What We Miss Without Elevators

When our son started elementary school, the building he attended didn’t have an elevator.

Since I use a wheelchair, my husband and I were given the choice of relocating him to another, all one-level, elementary school in the district. The relocation would have entailed providing our own back and forth transportation for him. While that didn’t create too much of a problem and the school was close-ish, we still declined the move. We liked the small class sizes and the family feel of the one in our neighborhood. There were a few classrooms at ground level, including the cafeteria and gym. We’d make it work!

And, like many people with disabilities know, the results from “making it work” can be mixed.

For the most part, it was a success. All assemblies and events were accessible, the cafeteria too. If we needed to visit a classroom on the upper floors, that’s when we were challenged.

My husband would transfer me from my wheelchair onto a regular chair, carry the folded manual wheelchair up the steps, open it, then jog back down the staircase, stand me up, swoop me into his arms, trudge up the steps again, drop me onto my wheelchair seat, and away we went…unless we had another staircase to conquer. Then, we’d repeat the process. I am out of breath just remembering this.

At the time, we were in our thirties, fit, and I weighed 125 lbs. Had I weighed more, or my husband hadn’t been able to dead-lift over 100 pounds, we’d have missed out on some of our son’s school activities. Twenty years later, this up and down chair-stair dance wouldn’t fly.

I have a love/hate relationship with elevators. I love that within seconds, they whisk me to higher floors. They’re effortless. I can stay in my wheelchair. Thanks to Elisha Otis and his safety break, I won’t plummet to my death. But as a highly claustrophobic person, I hate that they can be small, get stuck between floors, and the majority are windowless. I’ve been in elevators that are large enough for only two people, and one so thin I couldn’t turn my wheelchair around. But at least they were available. What I dislike most, is their absence.

Historical homes, shops, hotels, and some ice hockey rinks are examples of places without elevators. Most are excluded from the Americans with Disabilities Act requirements because of their ages. If there is a stair-less or ramped entrance, the lack of an elevator limits people with mobility issues to only one floor.

Flash forward to 2019 – 2020 and my son’s first two years in college. We were shocked to learn the required dorms were elevator-free with no other options. His first-floor room was a gift, the second-floor one another chair-stair challenge.

Like other 100+ year-old buildings, my neighborhood elementary school still doesn’t have an elevator despite the fact that it now houses half of the 4th and 5th graders in the district. Another, more accessible, school is available, if a student cannot navigate stairs, but forcing them to move has the potential to take them away from friends and a closer-to-home environment.

Those last two very relevant reasons? They’re also why we chose to “make it work” so many years ago without an elevator.

Note - As of June 2025, the elementary school mentioned above is no longer a building used for and by students.