When I was fourteen, I got a job as a cashier at Publix so my mom would have one less bill to pay. That was the whole reason. My mom is a nurse and the only parent I have ever known. She came to the United States from Haiti as an adult, and for most of my life she has kept our house running on one income, with three kids under her roof after she took my cousin in when I was nine. I was the oldest, so I noticed things. I noticed when she started waking up earlier because her body could not keep up with shift work. I noticed how the budget conversations went. I helped with them. So in June 2022 I started working a few hours a week. I used that money to pay for my own food during long days of debate practice and after school activities. It was not a lot of money. But the decision taught me something I still think about. Money was not just money in our house. It was stress. It was how tired my mom looked. When I covered my own lunches, I was not just paying for food. I was taking a small weight off someone I love. That is how I think about financial stability now. It is not about being rich. It is about peace of mind, and about having enough room to help other people instead of always being one surprise away from trouble. I am now a first-year student at Howard University studying economics and political science, and I plan to go to law school. I chose economics because I want to understand the numbers that shape people's lives, like school funding formulas, household budgets, and the hidden costs that hit families like mine the hardest. I want to become a lawyer who works on education and economic policy, because so many of the systems families deal with assume two incomes and someone always home to make the call. A lot of households do not look like that. For me, financial stability would free me up to do that kind of work without worrying about whether I can afford to take a public interest job. It would let me help my mom the way she has helped me. And it would give me the space to keep doing the things that actually make me feel well, like coaching younger debaters and mentoring students. I am building toward that right now. I competed in Congressional Debate for seven years and became the top ranked Congressional debater in Florida. I earned an associate degree through dual enrollment while finishing high school, which means I came into college with credits already done and fewer semesters to pay for. That was a financial decision as much as an academic one. I also coach debate, which keeps me connected to the part of my life that gives me energy instead of draining it. Wellbeing and money are connected. I learned that at a cash register when I was fourteen. Every step I take now is about building a life where the people I care about can breathe a little easier. I used an AI tool to help draft and organize this essay from my own experiences, and every fact in it is true to my life.

If given the opportunity, I would keep doing what I already started: giving kids access to opportunities their schools never gave them. I grew up in Miramar, Florida, watching smart kids lose out. Not because they lacked talent. Because their schools didn't have the same resources as schools a few miles away. I watched classmates who could have gone far stay stuck instead, and it never sat right with me. So in 2022, I started a debate coaching program. I coach kids for free at Title I middle schools, the ones without funding for a real debate team. Debate changed my life. It gave me the confidence to speak in front of people, think fast, and argue my point without backing down. I wanted other kids to get that same shot, especially the ones nobody expected to get it. Every week I show up and teach. Argument structure. Public speaking. How to disagree with someone without losing your composure. These are skills that follow kids long after the debate round ends. A kid who learns to make a case for himself in a debate round learns he can make a case for himself anywhere. In a classroom. In a job interview. In a courtroom someday. This work matters to me because I am first-generation and low-income myself. My mom raised my brother and me on her own, working as a nurse. I know what it feels like to want more but not have a clear roadmap for how to get there. Coaching these kids is my way of handing them a piece of that roadmap early, instead of making them wait until college like I did. If I had more time and resources, I would grow the program. Right now it's just me and a handful of students. I want to train other high schoolers and college students to coach too, so more Title I schools can have a team of their own instead of relying on one person. I would also push to get debate written into more school budgets, instead of leaving it to volunteers to fill the gap every year. That's the bigger goal behind all of this. I want to go to law school and work on the policy side, on the funding decisions that decide which schools get a debate team and which don't. Coaching taught me that talent is everywhere. Opportunity isn't. I want to spend my career closing that gap, one classroom and one policy at a time.