Why should we consider you for this scholarship? Please write about your academic accomplishments, extracurricular activities, and anything else you would consider noteworthy to us. My parents came to this country with very little. They built a life here out of sheer will, working jobs that paid just enough to keep the lights on and food on the table. College was never a financial reality they could plan for. When I became the first in my family to enroll in a four-year university, there was pride in our home, but there was also a conversation we had to have: we cannot afford this. My FAFSA is maxed out. I have taken out loans. And still, every semester, the gap between what aid covers and what I actually owe is a number I have to figure out on my own. That is why I need this scholarship. I am currently a first-year nursing student at Loyola University Chicago, where I am carrying a 4.0 GPA. That number means something different to me than it might to someone whose path here was easier. It represents early mornings and late nights of studying while also working, volunteering, and navigating the financial stress that follows me like a shadow. It means that even when I am exhausted or worried about money, I choose to show up for my education, for my future patients, and for everyone who sacrificed so I could be here. I refuse to waste the opportunity that so many in my family never had. But my drive did not start at Loyola. It was built over four years at Amos Alonzo Stagg High School, where I graduated with a 3.94 GPA while throwing myself into nearly every meaningful opportunity available to me. I was a member of the National Honor Society, a Student Ambassador, a board member of Charger Nation, and a varsity debater in Public Forum. I competed in HOSA: Future Health Professionals all four years, eventually serving as Senior Representative— and in my final year, I won first place in Clinical Nursing at the Illinois State Conference. That win not only allowed me to put a deposit on my University, it was also confirmation that the career I have chosen: nursing, is one I am genuinely prepared to pursue with excellence. What drives my commitment to nursing is not abstract. When I was twelve years old, I was riding my scooter after school when I hit a crack in the sidewalk. The handlebar went up my eye and I had fractured my zygoma bone and tore my lower eyelid. For days in the hospital, I could not open my eyes. I was completely dependent on others for every basic task like eating, drinking water, even knowing what time it was. What I remember most is not the pain, It was one nurse in particular, who was not even assigned to my care. She would pull up a chair beside my bed, place her hand on mine, and just talk to me. About movies, about what I liked to do after school. She did not have to do that but she made me feel like a person, not just a patient. That experience changed everything. It is why I am studying nursing today, and it is why I will not stop until I become a registered nurse and eventually a specialist in critical care. Outside of school, I have poured more than 100 hours into volunteering with Arab American Family Services, supporting food drives, coordinating holiday programs, and distributing supplies to underserved families in my community. That work earned me the Governor's Volunteer Service Award in 2024 but more than any recognition, it reinforced something I already believed: that service is not something you do when it is convenient. It is who you are. I am also bilingual in English and Arabic, a skill that took its own kind of journey. When I first came to America, I was ashamed of my accent. I stayed quiet in class to avoid being mocked. Silence, for a time, felt safer than speaking but I kept pushing through that fear, and today language is one of my greatest strengths. One I intend to use to serve patients who might otherwise struggle to communicate their needs in a hospital setting. I am a first-generation college student, the child of immigrants, a nursing major with a 4.0, a state champion, a volunteer, and someone who is paying for every credit hour with a combination of loans, financial aid, and hope. I do not say this for sympathy, I say it because it is the truth of who I am, and the truth of what this scholarship would mean. It would mean one less loan. One less night of anxiety about next months bill. One more reason to keep going at full speed, which I intend to do regardless, but with your support, I can do it without carrying quite as much weight. I will make the most of every opportunity I am given.

The first time I realized how much care could exist in silence was while volunteering with Arab American Family Services. Families arrived carrying more than paperwork. They carried fear, exhaustion, and the weight of not knowing what would come next. Often, what helped most was not a solution, but someone sitting with them long enough for their shoulders to drop. In those moments, I learned that care is not always about fixing. Sometimes, it is about staying. That understanding followed me as I moved closer to nursing. Through HOSA, I practiced clinical skills that demanded precision and confidence. During my Clinical Nursing competition, every step mattered, from hand hygiene to patient communication. What stayed with me afterward was not the medal I earned at the state level, but the quiet awareness that technical accuracy alone is not enough. A procedure can be completed correctly and still feel distant. Nursing asks for something more deliberate. Now, as an undergraduate student in Illinois, I see that same philosophy reflected in my university. Loyola emphasizes care for the whole person, and that value shows up in how patients are discussed and how care is approached. In my coursework and preparation for clinical settings, patients are never reduced to diagnoses or charts. Their emotional, social, and spiritual needs are treated as essential parts of healing. That approach mirrors what I had already witnessed in my community work. People heal best when they feel recognized. Cindy J. Visser lived that understanding throughout her nursing career. Her work across medical surgical units, urgent care, hospice, and home health shows a nurse who followed patients wherever care was needed most. I imagine the patience required in hospice settings and the quiet professionalism it takes to care for patients in their own homes. Her career reflects a commitment to meeting people at every stage of life with dignity and intention. I hope to build a nursing career guided by those same principles. I want to be the nurse who explains what is happening before a patient feels lost, who notices hesitation in a voice, who understands that reassurance can be as meaningful as treatment. Whether caring for someone during a brief hospital stay or supporting them through longer recovery, I aim to approach each interaction with attentiveness and respect. Cindy found beauty in her community, her family, and the world around her. That awareness shaped how she cared for others. By carrying forward her commitment to intentional, compassionate care, I hope to honor her legacy in the quiet moments of nursing that patients remember long after the room goes still.