My grandfather, affectionately named Dada, passed away years before I was even born. However, we kept him alive through the many stories around the dinner table. As if the small frame on my desk that proudly displays his sparkling 32-tooth grin is not enough proof, everyone who knew my Dada swears to me that he loved to use his cheerful, roaring laugh at every opportunity. Sometimes, hints of that same wholesome guffaw sneak into my chuckles too. In a small district in rural Gujarat, India, Dada was perhaps the only man in a 20-mile radius with formal medical training. They say that laughter is the best medicine for good reason. Being a doctor, my grandfather had the chance to work abroad or in a big city, but he chose to stay in his community and help his people. In a time when many villagers did not have access to basic necessities, he opened two low-cost clinics, many times accepting just garden vegetables in return for treating a patient. Dada's passion drove him to be a charitable and compassionate doctor. He lived by a motto that confirmed the same: “In the joy of others, lies our own.” I have always tried to mirror Dada’s initiative to be a community leader and selflessly serve others, even though I don't share the same interest in medicine. In particular, I place great value on the importance of financial literacy as the defining factor between a lifetime of material stability and the potential to be trapped in a cycle of debt. Many of us are a little embarrassed to admit that we don't entirely understand how to manage our finances to set us up for success. It's an essential skill, but I realized many of my peers don't know where to begin. Wanting to change this, I founded a community learning program with two dozen of my like-minded peers to educate our youth about the importance of financial literacy. We have already reached 200 local middle schoolers, and we want to expand this program to reach new heights. Having been inspired by Dada, I also wanted to bring greater community service to my activism. I started a civic consciousness awareness campaign in my year in office, and I reached out to IL DECA's 65 member schools to help guide local chapter fundraisers at their schools. Together, we raised around $12,500 for charity causes! I also reached out to the Muscular Dystrophy Organization to organize a statewide charity raffle for kids with MD. There, they could go to a sponsored summer camp and have the time of their lives, and we could help them get there! Unfortunately, this has been postponed due to COVID-19, but I still have big plans to finish our dream raffle. I want to live a life without regrets, and one in which I can say I meaningfully served others. There is so much that I know that I can give back to, and I am incredibly excited to go out into the world and serve my community. Even though Dada is not with us anymore, I know that he is laughing wholeheartedly while looking down upon me. I hope to continue to bring Dada’s values with me as I expand my community service endeavors and further his legacy.

My grandfather, affectionately named Dada, passed away years before I was even born. However, we kept him alive through the many stories around the dinner table. As if the small frame on my desk that proudly displays his sparkling 32-tooth grin is not enough proof, everyone who knew my Dada swears to me that he loved to use his cheerful, roaring laugh at every opportunity. Sometimes, hints of that same wholesome guffaw sneak into my chuckles too. In a small district in rural Gujarat, India, Dada was perhaps the only man in a 20-mile radius with formal medical training. They say that laughter is the best medicine for good reason. Being a doctor, my grandfather had the chance to work abroad or in a big city, but he chose to stay in his community and help his people. In a time when many villagers did not have access to basic necessities, he opened two low-cost clinics, many times accepting just garden vegetables in return for treating a patient. Dada's passion drove him to be a charitable and compassionate doctor. He lived by a motto that confirmed the same: “In the joy of others, lies our own.” I have always tried to mirror Dada’s initiative to be a community leader and selflessly serve others, even though I don't share the same interest in medicine. In particular, I place great value on the importance of financial literacy as the defining factor between a lifetime of material stability and the potential to be trapped in a cycle of debt. Many of us are a little embarrassed to admit that we don't entirely understand how to manage our finances to set us up for success. It's an essential skill, but I realized many of my peers don't know where to begin. Wanting to change this, I founded a community learning program with two dozen of my like-minded peers to educate our youth about the importance of financial literacy. We have already reached 200 local middle schoolers, and we want to expand this program to reach new heights. Having been inspired by Dada, I also wanted to bring greater community service to my activism. I started a civic consciousness awareness campaign in my year in office, and I reached out to IL DECA's 65 member schools to help guide local chapter fundraisers at their schools. Together, we raised around $12,500 for charity causes! I also reached out to the Muscular Dystrophy Organization to organize a statewide charity raffle for kids with MD. There, they could go to a sponsored summer camp and have the time of their lives, and we could help them get there! Unfortunately, this has been postponed due to COVID-19, but I still have big plans to finish our dream raffle. Even though Dada is not with us anymore, I know that he is laughing wholeheartedly while looking down upon me. I hope to continue to bring Dada’s values with me as I expand my community service endeavors and further his legacy.

My grandfather, affectionately named Dada, passed away years before I was even born. However, we kept him alive through the many stories around the dinner table. As if the small frame on my desk that proudly displays his sparkling 32-tooth grin is not enough proof, everyone who knew my Dada swears to me that he loved to use his cheerful, roaring laugh at every opportunity. Sometimes, hints of that same wholesome guffaw sneak into my chuckles too. In a small district in rural Gujarat, India, Dada was perhaps the only man in a 20-mile radius with formal medical training. They say that laughter is the best medicine for good reason. Being a doctor, my grandfather had the chance to work abroad or in a big city, but he chose to stay in his community and help his people. In a time when many villagers did not have access to basic necessities, he opened two low-cost clinics, many times accepting just garden vegetables in return for treating a patient. Dada's passion drove him to be a charitable and compassionate doctor. He lived by a motto that confirmed the same: “In the joy of others, lies our own.” I have always tried to mirror Dada’s initiative to be a community leader and selflessly serve others, even though I don't share the same interest in medicine. In particular, I place great value on the importance of financial literacy as the defining factor between a lifetime of material stability and the potential to be trapped in a cycle of debt. Many of us are a little embarrassed to admit that we don't entirely understand how to manage our finances to set us up for success. It's an essential skill, but I realized many of my peers don't know where to begin. Wanting to change this, I founded a community learning program with two dozen of my like-minded peers to educate our youth about the importance of financial literacy. We have already reached 200 local middle schoolers, and we want to expand this program to reach new heights. Having been inspired by Dada, I also wanted to bring greater community service to my activism. I started a civic consciousness awareness campaign in my year in office, and I reached out to IL DECA's 65 member schools to help guide local chapter fundraisers at their schools. Together, we raised around $12,500 for charity causes! I also reached out to the Muscular Dystrophy Organization to organize a statewide charity raffle for kids with MD. There, they could go to a sponsored summer camp and have the time of their lives, and we could help them get there! Unfortunately, this has been postponed due to COVID-19, but I still have big plans to finish our dream raffle. Even though Dada is not with us anymore, I know that he is laughing wholeheartedly while looking down upon me. I hope to continue to bring Dada’s values with me as I expand my community service endeavors and further his legacy.

In the periphery of my vision, I could feel a pair of eyes glued to me like a missile locked onto an enemy jet. I tried to reason that these mysterious eyes in a cafeteria with 300 people weren’t on me. But, they were. They had to be. Everyone will occasionally catch a stranger staring at them; I, however, tended to expose many more strangers in the act. Why? In the most literal sense, I had a bullseye painted on my forehead. Only a couple of hours earlier, I was standing with my face just inches away from my bathroom mirror. I grunted while grinding sandalwood in my mortar to form a thick paste. After preparations, I applied a U-shaped impression on my forehead and finished it off with a bright red vermillion dot smack-dab in the middle. At school, I had gotten through three periods, blissfully unaware of its existence. Well, at least until I felt the burn of the laser beams shooting out of this kid’s eyes. I braced myself as his footsteps drew closer to my lunch table. “Hey, what’s that on your forehead?” he asked. Having been asked a thousand times before, I resorted to regurgitating the temple’s explanation that the symbol, called a tilak-chandlo, was an outward profession of my Gujarati Hindu faith and cultural pride. He gave a weak grin and moved on with his tray of food. Sandwich in hand, I froze and looked onward, strangled by a nagging feeling in my conscience that had been building up for a while. It was an honest question, but did I answer it honestly? An overwhelming sense of nausea forced me to put that question on hold as I excused myself to make a dash for the nearest bathroom. I kneeled over a rusty sink and fumbled with the knobs, eventually managing to turn it on. Cupping the ice-cold water in my hands, I splashed it all over my face. With both hands, I furiously rubbed away at my forehead until I felt like I had reached bone. A quick glance at the mirror above me revealed a bare forehead, devoid of any trace of a once vibrant tilak-chandlo. My hands, however, told a different story. They had stained a dark shade of blood crimson, and in the words of Macbeth, even “all of Neptune’s ocean” could not cleanse me. “Murder,” I whispered underneath my breath. That nagging feeling in my mind never went away during school. While introspecting on the ride home, I finally understood why the question struck a nerve. My tilak-chandlo was not just a symbol of my faith, but it was visible evidence of my community's oath to uphold the values that we cherished. We stood for equality and justice on paper, yet many worshippers treated sexuality and transgender expression as taboo. The scriptures revered the mother goddess’ divine and independent power, yet women were being hushed into becoming obedient daughters and wives in practice. If this is what my precious symbol had become, perhaps it was better to move on without it. That night, I tossed and turned in bed while reflecting over the strenuous day. My brain was fried, and I was left with no choice but to go with my heart. I reminisced about the happy memories with the people I loved unconditionally, and the answer was clear. Not applying my tilak-chandlo now would mean letting go of those that needed me to fight. I needed to fight for the closeted devotee who is embarrassed about whom he loves and for the little girl who is fascinated by the enchantment of the Sanskrit hymns and wants to lead a prayer. I will not let anyone conquer my symbol and make it of exclusion or hate. Instead, I wear it proudly, asking for those awkward stares and blunt questions to hold myself accountable to all those that need a voice.

Students in K-8 schools and high schools nationwide take courses in history, math, and electives such as band, music, art, and STEM. However, the same cannot be said about business education. As most state boards of education do not mandate business as a required course, many schools do not offer it to K-8 students. These students grow up with passions in the arts or a STEM-based field, but they are shielded from learning about business. Many teenagers at my high school who have the potential for business leadership and the creativity required for entrepreneurship are also simultaneously apathetic towards business. By any standards, there is not a shortage of students majoring in business in the United States. However, the increasing emphasis on STEM education at the primary and secondary school levels pulls otherwise talented and innovative students away from joining a pool of business graduates that can change the world. The biggest expense of a business and its most valuable intangible asset is labor. The innovative force behind every Fortune 500 company is a dedicated team of business professionals that have worked to grow the corporation to where it is. It would be a great disservice if a future business leader or entrepreneur was lost to another field because they were not exposed to the world of business. I have tried to rectify this in my community by founding a business career development project at my local middle school. Putting myself in a middle schooler's shoes, I pondered over what would have enhanced my educational experience. That was how I brainstormed and developed my own Youth Business Education Program for the students that would become the next generation of leaders at my high school. I incorporated parodies of games like Jeopardy and fun activities like modeling inflation with Monopoly into the curriculum to keep students engaged and excited. After eight months and countless meetings and emails, I was finally able to plan and implement the program. Even though it may have been a strenuous process, I was determined to pay it forward to my younger peers with the knowledge I gained from my personal experiences. From the post-program survey data that I collected, it is clear that an overwhelming majority of students formed a clearer, positive vision of a potential business career. Although the impact was noticeable, it does not change the status quo for other schools across the country. A company can achieve a greater impact by investing their resources and funds into supporting business education for middle schools and high schools nationwide. A more qualified pool of business graduates positively impacts each firm. Still, since no individual business has a monopoly over these graduates after funding their early explorations of business education, the personal cost is too high. Every firm would reap the same benefits even if they did not support the cause equally. This tragedy of the commons is an obstacle that shows the need for the emergence of a new attitude by top businesses to come together to help fund the cause. As part of a network of corporate philanthropy initiatives, I propose an independent coalition made up of business educators and supported by the top businesses to prepare interactive, relevant business education material and courses to be sent to middle schools and high schools across the country to integrate into their coursework. They may also lobby state legislatures to work in conjunction with them to emphasize business education in school curriculums for a more concrete impact. Even then, many companies may choose not to invest in this fund; however, those companies that invest can gain the upper hand in early marketing to future employee leaders through a conjunction of online and local internships and shadowing experiences at their firms. This mammoth project will require business management and coordination skills on the grandest level and creative ideas to market to a younger audience and positively impact their career choices. Nevertheless, it is a goal that I am passionate for and willing to pursue. Over time, these stepping stones for younger students to find a passion for business education and find incentives to use their entrepreneurial, management, marketing, and finance skills in their communities will prepare the next generation of emerging leaders.

In the periphery of my vision, I could feel a pair of eyes glued to me like a missile locked onto an enemy jet. I tried to reason that these mysterious eyes in a cafeteria with 300 people weren’t on me. But, they were. They had to be. Everyone will occasionally catch a stranger staring at them; I, however, tended to expose many more strangers in the act. Why? In the most literal sense, I had a bullseye painted on my forehead. Only a couple of hours earlier, I was standing with my face just inches away from my bathroom mirror. I grunted while grinding sandalwood in my mortar to form a thick paste. After preparations, I applied a U-shaped impression on my forehead and finished it off with a bright red vermillion dot smack-dab in the middle. At school, I had gotten through three periods, blissfully unaware of its existence. Well, at least until I felt the burn of the laser beams shooting out of this kid’s eyes. I braced myself as his footsteps drew closer to my lunch table. “Hey, what’s that on your forehead?” he asked. Having been asked a thousand times before, I resorted to regurgitating the temple’s explanation that the symbol, called a tilak-chandlo, was an outward profession of my Gujarati Hindu faith and cultural pride. He gave a weak grin and moved on with his tray of food. Sandwich in hand, I froze and looked onward, strangled by a nagging feeling in my conscience that had been building up for a while. It was an honest question, but did I answer it honestly? An overwhelming sense of nausea forced me to put that question on hold as I excused myself to make a dash for the nearest bathroom. I kneeled over a rusty sink and fumbled with the knobs, eventually managing to turn it on. Cupping the ice-cold water in my hands, I splashed it all over my face. With both hands, I furiously rubbed away at my forehead until I felt like I had reached bone. A quick glance at the mirror above me revealed a bare forehead, devoid of any trace of a once vibrant tilak-chandlo. My hands, however, told a different story. They had stained a dark shade of blood crimson, and in the words of Macbeth, even “all of Neptune’s ocean” could not cleanse me. “Murder,” I whispered underneath my breath. That nagging feeling in my mind never went away during school. While introspecting on the ride home, I finally understood why the question struck a nerve. My tilak-chandlo was not just a symbol of my faith, but it was visible evidence of my community's oath to uphold the values that we cherished. We stood for equality and justice on paper, yet many worshippers treated sexuality and transgender expression as taboo. The scriptures revered the mother goddess’ divine and independent power, yet women were being hushed into becoming obedient daughters and wives in practice. If this is what my precious symbol had become, perhaps it was better to move on without it. That night, I tossed and turned in bed while reflecting over the strenuous day. My brain was fried, and I was left with no choice but to go with my heart. I reminisced about the happy memories with the people I loved unconditionally, and the answer was clear. Not applying my tilak-chandlo now would mean letting go of those that needed me to fight. I needed to fight for the closeted devotee who is embarrassed about whom he loves and for the little girl who is fascinated by the enchantment of the Sanskrit hymns and wants to lead a prayer. I will not let anyone conquer my symbol and make it of exclusion or hate. Instead, I wear it proudly, asking for those awkward stares and blunt questions to hold myself accountable to all those that need a voice.

It's the nights when I'm lying on my back, in the dark, and with the covers pulled up to my nose that I feel that oddly familiar presence. My parents refused to believe me the first time it happened. Still, that comforting warmth and an all too intimate deep, rumbling laugh were unmistakable. My grandfather passed away years before I was even born, but we kept him alive through the many stories around the dinner table and the occasional tear that rolled down my father's cheek when someone mentioned his name. The small frame on my desk that proudly displays his sparkling 32-tooth grin is enough proof, but everyone who knew my Dada still swears to me that he loved to use his cheerful, roaring laugh at every chance he got. Sometimes, hints of that same wholesome guffaw sneak into my chuckles too. Though I have never met him, my grandfather has been the most influential person in my life. In a small district in rural Gujarat, India, he was perhaps the only man in a 20-mile radius with even the slightest formal medical training. They say laughter is the best medicine for good reason. Being a doctor, my grandfather had the chance to work abroad or in a big city, but he chose to stay in his community and help his people. In a time when many villagers did not have access to basic necessities, he opened two low-cost clinics, many times accepting just garden vegetables in return for treating a patient. By all accounts, my Dada was a noble person, and I strive to become even a quarter of the hero he was. Dada's passion drove him to be a kind and compassionate doctor, and even though I don't share the same interest in medicine, I have always tried to mirror his initiative to be a community leader and selflessly serve others. In particular, I place great value on the importance of financial literacy as the defining factor between a lifetime of material stability and the potential to be trapped in a cycle of debt. Many of us are a little embarrassed to admit that we don't entirely understand how to manage our finances to set us up for success. It's an essential skill, but I realized many of my peers don't know where to begin. Wanting to change this, I founded a community learning program with a group of about two dozen of my like-minded peers to educate our youth about the importance of financial literacy. These kids are our future, and an early foundation on spending, saving, and investing is a great strength. Together, we have already reached 200 local middle schoolers, and we want to expand this program to reach new heights. Having been inspired by Dada, I also wanted to bring greater community service to my activism. So, I ran for and was elected to the position of Vice President of Community Outreach of Illinois DECA. I started a civic consciousness awareness campaign in my year in office, and I reached out to IL DECA's 65 member schools to help guide local chapter fundraisers at their schools. Together, we raised around $12,500 for charity causes! Business is not merely about financial success, but real business leaders have a kind heart for their communities too. I also reached out to the Muscular Dystrophy Organization to organize a statewide charity raffle for kids with MD. There, they could go to a sponsored summer camp and have the time of their lives, and we could help them get there! Unfortunately, this has been postponed due to COVID-19. Still, as I have recently been re-elected to the DECA Board as President of Illinois DECA, I have big plans to finish our dream raffle. Looking back, I realize that none of this could have been possible without my grandfather as such an influential role model. Even though Dada is not with us anymore, I hope that he is laughing wholeheartedly while looking down on me.

Thirty pairs of eyes are glued to the screen as I wave my arm in front of the bright green chart of the Dow Jones Index. I am the magician who, even without a wand at my disposal, captivates a classroom full of eighth-graders. My audience leans forward in their seats as they listen intently, and they soak up the words leaving my mouth like a sponge. The bell rings soon, and I adjourn my class in the Youth Business Education Program as part of a career development project that I founded at my local under-resourced middle school. The only way I could have gained the management skills necessary to coordinate a week-long business education program is by facing the project headfirst. From time management, compliance with administrative rules, recruiting fellow peers to be volunteer teachers, and ensuring a quality curriculum, I had to rise as a leader and ensure that I accomplished my goal of provoking interest in business among my younger peers. Over eight months, dozens of meetings, and countless emails, I was finally able to plan and implement the program. My greatest takeaway through the experience was that management of any project is not an easy task. Still, through grit and an unwavering sense of determination, I can accomplish my goals. The knowledge that I could have positively impacted so many bright students' career plans makes all my efforts worthwhile. Students in K-8 schools and even many high schools across the country take courses in core curriculum such as history and math as well as electives such as band, music, art, drama, and STEM. However, the same cannot be said about business education. As most state boards of education do not mandate business as a required course, many schools do not offer it to K-8 students. Over time, many of these students grow up and foster their passions in the arts or a STEM based field, but are shielded from learning about the vast areas of knowledge in business. Many teenagers at my high school who have the potential for business leadership and the creativity required for entrepreneurship are also simultaneously apathetic towards business. I have heard far too many times that “business knowledge only applies to adults” and other misconceptions from students who similarly have a great passion for the arts or STEM. By no means is there a shortage of students majoring in business in the United States; however, the increasing emphasis on STEM education at the primary and secondary school levels pulls otherwise talented and innovative students away from joining a pool of business graduates that can change the world. The biggest expense of a business and its most valuable intangible asset is labor. The innovative force behind every Fortune 500 company is a dedicated team of business professionals that have worked to grow the corporation to where it is. It would be a great disservice if a future business leader or entrepreneur was lost to another field because they were not exposed to the world of business. I have tried to rectify this in my community by founding a business career development project at my local middle school, and that is the legacy that I want to leave: to inspire those that will follow in my footsteps to also give back to their younger peers and to realize their potential to give the next generation many opportunities that they may not have had.