What’s the funniest thing that happened to the worst person?
The Professor’s Barriers and the Ironic Reversal
What’s the funniest thing that happened to the worst person? I was the only student in a wheelchair in our entire medical program. And my professor, Mr. Reynolds, made sure I never forgot it.
He positioned every lab station just high enough so I couldn’t reach it and put my textbooks onto the highest shelves. This was so he could draw attention to me in class.
When I requested accommodations, he’d sigh dramatically and say, “Hoss won’t make special exceptions for you”. He’d schedule mandatory study sessions in the basement classroom with no elevator access. Then act shocked when I couldn’t attend.
A doctor needs to be physically capable of responding to emergencies, he announced during our cardiology rotation while making direct eye contact with me. Some people simply aren’t built for the demands of this profession.
Reynolds loved creating arbitrary physical requirements that seemed designed specifically to exclude me. All students must be able to stand for 4-hour surgeries without breaks, he declared while updating the syllabus.
He’d make me demonstrate procedures while standing, even though they could easily be done sitting down. When I’d ask why standing was necessary, he’d say real doctors don’t negotiate with patients about their physical limitations.
I’m not being discriminatory, he told the dean when I filed my third accessibility complaint. I’m preparing students for the reality of medical practice where physical capability matters.
He’d moved our clinical rotations to the oldest building on campus with narrow doorways and no accessible restrooms. If she can’t navigate a simple hospital corridor, how will she handle a code blue? He’d ask other professors loud enough for me to hear.
But then one day, Reynolds didn’t show up for Monday morning lectures, and the substitute professor apologized for the delay. “Professor Reynolds had an accident over the weekend and will be out for a couple weeks,” she explained while students whispered among themselves.
By Wednesday, the whole medical school knew the truth about Reynolds accident. He’d been at his country club trying to impress a woman by jumping over the pool in a golf cart after drinking too much.
The golf cart flipped and pinned both his legs underneath, while security cameras captured every humiliating second. Both legs were shattered and he’d need months in a wheelchair while the bones healed.
The footage had already spread like wildfire on the school servers, complete with carnival music in the background.
When Reynolds returned 3 weeks later, he was rolling in a manual wheelchair with both legs in bright blue casts. The first thing he discovered was that his own classroom was inaccessible.
This was because he’d specifically chosen it for the three steps leading to his podium. He had to teach from the back of the room while students craned their necks to see him.
The irony was absolutely delicious watching him struggle with the barriers he’d deliberately created. His beloved basement classroom became offlimits since there was no elevator, and he’d fought against installing one for years.
