Rooted in Change Scholarship

Imagine hiking across a scenic trail, admiring the beauty of nature and the wildlife it offers. The calming sound of birds chirping fills the air as gentle rays of sunshine peek through the leafy canopy above. You turn around and immediately notice something bright orange stuck between twigs and dirt. Enjoying the environment should be about connecting with Earth, not a neon-colored plastic wrapper. Over 118 million people hike each year in the United States, so it’s no surprise that hundreds of thousands of pieces of trash end up scattered across natural landscapes, finding their way into the homes and stomachs of birds and other animals. I saw this unfortunate reality while at the lakefront: bottle caps were wedged into seagull nests, and bits of plastic were found in the stomachs of sandpipers. These sights made it clear that taking action was urgent. To remedy this issue, I founded Eccodrone. Eccodrone was created as a way for students to gather together for trash detection on beaches. By using autonomous drone technology and machine learning, our team was able to train computer vision models to detect trash with up to 97% accuracy. Trained with over 3,000 labeled pieces of data on different types of trash, the drones use a sensor system to navigate and record detailed footage of the terrain. So far, our drones have scanned over 340 football fields of terrain, accurately identifying waste and mapping out trash hotspots. What originally started out as a group turned into an award-winning nonprofit that has fundraised over $6,000 and grown to a team of 40+ members. Being recognized for our creative approach to environmental cleanup and youth-led impact, we have used our technology, collecting data not only to clean public parks and beaches, but to help other organizations plan more efficient cleanups and develop long-lasting solutions. I believe that our story is one that can highlight the impact of student activism, inspiring youth to take initiative, and we are eager to share it with a larger audience. Not only has this organization helped me create a way for us students to protect the environment, but it has also allowed me to connect with many wonderful people in the environmental conservation field. After conducting many field studies and research cases on the environment and the implications of trash in the oceans and forests, my desire to clean up trash increased. A large increasing trend in unclean parks is related to the recent budget cuts made by Congress. Many of our national parks and environmental conservation organizations rely on financial aid from federal funding. With parks being forced to make changes to their cleanup policies, I wanted to find a way for parks to monitor their green spaces without using too many resources. Through my research, conducted with various amazing park rangers, cleanup guides, and environmental teachers, I have gotten to learn about how we are working to keep the environment clean, reversing our footprint on the world. I have learned alongside professors and field experts on the effects of trash in ecosystems around the world. So as I plan my next research, I sit under a shady tree at Lincoln Park. Squirrels run across the grass, and birds peck at the dirt near my feet. This is one of the thousands of natural wild spaces around the country that I work to protect. Whether it's by taking classes on environmental conservation and ecology at my local college or joining park cleanups on the weekends, I spend my time cleaning the world, one bottlecap at a time.

“Where are the worms? They used to be everywhere after it rained.” “I miss the butterflies. They haven’t been in my garden once this spring!” “Have you spotted a lightning bug? My mom and I haven’t seen one since last summer…” All over the world, bugs are disappearing—but why? And what does that mean for us? Everyone has at least one fond memory of bugs. As a child, I distinctly remember walking barefoot to the park by my house with one goal in mind: to rummage through the grass in search of creepy crawlies. Whether it was lady bugs, worms, or roly-polies, I did not discriminate. I would pick up my new friends with reckless abandon, occasionally running home crying from poor encounters with pincher bugs or angry ants. As I grew older, my fondness for the multi-legged, minuscule creatures lounging in my lawn did as well. I’d spend hours identifying, handling, and relocating whatever insects I could find, and they were truly a cornerstone of my childhood; a constant while grades, friends, and schools changed. When a new baby came into the family, I knew I would introduce her to the friends that were so dear to me. When she turned two, I took it upon myself to begin bringing her to the park. My mission was clear: to get her to fall in love with bugs in the same way I did; to “start her young.” Unfortunately, I was met only with frustration. Shockingly, the origin of my anger was not the toddler at my side—it was the repeated question reverberating in my brain: “Where are all the bugs?” I went under rocks, up trees, between blades of grass, and through hordes of children to no avail. Everyday was the same: a few handfuls of ants accompanied by a bee or two. I didn’t understand how, in a few short years, all the bugs had vanished. It was baffling! Like most people of my generation, this question inevitably carried me to the internet where I dove into a frenzy of research. There, I was met with a stark reality: the bugs hadn’t left, they had died. And, even worse, it was our fault. Killing bugs has become normalized in our everyday life. People view them as grotesque vermin, going as far as spraying their gardens with pesticides and stocking their pantries with bug spray for any unlucky being who happens to live in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bugs being kicked out of suburban spots coupled with habitat loss from deforestation gives the crawlers nowhere to go. This has led to an almost 45% decrease in bug populations globally, with some sources reporting up to a 75% loss. This rapid decrease is terrifying, and one would assume that it is getting adequate publicity for its fixing! Unfortunately, if you were aboard this train of thought, you were on the wrong track. Unlike most environmental issues, the bugs get no funeral. People mourn forests after fires, they weep for lakes and oceans polluted, and they hold services for furry creatures facing extinction. Bugs, on the other hand, have gone quietly. Nobody seems to notice the distinct lack of them, and, if they do, they don’t care. This is outrageous. Bugs are crucial to our environment, from pollinating the flowers that produce our fruit to feeding the birds that sing to us in the mornings. Without them, the world loses its spark! Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to advocate for the bugs. I intend to major in Environmental Policy and utilize said degree to protect the little creatures that give us all so much. Some specific ideas I have include: encouraging the removal of non-native plant species to cater to the diets of native bugs, to ban the use of harmful pesticides, and to incentivize people to remove invasive, foreign bugs from their areas who may be killing the endangered native populations. Aside from my career and educational goals, I hope to create advocacy via social media for the cause, preaching the same aforementioned ideas. All it takes is one viral video for the world to realize what is at stake. With so many threats to the environment surfacing, it’s easy to get caught up in the big issues. While fixing pollution and deforestation is crucial, there is no point if there are no bugs to support these fragile ecosystems. Together, we can save the earth one bug at a time—there is no future without them.

Life is precious, the very soul of our being is intricately woven by a Creator far beyond our comprehension. When I was a child, I loved animals with a kind, pure-hearted devotion. I still do. I slept beside dogs like they were my brothers. I even cried when my family would cook chicken from the ones we raised. Something about that never sat right with me, and maybe that’s when I first realized how deeply I felt for the world around me. I used to think this sensitivity made me weird. I didn’t have a popular presence growing up. I wasn’t the loudest voice in the room at times, I was just always there, watching, imagining, and connecting with the world in my own quiet way. But that sensitivity became my strength in a way. It became the compass guiding me toward purpose. As I grew older, I saw more of the world and it hurt me in ways I couldn't yet explain. I saw polar bears floating on shrinking ice, as the oceans rose and homes disappeared under the tide. I learned how wildfires were more than just disasters, they were signs. Signs that humanity was hurting its own home. That we were the ones lighting the match. My Environmental Science class didn’t just teach me facts, it opened my eyes. We watched documentaries that didn’t feel like classwork. They felt like warnings. Cries for help. I didn't want to stay silent stay silent. How could I, knowing that we the future, have inherited a planet gasping for air? I began mentoring younger students, encouraging them to speak up, to care, and to believe that their actions mattered. I spent time with elementary schoolers at my school, showing them that imagination and empathy are superpowers, not weaknesses. I reminded them that their love for animals, for trees, for clean skies matters. And if they protect that love, they’ll protect this Earth too. Growing up, I was somewhat energetic. I talked nonstop and expressed my creativity in multiple ways, I was artistic, and I loved to draw, sing, dance, and play sports, It was my way to release the spiritual joy overflowing inside me. I believe all children have that, it’s what makes the next generations so beautiful. Their souls will provide the future with so much art and space to blossom into what it is meant to be. I want to build campaigns that move people to tears, and then move them to action. I want to use technology to amplify truth and create solutions. I want to lead, not for the sake of being seen, but to help others see what’s at stake. We are not hopeless. We are not helpless. We are the generation that still has time. So if you place even a sliver of belief in me, I’ll turn it into something lasting. Something real. Something our children will thank us for. That’s what I truly believe. That is what I will fight for. That’s who I truly am.