The best way to understand anything is to become familiar with it, to drown yourself in it and let it become a part of you. While researching this story, I wondered how I would be able to write about a subject matter -- the handicap accessibility of campus -- that I am completely unfamiliar with.

I decided the best way for me to learn was to live it. To rent a wheelchair and spend some time -- in this case three days -- in the chair and live my life, but with a handicap. I took certain measures, however.

I didn't use the chair in my apartment; I don't live where I do based on its accessibility. I didn't spend all day, every day in the chair. Although I would have liked to, it just wasn't possible for me to do.

What I did do: go around campus to places that I normally wouldn't go but many other students would, such as Sackett and Hammond buildings, and the HUB-Robeson Center as well. I also went out downtown, just to a few bars, to see how living downtown compares to living on campus, on top of attending Monday's classes.

The first thing I learned is that moving around is hard. Granted, my arms aren't strong (or as strong as they could be), but that wasn't the issue. The issue was the amount of strength needed to overcome obstacles I never noticed before, such as bad curb cuts and bumpy sidewalks. I can't even count the number of times I almost fell out of my chair because of a curb being on the curb cut, or from a bad sidewalk.

I normally had a friend by my side, but that's abnormal. Nor can I tell you the number of times I almost lost control of the chair and went into the street because the cut to get into a parking lot was too steep.

The first night with the wheelchair, I decided to attempt to go around the block, just to try and get the hang of using the chair. I quickly noticed that the alley I walk down on a daily basis is otherwise unfriendly -- full of potholes, gravel and puddles -- the alley was my first real challenge.

Then, after making it to the sidewalk in front of my house, I got stuck on the sidewalk. A young woman walked toward me and offered her help, but I declined.

I realized that the difference between my experience and those of Jeff Hantz and Maggie Redden is that I can walk. That, whenever I wanted to, I could stand up and walk away from the chair. I can walk down steps, curbs and even cut through a field carrying the wheelchair.

With that thought in mind, I went around campus, exploring those areas I rarely frequent. I found that some places are difficult to get to and use, such as the third floor of Sackett Building, which has a ramp so steep my roommate could barely push me up it. But most other places are easier, the key difference being the inconvenience. Only certain doors have power openers, curb cuts are only in certain places, and ramps may be only in the back of the building.

Going to class was really no different than usual, outside of classmates asking why I was in a wheelchair. But it's the little things I noticed most. Having difficulty getting soda from a machine or a water fountain, going to the bar to get my own drink, or stepping over a curb were some of the problems that gave me a true sense of what accessibility is.

It isn't enough just to be able to get around for anywhere to be labeled "accessible." It must allow everyone to live.