A Wheelchair Tour of Morningside College in Sioux City, Iowa Brian Lehmann for The New York Times Alex Watters does a wheelie in a parking lot at his alma mater, Morningside College in Sioux City, Iowa. He damaged his spine in a diving accident freshman year. THE specially equipped Dodge Sprinter pulled into the Morningside College parking lot, transporting my campus guide and his Quickie 646 SE motorized wheelchair. Alex Watters was returning to this small liberal arts college in Sioux City, Iowa, for a wheelchair tour of the campus he had navigated as an undergraduate. Our mission was to understand some of the challenges faced by students with a physical disability for a book I was writing on the first-year college experience. A caregiver, Jennifer Mozak-Wubbena, helps Alex Watters prepare for the day. Mr. Watters can't use his hands. I stuck my hand out. Alex could raise his arm but had no mobility in his hands, so I shook his outstretched fist. Freshman year, he had damaged his spinal cord in a diving accident and lost the use of his legs and hands. "Ready to go?" he asked as I grabbed my manually operated wheelchair, on loan from the nursing department. "Ready as ever," I said, not altogether sure how to operate the thing. As I struggled to get over the tiny ribbon of tar between the parking lot and sidewalk, Alex zipped around the lot doing wheelies, as if to say, "You have no idea what you're in for." Motoring backward while talking, like an admissions office tour guide, he was contagiously optimistic. "Sure, I have challenges now," he said, "but I'm not going to let them take over my life." ALEX WATTERS comes from Okoboji, a small town in the northwest corner of Iowa, on the border with Minnesota. He had applied to the University of Iowa and Drake but chose Morningside because he was heavily recruited to play golf. He had been captain of his high school team junior and senior years. When he arrived on campus - it was fall 2004 - he was full of excitement and expectation. The second week there, Danielle Westphal - a classmate with whom he had won a dance contest during orientation - invited him to a family get-together on Lake Okoboji. He and a friend drove up to the cabin, arriving at about 10 p.m. As the guests toasted marshmallows around a bonfire, Alex and his hostess's younger brother decided to go for a swim. The weather was beginning to get cold. He figured this would be his last swim of the season. The two of them changed into their trunks and walked 150 feet out onto the dock. A gust of wind blew, and Alex's hat flew off, landing near a boat hoist. He took off his shirt and dived in after it. But there was a sandbar. The water was only 18 inches deep. He heard his neck snap. "I remember laying face-first underwater," Alex said, a crack in his voice. At first I tried to start swimming, but of course I couldn't move. I thought, this was it. I'm a pretty religious person, so I was thinking, "I'm O.K. with this if it happens." And then I blacked out. At first the young boy thought Alex was playing a joke on him. Then he sensed something was terribly wrong. He ran back to the cabin to get help. They came running, and Danielle jumped into the water feetfirst and knelt beside Alex. He had now been under water more than two minutes. She turned him over and gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. E.M.S. arrived, and from the local hospital he was quickly airlifted to Mercy Medical Center in Sioux City. "Next thing I remember are Mom and Dad and our pastor standing by my bed and the surgeon telling them about the operation I would soon have," he told me. His spinal cord wasn't severed but pinched. "Your spinal cord is like a banana," Alex said. If you bend it severely enough it won't necessarily break but it will be permanently damaged. After surgery to stabilize the vertebrae in his neck, Alex underwent therapy for six months at a rehabilitation hospital in Denver. I asked him what he was feeling at this point. He and his parents had become interested in stem cell research, and the possibility he would someday walk again. "But I really didn't want to live my life hoping I would walk again when the chances were I might not," he said. Even at that point, I was pretty happy with who I was and even then I was thinking about the possibility of returning to college. He took courses at Iowa Lakes Community College that summer, and the next fall returned to Morningside to resume his first year. Roger H. Martin is president emeritus of Randolph-Macon College and author of "Racing Odysseus: A College President Becomes a Freshman Again."