"The Math Gift" Scholarship for High School Students

I’ve always tried to find a way to make things work, even if, after a hundred times, my solution has still gone wrong. For most of my life, I relied on a stubborn, practical knack for troubleshooting—tinkering with a computer until it booted or guessing at calculus concepts mid-exam. But as I have come to realize, intuition is only a starting point. Knowing math is what separates the "hundred wrong tries" from the one engineered solution. It moves you from being a user who is confused by the world's glitches to being a developer who can access the source code. Growing up, that distinction was vital. As a military kid with Autism Spectrum Disorder, the social world felt broken to me. But math? Math was the anchor. It was the one language that followed clear, systematic rules, regardless of wherever I moved. When everything else was uprooted, math stayed the same for me. It was the framework I used to build self-discipline when the noise of the world was overwhelming. Knowing math helps people because it can be the difference-maker between "I'm struggling to feed these families" and "We need to transport 378 pounds of food across these specific routes." It’s the difference between "I want to make a character move" and writing a C# script in Unity that accounts for everything to make tomato physics feel real. You can't truly help a system—whether it's a game engine, a food drive, or real life—if you only understand how it feels. You have to understand how it behaves. But, on a purer level, knowing math means dealing with the seemingly absurd precision of existence itself. If the gravitational constant were even a trillionth of a percent stronger, the universe would have collapsed back on itself moments after the Big Bang. If it were weaker, stars would never have ignited, and outer space would be a cold nothingness. Sitting back and taking the time to comprehend our conceptual presence like this just leaves me dumbfounded in shock and awe. These perspectives change how you handle failure. When I was standing in the lecture hall at UT Austin after the UIL Science State competition, I was simply upset. We were the first team from our school to ever make it that far, and we missed second-place by a single question—a question we answered correctly, but the judges omitted due to a technicality. I felt out of place, surrounded by kids from wealthier districts with formal coaches. But as the frustration settled, the reality of the score was just a number. We didn't lose because we were less intelligent or less deserving; we lost because our preparation system was underdeveloped. The number on the scoreboard did not solely define my worth; it was data that told me exactly where we needed to refine our approach. It's the difference between "I failed" and "Let’s run it back." That's the power of math, both in its applied and pure form. It doesn't just give you the answer; it gives you the error message so you can reiterate. It allowed me to go from needing extensive accommodations in elementary school to ranking first in my class. It’s the tool I’ll use at Dartmouth College to develop sustainable energy systems, not just out of passion, but out of a need to build a level of society where other families don't have to lose everything to a hurricane like I did. Math is the code of reality, and if you know it, you become the one who can rebuild the game to make it better for everyone else.

While working with a student during a tutoring session, I noticed that the problem in front of her was not what was holding her back. She hesitated before writing anything down, second-guessed each step, and looked for confirmation before continuing. Even when she was close to the right answer, she did not trust herself enough to follow through. As we worked through the problem together, I saw that the shift was not just in her understanding of the math, but in her willingness to keep trying. That moment changed how I think about what it means to know math. Math helps people in ways that go beyond solving equations or passing tests. It builds confidence and shapes the way people approach challenges. Many students begin to believe they are “not good at math” after struggling with it, and that belief often leads them to avoid opportunities that require it. When someone understands math, even at a basic level, they are more willing to engage, take risks, and trust their ability to figure things out. Knowing math gives people a sense of control over problems that might otherwise feel overwhelming. I understand this because I have experienced both sides of it. During my sophomore year, I struggled in Honors Pre-Calculus and earned a D during the first semester. At the time, I was adjusting to a new environment and dealing with a lack of stability that made it difficult to stay focused. For the first time, I began to question whether I was capable of succeeding in a subject that had always felt like one of my strengths. The grade reflected more than just my understanding of the material. It reflected a loss of confidence and structure. Over time, that began to change. I improved to a B second semester, and by junior year, I was taking AP Calculus AB and performing at a much higher level. The progress was gradual and required consistency, but it showed me that ability is not fixed. Learning math again was not just about improving my grades. It was about rebuilding my approach to problems and trusting myself to work through them. That experience reshaped how I see math. It is not something that separates people into those who can and cannot do it. It is something that can be developed with time, effort, and the right mindset. This is what I carry into my work as a math tutor. When I work with students, I recognize the hesitation and doubt that I once felt. I focus on helping them stay with the problem, even when it is uncomfortable, and showing them that progress is possible. Knowing math allows me to support others in a way that goes beyond the material. It allows me to help them build confidence and keep opportunities open that they might otherwise close off. Knowing math helps people because it changes how they see challenges. It teaches them that difficult problems are not permanent barriers, but something that can be approached step by step. When people understand that, they begin to trust themselves more, take on new challenges, and see more possibilities for their future.