When I was in high school, I used to study in groups. One of my friends struggled with math and test anxiety, so I would sit near her while we studied and during exams so she could feel calmer. When she did not understand something, I would break it into smaller parts, explain it in simpler words, and work through practice questions with her until it started to make sense. Sometimes I had to explain the same thing more than once, but I did not mind. One of the most satisfying feelings was seeing her smile when we got our grades back. I knew that the time we spent together had made a difference. I liked that feeling, and I think it was one of the first times I realized that I wanted to keep helping people this way. As I got closer to graduating, I also started noticing something about the girls around me. Girls who had the opportunity to continue their education were often pushed toward nursing, teaching, journalism, communication, or marketing, while boys were encouraged to become engineers, doctors, or business leaders. The same thing happened to me when I graduated. Most of my friends went into those fields, while only two of us decided to pursue STEM. I am now studying Chemical Engineering at the University of Alabama. It was not always easy. We heard comments about wanting to do a “man’s job.” But I kept going. I wanted to study something I was interested in, even if people around me did not expect girls to choose it. Looking back, I think my experience with my friend and my experience choosing STEM are connected. I knew how happy I felt when I saw her smile after getting her grades, and I also knew what it felt like to need encouragement when choosing a path that was not expected of me. It made me think about how many girls might be capable of doing more but never get the chance to see it for themselves. That is one of the things I want to change in Togo. I want young girls, especially those from disadvantaged backgrounds like mine, to have early exposure to technology, applied education, and STEM. I want them to build things, ask questions, meet women in STEM, and see that engineering and technology can also be for them. I want to create opportunities where a girl who has never thought about engineering can try it for herself and leave knowing, “Maybe I can do this too.” I also want to support girls academically and emotionally and help them learn to speak up for themselves. Mental health is still often overlooked in Togo, and girls who experience sexual violence may not always have a safe place to talk or get support. My Chemical Engineering education will also help me work on problems I grew up seeing, especially access to clean water. I want to learn about water treatment and sustainable processes and eventually help make these solutions more practical for communities in Togo. I do not want my education to stop with me. I want to use what I learn to solve problems in my country and to help other girls believe they can be part of solving them too. Just like I once sat beside my friend and helped her believe she could understand something that felt difficult, I hope one day I can help a girl in Togo look at engineering and believe that she belongs there too.

I grew up in Togo, West Africa, in a family of eight where nothing came easily, but where my parents always tried to give us more than they had. My childhood was mostly school, church, and home. We lived in a small house, and I grew up with a strong sense of family. My grandmother was my main caregiver when I was young. She did not go to school herself, but she cared deeply about our education. I still remember doing my homework while she watched over me with a stick in her hand. She could not help me with the answers, but she made sure I did the work. Growing up, I saw my mother work very hard for our family. She would leave home before the sun came up and sometimes would not return until late at night. We grew corn, beans, and rice, and she did whatever work she could to help take care of us. I also grew up seeing how something as simple as money could change a person's life. There were times when my family had to make difficult choices about school, food, and other basic needs. One of my brothers had to stop going to school because my family could not afford it. Those experiences made me understand the value of education very early. My parents did not have the opportunity to go as far in school as they wanted, but they believed education could give their children a different life. When I had the opportunity to continue my education in the United States, my family used what they had saved to help me come. I knew what that sacrifice meant, so I did not want to waste it. My life changed when my mother died in December 2024. I was far from home, and I still remember receiving the phone call and rushing to the hospital. Losing her changed my family in ways I am still learning to understand. My father also became very sick with diabetes and is now undergoing treatment and can no longer work the way he used to. I had to grow up in some ways that I was not ready for. I learned how to keep going while grieving. I worked while studying for my associate degree because I needed to help support myself. There were days when I was tired and worried about money, but I still went to class, studied, and kept moving forward. Today, I am a Chemical Engineering student at the University of Alabama. I currently have a 3.95 GPA, but I do not see that number as the most important thing about me. To me, it represents all the nights I chose to study even when life outside school was difficult. It represents my parents' sacrifices and the opportunities they wanted me to have. I am still the same girl who grew up watching her mother work hard for her family. But I am also becoming someone who wants to create opportunities that my family did not have. I want to become a chemical engineer because I have seen how access to basic resources can affect a person's life. Growing up, clean water was not something I could take for granted. In some communities in Togo, people still struggle to access safe and reliable water. I want to work in areas such as water treatment and sustainability and use what I learn to help make essential resources more accessible. I also want to be someone my younger siblings and other girls from backgrounds like mine can look at and believe that they can go further too. I know what it feels like to come from a place where people may not expect you to become an engineer. I want my life to show that where you start does not have to determine where you end. I am still learning who I am. I am still grieving my mother. I am still learning how to handle uncertainty about my family's future and my own. But I am also learning that I can carry difficult things and still keep going. I do not want to forget where I came from. I want to use it as a reason to keep going, to help others, and to become the kind of person my family can be proud of.

The Butterfly Dream: What Makes Us Who We Are? What makes us certain that we are who we think we are? We usually do not question our identity because it seems obvious to us. I know that I am a student, that I have a certain name, a certain past, and certain experiences. I also believe that I can tell the difference between what is real and what is not. However, what if the things that seem obvious to us are not always as certain as we think? This is the question that Zhuangzi raises in his famous story about a man who dreams that he is a butterfly. “Once Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, a butterfly flying about, feeling that it was enjoying itself. He did not know that it was Zhou. Suddenly he awoke, and was myself again, the veritable Zhou. He did not know whether it had formerly been Zhou dreaming that he was a butterfly, or it was now a butterfly dreaming that it was Zhou. But between Zhou and a butterfly there must be a difference. This is a case of what is called the Transformation of Things.” At first, this passage seems to be simply about a strange dream. A man falls asleep, dreams that he is a butterfly, and then wakes up. However, Zhuangzi is asking a much deeper question. The important part is not only that Zhou dreamed of being a butterfly. It is that when he woke up, he could no longer be completely sure about what his experience meant. Therefore, I think the main idea of this passage is that human beings often believe that their present experience is the truth simply because they are experiencing it at that moment. Zhuangzi uses the butterfly to question both our idea of reality and our idea of identity. He shows that what we think is fixed may actually change, and that we should be careful about believing that our own point of view is the only possible one. First of all, Zhuangzi questions the difference between a dream and reality. In the passage, Zhou is not aware that he is dreaming while he is a butterfly. The text says that he was “feeling that it was enjoying itself.” This small detail is important. While Zhou is dreaming, he does not think, “I am Zhou and this is only a dream.” He simply experiences being a butterfly. For him, at that moment, the experience feels real. This is something that can happen in ordinary dreams as well. When we dream, we can sometimes be afraid, happy, or confused without knowing that we are dreaming. Only after we wake up do we realize that what happened was not part of our waking life. But Zhuangzi takes this simple experience and asks a difficult question: how can we be completely sure that our present experience is different? Indeed, the most interesting moment in the passage comes when Zhou wakes up. The text says, “Suddenly he awoke, and was myself again, the veritable Zhou.” Normally, waking up would end the question. We would say that the dream was not real and that Zhou is now back to reality. However, Zhuangzi does not stop there. Instead, he says that Zhou “did not know whether it had formerly been Zhou dreaming that he was a butterfly, or it was now a butterfly dreaming that it was Zhou.” This changes everything. Zhou thought he knew who he was, but after the dream, he is no longer completely certain. If the dream felt real while he was inside it, what gives him certainty that his current state is the real one? Zhuangzi does not give us a simple answer. He leaves us with the question. I think this is intentional because he wants the reader to experience the same uncertainty as Zhou. Furthermore, the fact that Zhou does not know which one came first is very important. If the passage only said that Zhou dreamed of being a butterfly, we could easily dismiss the butterfly as unreal. But Zhuangzi creates a situation where the two possibilities are placed next to each other: maybe Zhou dreamed that he was a butterfly, or maybe the butterfly dreamed that it was Zhou. This does not prove that the two possibilities are equally true. Instead, it shows how limited our certainty can be. We usually judge everything from our current position. Because I am awake now, I assume that being awake is the normal state and that the dream was the unusual one. But Zhuangzi asks me to step outside of that assumption for a moment. What if my current position is also only one perspective? However, I do not think Zhuangzi is simply saying that life is a dream or that reality does not exist. That would be an easier interpretation, but the last part of the passage suggests something more complicated. He says, “But between Zhou and a butterfly there must be a difference.” This sentence is important because it shows that Zhuangzi still recognizes that Zhou and the butterfly are not the same. He is not saying that there are no differences between things. Instead, he is asking us to think about how we understand those differences. Zhou sees himself as Zhou because that is the identity he knows when he is awake. But during the dream, he experiences himself as a butterfly. The two experiences are different, but both feel real from the inside. This means that our understanding of ourselves can depend on the state we are in and the point of view we have at the time. This brings us to the question of identity. We normally think of identity as something stable. I can say, “This is who I am,” and I usually expect that answer to remain the same. But our lives are constantly changing. A person can be a child, then a student, then a worker, then a parent. Someone who was once very confident can become unsure of themselves. Someone who once believed that they were not capable of doing something can later succeed at it. For example, imagine a student who fails an important exam. After the failure, the student may start thinking, “Maybe I am not good at this. Maybe I am not smart enough.” The student can turn one experience into a definition of who they are. But a failed exam does not necessarily prove that the student is a failure. It is only one moment in that person’s life. With time, the same student may understand the material better and become successful. In this way, the butterfly dream can also make us question the labels we give ourselves. We often take one moment, one experience, or one part of our life and make it our entire identity. Zhuangzi’s story reminds us that identity may not be as fixed as we believe. Just as Zhou can experience himself as a butterfly and then as Zhou again, human beings also go through different states and different versions of themselves. On the other hand, this does not mean that we should stop making distinctions between things. We still need to know the difference between a person and a butterfly, between a dream and waking life, and between what is true and what is false. Zhuangzi himself says that there “must be a difference.” The problem is not making distinctions. The problem is believing that our distinctions are always complete and that our current understanding cannot change. This is why the final expression, “the Transformation of Things,” is so important. Zhuangzi does not finish the story by giving Zhou a final answer about which state was real. Instead, he focuses on transformation. Zhou moves from one state of experience to another, from experiencing himself as a butterfly to waking as Zhou again. The important thing is not to find one simple answer and stop thinking. It is to recognize that change is part of existence. In my opinion, this is what makes the passage more meaningful than a simple story about a dream. Zhuangzi is asking us to become more humble about what we think we know. We often see the world from one position and assume that our position gives us the complete truth. But another person may see the same situation differently. Even we can see the same situation differently after gaining new experiences. For a student, this can be especially important. We can become attached to ideas about ourselves very quickly. We can say, “I am bad at this,” “I am not confident,” or “I cannot do this.” But those statements can become less true as we change. The person we are today does not have to be exactly the person we will be tomorrow. Like Zhou, we can move from one state to another without realizing at first how much we have changed. Therefore, I think the butterfly dream is not asking us to doubt everything around us. It is asking us to question the certainty with which we sometimes look at ourselves and the world. Zhuangzi shows that our present point of view feels natural because it is the point of view we are currently living through. But that does not mean it is the only way of understanding reality. In conclusion, Zhuangzi’s butterfly dream is much more than a story about a man having an unusual dream. Through Zhou’s confusion, Zhuangzi questions our understanding of reality, identity, and change. The fact that Zhou cannot tell whether he was a man dreaming of being a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming of being a man shows that our certainty can have limits. At the same time, Zhuangzi does not say that Zhou and the butterfly are the same. He recognizes their difference while also showing that they can be part of a transformation. For me, the deepest meaning of the passage is therefore not that we are all dreaming. It is that we should be careful when we believe that we completely understand who we are or what is real. Our perspective can change, our identity can change, and our understanding can change with it. What seems certain to us today may look different tomorrow. Instead of being afraid of that uncertainty, Zhuangzi invites us to accept transformation and remain open to the possibility that there is more to reality than what we can see from where we are standing.

Before I knew the word engineering, I knew what it felt like to see a community change. I was eight years old when a road construction project came to my village, Tutu, in Togo. I still remember the first time I heard those machines. The sound was so loud and unfamiliar that, as a child, I thought something terrible was happening. Then I saw them: large yellow bulldozers moving through the village. They looked frightening, but I soon realized they were not there to destroy anything. They were there to build. The project connected my village to Kpalimé, the nearest town, and brought electricity to our community. Before then, my family and many others studied at night using candles, moonlight, and traditional lighting. Watching my village gain access to resources that many people take for granted changed the way I viewed the world. At eight years old, I thought engineers only built roads and bridges. I did not yet understand that engineering was about creating solutions to problems that affect people’s daily lives. I grew up in a family that depended on small-scale farming. During different seasons, we planted corn, beans, and rice to support ourselves. My mother worked tirelessly to create opportunities for us. She would leave home as early as 4 a.m. and sometimes return at 10 p.m. after selling our goods. She always reminded us that education could open doors to a better future. Her sacrifices made me determined to succeed and honor everything she had done for our family. As I grew older and moved to Kpalimé for high school, I became aware of challenges that required more than roads or electricity to solve. During a water quality research project at school, I discovered how science could help us understand environmental problems and develop solutions. This experience shaped my decision to pursue Chemical Engineering, where I hope to work on challenges related to clean water, sustainability, and essential resources. My desire to serve others also grew from my community. At my church, I helped care for elderly members and tutored children during Bible study. Through AWA ONG, an organization supporting children from low-income families, I tutored younger students and later became the secretary. I also participated in Octobre Rose activities at my high school to raise awareness about breast cancer prevention and early detection. These experiences taught me that change begins when people recognize a need and choose to act. As I became more aware of the opportunities available around me, I realized I needed to search beyond my environment to pursue my goals. Every October, I visited a small shop near my home to enter the Diversity Visa lottery. I never won, but I continued looking for another path until I discovered the F-1 student visa process. Coming to the United States was one of the biggest decisions of my life. I left behind my family and everything familiar to pursue an education that would prepare me to create solutions. Since arriving, I have earned my Associate Degree while working part-time and balancing demanding STEM courses. Today, as I continue my Chemical Engineering education, I carry the lessons from my village, my mother, and my journey with me. After graduation, I hope to develop solutions related to clean water, sustainability, and essential resources, especially for communities with limited access to these necessities. The child who once feared the yellow machines entering her village could not have imagined that they would inspire her future. Now, I see them as a reminder that knowledge, compassion, and action have the power to transform communities.

Nobody in my family could tell me how to transfer universities in the United States, appeal a credit evaluation, apply for scholarships, or navigate the immigration documents required to stay in school. Not because they did not want to help, but because they had never done it themselves. Before coming to the United States from Togo, I imagined that succeeding in college would depend mostly on studying hard. I quickly realized there was another curriculum no one talked about: understanding the system itself. Every form, deadline, advising appointment, scholarship application, and transfer policy came with its own language. I was not only learning chemistry and calculus; I was learning how higher education worked from the outside looking in. At first, that was intimidating. I often worried that I was missing opportunities simply because I did not know they existed. There were moments when I wondered if everyone else had been handed a guidebook that I somehow never received. Over time, something changed. I stopped seeing my questions as signs that I did not belong. Instead, they became the way I built my own map. I learned to ask professors for clarification. I scheduled meetings with advisors instead of waiting for answers to come to me. I researched transfer requirements, scholarships, and university policies until I understood them well enough to explain them to someone else. Every question I asked made the next one a little less intimidating. Being the first in my family to pursue this level of education has changed more than my academic journey. It has changed the way I solve problems. When I encounter something unfamiliar, my first instinct is no longer to wonder whether I belong. It is to figure out how it works. That mindset has shaped my decision to study Chemical Engineering. I have always admired people who look at complex systems and patiently work through them until they understand how every part connects. Whether I am studying a chemical process or navigating a university system, I find satisfaction in taking something that seems overwhelming and breaking it into pieces that can be understood and improved. My hope is to become more than the first person in my family to earn this degree. I hope to become the person who makes this path less confusing for the next generation. I want my younger relatives to grow up believing college is something they can prepare for rather than something they have to figure out alone. I hope they call me with questions I once had to answer by myself. People often say education changes one person’s future. I believe it can also change a family’s memory. Instead of remembering college as an unfamiliar place meant for someone else, I want my family to remember it as a door that someone opened and never closed behind them. That is what higher education means to me. It is not simply a degree. It is the chance to leave behind something far more valuable than a diploma: a path that did not exist before.

Some questions stay with us long after the moment that created them has passed. For me, that question began at 2 a.m. on a Friday morning, when my mother suffered a stroke in our rural town in Togo. Because we lived far from a hospital with the resources needed for emergency care, my family had to travel to another town for treatment. By the time we arrived, several hours had passed. Even after reaching the hospital, we experienced additional delays before she could receive the specialized care she needed. When the doctors finally treated her, we received the news that my mother had passed away. For years, I have returned to the same difficult questions: What could have been different if emergency care had been closer? If the necessary resources had been available sooner? If healthcare systems had been designed to better support patients in communities like mine? I know I cannot change what happened to my mother. However, that experience changed the way I view problems. It made me realize that some challenges become accepted simply because they happen repeatedly. But I believe that many things we consider unavoidable are actually opportunities for innovation. This belief is one of the reasons I chose to pursue Chemical Engineering. I am interested in using science and engineering to create solutions that improve lives, whether through clean water technologies, medical innovations, or more accessible healthcare processes. Chemical engineers play an important role in developing materials, medicines, and systems that improve the way people live. I hope to use my education to contribute to solutions that make essential resources and healthcare more reliable for communities with limited access. My impact will not only come through my career. Even if my professional path takes me outside of healthcare, I hope to continue supporting improvements in healthcare access by organizing initiatives and contributing resources to hospitals in my home country. Small improvements, built over time, can create meaningful change. Since moving from Togo to the United States for my education, I have continued developing the mindset required to solve difficult problems. As a first-generation college student, I have learned how to navigate unfamiliar systems, seek opportunities, and persist through challenges. These experiences have taught me that innovation often begins with asking questions that others may have stopped asking. The problem I refuse to accept as inevitable is that a person’s chance of survival should depend on where they live or what resources are available to them. No family should have to wonder whether a different outcome was possible simply because help was too far away. Like Nadia Ansari, I want to approach suffering not only with compassion, but with curiosity and action. I want to be someone who looks at a difficult reality and asks, “Does it have to stay this way?” Through my career, I hope to help create a future where more people have access to the tools, resources, and opportunities they need to survive and thrive. My mother’s story is not only a reminder of what was lost. It is also the reason I continue searching for what can be built.

I have never been comfortable pretending I understand something when I don’t. If I don’t know how something works, I ask questions. If I don’t find the answer immediately, I keep looking. I have learned that curiosity is not a sign of weakness; it is the beginning of growth. Looking back, I realize that this mindset has shaped nearly every important decision I have made, including leaving Togo to pursue my education in the United States. Arriving in a new country meant starting over in many ways. The education system was different, the expectations were different, and I often found myself navigating unfamiliar situations without someone who had already walked that path. There were moments when I felt uncertain, but I refused to let uncertainty become a reason to stop. Instead, I treated every challenge as something I could learn from. I asked questions, searched for resources, learned from my mistakes, and slowly became more confident. That same curiosity led me to Chemical Engineering. What attracts me most to engineering is not that engineers have all the answers, but that they are willing to search for them. I enjoy understanding why systems work, why they fail, and how they can be improved. Growing up in Togo, I saw communities where access to clean water and reliable infrastructure could not be taken for granted. Rather than accepting those challenges as simply “the way things are,” I wanted to understand the science behind them and eventually become someone who could help develop better solutions. As a first-generation college student, resilience has become part of my everyday life. I have balanced demanding STEM courses with part-time work, navigated higher education in a country far from home, and continued pursuing my goals even after my family’s financial circumstances changed significantly. Those experiences have strengthened my perseverance, but more importantly, they have strengthened my belief that difficult situations are opportunities to grow rather than reasons to give up. When I read about Malgorzata “Maggie” Kwiecien, what stood out to me was not only that she moved to the United States on her own. It was the way she embraced challenges. She pursued knowledge relentlessly, welcomed difficult experiences, and was determined to become an expert in her field. That is the quality I admire most because I hope to live with that same mindset throughout my own career. I may never climb mountains or become a ski instructor like Maggie, but I understand what it means to leave behind everything familiar in pursuit of a dream. I understand what it means to choose a path that demands courage, persistence, and continuous learning. The greatest way I can honor Maggie’s legacy is not by following her exact path, but by approaching my own with the same determination to keep learning, keep questioning, and keep choosing challenges that help me become the engineer and the person I aspire to be.

People often think resilience is the ability to keep going when life becomes difficult. I disagree. To me, resilience is looking at a problem and refusing to believe the first version of it is the only one possible. Looking back, I realize that way of thinking has followed me throughout my life. When I left Togo to continue my education in the United States, I knew there would be obstacles, but I never saw them as permanent. If money became a barrier, I searched for scholarships. If I didn’t understand how something worked, I asked questions until I did. When transferring to a four-year university felt overwhelming, I broke the process into smaller steps and solved one problem at a time. Without realizing it, I had already begun thinking like an engineer. That is one of the reasons I chose Chemical Engineering. The field is built on curiosity. Engineers don’t accept that a process is inefficient simply because it has always been done that way. They ask why, test ideas, redesign systems, and keep improving them until they work better. I find myself approaching life the same way. Growing up in Togo showed me how access to clean water, infrastructure, and essential resources can shape entire communities. Instead of accepting those challenges as inevitable, I became curious about the science behind them. I wanted to understand how chemistry could become cleaner manufacturing, safer water, and better solutions for people whose opportunities are often limited by circumstances beyond their control. My journey has not been easy. As a first-generation college student, I have had to learn an unfamiliar educational system, balance demanding STEM courses with part-time work, and continue my education after my family’s financial situation changed dramatically. Those experiences tested me, but they also taught me that every difficult situation contains a problem waiting to be solved. That is the impact I hope to make through my career. I want to develop engineering solutions that improve access to clean water and sustainable technologies, but I also want to change who feels they belong in engineering. As a Black woman from Togo, I understand how powerful representation can be. I want young women who rarely see themselves reflected in STEM to realize that they do not have to wait for someone else to create a place for them. They can become the people who redesign the future. Megan Mills’ story reminds me that determination is not measured by where someone begins, but by the purpose that carries them forward. Like Megan, I hope success never becomes something I keep for myself. I hope it becomes something that creates opportunities, solves problems, and leaves the next generation with a better starting point than I had. If engineering has taught me anything, it is this: every meaningful solution begins with someone who looks at the world and believes it can be better. I want to spend my life being one of those people.

There is a folder on my laptop called “Opportunities.” Inside are scholarship essays, internship applications, research programs, resumes, and documents that represent hundreds of hours of work. Some of those applications became rejection emails. Others never received a response. A few opened doors that completely changed my life. I have never deleted any of them because they remind me of one lesson: every opportunity I have today exists because I decided to apply for one more. As a first-generation college student from Togo, I quickly realized that opportunities rarely arrive on their own. I have had to look for them, ask for them, and sometimes create them myself. Moving to the United States to pursue a degree in Chemical Engineering was one of the biggest opportunities I have ever fought for. It also meant leaving behind my family, adapting to a new educational system, and learning how to navigate college without anyone in my family having done it before. That same determination is why I continue applying for scholarships. My family believes in my education, but belief alone cannot pay tuition. My brother had to stop his education because financial circumstances made continuing impossible. Watching that happen changed the way I think about opportunity. It taught me that talent is important, but access is equally important. Every scholarship I receive becomes another reason why my story can continue instead of ending early. My future is already mapped out in my mind. First, I will complete my degree in Chemical Engineering while gaining research experience and internships that strengthen my technical skills. Then I want to work in the environmental and water treatment industry, learning from engineers who are already solving complex problems. Eventually, after years of experience, I plan to establish my own engineering company dedicated to designing affordable water treatment systems and sustainable chemical processes for underserved communities. I also want that company to create internships and mentorship programs for students who, like me, simply needed someone to believe in their potential. People sometimes think success comes from one defining moment. I disagree. I believe success is built through hundreds of small decisions: submitting one more application, asking one more question, staying up to revise one more essay, believing in yourself one more time after hearing “no.” This scholarship would not simply help pay for my education. It would become one more opportunity inside that folder on my laptop, one more reminder that perseverance is worthwhile, and one more step toward the future I have spent years building. One day, I hope that folder will no longer represent applications. Instead, it will contain engineering designs, completed projects, and internship offers that I am able to give to students who are now standing where I once stood. That is the future I am working toward, and this scholarship would help me get there.

There Has to Be a Better Way When I saw the notification on my phone saying that someone had ordered 50 handmade keychains from my small online shop, my first reaction was excitement. My second reaction was: How am I going to do this? When I started selling my products, I thought the hardest part would be creating designs that people liked. I quickly learned that making a product was only one small part of running a business. Behind every order was a process that required planning, organization, and problem-solving. This order was different from anything I had handled before. I had to make sure I had enough materials, communicate with suppliers, keep track of my costs, and figure out the best way to package and ship everything. I remember sitting down with a notebook and writing everything out: what I already had, what I needed to buy, how much each item cost, and how I could complete the order without making mistakes. At first, I saw these as separate problems. But as I worked through them, I realized they were all connected. A delay from a supplier could affect my ability to complete the order. Poor packaging could affect the customer’s experience. An incorrect calculation could affect whether the business was sustainable. I began looking at the entire process instead of focusing on only one step. I started comparing suppliers, tracking expenses more carefully, organizing my inventory, and researching better shipping options. I learned that improving a process does not always require a complicated solution. Sometimes it requires paying attention to small details and being willing to ask, “Is there a better way to do this?” When the customer received the order successfully, I was proud not only because I completed a large sale, but because I had solved a problem I had never faced before. That experience changed how I viewed challenges. Instead of seeing unexpected problems as obstacles, I began seeing them as opportunities to learn and improve. Although this experience came from a small business and not a laboratory or engineering project, it taught me a mindset that I believe is essential in engineering. Chemical Engineering is about understanding systems, identifying problems, and developing solutions that are safer, more efficient, and more sustainable. In the future, I hope to bring this same approach to my career as a Chemical Engineer. Whether I am working on improving industrial processes, developing sustainable technologies, or contributing to safer chemical transportation, I want to be someone who notices challenges and works toward better solutions. That small order of 50 keychains taught me something I will carry throughout my career: innovation does not always start with a groundbreaking invention. Sometimes it starts with a simple observation and the willingness to ask one question: “There has to be a better way.”

“If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” This African proverb reflects my definition of the American Dream. To me, the American Dream is not simply the ability to achieve personal success. It is the opportunity to grow, overcome limitations, and use that opportunity with purpose. The American Dream means having the freedom to pursue a future that may not have been possible without access to education, hard work, and opportunity. It is the belief that a person’s starting point does not have to determine where they end up. However, I believe the true meaning of the American Dream goes beyond individual achievement. It is about using the opportunities we receive to create a positive impact beyond ourselves. Coming from Togo, I understand the importance of opportunity. I grew up seeing how limited resources and circumstances could affect people’s possibilities. My journey to the United States represented a chance to pursue a future that I had always hoped for. Leaving behind my family, friends, and the comfort of my home was not easy, but I chose to pursue education because I believed it would allow me to grow, contribute to my community, and make the most of the opportunities available to me. As a first-generation college student, my education represents more than a personal accomplishment. It represents the sacrifices of my family and the hope that my journey can inspire others. My experience has taught me that the American Dream is not a promise of an effortless path. It requires resilience, determination, and the courage to continue even when challenges appear. For me, the American Dream is also about belonging. It is about being welcomed into a place where someone can come from a different country, carry their experiences and dreams with them, and still have the opportunity to contribute. It reminds me that diversity is a strength because people bring different perspectives, challenges, and ideas that can help build a better future. The American Dream has meaning when success is not only measured by what we achieve for ourselves, but also by how we use our opportunities to make a difference. For me, achieving my goals means creating a better future for my family, serving my community, and using my education to contribute to solutions that improve lives. Through my future career in Chemical Engineering, I hope to turn my experiences into action and encourage others to pursue their own dreams. To me, the American Dream is the opportunity to transform circumstances into possibilities. It is the chance to dream bigger, work harder, and use every opportunity with purpose. It is not about how far one person can go alone, but how many people can be inspired and supported along the way.