I was raised in the heart of Alabama, where I suppose that family, faith, and friend chicken are the foundation of just about everything. My earliest memories are of walking barefoot across my grandparents' land, our little family compound tucked just down the road from our Southern Baptist church. We were there every time the doors were open: Sunday mornings and nights, Wednesday night services, Vacation Bible Schools, potlucks, and ice cream socials. If the church van was rolling, I was probably in it. Faith wasn't something we just practiced; it was the very air we breathed. My Mawmaw and Pawpaw were the kind of believers that didn't just quote scripture, they lived it. They built their lives and their legacy on hard work, prayer, and service, raising four children with the same Christian values. Those children married and started families of their own, and now their grandchildren (myself included) and great-grandchildren are reaping the blessings of that faithful obedience. Their example showed me that faith is not just inherited, it's modeled, nurtured, and lived out in the every day. But like many raised in the church, I found myself drifting as I got older. High school was a time of rebellion, confusion, and compromise. I wasn't angry with God, I just slowly let the noise of the world drown out His voice. I tried to fill the emptiness with all the wrong things, but nothing ever settled the ache in my soul. The older I got, the more I realized how far I had wandered, and how much I missed the peace I had once known. It wasn't until college that I truly found my way back. A friend invited me to a college ministry event, and I went, more out of curiosity than conviction. That night, I felt something I had not felt in years... God's presence. Not that He hadn't always been there, but for the first time in a while, I was listening and open. It wasn't loud or dramatic, but a quiet tug at my heart, reminding me of who I was and WHOSE I was. I rededicated my life to Christ, not just because it felt right, but because I knew I couldn't do life without Him. God didn't just restore my faith, He began to reveal my purpose. I started serving in that ministry, eventually stepping into worship leadership. I had always loved to sing, but suddenly, my voice had a mission: to glorify The One who had rescued me! I also found my husband in that very same ministry... a man whose heart beats for The Lord and encourages me to chase after God's call with everything I have. Together, we have continued to serve, and now as parents, we strive to raise our son in the same foundation of faith that raised us. One area of ministry that has truly captured my heart is working with the kids. I believe that if you want to impact the next generation for Christ, you have to start now. There's a window in childhood when hearts are soft, questions are honest, and God's truth can take root in life-changing ways. I have had the privilege of teaching students that are a part of our church's TeamKID program, directing Vacation Bible School, and writing my own curriculum for young Christian learners. There is no greater joy than watching a child light up when they realize that Jesus loves them personally and unconditionally. This passion is part of what led me back to school. After becoming a mother at 22, I took time away from college to focus on raising my son. Returning to high education as a mother and nontraditional student has not been easy. It's meant balancing game and practice schedules with class deadlines, learning how to write research papers again while also packing lunchboxes and reviewing spelling words. Every late night and early morning has been worth it, because I know I am building something eternal, not just for my family, but for the generations I will one day teach and serve. Right now, I work as a general education teacher at Marshall County Online School, where I support high school students navigating nontraditional paths to graduation. Many are overcoming personal, academic, and socioeconomic challenges. I monitor progress, provide encouragement, offer accommodations, and advocate for their success daily. As I continue my graduate studies in Instructional Technology, I feel a growing pull toward leadership, using my gifts not just in the classroom, but to help guide, mentor, and inspire other educators and students alike. I have always had a heart for serving, but now I see God calling me to lead in my career, to speak up when it's easier to stay quiet, to step up when others step back, and to be a light in our halls, meetings, and the moments where it matters most. I believe that education is one of the most powerful tools for kingdom work in today's world. I want to use my degrees and my voice, both literally figuratively, to teach truth, build confidence, and spread the love of Jesus in every classroom and corner I'm placed in. This scholarship would allow me to continue that pursuit without the weight of additional financial burden. It would help provide the flexibility I need to keep serving in ministry, being present with my family, and investing in the next generation. Receiving the Pastor Thomas Rorie Jr. Christian Values Scholarship would not just support my education, it would honor the very foundation of my journey. Pastor Thomas, from what I have read, was a man who lived his life for others and pointed people to Christ in the process. That is the life I want to live, too. One marked by faith, generosity, and service. I may not have a pulpit, but I do have a platform as a teacher, a writer, a worship leader, and a mother. I plan to use every bit of it to magnify the name of Jesus. In a world that is increasingly divided, discouraged, and disoriented, I want to be a light. Not just a flicker in the dark, but a beacon of hope pointing others back to the God who never gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself.

In Spring 2017, I was in the middle of my first year of education classes at Jacksonville State University, finally leaning into the dream I had danced around for years... when I found out I was pregnant. I was filled with both joy and uncertainty. I pushed through that summer semester determined not to lose momentum, but by the time fall came around, the hour-long commute each way each day, paired with a not-so-pretty pregnancy, forced me to take a step back. I told myself it was just a short break. What I didn't anticipate was how deeply postpartum psychosis depression would root themselves in my life after my son, Calvin, was born. I planned to return to school quickly, but the mental health struggles that followed delivery were overwhelming. I battled not just sleepless nights and new-mom exhaustion, but hallucinations, paranoia, and the painful lie that I wasn't enough. The path back to education started to feel like a cliff I couldn't climb. But I did climb. I returned to college in the fall of 2019, just before Calvin's second birthday. I was terrified. I felt behind, rusty, and deeply insecure about being "older" than most of my classmates. But, I also found support in professors that believed in me, friends who encouraged me and would allow me to carpool to save money on gas, and a little boy at home who gave me a reason to keep going. In December 2020, I walked across the stage to receive my diploma with tears in my eyes, and a special toddler (donning a face mask, of course!) watching from the stands. After graduation, I stayed home with Calvin for two years. I wouldn't trade that time for anything. In 2022, when he started preschool, I began teaching fine arts at a small Christian school, where I also led music and theatre. It was a sweet season, but as he grew, so did our dreams and our needs. We made the leap over to public school together, and I took a position at Marshall County Online School, where I now support high school students working toward graduation through alternative education pathways. Many of my students are parents themselves, struggling to juggle work, life, and academics. In a beautiful, full-circle moment, I now get to be the support I once needed. Now, I find myself returning to school once again, this time as a mom of a "big kid." Calvin is seven now, active in theatre, sports, and curious about everything. He asks questions like, "What are you learning in school today, Mama?" and I get to show him what it looks like to keep growing, even when it's hard. Balancing graduate coursework with parenting, teaching, and life is not easy. But I am committed. I know what it's like to feel like you've lost time and to worry that your season has passed. But I also know what it is like to come back, to push forward even when it is inconvenient, complicated, or scary. This is not the traditional journey, but it's a bold one, and it's mine.

I never imagined I would be a mom, a full-time teacher, and a graduate student all at once... but here I am, juggling it all, and somehow still standing (most days only with my Diet Coke in hand and dry shampoo in my hair.) Like so many other mothers, what inspired me to continue my education was my child. Becoming a mother shifted my perspective on everything, especially my future. I wanted my son to see a woman who didn't give up when life got hard, who kept chasing growth in the middle of chaos. I wanted him to see that learning is lifelong and that your dreams do not expire just because life takes an unexpected turn. I earned my bachelor's degree in education in 2020, when my son was three years old. Throughout my studies I relied on child care to make it through. We'd wake up at the crack of dawn to get him ready and dropped off, and I'd make the hour long commute to Jacksonville State to attend classes. Once I graduated, I was a stay-at-home mom until he began preschool in 2022, and we "started school together," he in the K4 class and I as the fine arts teacher at our local private Christian school. In 2024, I landed a general education role supporting virtual high school students at a school in our public district. My son, Calvin, followed me into first grade there. I found myself passionate about helping students who didn't fit the mold of traditional education, but I knew I needed to go back to school if I wanted to grow into an instructional technology leadership role to further support my family. The obstacles? Oh, there's a list. Balancing coursework, lesson planning, grading, parenting, and just being a human is no small feat. There are nights when I stay up much past bedtime giving feedback on essays and entering grades, only to be up at 6 AM packing lunches. There have been tears, doubt, and even a season where I battle postpartum depression so severe that I didn't think I'd see the other side of it... But I did. With therapy, faith, family support and modern medicine, I came through it stronger and more determined than ever. Managing motherhood, work, and school requires creativity, grit, and a lot of grace. I progress monitor during basketball practice, review class readings while cooking dinner, and work ahead on the weekends when I have help. I have learned to ask for support, set boundaries, and remind myself that perfection is not the goal, progress is. I may not always get it right, but I am very proud of how far I have come. I am building a better future not just for me, but for my son. He sees me hustling, teaching, studying, and showing up day after day. One day, I hope he can tell his own kids, "My mom did hard things and so can you." This journey has not been easy, but it's been worth it. I am not just chasing a degree, I am chasing purpose, legacy, and a life that reflects what I hope to pass down: resilience, faith, and the power of never giving up!

Growing up, I had a front-row seat to the life-changing power of education, thanks to my aunt Rita, affectionately known as "Auntie." Her career spanned from special education to school counseling, then to administration, and now she serves on our local school board. She poured her heart into every student, every teacher, and every decision she made. I watched her come home exhausted but fulfilled, knowing she had made a difference. She often told me that teaching had to be a calling, because it was too hard, too underpaid, and too often underappreciated to do without passion. But, she also said it was the most rewarding work on Earth. For years, I resisted following in her footsteps. I loved learning and people, but I didn't think I was cut out for the classroom. I started off in college as a general music major with zero plans to go into education. But during my first summer break, I was asked to teach music at an elementary summer camp. I reluctantly agreed, thinking it would be just a one-time thing. It wasn't. That summer changed everything. Each day, I watched those little faces light up when they learned a new rhythm or mastered a song. I saw how a shy child would blossom with encouragement, how music became a bridge between confidence and creativity. I wasn't just teaching the music, I was teaching THEM, and I loved it. That summer, paired with a lifetime of watching Auntie build a legacy in education, opened my eyes and my heart to what I was truly meant to do. I ended up spending four summers with that camp. Since then, I have never looked back. I now teach at an alternative online high school program, working with students who face challenges like poverty, teen parenthood, trauma, or mental health struggles. Many of my students have been written off by others, but I refuse to believe they are beyond hope. I know what it feels like to battle the odds. I became a mother at 22, just as I was finding my way into the teaching world. I walked through the darkness of postpartum psychosis and depression and nearly lost my life to it. At one point, I had even made a plan to end my life, but by the grace of God and the support of my family, church, counselor and doctors, I survived. I came out of that season with a renewed understanding of what it means to fight for your future. I use those experiences every single day. I see my students and meet them where they are. I tutor teen moms while their babies babble in the background. I help students with IEPs find their rhythm and remember that they CAN succeed. I advocate for students in shelters, recovery programs, in foster care. When they tell me no one believes in them, I get to say, "No, I do." My mission is to be a teacher who sees the WHOLE child, who recognizes that sometimes just showing up to school is a victory. I am currently pursuing my Master's in Instructional Technology at Jacksonville State University, with plans to add a Special Education certification so I can serve as my school's IEP case manager. Long-term, I hope to help reshape how online learning is delivered to high-needs students in rural areas like ours. I want to be a part of the solution that ensures every student, regardless of their zip code or zip line of life, has access to compassion and quality education. Dr. Connie Reece's story feels personal to me. Her grit, her willingness to serve students wherever they were, and her belief in education as a mission field, it all echoes through my journey. Like her, I have worked multiple jobs to chase my calling. Like her, I believe that teaching is not just a career, it is a way to leave the world better than we found it. If awarded this scholarship, I will continue to walk in that legacy with everything I have. Because I know firsthand how a great teacher can change a life, and I want to spend the rest of mine proving that truth again and again.

Balancing work and caregiving hasn't just shaped my career goals, it has given them purpose. My name is Abbi-Neale Underwood. I am a wife, a mother, and an online high school teacher with Marshall County Online School. My job is to walk alongside students who have had life throw them curveballs: medical conditions, mental health struggles, unstable housing, or adult-sized responsibilities far too young. As a working mother myself, I don't just understand their lives, I live the rhythm of resilience every day. I found out I was pregnant with my son Calvin my first official year in the education program at Jacksonville State University. It scared me to death. I questioned everything, like my future, my capacity, and my worth. I made a promise in that moment that I would not let fear write my story. I stayed in school, earned my degree, and pushed forward because I wanted him to be proud of me and to know that his mom finishes what she starts. Calvin is seven now, and is a bright light in my life who keeps me grounded in what matters most. Raising him has taught me more about leadership, patience, and grit than any degree ever could. I have juggled teaching and parenting during a pandemic, held Zoom tutoring sessions while folding laundry, and written lesson plans late into the night after a bedtime story and prayer. It hasn't always been pretty, but it has always been sacred. That tension, between building a life for your family and being present in it, is where I have found my calling. Motherhood didn't slow me down. It only clarified the kind of difference I wish to make. I have returned to graduate school to pursue a master's in Instructional Technology so I can improve the educational systems that failed too many kids like the ones I serve each day. I have witnessed firsthand how students get left behind, not because they incapable, but because their learning doesn't fit a traditional mold. I want to change that. I want to build bridges between technology and accessibility, designing systems where every learner is seen, supported and empowered no matter their circumstances. As a mother, I bring empathy. As a teacher, I bring strategy. And as a working woman whop knows what it is like to make do, stretch thin, and still show up, I bring fire. Receiving this scholarship would lift a financial burden and let me continue to pursue my education without sacrificing the stability I have worked so hard to provide for my family. Even more than that, it would be a reminder that stories like mine--of women raising babies while chasing big dreams--are worth investing in. Jennifer's story resonates with me deeply. Like her, I have made pivots for my family... Leaving a private school for public education, stepping away from the in-person classroom to teach online so I could better support my husband's work schedule and be more present for my son. These weren't just career moves, they were acts of care rooted in my commitment to making our home and my work life function in harmony. I hope to carry Jennifer's legacy forward with encouraging other moms, mentoring other teachers, and showing my son that the best kind of success is the kind that lifts others with you. Motherhood didn't put my dreams on pause. It gave them a heartbeat.

My name is Abbi-Neale Underwood. I am a wife, mother, and educator. I am currently pursuing my masters degree in Instructional Technology at Jacksonville State University. Attaining this degree is much more than a personal goal, it's a calling to help students who often get overlooked in traditional systems. As a teacher for Marshall County Online School, I work daily with students facing challenges like chronic illness, mental health struggles, unstable housing, or full-time work obligations. Many of them have been told they will not succeed, and I have made it my mission to prove otherwise. Receiving this scholarship will directly impact both my educational journey and my ability to better serve these students. With the rising costs of graduate education and the financial pressures of raising a young family, this support would relieve significant burden. It would allow me to focus more deeply on my coursework, apply new tools and strategies in real time, and accelerate my ability to implement tech-forward, student-centered solutions within our school. One of my ultimate career goals is to become our district's special education instructional technology lead and IEP case manager. I want to create digital equity in education by developing accessible, customized learning experience for students with learning differences. My graduate studies are equipping me with the skills to build programs and resources that close the gap between a student's potential and their circumstances. However, the impact will not stop in my own classroom. I plan to mentor other teachers navigating complexities of online and hybrid education. I want to lead professional development initiatives that promote inclusive technology use, universal design for learning, and trauma-informed teaching practices. This scholarship will not only help fund my degree, it will multiply its reach by allowing me to empower others. I believe that education should not be reserved for the lucky or wealthy. It should be accessible, adaptable, and anchored in empathy. That belief drives everything I do. Whether I helping a student catch up on three months worth of missed work due to housing instability, or guiding a teen mother back on the path to graduation, I am motivated by the hope of change and by the tools education can provide to make that change last. OMC's belief in the power of education aligns with mine. Receiving this scholarship would not only affirm that vision but also invest in someone who plans to give it back tenfold. I don't take the opportunity to further my education lightly. It is a privilege I hope to pass on every single day by building systems that make learning possible, personal, and powerful for every student. Thank you for your consideration.

My name is Abbi-Neale Underwood. I am a wife, a mom, and educator with Marshall County Online School. What inspires me the most to work with individuals with Autism Spectrum Disorder is the quiet brilliance that often goes unseen. At MCOS, I have the privilege of working with students who need a nontraditional path to graduation, including some with autism. One student in particular inspired me deeply this year. He was soft spoken and often struggled with communication, but underneath the surface was an extremely gifted young man who could build or fix anything you placed in front of him, had a photographic memory for automobile facts, and lit up when he had the opportunity to speak about mechanics. What inspired me was not just his potential, it was the way he bloomed when someone took the time to see him for who he really was. He reminded me that autistic students don't need to be "fixed," they need to be understood, supported, and championed. Right now, I am pursuing my degree in Instructional Technology so I can help reimagine learning for neurodivergent students. Traditional classrooms do not work for everyone, and with the growing role of virtual education, we have a unique opportunity to design tools that are more inclusive from the start. I want to create digital platforms and curriculum structures that reduce sensory overload, incorporate visual learning supports, and allow for flexible pacing so that students can learn in a way that actually works for them. I also plan to earn my special education certification and serve as the IEP case manager for our school. My goal is to ensure that each student's plan is more than just a checklist, it is a roadmap tailored to their strengths, needs, and interests. I want to work closely with families to ensure that students feel supported at home and at school, and collaborate with general education teachers to make sure accommodations are seen as bridges and not burdens. Long term, I would love to create a regional support network for online learners with disabilities. My students live in rural North Alabama, and their access to therapists, specialists, or even understanding educators is more limited than others. By developing partnerships with local organizations and leveraging teletherapy and mentorship programs, I believe we can close the gap in services and provide students with consistent and compassionate support, no matter where they live. Individuals with ASD have unique ways of thinking, feeling, and expressing themselves. I believe the world needs more of those perspectives, not less. As a mother, educator, and future special education leader, I am committed to creating safe, flexible, and empowering environments where they can thrive. They deserve to be seen in all educational settings, and in all settings of the world. That is what inspires me.

When Professor Harold Bloom said, "the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence," he wasn't simply referring to academic performance. He was speaking to the deeply human experience of being seen, being heard, and knowing that you matter. To me, this quote means guiding each student to understand their intrinsic value, their voice, and their power in the world. For students with special needs, whose voices are often underestimated or completely unheard, this mission becomes even more sacred. My name is Abbi-Neale Underwood. I am a wife, mother, and an online school teacher at Marshall County Online School. MCOS is a program that serves nontraditional high school students, many of which live with disabilities, chronic illnesses, trauma, or learning differences. Among them, I work with several students who have IEPs, and I serve as one of their fiercest advocates. I modify assignments, offer individualized support, and constantly adjust my approach to how they learn--not the other way around. In the world of virtual education, presence can be especially hard to come by. However, I've found that when I adapt a lesson to match a student's pace, create a personalized video message to explain a difficult concept, or simply check in with consistency and kindness, they begin to show up in a new way. Not just logging in, but leaning in. Not just completing tasks, but taking ownership. They begin to realize they are capable, valued, and that their future is worth investing in. In addition to seeking my masters degree in Instructional Technology, another one of my long-term goal is to become our school's official IEP case manager, and I am preparing to earn my special education certification via the CBT method of Praxis. I believe every school needs a voice dedicated to making sure no student slips through the cracks. Too often, students with exceptional needs are seen as problems to solve, rather than real people to empower. I want to help rewrite that narrative, one student at a time. And now, I'd like to tell you a story. It is called, "A Lantern in the Fog." Once upon a time, in a misty kingdom where the sun rarely shone and a fog clung to every corner, there lived a girl named Abbi. She wasn't a knight or a wizard, or even particularly graceful. BUT, she carried something that no one else in the kingdom had: a lantern that never went out. The kingdom had grown quiet in recent years. Many of the young villagers had stopped speaking. Some had stopped walking to the schoolhouse, or trying to learn, because the road felt too heavy beneath their feet. They weren't lazy or broken, they were just tired. Tired of being misunderstood, tired of feeling behind, tired of never being asked what they needed to succeed. The fog didn't speak, but it would press. It blurred the path ahead, soaked through every effort, and made even the strongest feel unsure of where they stood. The ones who struggled the most often completely disappeared into it. Abbi had walked in the fog before. She remembered what it felt like to lose your way. So each day, she strapped on her boots, lit her lantern, and ventured into the gray. Some days, she found a child curled beneath a tree, too tired to continue. She'd kneel beside them, hold the lantern close and whisper to them, "You're not lost, you're still becoming." Then, she'd offer them a map drawn just for them and their own steps. Other days, she found schoolhouse students trying to build bridges with crooked boards and missing nails. She'd sit beside them, offering tools, encouragement, and even snacks for the journey. "You are not behind," she'd tell them, "you are building something strong." Slowly, the fog began to lift. Not all at once, and not for everyone at the same time. But wherever her lantern had gone, the ground grew warm again. Flowers bloomed, laughter echoed, and and the children began to walk taller, speak louder, and write stories of their own. No one ever built a statue for Abbi, she never asked for one. But if you asked any of her students how they found their way, they'd all tell you the same thing: "She didn't carry me out. She gave me the light that helped me see that I could walk out on my own." Back to reality... My passion for special education comes from a place of calling. Not only do I believe that every student deserves access to a meaningful education, but I believe they deserve a guide who sees their presence as something sacred. I want to be the teacher who adapts, advocates, and lights the way, until every student believes in their own ability to shine. I don't teach subjects. I teach souls. AND, I carry a lantern than never goes out.

My name is Abbi-Neale Underwood. I am a wife, mother, and educator with Marshall County Online School. There is a girl that I will simply refer to as "P." She came to us at MCOS during one of the darkest points of her life. After escaping an abusive home and sleeping on random couches for weeks, she was placed into a residential home for women. She was grieving stability she'd never really had. Her academic record had become scattered. Her emotional wounds ran deep. When we first met, she was guarded, distant and angry. School felt more like a reminder of failure than a pathway forward. She told me quietly one day, "I don't think I'm going to graduate. I've already messed everything up, and I'm too far behind." My heart broke. Not just because she said, but because she actually believed it. We began slowly, building trust one meeting at a time. Twice a week, I'd drive to Mercy Home, where she was living, and we'd meet in the office to tackle her assignments. In addition to monitoring her online progress, I made paper checklists, assignment schedules, I talked her through the work on her level (P was also classified as a special education student with an IEP), and I cheered for every small win like it was a championship. Most importantly, I just kept showing up. Through our conversations, I learned how much she had endured. Trauma, depression, nights of wondering what was to come next for her. Here she was, still fighting, still showing up, still trying. This changed me. It reminded me that the students who need love the most, often are the ones who ask for it the least. Sometimes the best way to teach is to simply believe in someone until they believe in themselves. Over time, P's confidence grew. She began completing assignments on time, and her grades began to rise. She started to see the light at the end of the tunnel. She's still on the path today, and I am still walking it with her, but I am so proud to say that she has completed 3 out of her 4 courses a week early, and will finish up the other within the next few days. She received an award from the school, and will walk across the stage in a little over a week as an honor roll student. I do not tell this story to paint myself as a hero. I tell it because this is what I believe education is really about. It's not just lesson plans and test scores. It's about human connection. It's about advocating for students when the rest of the world tells them they're too far behind. It's about seeing past the transcript to the person and saying "You are worthy, let's keep trying." Sierra Argumedo's story touches me deeply. Like Sierra, I believe that every child deserves to be seen, known, and loved, especially the ones who have been hurt the most. The belief is what guides my work. As a facilitator at an alternative online school, I work with students who are parenting, working full-time, battling chronic illness, or rebuilding from trauma. I tailor learning plans, provide emotional support, and help students rediscover their voice and worth. I am a graduate student pursuing a degree in Instructional Technology because I want to create a learning environment that adapts to students, not the other way around. My dream is to design systems that make room for every story, every need, every child. P once told me, "You don't treat me like I'm broken." That stuck with me, because she's not. She's healing, and she's capable of more than anyone ever told her. If I can spend the rest of my life reminding students of that truth, just as Sierra did, then I'll know I lived my calling well.

My name is Abbi-Neale Underwood. I am a wife, mother, teacher, and born again believer in Jesus Christ. My faith in Jesus is not a compartmentalized part of my life. It is the lens through which I see the world and the compass that guides my every decision. As a leader, my faith compels me to prioritize service over status, people over performance, and integrity over image. Jesus modeled servant leadership in the purest form, humbling himself to wash the feet of His disciples and challenging those around Him to lead with both truth and love. That example has deeply influenced how I lead in the classroom, in my community, and in every role I take on. One of my most profound experiences I've had as a leader came through my involvement with Mercy Home, a residential discipleship organization for women and children overcoming cycles of trauma, addiction, and poverty. Through my job as a teacher at Marshall County Online School, I was paired with a student who had fallen significantly behind in school due to homelessness and family instability. When I first met her, she was guarded, discouraged, angry, and convinced that she would never graduate. Rather than focusing solely on academics, I approached our time together through the lens of grace. I prayed before very session, not just for academic breakthroughs, but for healing, peace, and trust to form between us. Over time, her demeanor began to change. She started completing her assignments on time, asking questions, and even genuinely smiling again. One day she looked at me and said, "I didn't think I would finish school, but now I think I actually might." That sentence rocked me to my core. It reminded me that leadership is not about having all the answers, it's about showing up faithfully, planting seeds of hope, and reflecting the light of Christ in dark places. That experience reshaped my vision for the future. As an online school teacher serving students who face chronic illness, teen parenting, mental health struggles, unstable housing, or full-time jobs, I see firsthand how the traditional education system often fails those who need the most support. My greatest passion is helping students realize their story isn't over just because it took a detour. Whether I am designing a custom learning plan, encouraging a student to keep going, or simply being a consistent adult presence in their life, I consider it a sacred calling to walk alongside them. I am currently pursuing a graduate degree in Instructional Technology with the goal of creating tools and spaces that not only educate, but uplift, empower, and restore dignity. I believe the future of education must be more compassionate, more individualized, and more inclusive. Faith taught me to see each students as uniquely made in the image of God. They are worthy of love, opportunity, and of a future filled with hope. My leadership is shaped by grace, driven by service and grounded in my unwavering faith in The Lord. I don't want to just teach students. I want to champion them. When faith leads, leadership becomes a form of ministry, and when we lead with love as well, lives are changed. Thank you for your consideration. God bless!