me, that’s an argument for individualized teaching, not an argument against accessibility.
There isn’t a magic chair, a magic fidget, or, for that matter, a magic vocal exercise. One student may regulate attention beautifully while moving. Another student may become completely distracted by the same movement. My job isn’t to decide which one is the “right” kind of learner. My job is to pay attention to what allows the individual student in front of me to access the work.
I also think we need to distinguish between difficulty and barriers. Sometimes something is difficult because learning a complicated skill is difficult. Singing is hard! Coordinating breath, registration, resonance, articulation, musicianship, acting, and language is hard. Preparing for an audition is hard. Receiving feedback can be hard. Students absolutely need opportunities to struggle productively.
But sometimes something is difficult because we’ve put an unnecessary barrier between the student and the thing we’re actually trying to teach. Those are different problems.
If I give a student a written reminder because working memory is getting in the way, they still have to sing. If I let someone stand instead of sit, they still have to learn the music. If I explain the same technical concept three different ways, the student still has to develop the coordination. Removing an unnecessary barrier doesn’t do the work for the student. It allows the student to actually do the work.
And these practices don’t only benefit students with identified disabilities. A visual aid I create for one student might suddenly make something click for three others. Written instructions may support a student with a learning disability, but they may also help the exhausted teenager walking into my studio after a seven-hour school day. Flexible seating might help one student regulate attention and simply make another student feel more comfortable and available for learning.
That’s why I would rather build flexibility into my studio from the beginning than make students continually prove that they deserve it.
I expect a lot from my students. Accessibility doesn’t contradict that. If anything, teaching this way requires me to continually ask myself a harder question: Is this student struggling with the skill I’m actually teaching, or are they struggling with the way I’ve chosen to teach it?
Sometimes the student needs more practice. Sometimes I need to teach it differently. Knowing the difference is part of my job.
Advocating for students who learn differently does not make me a lesser teacher. Learning how to teach those students well has made me a better one. The goal was never to create students who are exceptionally good at learning from me. The goal is to help each student become the strongest, healthiest, most independent artist they can become.
Research and Further Reading
Stalvey, S., & Brasell, H. (2006). Using stress balls to focus the attention of sixth-grade learners. Journal of At-Risk Issues, 12(2), 7–16.
Aspiranti, K. B., & Hulac, D. M. (2022). Using fidget spinners to improve on-task classroom behavior for students with ADHD. Behavior Analysis in Practice,
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