Growing up, I heard two very different messages about education. My parents immigrated from Ukraine believing that education could create opportunities that did not exist for them. My older brother took a different path. After high school, he decided to work physically demanding jobs first and continue his education later. At the time, it seemed reasonable. He was earning money, gaining experience, and believed education would always be there when he was ready to go back to school. Over the years, though, I watched how easy it was for "later" to move further away. Seeing that shaped the way I think about education. It showed me that hard work matters, but opportunity matters too. Education does not guarantee success, but it can create options that become harder to access when work, bills, and responsibilities begin to take priority. As a first-generation college student, I realized that getting into college involves much more than simply wanting to go. My parents encouraged me every step of the way, but they had never navigated the American college system themselves. Applications, scholarships, financial aid, choosing a major, and understanding which transcripts and test scores colleges needed were things I had to figure out on my own. As college became more real, I found myself researching housing options, comparing meal plans, and trying to understand how I would afford it. When no one in your family has gone through the process before, every step feels like something you have to learn from scratch. At times, it felt overwhelming. There was no roadmap sitting at home waiting for me. Instead of letting that discourage me, it pushed me to become more resourceful. I learned to ask questions, seek opportunities, and apply for programs even when I was unsure whether I would be accepted. That mindset shaped my high school experience. I worked construction jobs, volunteered as a Red Cross Blood Donor Ambassador, mentored younger campers at Camp Wise, participated in entrepreneurship programs through the Young Entrepreneur Institute and Miami University, and pursued art and music through lessons, competitions, and exhibitions. I was trying to learn as much as possible and make the most of opportunities that my parents never had. Through entrepreneurship and the arts, I met many talented people who struggled not because they lacked ability, but because they did not know how to turn their skills into a livelihood. That realization drives me. At the University of Cincinnati, I plan to study business so I can help creative people learn how to market their work, build careers, and create opportunities for themselves. Being a first-generation student means being the first person in my immediate family to navigate a path that was never clearly mapped out. It means honoring the sacrifices my parents made while building opportunities they could only hope for. This scholarship would help me continue that journey and focus on my education. More importantly, it would help me keep moving forward on a path I had to learn to create for myself.

I have always been more interested in fixing, rebuilding, and improving things than throwing them away. Whether through electronics, artwork, or entrepreneurship projects, I am drawn to the process of taking something overlooked and finding a way to give it value again. Over time, I realized that creativity is not only about making something original, but about seeing possibilities where other people stop looking. One experience that shaped this mindset was my senior shadowing project at AVE Electronics, where I worked around consumer electronics diagnostics and refurbishment. I became interested in how many devices people consider “broken” even when they still contain usable parts or repair potential. I learned how damaged electronics could be tested, cleaned, restored, and prepared for resale instead of immediately becoming waste. What fascinated me most was that refurbishment was not just technical work. Every device required a different approach depending on the damage, available parts, and whether repair was practical. I began to see refurbishment as a creative process because it involved problem-solving, adaptability, and finding value in things that would otherwise be discarded. I was especially drawn to the idea that repairing electronics could solve two problems at once by reducing waste while making technology more affordable for people who cannot easily replace expensive devices. I applied that same mindset through entrepreneur markets and my artwork. As an artist, I learned that creating strong work is only part of the process. I also had to think about how people connected with what I made. At youth markets, I experimented with booth layouts, presentation styles, and communication based on how people responded. I adjusted how artwork and products were displayed to make them feel more approachable and engaging. Through that process, I became interested not only in creating art, but also in understanding how branding, presentation, and communication can turn creativity into real opportunity. If I had the resources, the problem I would most want to solve is the lack of accessible creative and business education for young artists. Many talented students are encouraged to create, but are never taught how to financially sustain their creativity or turn it into a stable future. Because of that, many begin to view creativity as unrealistic rather than valuable. I would want to create collaborative art and entrepreneurship spaces in Ohio where young creatives could access studio space, mentorship, business workshops, and opportunities to publicly exhibit and sell their work. These spaces would combine artistic development with practical education in branding, marketing, pricing artwork, communication, and financial literacy. I would also want the program to remain financially accessible through partnerships with schools, local businesses, and community organizations so students from different economic backgrounds could participate fully. What matters most to me is creating environments where creative students feel that their ideas have real value. I know how easy it is for unconventional thinkers to feel discouraged when their strengths do not fit traditional academic paths. I want to help build spaces where creativity is treated not as a distraction from success, but as a form of innovation capable of solving real problems and creating meaningful opportunities for others.

Volunteering has always meant more to me when I am not just participating, but helping shape how an experience feels for other people. I have learned that leadership in service often comes from noticing what needs to be done and stepping in, even when no one asks. One example of this was during a Youth Entrepreneur Market event, where I helped another student set up her booth. She was struggling to lift and organize heavy tables and boxes, so I stepped in to help move the materials so she could focus on arranging her display and preparing her products. In that moment, I was not just assisting, I was helping make sure she could fully take part in the event without unnecessary stress. At Camp Wise, I have also taken on responsibility by helping support younger campers during group activities. I helped keep children engaged, assisted staff with group organization, and stepped in when campers were feeling left out or overwhelmed. I learned to pay attention to group dynamics and small moments where someone needed extra support in order to feel included. The most meaningful experience for me, however, was volunteering at a camp recruitment and introduction event where I spoke with parents and new campers before the summer began. I chose to take part because I remember being in their position as a first-time camper at the same overnight camp. I was excited, but also unsure of what to expect. It was my first time being away for an entire month, without phone calls to my parents, only handwritten letters to stay in touch. I remember not fully understanding the rules, routines, or what daily life would be like, and that uncertainty stayed with me. Because of that experience, I wanted to help make the transition easier for other first-time campers. I explained what daily life at camp would look like, answered questions from parents and campers, and tried to ease the anxiety that often comes with something new. What stood out to me most was realizing that preparation is not only about information, but about helping people feel emotionally ready for an experience. Through these experiences, I have learned that leadership in service is not about titles or authority. It is about awareness, seeing when someone is struggling, uncomfortable, or unsure, and choosing to respond in a way that makes their experience better. Whether lifting materials at a market booth, supporting group activities, or helping new campers and their parents adjust before they even arrive, I have seen how my small actions can shape someone’s experience throughout an entire event. To me, leadership through service is about creating environments where people feel supported enough to fully participate. It is not always visible or formal, but it is consistent. These experiences have shown me that some of the most meaningful impact comes from simple moments of attention, care, and responsibility.

Faith, to me, is not defined by religious practice, but by the values I was raised with through my Jewish family and culture. Even though I do not practice Judaism religiously, I grew up with a strong sense of responsibility to family, community, and supporting others when they are struggling. Those values shaped how I understand my role in education, relationships, and the kind of future I want to build. Growing up, I saw those values most clearly in my family life. My grandfather lived with severe epilepsy, and his condition required constant care because seizures could happen without warning. His illness affected not only him, but our entire household. My mother took on most of the caregiving while also raising me and my brother. In our home, it was normal that when something happened, everything else paused. Over time, I learned that responsibility in a family is not something one person carries alone, it is shared, even when it is exhausting or inconvenient. As I got older, I began to understand that what I was seeing was not just caregiving, but a way of living. Not ignoring someone in need, even when it disrupts your own life, became something I recognized as a core value in my family. Watching my mother taught me that strength is not only about handling your own responsibilities, but about continuing to show up for others when they depend on you. Those values influenced how I think about my future. They are a big part of why I want to pursue higher education in business and entrepreneurship. For me, education is not only about personal success, but about learning how to build things that can open doors for other people. I want to be in a position where I can help create opportunities where people feel supported and included, instead of having to figure everything out alone. Outside of my family life, I have carried these values into direct interactions with people. As a Blood Donor Ambassador with the American Red Cross, I often meet donors who arrive nervous or unsure about the process. I remember explaining each step to people who looked anxious, repeating information when needed, and staying calm so they could feel more at ease. In those moments, I saw how small interactions can completely change someone’s experience of stress or uncertainty. At Camp Wise, I worked with younger campers who sometimes struggled to feel included. I remember staying back with a camper who did not want to join group activities at first. Instead of pushing him, I spent time talking with him and slowly helped him become more comfortable with the group. Over time, he began participating naturally. That experience showed me that support is not a single moment, it is showing up consistently until someone feels safe enough to take part. It also made me realize that community is not just something people talk about. It is built in real time through small, everyday moments where someone chooses to step in and help. Ultimately, the values I was raised with through my Jewish family have shaped how I understand responsibility, education, and purpose. They have taught me that success is not only personal, but also measured by what you contribute to the people around you. My goals are rooted in that belief, and I want to continue building a life where education and entrepreneurship allow me to create opportunities and stability for others while staying grounded in the values I was raised with.

Selflessness, to me, means choosing to show up for others even when it is not convenient, expected, or easy. It is not defined by large, dramatic actions, but by consistent decisions to prioritize someone else’s comfort, safety, or stability. Over time, I have learned that selflessness is often quiet; it happens in moments where no one is watching, but someone still needs help. One of the most consistent ways I have practiced selflessness is through my work with the American Red Cross as a Blood Donor Ambassador. In this role, I help register donors, guide them through the donation process, and ensure they feel safe and comfortable. I still remember donors arriving visibly nervous, asking whether the process would hurt or whether they might feel faint. In those moments, I learned that my tone of voice and patience directly affect how calm they become. By staying steady and explaining each step clearly, I try to help people feel less anxious while doing something meaningful for others. Even small interactions like answering repeated questions or reassuring someone who looks unsure often change the atmosphere of the donation experience. I have also experienced selflessness through my work at Camp Wise, where I help supervise and mentor younger campers. Working with children requires constant attention to group dynamics and individual emotions. There have been moments when I had to put aside my own tiredness after a long day to step in when a camper felt left out or overwhelmed. One situation that stayed with me was working with a camper who struggled to join group activities and often stayed on the outside of interactions. Instead of forcing participation, I spent time including him in small tasks during activities and conversations. Over time, he became more comfortable joining the group. That experience showed me that selflessness is not just about helping once, but about showing up repeatedly until someone feels included. My understanding of selflessness also comes from my family life. My grandfather lived with severe epilepsy, which caused sudden seizures that required constant supervision. He could not be left alone, and even simple daily routines required planning around his condition. My mother carried much of that responsibility while raising me and my brother. I remember how often she had to stop what she was doing immediately when something happened with him. Growing up in that environment showed me that selflessness is not always recognized in the moment; it often looks like interrupted sleep, constant awareness, and emotional endurance that never fully pauses. These experiences shaped how I respond to people in everyday situations. In customer service and volunteer environments, I have learned to pay attention to signs of frustration, confusion, or stress before someone says anything directly. I have seen how quickly small moments, like slowing down to explain something or staying calm when someone is overwhelmed, can change how a person experiences help or support. Selflessness is not something I consider finished or fully developed in myself. It is something I continue learning through experience. Through working with the American Red Cross, mentoring campers at Camp Wise, and growing up in a family where caregiving was constant, I have learned that selflessness is not defined by sacrifice alone. It is defined by the repeated choice to notice what someone needs and respond, even when it takes effort, patience, or emotional energy.

My grandfather developed epilepsy at sixteen years old after suffering a head injury during a school physical education class in Ukraine. He lost consciousness and woke up experiencing severe seizures that would follow him for the rest of his life. The medical treatment available at the time was limited, and his condition gradually worsened. Repeated seizures and heavy medication affected not only his physical health, but also his mental and emotional state. He struggled with depression, anxiety, paranoia, and obsessive thoughts. Eventually, he became disabled and completely dependent on others for daily support. My grandfather lived with my family while I was growing up, so his illness became part of everyday life. He could not safely stay alone because a seizure could cause him to fall, hit his head, or seriously injure himself. Someone always needed to be nearby. My mother carried most of that responsibility while also raising me and my older brother. Even as a child, I could feel how exhausting that constant responsibility was. Our household often felt tense and unpredictable because we never knew when the next seizure, emotional outburst, or crisis would happen. One of the hardest things to witness was how much mental illness changed the way my grandfather interacted with people he loved. His frustration and paranoia often needed somewhere to go, and my mother became the person he blamed most often. As a child, it was painful and confusing to watch someone who was suffering also hurt the people trying hardest to care for him. Looking back now, I understand that neurological illness can deeply affect a person’s emotions, relationships, and sense of identity. In 2013, when I was five years old, one of my grandfather’s friends picked him up to go fishing. It was the last time I ever saw him. During the trip, he had a seizure, fell into the water, and drowned. For a long time, I did not fully process what happened or understand the full weight of what my grandfather had lived with for decades. As I grew older, I began learning more about epilepsy and its connection to mental health. Understanding that connection changed the way I viewed my grandfather’s behavior and suffering. I stopped seeing only the difficult moments and began recognizing how much pain, fear, and loss of control he must have experienced throughout his life. I also began to understand how painful it must have been to watch other people live normal, independent lives while his own condition prevented him from doing simple things many people take for granted, like driving a car, working normally, or living without constant dependence on others. My experiences with my grandfather permanently changed the way I understand people. They taught me that behavior often reflects pain that others cannot immediately see. Because of that, I learned not to immediately judge people’s actions or emotions, because many people are carrying struggles that remain invisible to everyone around them. The lessons I learned from my grandfather continue to shape the way I interact with others. Whether I am helping someone during volunteer work, mentoring younger students at camp, or simply interacting with people in everyday situations, I try to approach others with greater patience and empathy because I understand how deeply emotional struggles can affect a person’s life. These experiences also shaped the type of person I hope to become in the future. They taught me the importance of creating environments where people feel understood rather than judged. Too often, people struggling with mental health feel isolated because their pain is misunderstood, dismissed, or treated as something shameful. I want to contribute to spaces where people feel safe discussing emotional struggles openly without fear of embarrassment or judgment. Most importantly, my grandfather’s story taught me that mental illness affects far more than one individual. It affects families, relationships, and the way people experience the world around them. Although those experiences were painful, they shaped the way I move through the world today. They taught me to look at people with greater empathy, to recognize that suffering is often more complex than it appears, and to understand how important compassion and open conversations can be for someone silently struggling.

For years, I lived between two very different worlds. Some days, I was covered in paint and dust from construction work. Other days, I was in art studios, practicing piano, or preparing artwork for exhibitions and competitions. At first, those experiences felt unrelated, but over time I realized they were teaching me the same lesson: creativity alone is not enough to build a future. Success requires planning, discipline, adaptability, and the ability to turn ideas into something sustainable. That realization pushed me toward entrepreneurship and shaped my long-term goal of helping artists build successful careers without sacrificing their creativity. My motivation for this path comes from my own experiences in the arts. For years, I have studied fine art, piano, and flute while participating in competitions and exhibiting artwork in local galleries. Through those experiences, I saw many talented artists who had strong creative ability but little understanding of how to market themselves professionally or financially sustain their work. That realization made me interested not only in creating art, but also in understanding how business and entrepreneurship can help creative people succeed. To achieve my goals, I plan to earn a degree in business with a focus on entrepreneurship at the Carl H. Lindner College of Business. My first phase is education and skill development. During college, I plan to focus on finance, marketing, operations, leadership, and business development while continuing to gain hands-on experience through internships, employment, and entrepreneurial programs. I want to graduate not only with academic knowledge, but with practical experience solving problems, managing projects, and communicating effectively with people from different backgrounds. I have already started building this foundation through real-world experience. Through the Youth Entrepreneur Market, I learned how to develop products, package them professionally, interact with customers, and adjust based on feedback. Working at Dick’s Sporting Goods strengthened my customer service and communication skills in a fast-paced environment. My senior project at AVE Electronics introduced me to inventory systems, refurbishment operations, quality control, and sustainable business practices within an R2v3 and ISO-certified facility. Volunteering with the American Red Cross, MIM Software Inc., and working at Camp Wise also taught me leadership, teamwork, and adaptability under pressure. Financial planning is an important part of my strategy. My parents immigrated from Ukraine with very limited resources, so I understand the importance of building opportunities carefully and responsibly. To reduce college expenses, I have actively pursued scholarships and employment opportunities. I have already earned scholarships including the Padriac Routa Memorial Scholarship, Mandel Myers Fellowship Program scholarship, Ivy Women’s Center Scholarship, and Caring Cardinals Scholarship. I also plan to continue working during summers and school breaks while pursuing internships connected to entrepreneurship and business development. My goal is to minimize unnecessary debt while maximizing professional experience and long-term career growth. I understand that entrepreneurship involves uncertainty, which is why adaptability is part of my plan. If one opportunity does not work out, I will continue building experience through internships, freelance work, smaller entrepreneurial projects, and continued networking. I believe progress is built incrementally through preparation, consistency, and follow-through. The phrase “Plan Your Work, Work Your Plan” reflects the mindset I want to carry throughout my life. I do not want success only for myself. I want to build something sustainable that creates opportunities for other creative people who may only need guidance, support, and someone willing to believe in their potential.

The most meaningful relationship in my life is the relationship I have with my mother. She shaped not only the way I view education and work, but also the way I understand people and connection itself. My parents immigrated from Ukraine with only about $200, and I grew up watching my mother rebuild her life through constant adaptation, sacrifice, and persistence. Even during stressful moments, she rarely complained. Instead, she focused on moving forward and making sure I had opportunities she never had herself. One thing she often told me growing up was, “Knowledge is power.” At first, I understood that phrase academically, but over time I realized she meant something deeper. Knowledge was not only about information, it was about understanding people, communicating clearly, and learning how to build relationships that help others feel supported and valued. That lesson shaped the way I connect with people today. As a Blood Donor Ambassador with the American Red Cross, I met many people who arrived nervous or uncomfortable before donating blood. Some avoided eye contact. Others asked the same questions repeatedly because they were anxious. I began to notice how quickly a person’s body language changed when they felt genuinely listened to. Sometimes all it took was a calm conversation or a few extra minutes of patience. Those experiences taught me that human connection often happens in small moments that most people overlook. I experienced something similar while working with younger campers at Camp Wise. Children are honest about their emotions, and they immediately recognize whether someone truly cares about them. I learned that leadership is not about controlling people, it is about creating trust. Some of the moments that stayed with me most were not large accomplishments or organized activities, but quiet conversations with campers who needed encouragement or simply wanted someone to listen without judgment. Even entrepreneurship taught me something important about relationships. Through the Youth Entrepreneur Market, I learned that business is deeply connected to human understanding. Selling products was never only about making a transaction. I had to pay attention to people’s reactions, adjust based on feedback, and communicate clearly with customers from different backgrounds. That experience showed me that trust, communication, and emotional awareness matter just as much in professional spaces as they do in personal ones. Over time, these experiences changed how I think about success. I no longer see achievement as something purely individual. The strongest opportunities in my life came through relationships, people who encouraged me, guided me, believed in me, or simply took the time to listen. That realization shaped both my personal values and my future goals. As I pursue a degree in business and entrepreneurship, I want to create spaces where creativity, mentorship, and community come together. I hope to help young artists and students who have talent but lack guidance, confidence, or professional support. I want to build environments where people feel encouraged not only to succeed, but to genuinely connect with one another. In a world where many interactions have become increasingly fast and transactional, I believe meaningful human connection has become one of the most valuable things a person can offer. My mother taught me that people may forget specific words or accomplishments, but they remember how someone made them feel. That belief now shapes how I lead, how I work, and the kind of future I hope to build for others.

To me, a life of service is not defined by a title or a formal role, but by a quiet decision to notice what others need and respond with care. Over time, I have learned that service is not one moment or one achievement, it is a pattern of responsibility shown in small, often unseen actions. One of my first real experiences with service came through the American Red Cross as a Blood Donor Ambassador. I helped register donors and guide them through the donation process. What I remember most is not the task itself, but the people, the nervous pauses, the hesitation, the uncertainty in their faces. I learned that sometimes service is as simple as speaking calmly, smiling, and helping someone feel safe enough to do something meaningful. In those moments, I understood that small interactions can carry real emotional weight. At Camp Wise, that lesson became daily practice. Working with younger campers, I learned that service is consistency. It is showing up even when you are tired, paying attention even when it is easier not to, and being steady for others when they need it most. I realized that leadership is not about being in charge, it is about being dependable. The children may not remember every activity we did, but they remember how they felt, and that responsibility stays with me. My understanding of service expanded further through the Youth Entrepreneur Market. While I was selling products, I was also listening constantly, watching how people responded, answering questions, and adjusting based on feedback. I realized service does not disappear in business; it changes form. It becomes understanding people well enough to meet their needs through communication, presentation, and improvement. Even construction work taught me something similar in a different way. Working on residential sites showed me that service can be physical and immediate, helping complete work that directly improves someone’s home. It taught me discipline, humility, and the importance of finishing work properly even when it is difficult. My parents immigrated from Ukraine with only about $200, and watching them build a life from nothing shaped how I understand service on a deeper level. They showed me that when resources are limited, people rely on one another. That experience made me value not just hard work, but the idea of lifting others as you move forward. As I pursue a degree in business and entrepreneurship, I want to use education as a way to expand that mindset. I hope to create opportunities for young artists and students who have talent but lack access to guidance, teaching them skills like communication, marketing, and leadership so they can turn their abilities into sustainable paths forward. Ultimately, I have learned that service is not something you announce, it is something you live. It is found in how you treat people in small moments, and in what you choose to build for others when you have the chance. My goal is to build a future where success is not individual, but shared, where what I create helps others rise as well.

Before this year, I didn’t think much about what happens to products after people stop using them. Like most consumers, I saw replacement as normal. That perspective changed during my senior project, when I shadowed the CEO of AVE Electronics and worked inside a facility focused on repair and refurbishment. In an R2v3 and ISO-certified environment, I saw how devices that are often considered “finished” are carefully diagnosed, tested, and restored. Phones, laptops, and other electronics that might have ended up in landfills were instead processed, repaired, and prepared for reuse. What stood out to me was how structured and intentional the process was. Nothing was wasted without being evaluated first. Even data sanitization and inventory handling were done with precision, ensuring that reuse was both secure and efficient. That experience shifted how I understand sustainability. It stopped feeling like a broad or distant issue and became something practical. I began to see that environmental impact is often the result of everyday decisions, whether something is repaired or replaced, reused or discarded. In industries like consumer electronics, where products are frequently upgraded, extending the life of even a small percentage of devices can significantly reduce waste and lower demand for new production. My background in business and entrepreneurship has shaped how I think about this problem. Running a small business and working in retail showed me how strongly consumer behavior is influenced by convenience and perception. Many people replace products not because they are unusable, but because repair or refurbished options are not clearly presented or trusted. Sustainability, in this sense, is not just a technical issue. it is also a communication and accessibility issue. In the future, I plan to pursue business and entrepreneurship with a focus on making sustainable options more practical and visible. I am interested in building systems or platforms that make refurbished and repaired products easier to access, understand, and trust. That could mean improving how these products are presented, creating more transparency in the process, or making repair a more standard part of the product lifecycle rather than an exception. I also want to apply this mindset to creative communities. Many artists rely on materials and tools that are often expensive and frequently replaced. By creating systems that support reuse, shared resources, or repurposed materials, I want to help make creative work more accessible while reducing unnecessary waste. Sustainability, in this context, is not just about limiting impact, but about creating smarter ways for people to continue doing meaningful work. My experience at AVE Electronics showed me that sustainability is not just an idea, it is something built through consistent, practical decisions. It made me realize that businesses have the ability to shape those decisions at scale. As I continue my education, I want to focus on building solutions that make sustainability a natural and accessible choice, rather than something people have to go out of their way to consider.

A very close family friend in my life was recently incarcerated. While I have not experienced incarceration directly in my immediate family, he has played a meaningful role in my upbringing. He was the person who first introduced me to working at a young age, bringing me to construction sites and teaching me how to work with my hands. Through those experiences, I learned practical skills that I still use today, but more importantly, I learned what responsibility, discipline, and consistency look like in real life. He has always been a strong influence in my life. Over the years, I saw how hardworking he was and how much he cared about others. Whether it was helping family friends, supporting his own family, or stepping in when someone needed help, he consistently showed up for people. He was respectful, calm, and reliable in a way that left a lasting impression on me during my early development. When he became incarcerated, it created a noticeable shift in my life. It was not only about his absence, but also about realizing how quickly circumstances can change, even for people who are hardworking and well-intentioned. It made me reflect on the fragility of stability and how important it is to build a future with awareness and direction. At the same time, this experience made me more aware of the importance of role models and support systems. He was one of the first adults outside my immediate family who showed me what it meant to work hard and take pride in your effort. Losing consistent access to that guidance made me more independent, but it also made me realize how much positive influence can shape a young person’s path. This experience has shaped my academic and career ambitions in a meaningful way. It has motivated me to pursue business and entrepreneurship, not just for personal success, but to create opportunities for others through art. I want to build spaces where people can get involved in creative work, develop their skills, and stay engaged in positive environments that help them grow, build confidence, and create better opportunities for themselves. The time I spent learning from him through construction and hands-on work also influenced my direction. It showed me the value of practical skills and real-world experience, and how those lessons build independence and confidence over time. Overall, his impact on my life has been significant, even through difficult circumstances. It taught me to value mentorship, to think carefully about the paths people take, and to use my own experiences to create something more stable, positive, and meaningful for others.

Making a positive impact on the world, to me, starts with helping people turn what they already have into something meaningful and sustainable. I don’t think impact always comes from something large or abstract. Often, it begins in smaller communities, where talent exists but opportunity and structure do not. Throughout high school, I have seen this in many different situations. I’ve worked in retail, worked in construction, run a small business, and been involved in art, music, and leadership programs. I’ve also been involved in service and professional environments. I worked at Camp Wise, volunteering with the American Red Cross as a donor ambassador, and assisting with office and administrative work at MIM Software Inc. Across all of these experiences, one thing has stood out to me: people often have potential, but not always the support, guidance, or tools to fully use it. Working at Camp Wise taught me what it means to be responsible for others in real time. I started as a volunteer helping counselors with younger campers, and later took on more responsibility working directly with groups of kids. It is not just about leading activities, but about making sure people feel safe, included, and understood. I learned that small actions: how you speak to someone, how you handle conflict, how you stay patient, can completely shape someone’s experience in a group. My volunteer work with the American Red Cross reinforced this in a different way. As a donor ambassador, I helped guide people through the donation process and made sure they felt comfortable and supported. It showed me that service is not always about leadership in the traditional sense; sometimes it is about being present, attentive, and reliable in moments that matter to others. My long-term involvement at MIM Software, where I have volunteered since I was 9 years old, taught me the value of consistency and responsibility over time. Even in small tasks like organizing, preparing spaces, and supporting office needs, I learned that behind-the-scenes work is what keeps systems running. It also showed me that commitment is not about doing something once, but about showing up over years and continuing to contribute in any way you can. One area I feel strongly about is supporting local artists and creative individuals. Many people have artistic ability, but struggle with things like marketing, financial planning, or simply knowing how to present their work. I’ve experienced this gap myself through my involvement in visual arts and entrepreneurship. Selling products through the Young Entrepreneur Institute showed me that creativity alone is not enough, there has to be structure behind it for something to grow. Because of that, my goal is to combine business and creativity to create more accessible pathways for people to share and sustain their work. I want to help artists and small creators not only develop their craft, but also understand how to present, sell, and manage what they create in a practical way. That could include workshops, mentorship, or simple resources that make business and financial concepts easier to understand and apply. In the future, I want to expand on this by building initiatives that connect creativity with practical skills and real opportunity. My goal is to help make those passions sustainable through structured programs and community-based support. I want to help people build on what they already have. To me, making a positive impact on the world means helping people turn potential into possibility. It starts with showing up, paying attention to others, and using what you’ve learned to make things a little more possible for someone else than they were before.

One day I was sanding walls at a construction site, and a few hours later I was sitting at a piano, practicing for a performance. That contrast followed me throughout high school. I painted, played music, ran a small business, and worked regular jobs. Instead of feeling well-rounded, I often felt scattered. People would ask what I was “focused on,” and I never had a simple answer. It felt like I was supposed to choose one path and commit to it completely. Being interested in too many things made me question whether I lacked direction or discipline. For a while, that became my “awkward” thing. I felt that I didn’t fit into a clear identity the way others seemed to. I noticed it in small moments. Conversations where people could easily describe what they were “about,” while I hesitated. Most of the times I felt like I had to explain why I was doing so many different things instead of just one. It made me second-guess whether I was spreading myself too thin or missing something that everyone else seemed to understand. Over time, that perspective started to change through experience. In construction, I had to solve problems quickly and work through imperfect conditions where nothing went exactly as planned. In music, I learned discipline and how to perform under pressure, where preparation shows in real time. Running a small business pushed me to think about pricing, presentation, and customer response in a very direct way. I remember adjusting how I presented my product at a market and immediately seeing how it changed the way people reacted. Each environment was different, but they all required the same core skills: awareness, adaptability, and follow-through. The turning point for me was realizing that the issue wasn’t having too many interests; it was how I viewed them. I had been treating them as separate, when in reality they were connected. Creativity showed up in construction when solving problems. Communication showed up in business when working with customers. Discipline from music carried into everything else. What I thought was inconsistency was actually an overlap. Once I understood that, my mindset shifted. I stopped trying to narrow myself down into one category and started paying attention to how these experiences built on each other. Instead of seeing myself as unfocused, I started to see myself as adaptable. I became more comfortable taking on things that didn’t obviously connect, trusting that they would add value in ways I couldn’t always predict right away. Now, I approach opportunities differently. Instead of asking whether something fits into one path, I think about how it expands what I can do and how I think. That mindset has made me more willing to take on challenges that don’t look traditional at first and more confident in situations where there isn’t a clear structure to follow. Being “awkward” in that way taught me something important. What I once saw as being scattered is actually what allows me to connect ideas, adapt quickly, and move between different environments without losing direction. It’s not something I need to fix anymore, it’s something I’ve learned how to use.

Most people don’t think about financial literacy until it affects them. I noticed this when I began working and running a small business. Every decision like pricing, costs, and customer response mattered. At that point, it was no longer a lesson. It became something that could affect my money and my future. I think the biggest problem with financial education is not just that it’s taught too late, but that when it is taught, it isn’t connected to real life. I was lucky to be introduced to these ideas early. Growing up, my parents gave me a weekly budget, and I had to learn how to manage it without overspending. That experience made me more aware of money and showed me that not everyone gets that kind of foundation. As a vendor with the Young Entrepreneur Institute, I had to manage pricing, costs, and customer expectations. I also expanded on these ideas at the Miami University Summer Entrepreneur Scholars program, where I worked on business projects and saw outcomes of financial decisions. At the same time, I worked in retail and handled transactions with customers. I started to see how small decisions, like pricing something too high or not accounting for costs, directly affected outcomes. That showed me financial literacy isn’t just about understanding terms like “budget” or “interest rate.” It’s about making decisions in real time and understanding what those decisions lead to. Because of this, one of the biggest changes I would like to see is financial education introduced earlier and taught in a more practical way. Instead of waiting until late high school, students should start learning basic concepts in middle school to form better habits. Also, those lessons should be connected to real situations. Students should practice managing a budget, running a small project, or simulating real financial decisions. Without that connection, the information is easy to forget and hard to apply. Financial literacy should also be built into experiences students are already involved in. For example, students in clubs, sports, or creative activities could learn how to manage funds, plan events, or track expenses. When financial concepts are tied to something meaningful, they are easier to understand and more relevant. I learned the most when I had real responsibility and could see the results. In the future, I plan to be part of this change by combining my interest in business, communication, and leadership. I want to help make financial literacy more accessible and less intimidating, especially for students who may not see it as relevant to them. One way I plan to do this is by creating simple social media content or community programs that explain financial concepts, everyday language. I want to share information in a way that feels useful rather than overwhelming. I also want to lead by example. Through my own experiences in entrepreneurship and work, I have seen how financial awareness directly affects decisions and outcomes. By continuing to build those skills and share what I learn, I hope to help others feel more confident managing their own finances. Financial literacy should not be something people discover only after making mistakes. It should be introduced early, reinforced through real experiences, and taught in a way that feels relevant. I saw the difference it made in my own life through something as simple as managing a weekly budget. Not everyone has that starting point, and that is exactly why financial education needs to change. I want to be part of making that change, not just by understanding financial literacy myself, but by helping others see how it applies to their lives.

One morning, I was sanding and painting walls at a construction site, and my hands were covered in white house paint. By evening, those same hands were carefully layering oil paint for a study of Van Gogh. For a while, I struggled to make sense of these two parts of my life. I wondered if I was an artist, an entrepreneur, or just someone incapable of focusing on one path. I worried that to be successful, I had to choose one and let the rest die. However, I eventually realized that being interested in so many different things isn’t a weakness; it’s actually my biggest advantage. Construction taught me that real work is messy and hard, but you have to be patient if you want the final result to look good. Fine art taught me observation and storytelling. Entrepreneurship gave me the tools to turn those stories into action. Today, I don’t see these paths as separate. I see them as an innovative way to make a difference in the world. Visual art is my primary form of expression. Whether working in oil, ink, or acrylic, I use my work to explore the world around me. This passion has pushed me to compete at the highest levels, placing in the Battle of the Teal, earning a Silver Key from the Scholastic Art Awards and participating in national programs like YoungArts and Sony World Photography. Exhibiting at venues like the Pivot Center for Arts and Lorain County Community College taught me that art is a powerful bridge; it can start conversations and connect strangers. But I also saw a problem: many talented artists around me lacked the social support and business knowledge to make their passion a sustainable career. This realization led me to the Youth Entrepreneur Market. There, I didn't just sell products; I learned how creativity functions in the real world. I handled everything from product development and packaging to customer feedback and deadlines. It taught me that entrepreneurship is just another form of creativity. It requires the same “blank canvas" thinking to solve a problem or build a brand. My drive to lead was further shaped by my community. As a Red Cross Blood Donor Ambassador and a mentor at Camp Wise, I learned that leadership isn't about authority; it’s about empathy and accountability. Whether I am comforting a nervous donor or helping a shy camper find their confidence, I am practicing the same skills needed to run a business: listening, earning trust, and showing up for others. Everything clicked during the Miami University entrepreneurship program. I saw how my artistic mindset allowed me to think outside the box, while business strategy gave me the framework to execute those ideas. I realized that my goal isn't just to be an artist, but to be an innovator who changes how we value the arts. I don’t think you should have to choose between being an artist and being able to pay your bills. I want to use my business degree to market my own work, but I also want to help other young artists in Ohio who have the talent but don’t know anything about the business side of art. By combining creativity with the hard work I’ve put in at construction sites and the entrepreneurship market, I hope to help Ohio artists really thrive. I want to create spaces where artists can actually get their work seen and flourish. I want to prove that if you have the right tools and a little bit of drive, you can turn your imagination into a real career.