Janice Louise Olach Scholarship

One of the most defining and painful parts of my life is something I didn’t choose. For ten years, I was sexually abused—something no child should ever have to endure. The abuse ended when I was finally able to speak up, and the case went to court during the summer before seventh grade. I missed my first day of 7th grade because I was sitting in a courtroom, telling my story in front of strangers. That moment, though terrifying, marked the beginning of a long and difficult road toward healing. In the years that followed, I was diagnosed with PTSD, depression, and anxiety. Simple things—like being in crowds, hearing certain sounds, or trusting people—became overwhelming. On top of that, my parents had divorced just two years before, and the world shut down due to COVID not long after. While other kids my age were worrying about classes and social media, I was learning how to survive trauma, go to therapy, and rebuild a sense of safety from the ground up. What kept me going was the belief that one day, I could take all the pain I had experienced and turn it into something meaningful. That’s what inspired me to pursue a career in early childhood education. I know what it feels like to be a child who doesn’t feel safe. I know what it’s like to carry burdens no one can see. And I want to be the teacher who recognizes that in her students and meets them with patience, compassion, and hope. Today, I’m majoring in Elementary Education: Teaching PK–3, with a minor in Theatre and Interpretation. I also work at a public school daycare, where I help young children learn, grow, and discover joy. Being around kids reminds me every day of why I chose this path—because every child deserves to feel protected, valued, and loved. Eventually, I plan to pursue a master’s in Educational Leadership so I can advocate for better trauma-informed policies in schools and support both students and educators on a larger scale. This hardship has shaped me in painful ways, but it’s also given me a deep well of empathy and strength. I’ve learned that healing isn’t linear and that asking for help is a form of courage. I’ve also learned how powerful it can be when someone simply shows up and cares—and that’s exactly the kind of educator I want to be. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of college, but it would also represent something greater: that who I am today—resilient, passionate, and determined—is not defined by what happened to me, but by how I’ve chosen to rise from it. I will use my past to better my future and to create a classroom where every child feels safe, seen, and inspired to dream big, no matter what they’ve been through.