AGXStarseed
Well-Known Member
(The following is not by me)
Sam Lawrence, a man with autism, pushes a walker into the water for use by participants at Mulberry Pool's Adaptive Recreation Opportunities class for those with disabilities, Thursday, Jan. 22, 2015, in Fort Collins, CO. Lawrence, who volunteers with the program, has two AA degrees and plans to transfer to CSU in the fall. (Photo: Erin Hull/The Coloradoan)
Sam Lawrence's photograph portfolio showcases contrast.
Black and white photos where light and shadow battle, where stark whites and deep blacks highlight and obscure wrinkles in faces and lines in hands.
He won an award for the images, taken for a photography class at Front Range Community College in Fort Collins. He also earned a spot on the Phi Theta Kappa All-Colorado Academic Team in March.
None of this shows that the 23-year-old Fort Collins resident had, as his mother describes, the developmental abilities of an 18-month-old for nearly half his life.
Lawrence, diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder at 2 1/2 years old, spent his youth in the dark, taking his meals or listening to his parents in rooms dimmed to prevent the sensory overload he would otherwise suffer. For his first decade, Janice Lawrence describes her son as "almost like he was in a coma."
Now, he can give a thoughtful analysis, including of how to help other people on the autism spectrum. In a paper he wrote for one of his classes, he laid out the problems society and those with autism face. It took dozens of drafts and revisions — communication issues are a hallmark for the disorder — but his clarity punched through in the end.
"Society has limited expectations for autistics," he wrote in the paper. "Most people think that it is not important for autistics to go to college … Instead, schools offer transition programs, where students are encouraged to take low level jobs. Students are trained in how to stock shelves or clean bedpans despite their intelligence, aspirations or talents."
Sam has even started an an online petition to increase state funding for autism support services and extend coverage until those with autism reach age 30. Otherwise, too many "fall through the cracks," Sam argued.
Sam had a safety net in the form of his parents, who fought to keep him from falling through those same cracks.
After he was diagnosed, they hunted for treatments. Between private tutors and a constant commitment to their son, they worked to cultivate a son who has learned algebra, is a whiz at function graphs. After graduating from Fossil Ridge High School, he finishesd one associates degree and is now working on his second at Front Range Community College. His free time is spent helping those coping with their own ailments through Fort Collins Adaptive Recreation Opportunities.
"If you're writing an article about someone like Sam," Janice said, "you're really writing an article about hope."
Sam's parents insist that people on the autism spectrum, like Sam, are full of potential; it's reaching that potential that requires traversing a set of steps unlike what the majority of the population experiences.
Even when he tested as having the developmental abilities of a toddler, he was able to ski, use a compass when hiking and assemble puzzles, Janice said. She called it the conundrum of autism: Poor communication and poor testing skills lead people to think they're stupid, when that's hardly the case, she said.
"They are just putting the world together differently, which is what needs to be recognized, respected and nurtured," she said.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 1 in 68 children in 2013 were identified as having autism spectrum disorder in the U.S. In Colorado, the ratio was about 1 in 100.
A 3-inch binder, packed until bursting with papers, showcases Sam's work through college algebra. Each problem needed to be written and solved step by step. His mother estimated the binder at a thousand pages.
After she showed off his work, Sam fidgeted in his chair before asking to put the papers back.
"He likes things nice and orderly," Janice said.
Sam slid the copy paper into its protective sheets and moved the plastic guard inside the binder to its proper spot before putting his work away.
Sam is still nervous around strangers and new settings and gives short, declarative statements as answers, not unlike someone who is exceptionally shy. His parents explain it as taking time to process the setting and expectations.
His first few semesters in college came with challenges until Sam learned how to behave in those settings. And because he has a unique speech pattern and trouble with verbal communication, it can lead to stigma. He's taking his classes online now, where he can choose whether he wants to tell his peers about his autism.
Sam's parents have spent years coaching him through various classes, from math to writing to comprehending how multiple-choice questions work. Because he thinks differently — in a way that's not catered to in common curriculum, they say — it has taken extra time.
"We've got to say we're really going to give them an education and not just babysit them," Janice said. "Our expectation should be higher than 'they're just going to push carts around.'"
Sam has become a regular volunteer with Adaptive Recreation Opportunities, helping primarily with setting up and putting away the equipment for a class to help people with multiple sclerosis. Before class on Thursday, he scouted the parking lot for regulars and announced when a new one would show up.
He treats it like a job, ARO leader Chelsea McGowan said. And if you show him how to do something once, he pretty much has it. He was especially engaging when volunteering with youth baseball, she said. And Sam even learned some sign language to better help a deaf woman in one of the programs, Renee Lee, therapeutic recreation supervisor, said.
It's full circle for a man who made use of the programs from the other end when he was a youth. And it can help break stereotypes, those with ARO said.
"That's why people's perceptions change, people like Sam," Lee said.
SOURCE (With Video): Fort Collins man smashing autism stereotypes
Sam Lawrence, a man with autism, pushes a walker into the water for use by participants at Mulberry Pool's Adaptive Recreation Opportunities class for those with disabilities, Thursday, Jan. 22, 2015, in Fort Collins, CO. Lawrence, who volunteers with the program, has two AA degrees and plans to transfer to CSU in the fall. (Photo: Erin Hull/The Coloradoan)
Sam Lawrence's photograph portfolio showcases contrast.
Black and white photos where light and shadow battle, where stark whites and deep blacks highlight and obscure wrinkles in faces and lines in hands.
He won an award for the images, taken for a photography class at Front Range Community College in Fort Collins. He also earned a spot on the Phi Theta Kappa All-Colorado Academic Team in March.
None of this shows that the 23-year-old Fort Collins resident had, as his mother describes, the developmental abilities of an 18-month-old for nearly half his life.
Lawrence, diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder at 2 1/2 years old, spent his youth in the dark, taking his meals or listening to his parents in rooms dimmed to prevent the sensory overload he would otherwise suffer. For his first decade, Janice Lawrence describes her son as "almost like he was in a coma."
Now, he can give a thoughtful analysis, including of how to help other people on the autism spectrum. In a paper he wrote for one of his classes, he laid out the problems society and those with autism face. It took dozens of drafts and revisions — communication issues are a hallmark for the disorder — but his clarity punched through in the end.
"Society has limited expectations for autistics," he wrote in the paper. "Most people think that it is not important for autistics to go to college … Instead, schools offer transition programs, where students are encouraged to take low level jobs. Students are trained in how to stock shelves or clean bedpans despite their intelligence, aspirations or talents."
Sam has even started an an online petition to increase state funding for autism support services and extend coverage until those with autism reach age 30. Otherwise, too many "fall through the cracks," Sam argued.
Sam had a safety net in the form of his parents, who fought to keep him from falling through those same cracks.
After he was diagnosed, they hunted for treatments. Between private tutors and a constant commitment to their son, they worked to cultivate a son who has learned algebra, is a whiz at function graphs. After graduating from Fossil Ridge High School, he finishesd one associates degree and is now working on his second at Front Range Community College. His free time is spent helping those coping with their own ailments through Fort Collins Adaptive Recreation Opportunities.
"If you're writing an article about someone like Sam," Janice said, "you're really writing an article about hope."
Sam's parents insist that people on the autism spectrum, like Sam, are full of potential; it's reaching that potential that requires traversing a set of steps unlike what the majority of the population experiences.
Even when he tested as having the developmental abilities of a toddler, he was able to ski, use a compass when hiking and assemble puzzles, Janice said. She called it the conundrum of autism: Poor communication and poor testing skills lead people to think they're stupid, when that's hardly the case, she said.
"They are just putting the world together differently, which is what needs to be recognized, respected and nurtured," she said.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 1 in 68 children in 2013 were identified as having autism spectrum disorder in the U.S. In Colorado, the ratio was about 1 in 100.
A 3-inch binder, packed until bursting with papers, showcases Sam's work through college algebra. Each problem needed to be written and solved step by step. His mother estimated the binder at a thousand pages.
After she showed off his work, Sam fidgeted in his chair before asking to put the papers back.
"He likes things nice and orderly," Janice said.
Sam slid the copy paper into its protective sheets and moved the plastic guard inside the binder to its proper spot before putting his work away.
Sam is still nervous around strangers and new settings and gives short, declarative statements as answers, not unlike someone who is exceptionally shy. His parents explain it as taking time to process the setting and expectations.
His first few semesters in college came with challenges until Sam learned how to behave in those settings. And because he has a unique speech pattern and trouble with verbal communication, it can lead to stigma. He's taking his classes online now, where he can choose whether he wants to tell his peers about his autism.
Sam's parents have spent years coaching him through various classes, from math to writing to comprehending how multiple-choice questions work. Because he thinks differently — in a way that's not catered to in common curriculum, they say — it has taken extra time.
"We've got to say we're really going to give them an education and not just babysit them," Janice said. "Our expectation should be higher than 'they're just going to push carts around.'"
Sam has become a regular volunteer with Adaptive Recreation Opportunities, helping primarily with setting up and putting away the equipment for a class to help people with multiple sclerosis. Before class on Thursday, he scouted the parking lot for regulars and announced when a new one would show up.
He treats it like a job, ARO leader Chelsea McGowan said. And if you show him how to do something once, he pretty much has it. He was especially engaging when volunteering with youth baseball, she said. And Sam even learned some sign language to better help a deaf woman in one of the programs, Renee Lee, therapeutic recreation supervisor, said.
It's full circle for a man who made use of the programs from the other end when he was a youth. And it can help break stereotypes, those with ARO said.
"That's why people's perceptions change, people like Sam," Lee said.
SOURCE (With Video): Fort Collins man smashing autism stereotypes
