Dr. Michal Lomask Memorial Scholarship

The first time I realized science could change someone’s life, I was not in a classroom or a lab. I was beside my grandfather, watching ALS slowly take away the parts of him that made daily life feel normal. I remember watching him try to do things that used to be simple. Moving his hand, speaking clearly, sitting up, and caring for himself became harder. He was still the same person I loved, but his body was no longer listening to him. I did not understand how that could happen. I kept wondering why doctors could explain what ALS was, but still could not stop it. At first, my questions came from anger. I hated feeling helpless. I hated watching someone I loved lose abilities most people never think about. But over time, those questions became curiosity. I wanted to understand how cells, nerves, and muscles could fail in such a devastating way. For the first time, science did not feel like a school subject. It felt urgent. It felt like something people were waiting on. That is why I am passionate about receiving a STEM education. I want to study bioengineering because I do not only want to learn about disease. I want to help build treatments and technologies that make life better for the people living with it. I want to work on solutions that give patients more options, more independence, and more time with the people they love. My passion for STEM grew stronger through research. I used to think science was mostly about finding the right answer. Research taught me that it is often about asking better questions. Experiments fail. Results do not always make sense. Progress can feel slow. But that process taught me persistence. It also reminded me that difficult problems are worth staying with, because behind every disease are real patients and families waiting for better answers. After seeing neurological disease affect my own family, I founded NeuroHub to make neuroscience education more accessible. I know how scary it feels when a disease is happening to someone you love and the science feels impossible to understand. Through NeuroHub, I want students and families to feel less intimidated by neuroscience and more comfortable asking questions. I have also seen how much access matters while scribing and translating at community clinics. Some Mandarin-speaking patients knew what they were feeling, but struggled to explain it in English. I helped them describe their symptoms to the doctor, ask questions, and understand the next steps in their care. Those moments showed me that science only matters when it reaches people in a way they can understand and trust. As a first-generation, low-income student, I know that pursuing STEM will not be easy. My parents have worked hard to give me opportunities they never had, and I carry that with me. Financial support would help me focus more fully on my education, research, and service instead of letting the cost of college decide how far I can go. This fall, I will study bioengineering at Stanford University. My goal is to become a physician-scientist who develops treatments for neurological diseases while staying close to the patients and families affected by them. I could not give my grandfather back the movements ALS took from him. But I can study, research, and build so that one day another family has more options than watching and waiting. That is why I want a STEM education: not just to understand disease, but to help create the kind of answers my family once needed.

The hospital waiting room was cold, quiet, and smelled like disinfectant. I remember sitting there at twelve years old, holding my little brother’s hand while my mom lay in the back, eyes closed in pain, waiting once again to be seen. We waited for hours. When a doctor finally walked in, he barely looked at her. “It’s probably just stress,” he said. No tests. No real concern. Just another Black woman being told to tough it out. That moment stuck with me. It was the first time I realized that science and medicine don’t treat everyone equally. And it was the first time I knew I wanted to change that. My mom, a Nigerian immigrant and single mother, is the strongest person I know. She worked long shifts in healthcare, helping others while pushing through her pain. I watched her put everyone before herself—her patients, her coworkers, and most of all, her children. Yet when she needed help, the system failed her. Her chronic migraines and fatigue were overlooked again and again. No one ever asked the right questions. No one seemed to care. I remember her walking out of those appointments deflated, as if she had to carry her pain in silence. That silence planted a seed in me. I wanted to be someone who listens and notices the signs that others ignore. Someone who sees the humanity in every patient, regardless of race, class, or background. I plan to study cognitive science and neuroscience because I want to understand how the brain and body connect, especially in communities like mine. I want to learn how trauma, chronic stress, and systemic neglect show up not only in our minds but in our bodies and how we can heal from them. The desire to pursue medicine deepened when my cousin in Nigeria passed away during childbirth. She was only 24 years old, full of life and dreams. Her death wasn’t caused by a rare condition. It happened because the hospital lacked the basic resources and staff to treat her in time. The grief that followed was unbearable. I still remember the pain in my mother’s voice when she told me. That tragedy shifted something in me. I knew I had to be part of the change. I knew I wanted to become an OB/GYN, not only to deliver babies, but to fight for women like my cousin, who are often left behind. Growing up in Houston, I didn’t always have the luxury of after-school clubs or extra tutoring. While my classmates stayed for the debate team or science fairs, I went home to cook, clean, and help care for my younger siblings. My mom worked late nights, and it was my job to keep the house running. Those responsibilities taught me discipline and resilience. Even when I was tired, I studied. I read about the brain and maternal health. Science became more than a subject - it became my hope. As I prepare to enter college, I carry those experiences with me. I carry the strength of my mother, the loss of my cousin, and the stories of people whose voices are too often ignored. Through STEM, I want to challenge the system and help rebuild it, so no woman has to be dismissed and no family has to experience the preventable loss of someone they love. This journey is personal. I want to become the kind of doctor I once wished my mother had been. One who listens. One who fights to make healthcare equitable for all. Through science, I will turn pain into purpose and compassion into action.

When I was younger, I used to sit by my grandmother’s hospital bed, quietly watching the nurses and doctors move around the room. At the time, I didn’t know what oncology meant, but I understood that cancer had turned our world upside down. Losing her was one of the hardest experiences of my life—but it was also the moment that sparked something in me. I wanted to understand the disease that had taken her. I wanted to learn how to stop it. That’s where my passion for STEM began. STEM is more than just science, technology, engineering, and math—it's a key to solving some of the world’s biggest problems. I want to be part of that solution, especially in the field of healthcare. I’ve always been fascinated by how the body works, how a single mutation can lead to illness, and how researchers use data and experimentation to fight back. STEM gives us the tools to heal, to innovate, and to push boundaries. That’s what excites me: the possibility of turning pain into progress. But my passion isn’t just about curiosity—it’s personal. My family has faced many challenges, from financial stress to balancing caregiving responsibilities. My mother worked full-time while I helped take care of my special needs sister and elderly grandmother. I’ve worked jobs while maintaining good grades, and I’ve learned how to stay focused despite the chaos around me. STEM, to me, represents stability and possibility. It’s a field where hard work leads to real, measurable impact—and that’s something I’m deeply drawn to. Through STEM, I plan to pursue a career in oncology, combining research and medicine to help develop more effective treatments and increase access to care. I want to focus especially on underserved communities, where medical resources and education about health are limited. In the future, I hope to launch initiatives that bring early cancer screenings and education to people who might not otherwise get them. Everyone deserves a fair shot at life—and STEM gives me the power to make that possible. In school, I’ve taken advanced science and math courses, and I’ve worked hard to build a strong foundation. But I know that college will push me even further, and I’m ready for it. I’m excited to learn from professors, work in labs, and connect with other students who share the same drive. STEM isn’t easy—it takes discipline, critical thinking, and perseverance. But those are the very qualities I’ve built through my life experiences. What sets STEM apart is its ability to create change. Whether it’s through developing new technology, conducting research, or building systems that make life better, STEM professionals shape the future. I want to be one of them. I want to use my education not only to build a career, but to give back to the people and places that shaped me. In the end, my passion for STEM comes down to one simple idea: I want to help people. I want to give families hope when they need it most. I want to be part of the discoveries that save lives. And I want to show others—especially kids from backgrounds like mine—that where you come from doesn’t limit how far you can go. That’s why STEM matters to me. It’s not just a path—it’s my purpose.

In my junior year of high school, I was faced with the daunting responsibility of managing two jobs to provide for my mother’s medical expenses. As fate would have it, on my seventeenth birthday on May 22, I was forced to leave my home and found myself homeless. Despite these seemingly insurmountable challenges, I remained committed to my academic pursuits. As a first-generation college student, I have always placed great importance on my education. My interest in the field of biological sciences pre-med stems from a deeply rooted desire to become a pediatric dentist and provide essential support to foster and homeless teens, drawing from my own experiences. My vision for the future includes completing my residency as a pediatric dentist and establishing my dental practice clinic, where I plan to introduce the EmpowerDent youth program. This program aims to deliver comprehensive dental services and prioritize holistic wellness for underprivileged youth within the foster care and homeless community, ensuring proactive and personalized care through scheduled check-ups and x-rays for each teen. Inspired by the Educate Tomorrow team, I am committed to fundraising during my graduate studies to implement this program upon my graduation, with the ultimate goal of making a tangible difference in the lives of those in need. Looking ahead to the future, I envision myself completing my undergraduate journey at Florida State University the dream university I got accepted into, then heading to dental school, completing my pediatric dentist residency, and establishing my dental practice clinic, where the EmpowerDent youth program will be introduced. This program is designed to provide comprehensive dental services and prioritize holistic wellness for underprivileged youth within the foster care and homeless community, ensuring proactive and personalized care for each teen through scheduled check-ups and x-rays. My aspirations are driven by the profound impact of the Educate Tomorrow team, and I am determined to fundraise during my graduate studies to realize this program and create meaningful change in the lives of those in need. My resilience in overcoming obstacles and maintaining a 3.8 GPA reflects my unwavering commitment to excellence and my ability to thrive in adversity. My clear vision for the future, coupled with my determination to implement the EmpowerDent youth program upon completion of dental school, exemplifies my proactive approach to effecting positive change. My strong desire to provide support and opportunities for foster and homeless teens aligns with the values of this award, making me a compelling candidate for consideration. #Floridan State University Class of 2028