Josh Barkley Memorial Scholarship

The first time I became aware that I wasn’t considered “intelligent” by traditional standards was in kindergarten, when I ended up in a class where half the students were so-called “gifted” kids already reading chapter books, while the other half barely spoke English. Seeing as I didn’t fall into either extreme, I was practically ignored by my teachers, which only amplified my developmental delays. By second grade, I had been diagnosed with ADHD, and my parents enrolled me at a private Catholic school. This turned out to be a living hell for me due to the ridiculous, overwhelming curriculum, and me being a constant target of bullying. Out of desperation, my parents tried to have me repeat fourth grade at a prestigious, private all-girls school, but I had to take the Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children to determine my eligibility to enroll. And it was through taking this test that the psychiatrist evaluating me diagnosed me as autistic, and I was not accepted to attend this exclusive school. So we were back to square one at my dreaded Catholic school, who agreed to give me accommodations to give me a fair chance at passing and to keep my family from leaving. But the damage had already been done. My experiences of being rejected from gifted programs and having my needs constantly ignored led me to believe that I was a failure in school. Even with my accommodations keeping my head above water, I was still being yanked around without any consideration for what I actually thought of any of this. I hated my Catholic school, but I probably would’ve hated an all-girls school even more, given my complicated relationship with being a girl, and public school had all but failed me. But what other options did I have? When COVID hit and my Catholic school refused to follow the basic health precautions, my parents enrolled me at Virginia Virtual Academy (VAVA) for the 2020-21 school year, and this turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Suddenly, I wasn’t being tormented by my peers all day long, and I had the freedom to work at my own pace and motivate myself. Suddenly, I wasn’t just barely passing school—I was succeeding. I came to realize that I wasn’t lazy or undisciplined, I had just been constrained by the rigid structure of traditional schools. I had finally found a school that worked for me, and now I was able to advocate for myself by making the choice to stay at VAVA through the rest of middle and high school. I even had my passion for writing recognized by my tenth grade English and later AP Language teacher, who actively nurtured my previously unrecognized talent. And since VAVA is a public charter school, I also qualified for an official 504 plan and accommodations. My journey navigating being neurodivergent in school has taught me that just because my learning style and talents don’t align with traditional measures of intelligence, that doesn’t mean I am lazy or incapable. If I had never learned to recognize the value in my unique talents, I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to take on AP and Dual Enrollment classes in high school, let alone consider taking on a double major in college. As I’m graduating from high school and transitioning into college, I want to continue advocating for myself by pushing for excellence in the things I know I’m strong in, while also giving myself grace in the things where I may need more assistance.

Having a learning disability was something I did not fully understand for a long time. I knew I had an IEP, but for a while, I did not really know what that meant or how to use it to actually help myself. Nobody sat me down and explained how to advocate for my own needs or how to speak up when something was not working for me. I had to figure that out on my own, and honestly, that journey taught me more about myself. Growing up, I was already carrying a lot. My mom suffered a brain aneurysm and later had open heart surgery, leaving her disabled. My dad struggled with alcoholism, and my uncle moved in with us after surviving an attack that left him with brain damage. On top of all that, I was dealing with my own learning challenges while trying to keep my grades up, work part-time, and save for college. There were so many moments where I felt like the odds were completely stacked against me. I remember sitting in classes feeling frustrated because I could not process information the same way as the other kids in the class. I felt like a burden asking for help. The moment things started to shift for me was when I joined AFJROTC and later the IB program. These two programs pushed me in ways I never expected. I remember being terrified to sign up for IB classes because I thought my learning disability meant I was not smart enough for that level of work. But I did it anyway, and I proved myself wrong. Taking five IB classes, two dual enrollment courses with universities like UPenn and Vanderbilt, and maintaining a 3.2 GPA while managing everything going on at home showed me that my learning disability does not define me. Learning to advocate for myself did not happen overnight. It was a slow process of realizing that speaking up for my needs was not a weakness. I started using my IEP more intentionally, communicating with my teachers and being honest about what I needed to succeed. Going forward, I want to carry that same self advocacy into my career in nursing. Having lived through the experience of feeling unheard and unsupported, I understand deeply how important every person's voice is and how it matters. My learning disability gave me empathy that I could never have learned from a class. It shaped my passion for nursing, a field where advocating for patients who cannot always speak for themselves.