LEAP: Learn Earn and Prosper

06/01/2026

Happy June! We are getting close to the start of our summer residential programs, so why not take a look back at the past few years! What year did you spend your summer with LEAP?

04/24/2026

What happens when you bring a mini microphone to Spring Retreat?

We interviewed some of our LEAPsters about what they like about the weekend. It’s clear from their answers that LEAPsters value community and making connections!

04/24/2026

Please consider nominating our friends at The Innovation Cafe for “BEST PLACE TO GRAB A QUICK MEAL” in this years Seven Daysies!

This summer, LEAP Work Immersion participants will have the opportunity to work at the Cafe!

“The Innovation Cafe is more than just a place to eat - it provides opportunities to people with disabilities. Through our trainee program, local high school students gain work-based learning experience in our fast-paced kitchen. Our staff is proudly made up of entirely people with visual impairments, and not to mention, the food is quite delicious as well! It only takes a few minutes to nominate, and it would mean a lot to us if you did. Thank you!”

04/21/2026

Some smiling faces and some awesome webpages made by LEAPsters this weekend!
💻👾

04/20/2026

This past weekend was one of our favorite weekends of the year - Spring Retreat!!

Spring Retreat is always technology themed. This year, LEAPsters learned HTML coding to create their own webpages. Dr. Chuck Gardner from led the workshop on Saturday, teaching the group about all the code that happens behind the scenes to create a usable website. On Sunday, they showcased their webpages to families during a walk around presentation at .

My favorite part about the weekend is seeing the different assistive tech set ups - whether it’s software like Fusion, JAWS, or ZoomText. Using Braille devices, external keyboards, or a mouse. Or a combination of everything!

For LEAPsters who did not have a computer - We ordered computers through Computers For the Blind, which come equipped with a one year subscription to Fusion, JAWS, or ZoomText. At the end of the weekend, the LEAPsters got to take the computers home, and they are theirs to keep!

Stay tuned for more pics and videos from the weekend!

04/16/2026

This spring, LEAP virtual Work-Based Learning participants were tasked with writing their own personal narratives. We are excited to share their incredible work over the next few weeks. Read below for a story by LEAPster Presston!

Most people assume that vision is the center of everything—that to understand the world, you have to see it. For me, that’s never been true. I’ve had to learn how to experience life differently, to build understanding through sound, memory, and intuition instead of sight. And while that journey hasn’t always been easy, it has shaped who I am in ways I wouldn’t trade.

Growing up with a visual impairment meant that from an early age, I was navigating a world that wasn’t designed for me. Simple things—reading a board in class, recognizing faces across a room, or moving confidently through unfamiliar spaces—came with extra challenges. While other people could rely on quick glances, I had to rely on focus, patience, and trust in myself.

School has been one of the most complicated parts of that experience. There are moments where it feels like everything is built for someone else—fast-paced visuals, handwritten notes, subtle cues teachers don’t even realize they’re giving. It can be frustrating, even isolating at times. There are days when school doesn’t just feel hard—it feels overwhelming. But those are also the moments where I’ve had to grow the most. I’ve learned to advocate for myself, to ask for what I need, and to push through even when things feel stacked against me.

At the same time, my visual impairment has given me strengths that people don’t always expect. I’ve developed a strong ear for detail, which has helped me as a singer and musician. When I perform, I’m not thinking about how things look—I’m focused entirely on how they sound and feel. Music becomes more than just something I do; it’s something I experience deeply, in a way that feels almost amplified.

It’s also shaped how I connect with people. I’ve learned to listen more closely—not just to words, but to tone, emotion, and meaning. That’s helped me build strong friendships and become someone others can talk to. Even though I’ve faced challenges in friendships, including moments of betrayal, those experiences have taught me resilience and clarity about who I want in my life.

There are still moments where my visual impairment feels limiting. Times when I wish things were easier, or when I wonder what it would be like to experience the world the way others do. But those thoughts don’t define me. What defines me is how I adapt, how I continue, and how I refuse to let those limitations stop me from pursuing what I care about.

Because of everything I’ve been through, I’ve become more independent, more determined, and more aware of the world around me. I’ve learned that there isn’t just one way to experience life. Sight is only one way of understanding—and not the only one.

My journey with visual impairment isn’t just about what I can’t see. It’s about everything I’ve learned to see differently.

04/15/2026

This spring, LEAP virtual Work-Based Learning participants were tasked with writing their own personal narratives. We are excited to share their incredible work over the next few weeks. Read below for a story by LEAPster Xiomary!

The world didn’t go dark all at once for Xiomary; it started fading when she was eleven. The colors of Upstate New York began to blur until everything looked like a charcoal smudge. While other kids had parents looking out for them, she was mostly on her own. The adults in her life didn't step up—they missed her medical appointments and didn't fight for her. She realized early on that if she was going to survive this, she had to be the one to get ready for what was coming.

By fourteen, the last of the light was gone. People think you just "learn" Braille, but for Xiomary, it was a total mental battle. She spent hours at a desk, her fingertips raw and stinging from rubbing against the paper. She’d try to make sense of those tiny, cold bumps, but they felt like a secret code she’d never crack. The anxiety was always there, like a heavy weight in her chest. She’d sit in the silence, terrified that she’d never be fast enough or that she’d be left behind while everyone else moved at full speed. Every sentence was a mountain she had to climb.

It was the same with moving around. The first time she picked up a cane, she felt like she was holding a sign that told everyone she was different. It gave her such bad social anxiety. She remembers the fear of stepping out onto a busy sidewalk—the world felt like a roar of terrifying sounds she couldn’t place. Her heart would hammer against her ribs, and trying to focus on every single vibration was exhausting. She had to teach herself how to listen to the world in a completely new way. She spent hours mapping out her neighborhood using only the soles of her feet and the tilt of her head. She learned to feel how the air changed near a big building and the specific vibration of the ground that told her exactly where the curb was.

At fifteen, she finally felt some independence in the warm, flour-dusted air of a local bakery. Xiomary loved the rhythm of that shop. There was a real sense of pride in the feel of the packaging and getting the orders exactly right. When she got her first paycheck, it felt like a trophy. It was proof that she wasn't just a girl lost in the shadows—she was a person with a job, a purpose, and a place in the world.

But the real test came during a layover in Philadelphia. When the engines stopped and the noise of the other passengers faded away, she sat there waiting for the help that she was promised. Minutes passed. Then the silence changed—it became heavy and hollow. She realized with a jolt of pure terror that the plane was empty. She had been completely forgotten.

Panic hit her like a physical blow. The air in the plane felt thin, like she couldn't get enough into her lungs. Her chest tightened until it actually hurt, and her heart started racing so fast it felt like it was going to burst. She felt smaller than she had ever felt in her life. Tears started streaming down her face as she fumbled for her phone to call her mother. Her voice was just a broken whisper in that big, empty plane. She felt abandoned, forgotten by everyone who was supposed to look out for her.

Then, right in the middle of a sob, something clicked. The "why me" in her head just stopped. She took a jagged breath and realized something: she had already survived the hardest things imaginable. She had already pushed through the stinging pain of Braille and the heart-pounding fear of walking alone with her cane. She had already taught herself how to navigate a world that didn't even notice she was there.
A wave of peace washed over her, and the panic just died down. Xiomary wasn't a victim; she was the one in charge. She wiped her eyes, gripped her cane, and stood up. She didn't wait for anyone. She walked herself right to the front door of the plane. When she stepped into the galley and the crew saw her standing there, their faces dropped. They were in total shock. She wasn't waiting to be found anymore; she was making sure she was seen.

The walk through the Philly airport to her next flight wasn't scary; it was a victory. She moved with her head up, knowing that first plane was just a hurdle she’d already cleared. By the time she boarded the second flight, she felt like a warrior. When the wheels finally hit the ground in San Juan and the plane erupted in that rhythmic, joyful clapping—the way her people do—Xiomary clapped the loudest. She wasn't just happy the flight was over. She was celebrating the fact that she had finally become her own advocate and her own light.

04/14/2026

This spring, LEAP virtual Work-Based Learning participants were tasked with writing their own personal narratives. We are excited to share their incredible work over the next few weeks. Read below for a story by LEAPster Rufaydeh!

Hi, I’m Rufaydeh, also known as “the wannabe Kristen Bell.” I’m 16, but this story takes place when I was 15. Let’s set the stage of this life-altering moment

It was a cloudy, suspenseful morning in the busy city of Lincoln Park, Michigan. I was in 1st hour Test Prep when suddenly, my teacher says, “Okay, I’ll send her down. Yep, bye.” before hanging up her classroom phone. Then, she says, Rufaydeh, Ms. Scafone needs to see you downstairs.” Ms. Scafone is my TVI, in case I didn’t mention it already. I obediently exit the classroom and head downstairs.

I’m usually never out of class–like, never out of class–but today, April 16, 2025, is the day of my IEP meeting, also known as the meeting where my TVI, my dad, my vocational rehabilitation counselor, my orientation and mobility specialist, and one of my teachers discuss my progress throughout the year in addition to what comes next. I’m nervous, even though there’s really nothing to fear. Every inch of me was trembling, but not from the cold, which is funny since it was kind of cold on this particular day. Okay, maybe I wasn’t actually trembling, but I sure felt like I was, if that makes sense, like when you’re not actually doing something, but you’re picturing yourself doing it? Hope that makes sense, and yeah, maybe I was using a song lyric to convey how I was feeling.

I walk into Room 109 of my high school, also known as the VI room. Everyone is seated at the round table of the room, well everyone except my Pre-AP Algebra 2 teacher. My TVI asks me to go get her, to which I do. Now, the group is surrounding the round table, the table where everyone involved in group decisions sits.

The IEP begins really well; everyone’s saying that I’ve done great during that school year, and I just have to work on certain things, which is normal. When it comes time to discuss what kind of math I’d be doing the following year, the nervousness returns. A knot forms in my stomach, my heart began to race. I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, my TVI discussed this with me before, but this was the official decision. Mrs. Martin, my math teacher, says that she believes that I could do AP Pre-Calculus during my Junior year of high school. AP Pre-calculus. Those two words echo in my head like a song I can’t forget. That was a whole different kettle of worms. What if I fail? What if the class was too much for the VI department to accommodate? What challenges would this class present me with? So many questions, and I’m afraid to get answers…I’ve already had my adventure joining Pre-AP Algebra 2, my most challenging class of that year. I don’t need something new, right? Plus, I was afraid of what I was risking if I followed her advice into the unknown. Yeah, I totally stole that song lyric from Idina Menzel, sorry Idina.

I eventually take a very hesitant step into the void called “joining AP Pre-calc.” I do the summer work, and the class is going fine. Then, it hits me like a cold gust of wind: joining this class wasn’t as bad as I perceived it to be. I made new friends, I’m challenging myself, and I’m very much more resilient, independent, and confident. Before entering this class, I struggled with low self-esteem, handling mental conflicts effectively, and acknowledging the fact that failing is not the end of the world. I used to ruminate over these problems and let my intrusive thoughts bring me down. However, I have overcome these struggles, and I handle challenges much more effectively and with much more grace than ever before using techniques like meditation, journaling, and talking through the conflict. So the next time you think of doing something new, but there’s a suffocating force holding you back, do it anyway. You never know what will happen if you don’t step into the void before it’s too late. It may feel terrifying and overwhelming in the moment, but you’ll be glad you took my advice later on…

02/27/2026

‼️Attention College Students‼️ LEAP is HIRING dorm counselors for our summer residential programs📣

Are you seeking a summer filled with FUN and IMPACT? Do you like working with teenagers? Do you want to lead?

Join us at ReSOURCE with the LEAP team! We are seeking leaders to supervise a summer residential program for youth who are blind or visually impaired. No prior experience working with this population is required.

June 22 - July 24, 2026: 15.75/hour with weekly overtime at time and a half. Housing provided at Saint Michaels College and food included.
Responsibilities: Provide overnight supervision and support well-being of participants, Organize and facilitate group evening activities, Support participants to cook group dinners, Foster a community of safety and belonging, Administer behavior protocol as directed and document all behavioral incidents in partnership with LEAP Staff.

For more information and to apply: email a resume and cover letter to Michelle Gates , LEAP Program Director at [email protected]
(Subject Line: LEAP Dorm Counselor Application)

01/27/2026

Attention Students! Are you interested in pursuing a career working with older adults (nursing homes, home care, etc.) Check out this workshop series by the American Society on Aging running through March!

A yearly ASA membership is $275 for individuals and $100 for retired professionals & students. ASA also offers Organizational Membership. Learn more about