Elite Universities Flooded by Disability Claims — How Wealthy Students Exploit the System for Academic Edge

A quiet revolution is unfolding inside America’s most prestigious universities. Disability accommodations — once a lifeline for those in genuine need — have ballooned into a strategic weapon for privilege. At institutions like Stanford and Harvard, an astonishing one-third of students now claim some form of disability, turning a safeguard into a competitive advantage.

The story begins with a shift in 2008, when the Americans with Disabilities Act expanded its scope. Suddenly, “learning, reading, concentrating, thinking” qualified as disabilities. Universities, eager to comply, lowered the bar for proof. Today, a doctor’s note often suffices to secure perks like extra test time.

But what was meant to level the playing field is now buckling under its own weight. Testing centers overflow. At the University of Chicago, physicist Juan Collar warns that low-distraction rooms meant for disabled students have become “more distracting than classrooms.” The system strains, and those with true needs risk being lost in the chaos.

The pattern is clear: this trend thrives at wealthy, selective schools. Public community colleges see just 3–4 percent of students with accommodations, but elite universities report far higher figures, with many students newly diagnosed once on campus. One professor admits, “It’s not about kids in wheelchairs. It’s rich kids getting extra time on tests.”

The incentives are undeniable. Extra minutes on exams like the LSAT can translate to life-changing scores. The Varsity Blues scandal exposed wealthy parents willing to pay for fake diagnoses. Meanwhile, a culture of medicalizing normal academic stress flourishes. Will Lindstrom of the University of Georgia notes students who almost wear their diagnoses as part of their identity.

This twist undercuts education’s core value. Steven Sloman of Brown warns that untimed tests risk creating a “two-speed student population,” where grades no longer measure raw ability but access to accommodations.

The cruel irony: a law meant to promote fairness now widens the gap. Low-income students with real disabilities still fight for support, while privileged peers exploit the system to leap ahead. Administrators wonder: at what point does the number become unsustainable?

The ADA’s noble intent is compromised. When disability becomes a label for advantage at the nation’s top schools, merit itself is on the line — and it’s the meaning of achievement that’s truly at risk.