There was one hitch. Since Longmore could use his right hand only with great difficulty, he would have no way to scroll up and down or open a new document. Longmore got on the phone. "Hey, Ray, got any ideas?"

Grott knew that Longmore had considerable mobility in his legs and feet. He located a foot pedal that would connect to Longmore's laptop through a keyboard port. The pedal has three switches; Grott programmed one to scroll up, another to scroll down, and a third to toggle between documents.

In the HSS building, where Longmore teaches "American Colonial History," the pedal sits on the floor near his left foot. Longmore can reach it easily without glancing down, much in the way that a driver reaches for a clutch pedal.

"It's working out great. It's just making lecturing a lot easier because I can sit down and see my notes and not have to worry about turning pages," Longmore said.

No Easy Solutions
Technology alone can't solve all problems. Sensitivity on the part of instructors and classmates is nearly as important. Take the situation of Angela Palmer, a graduate student in rehabilitation counseling who has Usher's Syndrome, a condition characterized by vision and hearing loss.

Palmer uses a guide dog to get around campus. To aid her hearing, she wears a cochlear implant, an artificial hearing device that is surgically inserted into the inner ear. But even with the implant, Palmer would have difficulty hearing her professors were it not for an assistive listening device loaned to her by the Disability Programs and Resource Center.

For the most part, the device, which is called PhonicEar, works great. In Palmer's class on substance abuse, for example, her professor, Janet Buchholz, speaks into a lapel microphone that is clipped to her blouse or jacket. A slim cord connects the microphone to a small FM radio transmitter that Buchholz carries in the pocket of her slacks. The transmitter sends Buchholz's voice to a tiny receiver in Palmer's jeans pocket. From there, it goes to a speech processor clipped to Palmer's waistband. The processor converts Buchholz's voice to electrical impulses and dispatches them up to Palmer's cochlear implant.

The assistive listening device makes it possible for Palmer to hear Buchholz just fine. Hearing what other students say is not as easy. While a second microphone is passed around during class discussion, many students forget to use it or can't be bothered.

That's frustrating and unfair for Palmer, who is shut out of the conversation because she has no idea what her classmates are saying. "It's like, OK, pass the mike! Pass the mike!" Palmer said. "It makes me feel kind of isolated."

But Palmer isn't the only one who misses out when her classmates don't use the microphone, said Anthony Moy, a staff member at the Disability Programs and Resource Center. Since Palmer can't join in the discussion, her classmates don't get the benefit of whatever she might have to say on the subject at hand, he said.

"This is an issue of access for all students, not just disabled students," Moy said. "Let's say the student who is being excluded happened to be Albert Einstein. Who is not benefiting now?"

Finding the right adaptive technology can be a never-ending process. The minute one problem is solved, another can take its place. That's what happened to Felstiner, who damaged her vocal chords by overuse of the speech-recognition program. Today, her voice is so weak that she cannot talk to someone in another room in her small Palo Alto home.

When Felstiner first started losing her voice, she panicked. She makes her living talking in front of groups of people. What if she couldn't do that anymore?

Felstiner found a solution in a classroom voice amplifier, which, like the PhonicEar, operates on FM radio signals. During class, Felstiner wears a lapel microphone clipped to her blouse, and a small, black transmitter hangs on a strap around her waist. Her amplified voice comes out of two bookshelf speakers connected to a radio receiver/amplifier.

Jumping Emotional Hurdles
Seeking out adaptive technologies can be emotionally difficult for people who haven't used them before. For many years, Patty Wright, a counselor and instructor who has multiple sclerosis, refused to use a wheelchair or even a cane because she was afraid of being stigmatized.

Instead, Wright said, she bobbed and weaved when she walked down the sidewalk. Getting to a meeting in another building on campus required so much physical exertion that she arrived soaked in sweat.

"Finally, one of my colleagues said, 'What looks more disabled, you sopping wet and disheveled or using a wheelchair?'" Wright recalled.

Today, Wright zips around in a motorized wheelchair, which is owned by the University and loaned to her for campus use.

Wright said she still battles an image problem but she's thrilled with her chair. It's a sporty-looking, candy-apple red with adjustable speeds and a cup holder for her coffee.

"The technology is there," Wright said. "The biggest obstacle is accepting the help. Ninety-nine percent of it is just getting past that psychological barrier."