1, 2, 3, 5. The game of 24. What started as a game in elementary school of mathematically manipulating any four random numbers to make 24 evolved into a way of thinking. It may have started with just trying to make 24 from any address I passed, but soon it had me fascinated with math and inspired me to ask my grade school math teacher to sponsor participation in intra-school competitions. At the age of 8, I found myself attracted to NBC's Steve Kornacki's red and blue maps on TV. His explanation of the polls, breakdowns of each county and state, and predictions fascinated me. For the first time, I saw how math's static, 2-dimensional equations could leap off the page and explain the real world around me. I could use math and data to predict the future and explain human behavior. Ever since, I decided to commit myself to learning how to translate numbers and data into stories that mean something. As I have I gotten older, the habit of analyzing the world in terms of numbers and data has spread into every facet of my life. I threw myself into math and data science headfirst. I am currently taking multi-variable calculus at Lane Tech High School, where I am analyzing statistics to help the Lane basketball team improve. In my computer science class, I used traffic accident data to identify areas with high accident rates and presented that data and its implications to my local alderman. I examined the disproportionate effect of Covid on different communities across Chicago through an 8-session workshop called Data4All organized by the University of Chicago and Argonne National Laboratory. Through a program called Digital Scholars, I researched health insurance data to determine which characteristics were most predictive of expenses. The endless possibilities unlocked by math, statistics and data science excite me, and I I am eager to dive deeper in college into business analytics and data science, using math, data and statistics to discover new patterns and analyze trends to make a problem-solving contribution to society. Many people see math as boring and irrelevant to their daily lives. I see it as way of making sense of the world, and of telling stories. I can't wait to write the next chapter.

“Hit it harder! Let it hit the back fence,” said George, as I struggled to keep my eyes open against the onslaught of directions. “Hit it at 100%, so it feels like your arm is about to fall off.” Deep in the dog days of summer, the 6AM sun shone bright, and something felt different. Rather than playing pickup matches like we had each morning over the past few months, George had set up the court for drills, intending to add more power to my stroke. So I spent most of the morning trying to hit the ball exactly three feet behind the baseline. “Stop jumping on the forehand, Aidan,” chimed Rei from outside the fence, waiting for me to tire and switch out with him. “And add more spin to your backhand.” As I watched my 30th ball in a row sail too long, I felt dejected. I’d never be able to hit with power. “Everything is a process, Aidan,” said George with a wink. Words I’ll never forget… When I began my first tennis classes Freshman year, I didn’t have a “process.” I assumed I’d improve to varsity-level in a few months, despite never having played tennis. This entitled attitude developed in middle school, where I breezed through my classes without trying my best and followed me through my Freshman and Sophomore years where the rubber still hadn’t met the road. I brought this same mindset to the court the day I met George and Rei, when I had planned to work on my serve, expecting to develop it into a weapon with only a few hours of practice. Instead, I smashed ball after ball into the net or outside the service box, my frustration boiling over. “Hey! Can I give you a few pointers?” called a voice from outside the cage. He introduced himself as George and, even though we’d just met, helped me with my serve for the next hour. This launched a months-long routine of practice with him and his friend Rei, teaching me to trust the “process” a little more each day. Off the court, Junior-year Calculus represented my first real obstacle. I had to develop serious study habits -- a “process” for school. I began to realize I had been taking my talents, friends, teachers, and family for granted. Success doesn’t mean doing just enough to get by. I must challenge myself to become the best possible me. In data science class, I became a team lead, forcing myself to develop leadership skills. I volunteered as a Calculus TA to share my knowledge with others while improving my Calculus along the way. Outside school, I made sure to help my Grandpa with chores and enjoy his company. I know I can skate by without challenging myself, but I want to reach my full potential. I’ve even found the joy in the “process” thanks to George and Rei helping me recognize my tennis talents -- both mental and physical -- and take control of my future. …After a quick break, I tagged back in with Rei, ready to try adding power to my groundstrokes again. Still, ball after ball sailed too far. It didn’t work out that day, but I knew I’d come back the next day and the next and the next, and soon, my effort would pay off. I will carry this mindset with me forever, and I can’t wait to see what I’ll accomplish as I rise to, and conquer, the challenges ahead. Thanks to tennis, George and Rei, I have the “process” to master anything that comes my way.