Communication Sciences and Disorders Scholarship

I have always been close to my grandma. When I was younger, I lived with her and remember how she used to tell stories in Vietnamese, cook for our family, and talk about her younger years. As I got older, I started to notice small changes. In middle school, she would sometimes respond to my questions with random topics or stare off without answering. Over time, we learned that she had dementia, Parkinson’s, and Alzheimer’s. Now she is bedridden after a fall, and her communication has become more limited. Watching her go through that has changed how I think about communication. Some days, she doesn’t talk much and only babbles. But when she has good days and speaks clearly, it makes me so happy. She can tell me that she wants water, that the TV is too loud, or that she needs to use the restroom. On those days, she seems more comfortable because she can express her needs. I realize how powerful that is, to be able to communicate what you want, even in the smallest ways. When she was in the hospital, I saw the speech-language pathologists working with her and other patients. They were checking how well she could understand questions like the year or who the president was. They also watched for signs of swallowing difficulties since she is at risk for aspiration. I didn’t fully understand what they were doing at the time, but I could tell that their work mattered. They helped protect her health and gave her a way to stay connected to the world around her. Seeing that made me want to learn more about communication sciences and disorders. Now, as I help care for her, I’m even more inspired. Even though she isn’t always fully aware, she still has moments that show how deep her understanding and love go. Once, she pulled me in, hugged me, and said “tội con,” which in Vietnamese translates loosely to “poor you.” But to me, it means much more than that. It carries the weight of appreciation and tenderness, almost like she was saying, “I see what you’re doing for me, and I’m thankful.” That small phrase reminded me how much meaning can exist in just a few words. It made me realize that communication is not just about talking; it’s about connection, emotion, and being understood. Through studying communication sciences and disorders, I want to learn how to help others like my grandma find their voice again. I’m interested in working with patients who have neurological or cognitive challenges, but I’m open to exploring other areas too. What matters most to me is giving people the chance to express themselves and to feel seen and heard. Being Vietnamese American also motivates me to represent my culture in this field. There are not many Vietnamese bilingual speech-language pathologists, and I want to bridge that gap. I want families like mine to feel understood and supported, both linguistically and culturally. Caring for my grandma has taught me that communication brings comfort, dignity, and connection. That is what draws me to this field and what I hope to dedicate my career to.