Rick Levin Memorial Scholarship

Growing up, I always found it difficult to talk. A lot of this issue is from the fact that I had my twin sister, who would often speak for me. I didn’t have to speak much because she was always there to do it for me, and that comfort of having someone do the talking made me rely on her a lot. My mom used to say that my twin sister would speak for me as we were growing up, and I think this may have contributed to the speech difficulties I faced. As a result, when I was younger, I didn’t develop the communication skills I needed to speak clearly or express myself as confidently as others. As I got older, the challenges in speaking and communicating became more apparent. It was during this time that my teachers and school staff noticed the difficulties I was having and decided to place me in special education classes. Initially, I was nervous about the change and uncertain about what it meant, but honestly, those classes turned out to be a huge blessing for me. I loved being in Special education. It wasn’t what I expected at first, but looking back, I realize how much they helped me. Having extra time on tests, the read-aloud services, and being in a smaller, more supportive environment made a world of difference for me. It allowed me to focus more on my work and process things in a way that worked best for me. There were still times when I struggled to understand the material, but I had teachers who were there to support me, and that made all the difference. They helped me in both English and math, and their patience and guidance allowed me to gain a deeper understanding of the subjects I was struggling with. Despite these difficulties, I began to love the extra time I was given, and the read-aloud accommodations truly helped me understand things in a way that felt more accessible. However, growing up with an IEP came with its challenges. I was bullied for having an IEP, and that was something I carried with me for a long time. I remember when the support teacher would walk into the classroom, the other kids would laugh. They would make fun of me for needing extra help, and that hurt a lot. I would always look down, trying to avoid the teasing, and I hated the feeling of being different. It felt like I was being singled out, and I often wondered why I couldn’t just be like everyone else. But as time went on, I began to realize something important, having that support wasn’t a weakness, it was a strength. The more I learned about myself and my needs, the more I understood that the extra help was there to make me stronger, not weaker. The teachers who supported me were helping me become the best version of myself, and I grew to appreciate them and the resources that were available to me. Now, I see the value in having a teacher who helps guide me through challenging topics. I understand that it’s okay to need extra help and that it doesn’t make me any less capable or intelligent than anyone else. Looking back on those years, I realize how much of a significant role those experiences played in shaping who I am today. They gave me the empathy and understanding I need to help others who might be going through similar struggles. Now, I want to be a school counselor because I want to help children like me. I want to be the person who can offer support to students who feel isolated, different, or misunderstood. I want to be the kind of counselor who helps students see the value in their own journey and understand that it’s okay to need help. It doesn’t make them less than anyone else, it just means they’re on a path that requires a little extra support, and that’s perfectly fine. I want to be the voice for those students who might be too shy or too afraid to ask for help. I want to remind them that their worth isn’t determined by the challenges they face. Just like I did, they will get through it with the right kind of support. And just like me, they can find strength in their struggles and use it to help others in the future. It’s a lesson I’ve learned from my own experience, and now, I want to pass that lesson on to the next generation.

ADHD. A surge in my mind that has marked me as different, I was undiagnosed until the age of 13-14 years old and I'm now 16 years old. This disorder has been a huge herdal for me though I have been able to stay out of speed classes because of a 504 plan that gave me accommodations but it's hard. I started to see this issue when I was young, I knew I was different but not by choice I was shunned from my peers up until highschool. Up till now I felt how my peers told me I was; stupid, heartless (because of lack of understanding social cues), and a total loser. It wasn't just kids my age, it was teachers in parent teacher conferences, “You are so smart you just need to apply yourself” I would walk out feeling like I wasn't enough. But now I look at it all and realize that I was never some worthless sack that couldn't learn. The first step was vyvanse and therapy which was thankfully a huge help and has allowed me to focus on the work I needed to and so my grades went from D’s and C’s to mostly A’s and B’s. It was beautiful but I still struggle with the physical issues from ADHD and the stigma of ADHD with me and my peers. I often have to explain that ADHD is an attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and it is exhausting. It's also frustrating that people keep claiming that ADHD doesn't exist and it's just a crutch. I have heard it thousands of times. But nowadays I can see my fight now was worth something as now I'm graduating a year ahead of my peers. Now I'm on the way to UW Oshkosh this fall. I was motivated to go for one reason. Proof to myself that I am worth it and I can do something meaningful. That I am not stupid, I am not lacking in self application. I just needed a system and once I was diagnosed it finally clicked from meds to my alarms, new habits that revolve with my brain and giving myself the extra time to be able to slow down to think for once. This has all, all the negatives, the hate and disapproval I have gotten from my peers, that is my motivation. My motivation is to prove them wrong but most importantly to prove to myself that I am enough. That I am strong enough and smart enough my issue was time and being forced to learn and work in a way neurotypicals do because that's how I was taught. Now I can finally undo that damage and start to fix that pain that was screwed into my skull. But it wasn't easy. I have a biological father that doesn't believe in ADHD and when I brought it up to him he laughed at me and as time went on I was made to move in with my mother. That's when i brought it up to her she thought it was just anxiety. But after hounding her for a good two year span she finally got me tested and that's when I finally got my answer. Severe ADHD and finally it clicks, So started the research and delegation of tasks in a way that would aid me. So to close off people have been horrid to me and few have understood however that to me was my motovation to prove them wrong. Thank you for your consideration Kimberly Joyce Notto

There is so much more to me than people will ever know. To show you the chapters of my life, my story, I’d have to open up my book to you. This is a scary thought for me; I've tried my entire life to keep it closed. However, you have asked for me to be vulnerable; to share the stories that would render my submission incomplete without retelling, so here I go. I’ve had a hard life. What makes it even harder is that from the outside, it doesn’t look that way. I’m not a person that anyone would look at and feel sorry for. I’m not a person that anyone would look at and think to offer help. I’m not a person that anyone would look at and second guess if the smile on my face was fake; it was by the way. Most of this was by design, some of this was by assumption; the assumption that “pretty” girls, from “good” families, living in Jenks, America have it all. I did not have it all. I am a child of abuse. I don’t even like to put this into words. It makes me so uncomfortable to say that I’ve deleted and reinserted this paragraph five times now. My abuse was never physical, nothing anyone could ever see, but it was emotional, and devastating. I thought nothing of myself by grade six. I grew up listening to my father berate my mother, over and over and over again. Eventually, it shifted to me, sadly. I got it from my dad and my mom; she was hurt and I was an outlet. I was never an impressive child, in their eyes. I was just a girl “who would have to spend her life trying really hard to become average.” I put that in quotes because that’s the exact phrase my second grade teacher used to describe me to my mother, as I stood by her side and listened; It’s funny what sticks with you. I felt so stupid. As I grew, I continued to feel stupid. Eventually other kids started to notice, and liked to remind me. Truthly I was never stupid. My brain worked differently and processed more slowly and my lack of focus, combined with my anxiety, depression, and hidden trauma made learning and succeeding hard. My father refused to let me be evaluated or be medicated, so I crawled along as my peers sped by. My junior year I received the coveted designation of being a Mckinney-Vento recipient, a polite way to call me homeless. Sometimes I wonder what an impressive application I would’ve submitted to you if things were different… You can’t wonder and wish life into submission, but you can develop the grit to take it under control. I like the word grit; I think it describes me well. Grit is something that doesn’t come from easy and privileged. Grit isn’t something you can detect from a GPA or test score. Grit becomes a gift to those of us who come from hard places, but have the determination to dream so big that we find our way out. Most of my life, I’ve resented my struggles; today I celebrate them for all that they are. I proudly present to you, dearest reader, a dinged, yet unbroken, girl who knows how to thrive when life is hard; a girl who knows success takes work; a girl who doesn’t give up on her dreams. What are my dreams; I know you’re wondering… I will grow up to become a pediatric nurse, working in a children’s hospital. I will work alongside children and families who are going through the hardest time in their lives. I will hold their hands and give them comfort like only a fellow girl from a hard place can do. Today, I am endlessly proud of myself for refusing to settle for average.