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/ NEWS / TUESDAY, APRIL 27, 2010 / THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN / KANSAN.COM
HOW MANY KU STUDENTS HAVE DISABILITIES?
Fall 2009 Students Served 646
Acquired Brain Injury 8
ADHD 262
Blind/Low Vision 13
Deaf/Hard of Hearing 16
Dexterity Disability 3
Learning Disability 209
Medical Disability 53
Mobility Disability 3
Psychiatric Disability 79
Number includes permanent and temporary disabilities, based on students who self-identified to Disability Resources.
Office of Student Success Student Profile
Matt Snoeman, a sophomore from Hays, makes his morning commute from Daisy Hill to Wescoe Hall. He drives his wheelchair, which is built to handle the bumps and hills of campus, to his morning class.
Photos by Howard Ting/KANSAN
Brian Smith, senior from Oklahoma City, drives his Toyota Caring up steep hills to campus by driving or taking the bus.
Carmen Thomas, a sophomore from Olathe, shows off her wardrobe in her dorm room. Carmen enjoys shopping with her roommate Sabrina Stadel, a sophomore from Shawnee.
Mount Oread disables
The very traditions and the alma mater of this University trumpet the beauty of the hills. The terrain is the biggest challenge to the University's efforts to be more accessible to students with disabilities.
Campus rests atop Mount Oread, which is 1,030 feet above sea level compared with surrounding altitudes of about 900 feet. The difference in elevation between the highest point on campus at Fraser Hall and the lowest near Memorial Stadium is about 80 feet, the height of an eight-story building.
But topography is just one of many factors hindering access.
But topography is just one of many factors hindering access Old buildings present tremendous barriers for physically disabled students.
Although the University has plans to improve access to Lippincott and other historic buildings, one of the major hindrances to retrofitting is historic preservation.
Bailey, Dyche, Lippincott, Strong and Spooner halls are all registered with the National Register of Historic Places, and they are among the buildings that pose the biggest challenges for the disabled.
An even more daunting problem is the lack of money to pay for the maintenance and renovation of older buildings and a backlog of requests.
As of 2008, University buildings are in need of nearly $200 million in repairs - leaky roofs, fabric-covered wires, century-old plumbing and crumbling facades. None of these problems will be fixed until the state budget improves, said Jim Modig, the director of the design and construction department.
This year, the University received $14.8 million for construction and maintenance compared with $15.4 million last year. The University needs more than $20 million to maintain its 150 buildings and other campus facilities, according to Modig.
"We've been real fortunate in that we've had federal stimulus funding." Modi said. "That's been a tremendous help."
Dwindling state funds have forced the design and construction department to operate in what Modig calls "crisis mode," meaning that only the highest priority construction projects will be addressed this year. Making sure the University is compliant is near the top of that list.
Modig estimated the University has spent more than $5 million on updates since 1992 that comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act, which prohibits discrimination in housing, education and employment against people with disabilities. That does not account for all ADA expenditures at KU.
Steve Ramirez, KU's ADA coordinator, regularly receives complaint calls about building accessibility. An informal complaint is a phone call or e-mail. Ramirez said only two formal complaints have been filed in the past five years, both by KU employees with work-related grievances.
Improving services to physically disabled students is also high on KU Parking and Transit's agenda.
Donna Hultine, director of the parking department, said she planned to increase the number of handicap-accessible parking spaces on campus and curb the paratransit's inefficiencies by creating a new advisory board, made up of eight to 10 people representing students, faculty and community members. The advisory board would provide a voice for ADA complaints.
That idea came from AbleHawks, a student disability advocacy group. It was brought to Hultine's attention that more parking spots were marked accessible than were actually available. A study conducted by the group found that of the 406 spots marked accessible on campus, only 259 were ADA compliant.
That's something Hultine says she and the advisory board plan to fix. Redistributing the spots would put more handicapaccessible and van-accessible spaces on campus, making it easier for students with disabilities to get to and from class without climbing campus' steep terrain.
"it's good to have AbleHawks come in and say, 'You're not doing it right.' Hultine said. 'It's our intention to do it right.'
ABLEHAWKS (CONTINUED FROM 1A)
MATT'S DAY ON THE HILL
Matt drives his custom wheelchair back down the Wescoe ramp toward his next class in Budig Hall
— his blue eyes fixed on the sidewalk before him as a tuft of his blonde hair flies away from his forehead. His wheelchair motor hums in the background.
Matt's 500-pound black steel-framed six-wheeler is capable of tilting him 45-degrees backward with the sweep of the four-speed joystick controller that rests in his left hand. The low mechanical hum sounds like air being sucked through a vacuum.
In Budig 130, he parks his wheelchair in one of only two handicap-accessible spots and reclines as he walks for class to begin.
When campus sidewalks aren't covered in ice and it is not raining (he can't use his wheelchair outside in that weather), Matt cranks his chair to full speed — more than 8 miles per hour — going to and from class. Occasionally, he has to slow down for passers-by as he makes his way to anatomy class in Budig Hall. There, he has to wait for someone kind enough to open the door for him.
Like other students, Matt seems to be taking a light snooze as the professor lectures. He says he's really taking mental notes, trusting that his note-taker is jotting down the rest.
Matt's day begins at 6 a.m. with the low hum of his handicap-accessible door opening as Megan Ellendick, one of his four personal care assistants, enters his room to get him dressed and prepared for the day.
The two work together to strap Matt's arms and legs into a harness that is affixed to his wooden frame above his bed.
--the bristles back and forth against his gums and teeth.
An electronic controller hoists Matt out of bed and into a rolling shower chair made of plastic tubes and mesh that resembles a foldout lawn chair.
She turns off the water, dries Matt off, wraps a towel around him and then rolls him back to the harness that lifts him into the bed. There, Ollendieck dresses Matt and helps him back into his wheelchair.
Matt rolls to the bathroom where
Olliendke puts the toothbrush in his right hand, which he then presses against his left palm and glides
Ollendieck removes his pajamas, rolls him into the bathroom for a shower and helps him wash.
Ollendieck combs his hair, and the hour-long process of getting ready for the day is complete.
Eating allows Matt more independence, despite the limited dexterity of his fingers and hands.
He uses Velcro to attach the spoon or fork to his left hand and then clamps the utensils against his right hand, stabs his food and carefully raises it to his mouth.
Although his fork-gripping harness makes eating easier, Matt still has difficulty with foods that are too loose or too soft like rice and soup.
Mrs. E's Dining Hall staff members help by scooping food onto his plate and cutting it into smaller pieces.
Occasionally, Matt's bladder bag gets so full the release switch doesn't work. If that happens, he telephones Sabolil Chakraborty, a friend and resident assist in a nearby residence hall, who helps empty his bag manually.
Matt often jokes about using his leg bag in pickup lines.
Matt's light grip makes picking up a glass virtually impossible. Instead, he takes a swig from the blue mouthpiece that rests between his forearm and bicep. The mouthpiece is attached to a straw-like tube that extends from a water bag hanging from the back of his wheelchair. If his tube falls off his arm, he has to ask someone to pick it up and put it on his arm so he can nudge it up to his mouth.
Urinating is something Matt manages on his own, thanks to a tube connected to his bladder through an opening just beneath his navel. The tube feeds a storage bag that is attached with Velcro to his right leg. It's hidden underneath his clothing. The bag collects urine, and Matt can empty it himself by aiming the drainage tube into a toilet and flipping a small release switch on his wheelchair.
"Hey baby, why don't you come over here and help me drain my leg bag?" he jokes. "Who else could come up with that?"
"If you can do it, try to do it," he explains. "But if you need to do something or get somewhere quickly, asking for a helping hand is not a problem."
A simple trip to the bathroom requires a bit more time and personal assistance.
Matt says he chooses not to drain his bag on campus, not because he cannot access the bathrooms, but because he prefers to pee in private.
Shannon Currv. a junior from Lawrence exits the KU Jaylift that takes her to Blake Hall for class. Currv.
CARMEN'S LIFE WITHOUT ARMS
Carmen Thomas, 19, a sophomore from Olathe, finally arrives 10 minutes late to her 8 a.m. class in Fraser Hall, after waiting several minutes for the bus. When she reaches Fraser, no one is in the hall to open the door for her. It isn't the first time she's been late.
She parks outside the classroom door in her wheelchair. She asked the professor to keep the door open, but she must have forgotten again. She moves her head back and forth, hoping someone will catch a glimpse of her and let her in.
After several minutes of motioning, someone finally sees her and opens the door.
Carmen asks a classmate to pull out her notebook behind her chair and place it on the table in front of her. She reaches in her pink Coach purse, bites down on the clear plastic tube fitted over the pencil eraser, and begins jotting down notes with her mouth.
Because parking her wheelchair accessible van on campus can cost more than $200 per year in some lots and handicapped parking spaces are scarce, Carmen rides Jaylift — a service offered to permanently and temporarily disabled students. The bus picks students up 20 minutes before their classes. But that doesn't leave Carmen enough time to return to the dorms in time for lunch between classes.
This year, Jaylift received more than $182,757 in student fees, nearly 8 percent of KU Transit's budget.
MV Transportation, the company that runs Jaylift, reported an on-time performance rate of 94 percent for last January and February. That includes a total of 21 late rides in February out of 354 rides, according to an e-mail from Mike Sweaton, MV's general manager.
Being late don't seem to faze Carmen. Just being a Jayhawk is a dream come true.
Her brown eyes and bright smile seem to light up beneath her shoulder-length brown hair as she explains how much she loves KU and Kansas basketball. She's missed only one game in two years.
--bed and walks to the bathroom where Sabrina Stadel, her personal care assistant and roommate, helps with her morning routine.
Carmen was born with bilateral amelia, a disease that left her without arms. Some victims also lose their legs. Doctors diagnosed her with the disease 13 days before she was born. She has no arms and has shorter legs that allow her to walk short distances.
Carmen's day begins around 8:30 a.m. when she literally rolls out of
Carmen Thomas, a sophomore from Olathe, takes in mouth. Thomas, who has bilateral amelia, has used notes, sending text messages and typing on her laptop.
Sabrina squeezes a pearl-size drop of toothpaste onto a toothbrush and places it between the first two toes on Carmen's right foot. She glides it across her teeth and gums with a sweeping motion.
After both roommates are dressed and ready for class, which takes more than an hour because Carmen likes to be fashionable and is picky about what she wears, the two head to Mrs. E's where Sabrina feeds Carmen breakfast. Carmen can feed herself with her feet, but she opts for help in public. She says it's more polite than taking off her shoes in the cafeteria.
Carmen types on her computer pushes buttons to open doors and sends text messages with the help of her mouthstick, a piece of plastic on top of a short rod fitted with a rubber cap.
Everything in her dorm room from sinks and faucets to doorknobs and cabinet fixtures have been lowered so Carmen, who stands about 3 feet tall, can reach them. The room was custom fitted for her.
To exercise, Carmen rolls over the side of her wheelchair and onto the plum-colored velvet couch in her room and onto the floor, where she walks on both legs. She occasionally does Tae-Bo, which is similar to kick boxing.
Before she came to the University, her doctors and parents worried about the physical challenges this campus would pose.
Everyday, Carmen embraces that challenge and demonstrates that through her writing. She started writing with her mouth in kindergarten, and she began writing short stories and later fiction and poetry
She says her greatest work is a poem about her life without arms
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Watch an interview with Mary Ann Rasnak, director of KU Disability Resources, at kansan.com/videos.
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