Machine learning helped lock my PayPal account before hackers attempted to steal thousands of dollars. Cloud computing in education allowed me to connect with students worldwide and grow as an aspiring educator. Online entrepreneurial platforms and resources saved me when I was at my lowest with an eating disorder and extreme depression. Computer science has given me a new outlet for creativity and taught me that there is a whole world full of challenges to pursue. In a world undoubtedly transformed by computer science, it has saved me in so many ways. Ever since taking my first introductory class, I was drawn to its open nature in problem-solving. There is never just one solution, and since it quite literally connects every other field together, there is no issue that can't be approached with CS. It is a field driven by the pursuit of the nonexistent, and with collaborative innovation, impossible things are becoming possible. After receiving my two bachelor's in computer science and education, I hope to develop my skills and experiences through working in software engineering and research (particularly in UI/UX and human-computer interactions), and then I would like to transition to the intersections between AI and tech education. CS education for primary and secondary curricula is not as developed and widespread, and for many low-income, underserved communities, it’s often void in any curricula. With the research and recent advancements in AI (like ChatGPT), I want to create an app/platform that teaches CS like none other. Beyond basic syntax and typical coding problems, the platform would personalize its curriculum and teaching styles to the student’s needs, and the projects/prompts would be designed to target personalized and specific skills and concepts. A project like this would require intensive work in all sectors of CS, but with AI, I truly believe it is a tool that can change the way we teach, and it can help students recognize just how much opportunity lies in the field of computer science. Additionally, this app can serve as a bridge between the increasing educational barriers in our country. The power of computer science lies in its ability to reach all corners of the world; if implemented successfully, this app can transform areas where funding for education is low, teachers are scarce, and even help transform rehabilitation programs like rehab and prisons. As long as I can inspire just one person, that is my goal as I continue to work in software engineering. Educators are at the forefront of every generation, and for young women interested in the field, it can be incredibly intimidating. This is exactly how I felt going into my first year of college, but something as simple as representation and knowing that somebody else like me has succeeded is inspiring. I’ve spent many years in search of what it truly means to be a good educator, and the answer is quite simple: the best teachers are the best students. They are people who are constantly learning, and they demonstrate hard work, curiosity, genuine passion, and resounding authenticity. Through demonstration, they foster these values within their students. For me, I hope to be that person for others one day. I know that if I continue to push beyond financial difficulties, stereotypes in CS, and sleepless nights, one day, I’ll be able to give back to a community that has taught me so much. As a student of computer science, I am a student of life, and that is what makes me the strongest, best version of myself.

What excites me about computer science is its power to transform ideas in any field. I’ve used it to program websites to turn a small group of people passionate about Chinese Culture into one of the biggest organizations on campus, serving around 5000+ international students. I’ve used it alongside linear algebra and differential equations to discover habitable exoplanets in our galaxy, opening up discussions about how we can live on other planets in the future. I've used it to bring middle schoolers together and inspire them with creative Python projects during a time as difficult as the pandemic. I want to learn how I can fully utilize CS to envisage my future, a future where education transcends geographical barriers. I want to create immersive learning experiences, powered by advances in artificial intelligence, to empower learners of all backgrounds. After graduating with a bachelor's in computer science, I plan on working in software engineering to develop my skill set and observe the industry. Afterward, I plan on pursuing a path in education and developing an app/program to address educational inequities across the country. This app, utilizing ML technologies, will work with users of all different backgrounds to teach them everything about computer science. From fundamental theories and introductory programming to algorithms, machine learning, web development, and industry skills, I want to give everybody an equal chance in succeeding in the field of technology. This universal app can be used in areas where teachers are scarce, where funding for education is low, and even in rehabilitation areas like prisons, where technology can be used to inspire. This will require intersections between technology, business, humanitarian services and more, but I am motivated to learn and make it a reality. The path to acceptance and inclusion in the field of computer science is still an ongoing process. Despite progress, discrimination and bias persist within certain corners of the industry, and I have seen this firsthand as an LGBTQ+ woman navigating this field. It seems as if I have to fit a specific mold to fit in, and that my accomplishments are merely determined by my labels, not my hard work. Some days, I am where I am because I am Asian, and on others, I am where I am because of a quota and because of my identity. However, I’ve learned to appreciate individuality and focus on my learning, as I’ve learned that my contributions will always speak louder than any bias that may exist. I embraced my identity and leveraged it as a source of strength and innovation. As a student of computer science, I am a student of life. I am not somebody that is merely sitting and writing code all day. Instead, I am out. I am out in my different communities, organizations, and local events constantly observing and learning. I want to continue learning and share everything I've learned with the future of education, AI, and technology.

As a student of computer science, I am a student of life. I am not somebody that is sitting and writing code all day. Instead, I am out. I am out in my different communities, organizations, and local events, and at work. Most importantly, I am out observing. What excites me about computer science is its power to transform ideas in any field. I’ve used it to program websites to turn a small group of people passionate about Chinese Culture into one of the biggest organizations on campus, serving around 5000+ international students. I’ve used it alongside linear algebra and differential equations to discover habitable exoplanets in our galaxy, opening up discussions about how we can live on other planets in the future. I've used it to bring middle schoolers together and inspire them with creative Python projects during a time as difficult as the pandemic. If there is any issue I’m passionate about, any idea I want to pursue, or simply anything I want to learn about, technology and its advances will allow me to pursue it. I want to learn how I can fully utilize it to envisage my future, a future where education transcends geographical barriers. I want to create immersive learning experiences, powered by advances in artificial intelligence, to empower learners of all backgrounds. After graduating with a bachelor's in computer science, I plan on working in software engineering to develop my skill set and observe the industry. Afterward, I plan on pursuing a path in education and developing an app/program to address educational inequities across the country. This app, utilizing ML technologies, will work with users of all different backgrounds to teach them everything about computer science. From fundamental theories and introductory programming to algorithms, machine learning, web development, and industry skills, I want to give everybody an equal chance in succeeding in the field of technology. This universal app can be used in areas where teachers are scarce, where funding for education is low, and even in rehabilitation areas like prisons, where technology can be used to inspire. This will require intersections between technology, business, humanitarian services and more, but I am motivated to learn and make it a reality. The path to acceptance and inclusion in the field of computer science is still an ongoing process. Despite progress, discrimination and bias persist within certain corners of the industry, and I have seen this firsthand as an LGBTQ+ woman navigating this field. It seems as if I have to fit a specific mold to fit in, and that my accomplishments are merely determined by my labels, not my hard work. Some days, I am where I am because I am Asian, and on others, I am where I am because of a quota and because of my identity. However, I’ve learned to appreciate individuality and focus on my learning, as I’ve learned that my contributions will always speak louder than any bias that may exist. I embraced my identity and leveraged it as a source of strength and innovation. When I am in a room, I am not merely a minority or a woman. Instead, I am an individual with goals, accomplishments, and most importantly, a unique perspective. I’ve changed the way I’ve approached stereotypes and systemic barriers and recognized that I am so much more than what society has labeled me. I want to show young women like me that they are instead defined by their values, efforts, and unique minds.

I find knowledge satisfying when we can challenge our traditional ways of thought and look at familiar ideas in terms of application rather than concepts. Last year, 3 days into my first semester, my counselor pulled me aside to announce that she had added Linear Algebra to my schedule. “It’s pretty much Calculus,” I remember her saying, and though this was partially true, I quickly realized that my Calculus mindset was something to drop in this class. As I saw matrices as representations of linear transformations, connected vector subspaces to the analytical geometry in multivariable calculus, and modeled image manipulation in terms of matrix operations, I realized that all of my previous notions of matrices and vectors from Algebra 2 were so incredibly misinformed. Sure, the pure mechanics of Linear Algebra may have been simpler than those in Calculus, but to understand the abstract applications of each concept, I had to change the way I thought and approached each lesson. Soon, I was able to see that this mindset was something that spilled into every other subject, math and beyond. Especially in newer and growing fields such as quantum computing and cryptocurrency, in order to develop a genuine understanding of their social and technological contexts, we must be open to changing the way we approach these seemingly simple ideas. Learning and teaching our younger generations to do so is a great challenge, but is something that I seek to work on and eventually teach. Math has truly taught me how to think. It has taught me not to learn for a grade, but rather for reflection. Now that I'm studying computer science, I am constantly going back to my mathematical roots in differential equations, linear algebra, and multi-variable calculus. I am constantly reflecting, remembering, and applying everything I know to solve problems in all different fields. From finding habitable exoplanets, modeling programs in political science, to interning at the Air Force and working on satellites, math has supported me in all of these situations. It has taught me to be creative, and to never stop asking questions. Math presents difficult challenges, but great learning experiences. I hope to share this with many more people in the future.

As a student of computer science, I am a student of life. I am not somebody that is sitting and writing code all day. Instead, I am out. I am out in my different communities, organizations, and local events, and at work. Most importantly, I am out observing. What excites me about STEAM and computer science in particular is its power to transform ideas in any field. I’ve used it to program websites to turn a small group of people passionate about Chinese Culture into one of the biggest organizations on campus, serving around 5000+ international students. I’ve used it alongside linear algebra and differential equations to discover habitable exoplanets in our galaxy, opening up discussions about how we can live on other planets in the future. I've used it to bring middle schoolers together and inspire them with creative Python projects during a time as difficult as the pandemic. If there is any issue I’m passionate about, any idea I want to pursue, or simply anything I want to learn about, technology and its advances will allow me to pursue it. I want to learn how I can fully utilize it to envisage my future, a future where education transcends geographical barriers. I want to create immersive learning experiences, powered by advances in artificial intelligence, to empower learners of all backgrounds. After graduating with a bachelor's in computer science, I plan on working in software engineering to develop my skill set and observe the industry. Afterward, I plan on pursuing a path in education and developing an app/program to address educational inequities across the country. This app, utilizing ML technologies, will work with users of all different backgrounds to teach them everything about computer science. From fundamental theories and introductory programming to algorithms, machine learning, web development, and industry skills, I want to give everybody an equal chance in succeeding in the field of technology. This universal app can be used in areas where teachers are scarce, where funding for education is low, and even in rehabilitation areas like prisons, where technology can be used to inspire. This will require intersections between technology, business, humanitarian services and more, but I am motivated to learn and make it a reality. The path to acceptance and inclusion in the field of computer science is still an ongoing process. Despite progress, discrimination and bias persist within certain corners of the industry, and I have seen this firsthand as an LGBTQ+ woman navigating this field. It seems as if I have to fit a specific mold to fit in, and that my accomplishments are merely determined by my labels, not my hard work. Some days, I am where I am because I am Asian, and on others, I am where I am because of a quota and because of my identity. However, I’ve learned to appreciate individuality and focus on my learning, as I’ve learned that my contributions will always speak louder than any bias that may exist. I embraced my identity and leveraged it as a source of strength and innovation. When I am in a room, I am not merely a minority or a woman. Instead, I am an individual with goals, accomplishments, and most importantly, a unique perspective. I’ve changed the way I’ve approached stereotypes and systemic barriers and recognized that I am so much more than what society has labeled me. I want to show young women like me that they are instead defined by their values, efforts, and unique minds.

As a student of computer science, I am a student of life. I am not somebody that is sitting and writing code all day. Instead, I am out. I am out in my different communities, organizations, and local events, and at work. Most importantly, I am out observing. What excites me about computer science is its power to transform ideas in any field. I’ve used it to program websites to turn a small group of people passionate about Chinese Culture into one of the biggest organizations on campus, serving around 5000+ international students. I’ve used it alongside linear algebra and differential equations to discover habitable exoplanets in our galaxy, opening up discussions about how we can live on other planets in the future. I've used it to bring middle schoolers together and inspire them with creative Python projects during a time as difficult as the pandemic. If there is any issue I’m passionate about, any idea I want to pursue, or simply anything I want to learn about, technology and its advances will allow me to pursue it. I want to learn how I can fully utilize it to envisage my future, a future where education transcends geographical barriers. I want to create immersive learning experiences, powered by advances in artificial intelligence, to empower learners of all backgrounds. After graduating with a bachelor's in computer science, I plan on working in software engineering to develop my skill set and observe the industry. Afterward, I plan on pursuing a path in education and developing an app/program to address educational inequities across the country. This app, utilizing ML technologies, will work with users of all different backgrounds to teach them everything about computer science. From fundamental theories and introductory programming to algorithms, machine learning, web development, and industry skills, I want to give everybody an equal chance in succeeding in the field of technology. This universal app can be used in areas where teachers are scarce, where funding for education is low, and even in rehabilitation areas like prisons, where technology can be used to inspire. This will require intersections between technology, business, humanitarian services and more, but I am motivated to learn and make it a reality. The path to acceptance and inclusion in the field of computer science is still an ongoing process. Despite progress, discrimination and bias persist within certain corners of the industry, and I have seen this firsthand as an LGBTQ+ woman navigating this field. It seems as if I have to fit a specific mold to fit in, and that my accomplishments are merely determined by my labels, not my hard work. Some days, I am where I am because I am Asian, and on others, I am where I am because of a quota and because of my identity. However, I’ve learned to appreciate individuality and focus on my learning, as I’ve learned that my contributions will always speak louder than any bias that may exist. I embraced my identity and leveraged it as a source of strength and innovation. When I am in a room, I am not merely a minority or a woman. Instead, I am an individual with goals, accomplishments, and most importantly, a unique perspective. I’ve changed the way I’ve approached stereotypes and systemic barriers and recognized that I am so much more than what society has labeled me. I want to show young women like me that they are instead defined by their values, efforts, and unique minds.

Machine learning helped lock my PayPal account before hackers attempted to steal thousands of dollars. Cloud computing in education allowed me to connect with students worldwide and grow as an aspiring educator. Online entrepreneurial platforms and resources saved me when I was at my lowest with an eating disorder and extreme depression. Computer science has given me a new outlet for creativity and taught me that there is a whole world full of challenges to pursue. In a world undoubtedly transformed by computer science, it has saved me in so many ways. Ever since taking my first introductory class, I was drawn to its open nature in problem-solving. There is never just one solution, and since it quite literally connects every other field together, there is no issue that can't be approached with CS. It is a field driven by the pursuit of the nonexistent, and with collaborative innovation, impossible things are becoming possible. After receiving my two bachelor's in computer science and education, I hope to develop my skills and experiences through working in software engineering and research (particularly in UI/UX and human-computer interactions), and then I would like to transition to the intersections between AI and tech education. CS education for primary and secondary curricula is not as developed and widespread, and for many low-income, underserved communities, it’s often void in any curricula. With the research and recent advancements in AI (like ChatGPT), I want to create an app/platform that teaches CS like none other. Beyond basic syntax and typical coding problems, the platform would personalize its curriculum and teaching styles to the student’s needs, and the projects/prompts would be designed to target personalized and specific skills and concepts. A project like this would require intensive work in all sectors of CS, but with AI, I truly believe it is a tool that can change the way we teach, and it can help students recognize just how much opportunity lies in the field of computer science. Additionally, this app can serve as a bridge between the increasing educational barriers in our country. The power of computer science lies in its ability to reach all corners of the world; if implemented successfully, this app can transform areas where funding for education is low, teachers are scarce, and even help transform rehabilitation programs like rehab and prisons. As long as I can inspire just one person, that is my goal as I continue to work in software engineering. Educators are at the forefront of every generation, and for young women interested in the field, it can be incredibly intimidating. This is exactly how I felt going into my first year of college, but something as simple as representation and knowing that somebody else like me has succeeded is inspiring. I’ve spent many years in search of what it truly means to be a good educator, and the answer is quite simple: the best teachers are the best students. They are people who are constantly learning, and they demonstrate hard work, curiosity, genuine passion, and resounding authenticity. Through demonstration, they foster these values within their students. For me, I hope to be that person for others one day. I know that if I continue to push beyond financial difficulties, stereotypes in CS, and sleepless nights, one day, I’ll be able to give back to a community that has taught me so much. As a student of computer science, I am a student of life, and that is what makes me the strongest, best version of myself.

Machine learning helped lock my PayPal account before hackers attempted to steal thousands of dollars. Cloud computing in education allowed me to connect with students worldwide and grow as an aspiring educator. Online entrepreneurial platforms and resources saved me when I was at my lowest with an eating disorder and extreme depression. Computer science has given me a new outlet for creativity and taught me that there is a whole world full of challenges to pursue. In a world undoubtedly transformed by computer science, it has saved me in so many ways. Ever since taking my first introductory class, I was drawn to its open nature in problem-solving. There is never just one solution, and since it quite literally connects every other field together, there is no issue that can't be approached with CS. It is a field driven by the pursuit of the nonexistent, and with collaborative innovation, impossible things are becoming possible. After receiving my two bachelor's in computer science and education, I hope to develop my skills and experiences through working in software engineering and research (particularly in UI/UX and human-computer interactions), and then I would like to transition to the intersections between AI and tech education. CS education for primary and secondary curricula is not as developed and widespread, and for many low-income, underserved communities, it’s often void in any curricula. With the research and recent advancements in AI (like ChatGPT), I want to create an app/platform that teaches CS like none other. Beyond basic syntax and typical coding problems, the platform would personalize its curriculum and teaching styles to the student’s needs, and the projects/prompts would be designed to target personalized and specific skills and concepts. A project like this would require intensive work in all sectors of CS, but with AI, I truly believe it is a tool that can change the way we teach, and it can help students recognize just how much opportunity lies in the field of computer science. Additionally, this app can serve as a bridge between the increasing educational barriers in our country. The power of computer science lies in its ability to reach all corners of the world; if implemented successfully, this app can transform areas where funding for education is low, teachers are scarce, and even help transform rehabilitation programs like rehab and prisons. As long as I can inspire just one person, that is my goal as I continue to work in software engineering. Educators are at the forefront of every generation, and for young women interested in the field, it can be incredibly intimidating. This is exactly how I felt going into my first year of college, but something as simple as representation and knowing that somebody else like me has succeeded is inspiring. I’ve spent many years in search of what it truly means to be a good educator, and the answer is quite simple: the best teachers are the best students. They are people who are constantly learning, and they demonstrate hard work, curiosity, genuine passion, and resounding authenticity. Through demonstration, they foster these values within their students. For me, I hope to be that person for others one day. I know that if I continue to push beyond financial difficulties, stereotypes in CS, and sleepless nights, one day, I’ll be able to give back to a community that has taught me so much. As a student of computer science, I am a student of life, and that is what makes me the strongest, best version of myself.

Oftentimes, we go to music for specific situations. Breakups. Loss. Rebellion. Discovery. When we think of these themes, we have songs that we can seek solace in. However, there's one song that's unlike this. The lyrics are short, random, and each stanza follows a different theme. Even according to the artist himself, the lyrics just "don't make much sense." Yet when I listen to "Yellow" by Coldplay, I can't help but feel. It is a song about love, yet it's so hard to describe. All those who have dedicated themselves to an interpretation end up adding their own experiences as topics in reality do not emerge unequivocally from the lyrics. There is no clear story, but there is a clear feeling. The lyrics may not make much sense, but there is beauty in that. Love is just like this: it does not come with a meaning ready to be understood. It just comes. It's felt. And it's beautiful. In an age of social media, we're constantly over-analyzing what love is and should look like. However, this song has taught me that we don't need to rely on those definitions all the time. It is what we feel. This song has been with me through loss of family, an extreme eating disorder, deep anxiety and depression, and recovery. It has taught me that even at my lowest, there is love to be recognized and discovered. With its simple lyrics sung by a powerful, aching voice, "Yellow" is a spontaneous expression of the emotions felt during its composition. It has brought love to every interpretation and every listen. Love. It's warm, bright, and comfortable. It's dedication, devotion, and unconditional. It may not be clear at times, but it's there. It feels yellow. And it feels just right.

After receiving my two bachelor's in computer science and education, I hope to develop my skills and experiences through working in software engineering and research (particularly in UI/UX and human-computer interactions), and then I would like to transition to the intersections between AI and tech education. CS education for primary and secondary curricula is not as developed and widespread, and for many low-income, underserved communities, it’s often void in any curricula. With the research and recent advancements in AI (like ChatGPT), I want to create an app/platform that teaches CS like none other. Beyond basic syntax and typical coding problems, the platform would personalize its curriculum and teaching styles to the student’s needs, and the projects/prompts would be designed to target personalized and specific skills and concepts. A project like this would require intensive work in all sectors of CS, but with AI, I truly believe it is a tool that can change the way we teach, and it can help students recognize just how much opportunity lies in the field of computer science. I’ve spent many years in search of what it truly means to be a good educator, and the answer is quite simple: the best teachers are the best students. They are people who are constantly learning, and they demonstrate hard work, curiosity, genuine passion, and resounding authenticity. Through demonstration, they foster these values within their students. Selma was a great teacher, a great person, and a great inspiration to those around him, and I want to honor her legacy by doing the same. I know that if I continue to push beyond financial difficulties, stereotypes in CS, and sleepless nights, one day, I’ll be able to give back to a community that has taught me so much. As a student of computer science, I am a student of life, and that is what makes me the strongest, best version of myself. There are so many challenges still present in the field of education, but it all starts with tackling one problem, growing with one community, and inspiring one student at a time. I hope to bring genuine, innovative curriculums to younger students and help show them just how opportune the field of computer science truly is. Whether it's through community outreach, building an app, or working with school curriculums, I hope to inspire many people someday.

America's current education system only further divides the gap between the various socioeconomic levels, underserved and privileged communities, and the meaning of what a genuine and innovative education really is. I hope to be a representative for Asian-American, LGBTQ+, and female students all across the nation and pursue software engineering with a strong focus in tech education. With these technical foundations, I hope to work with school administrators to work with communities and address policies and funding inequities, with tech companies in creating curriculums that encourage and foster hands-on learning, and with other passionate educators in creating change.

Technology is overwhelming. When aspiring students in tech think about their future careers, they are overwhelmed with the the thought of working alongside supercomputers, self-driving cars, massive-scaled machine learning applications, and so much more. Tech has undoubtedly shaped each sector of life, but because it's so overwhelming, we often forget its very simple and humbling foundation: Math. As kids, it's hard to see the application in math. Why bother with all the apples and oranges in word problems? When are we ever going to be asked to recite the quadratic equation at gunpoint? These are all things I thought from 1st through 9th grade as my teachers emphasized memorization, recitation, and one-dimensional word problems. It wasn't until my sophomore year that I had the opportunity to attend a STEM boarding school, and it was then that I was introduced to computer science, post-calculus math electives, and curriculums focused on discovery and curiosity. I had always known that math was everywhere, but I didn't realize just HOW those applications worked; as I explored exoplanet transits, image recognition, and Android applications, I gained a new and greater respect for math. Math has helped 0s and 1s turn into the most intricate computers, vectors and matrices turn into facial recognition and Siri, the derivative turn into complex weather models, and simple theories into cryptocurrency. No matter how hard it is to recognize applications at first, when we look at just how far we've come in our technology, it is then that we realize just how many generations of mathematicians and innovative thinkers it took to create something special. As I pursue my bachelors in computer science, I always make sure to remember my foundation: math. The power of the computer lies in its repetition; when computers were first built, they were used for hours and hours of boring calculations that humans couldn't stand doing. Now as programmers recreate mathematical computations, theories and long calculations and organize libraries for other programmers, everybody can explore and collaboratively work on the greatest mathematical questions. When I code, I am inspired by the existing frameworks and libraries that are reflections of the world's greatest mathematical concepts, and I seek to understand how different concepts and theories can work together to create the most efficient solutions. As I pursue my bachelors in computer science, I also plan on minoring in mathematics and education. I believe that it's important to not only explore the elusiveness of math, but also to share it. Our current education system strives for recitation, not application, and I believe that younger generations must realize how interconnected our world is with math. With the experience I gain from classes, research, and student organizations, I hope to go beyond apples and oranges and to show students the power that collaboration, computers, and math can hold.

Technology is overwhelming. When aspiring students in tech think about their future careers, they are overwhelmed with the the thought of working alongside supercomputers, self-driving cars, massive-scaled machine learning applications, and so much more. Tech has undoubtedly shaped each sector of life, but because it's so overwhelming, we often forget its very simple and humbling foundation: Math. As kids, it's hard to see the application in math. Why bother with all the apples and oranges in word problems? When are we ever going to be asked to recite the quadratic equation at gunpoint? These are all things I thought from 1st through 9th grade as my teachers emphasized memorization, recitation, and one-dimensional word problems. It wasn't until my sophomore year that I had the opportunity to attend a STEM boarding school, and it was then that I was introduced to computer science, post-calculus math electives, and curriculums focused on discovery and curiosity. I had always known that math was everywhere, but I didn't realize just HOW those applications worked; as I explored exoplanet transits, image recognition, and Android applications, I gained a new and greater respect for math. Math has helped 0s and 1s turn into the most intricate computers, vectors and matrices turn into facial recognition and Siri, the derivative turn into complex weather models, and simple theories into cryptocurrency. No matter how hard it is to recognize applications at first, when we look at just how far we've come in our technology, it is then that we realize just how many generations of mathematicians and innovative thinkers it took to create something special. As I pursue my bachelors in computer science, I always make sure to remember my foundation: math. The power of the computer lies in its repetition; when computers were first built, they were used for hours and hours of boring calculations that humans couldn't stand doing. Now as programmers recreate mathematical computations, theories and long calculations and organize libraries for other programmers, everybody can explore and collaboratively work on the greatest mathematical questions. When I code, I am inspired by the existing frameworks and libraries that are reflections of the world's greatest mathematical concepts, and I seek to understand how different concepts and theories can work together to create the most efficient solutions. As I pursue my bachelors in computer science, I also plan on minoring in mathematics and education. I believe that it's important to not only explore the elusiveness of math, but also to share it. Our current education system strives for recitation, not application, and I believe that younger generations must realize how interconnected our world is with math. With the experience I gain from classes, research, and student organizations, I hope to go beyond apples and oranges and to show students the power that collaboration, computers, and math can hold.

The American diet and food culture has led to a common belief that healthy eating is, well, boring. When we think of "healthy" foods, we tend to think of unseasoned chicken, bland broccoli, and plain rice, and the intersectionality of social media influences, America's mental health crisis, and so much more have led millions of Americans down the road of eating disorders. There are so many stigmas surrounding food nowadays, and last year, I was one of those millions. I loved cooking as a kid and would constantly mess around with recipes, bake fresh batches of cookies, and learn from my mom's recipes growing up. At the peak of my eating disorder last year, I was only eating boiled chicken breasts, egg whites, and plain oats with water. I had dropped all of my passions for cooking, tasting, experimenting, but most importantly, I had lost the feeling of enjoyment and nourishment from my diet. A major part of my recovery was focused on regaining my social connections and prioritizing my relationships, but I also knew that a huge challenge would be regaining a passion for cooking - and one that involved foods that would nourish me. Over the course of five months, I began to slowly expand my current diet. What started out as seasoning my chicken and adding cinnamon to my oatmeal slowly turned into huge milestones not just in my recovery, but also in my cooking journey: discovering and reaping the nutrients of various fruits and vegetables, overcoming my fear of healthy fats and adding avocado and peanut butter to everything, and probably the biggest of them all, beginning to cook with oil. Cooking alongside my recovery showed me just how free living could be; there was such thing as preparing food for nutrients and nourishment, not preparing food for a look that couldn't exist on my body. Another thing I've noticed is that in the long-term, your body will always appreciate you for providing it nourishment and nutrients. We can be fooled by simple labels that promise "clear skin" and "gut cleanses" and believe that these things come seconds after eating the food, but in my case, as I slowly began to incorporate more superfoods in my diet for the sake of flavor and nourishment, I also saw just how powerful these nutrients were. During my eating disorder, my hair was noticeably thinner, drier, and more brittle than my twin's. No matter how many products my mom bought me, my hair would just get worse and worse. However, over the course of those months, I was getting so many vitamins and sources of biotin that helped rejuvenate my hair. It wasn't just my hair, either. My skin, my gut (no longer bloating to the point of nausea after eating), my joints, and so many other parts of my body began to heal as a result of properly providing nourishment. Eating superfoods also reminds me of one last thing: balance. There is no one food that will give me every nutrient; that is why we need to eat from several different food groups in order to create a balanced lifestyle. I've learned to built my meals from the research and the milestones I've achieved during my recovery, and I've regained my passion for cooking. I have a huge sweet tooth, and this is one of my favorite desserts: a baked sweet potato cut in half topped with Greek yogurt, a generous amount of peanut butter, cinnamon, chopped strawberries, and chocolate chips. It is SO good, and it nourishes my body to feel its best.

Eating disorders often pride themselves on one thing: That we, as humans, often live knowing that we’ve never been good enough. Growing up as an Asian-American female meant growing up knowing that I would never be good enough. Whether it was being too dumb, ugly, chubby, American, or Chinese, I did everything I could to be seen as enough, but nothing ever worked in the end. Returning home from boarding school due to the COVID lockdown, I was met with the usual comments about my weight gain. “It’s like all the oil you eat went to your hair.” “You got so ugly. Eat less.” “What happened to you?” “Disgusting.” Disgusting. Usually, I would bat this word away. However, I couldn’t help but think about the impending (and soon to be 1.5 year) quarantine in combination with the confines of my room. Maybe, just maybe, I could do something. Something that would finally make me enough. It began with small workouts, refusing meals, and naively tracking calories, but my family was quick to notice what I was doing. I was scolded at dinner, questioned as my siblings walked in on me working out, and made fun of for the spreadsheet of calories I had. My efforts to work harder soon spiraled out of control. I began working out at 5am, exercising during Zoom classes, working 7 hour shifts directly afterwards without food, and going back to sleep to repeat the cycle. I spent all day secretly looking at my calorie spreadsheets and adjusting my diet that was slowly dwindling by day. Every morning, I woke up with a sore throat and a headache, dreading the day that was to come. I wanted the clock to strike 10:00pm so I could just go to bed and lie there, crying and stomach hurting, until I could fall asleep and wake up in pain again. Doing homework no longer seemed necessary. Being with my friends no longer seemed fun. The movies I watched no longer seemed interesting. When my grandpa passed away, I couldn’t seem to bring any tears out. I stared at the ceiling for days, wondering how I could have gotten to this point. I had fallen so irrevocably in love with the voice in my head holding me prisoner, yet the need to please it outweighed everything. In losing weight, I lost everything. My eating disorder was the only thing I had left. Social media often glamorizes recovery. I mean, it seemed simple enough: go to therapy, have a diet plan, and have overwhelming support from your family, right? As somebody who didn't have either of those options - ESPECIALLY with the stigmas from my family - I had no idea what I had to do next. Each time I gave myself unconditional permission to eat, I always ended up relapsing. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried, that voice in my head would always win. Attacking the physical parts of recovery is one thing, but addressing the mental perspective is the true challenge. Throughout my eating disorder, I had convinced myself that I could achieve a healthy body through self-hate; I was doing everything for the pain I felt and the voice in my head, and as a result, I had lost all of my self-appreciation and self-love. In order to truly recover, I needed to rediscover what it meant to truly love myself. My recovery began with social reconnection. I quit my toxic job and found a more supportive community at Starbucks, I uninstalled all the video games that kept me confined in my room, began to reconnect both virtually and in-person with my friends, began spending more time with my bunnies, and more. As I began to cherish and recognize the value of each person in my life, I learned something life-changing: Through loving all of these people, I realized how I should have been loving myself. Would I yell at my friends to not eat cake on their birthday? Would I judge my co-workers if they were enjoying delicious frappuccinos while I drank my black coffee? As I slowly change my perspective, my diet slowly began to change as well. The change didn't come overnight, and I certainly relapsed and thought negative things several times, but as I began to prioritize fulfilling connections over the way I looked, I was able to make sustainable change. I still have goals to meet and fear foods to tackle in my recovery to this day, but I've learned so much from these past two years. Most importantly, though, I've redefined what it means to have a healthy lifestyle. A healthy lifestyle is not something that is perfectly balanced and free of all fear foods. Instead, it is a lifestyle that adjusts itself and changes based on how I feel, the circumstances in my life, and my mental and physical health at the moment. Over several months, I've learned how to reread my body's hunger cues and actually eat to satiety, appreciate and respect my cravings, exercise for strength and fuel for nourishment, and so much more. A healthy lifestyle doesn't need to have specific requirements when it comes to physical measurements. Instead, it should reflect an abundance of self-love and self-appreciation. My story is not unique: it is a story that millions of teenage girls go through, and the stigmatization of mental health and lack of authentic resources hurts millions more. I want to share my perspective and help others rediscover their self worth, because in doing so, we can change somebody's world.

Each morning before elementary and middle school, my grandpa would prepare my siblings and me his signature noodle soup. His recipe? Boil the leftover vegetable dish from the night before with water and add cooked noodles. If it sounds bland, you’re right - it was. My mom lived in poverty for over a decade, and on her birthday, these noodles were her birthday gift from my grandpa. Though I was shocked at first to hear this (no cake?), learning this taught me one of my family’s most important values: to be content with simplicity. I reflect on my volleyball practices with hand-me-downs and the vacations without eating out and realize that at the end of the day, we aren’t defined by our material possessions. Rather, we are defined by our actions and perspectives. My grandpa is no chef, but those noodles demonstrated a value and love that I strongly believe no other material good could have done. Last year, my grandpa passed away. I reflect on those early mornings and all of the noodles we ate, and I've come to recognize his unconditional selflessness and patience in feeding us all those mornings. Those noodles served as his expression for love, and I oftentimes regret not recognizing this when I was younger. No act of kindness, no matter how big or small, ever goes unnoticed, and reflecting on this experience has taught me to appreciate all the little things in life. Instead of focusing on fancy vacations, I cherish every moment that I have with my family. Instead of criticizing the way I look during practice, I value the growth that I've made throughout the season. The little things matter. Through those noodles, I learned more than I could have ever imagined.

One day during the summer before sophomore year, I was dared to give an exquisite performance to my local Schnucks. The choreography? A random K-pop dance that I had learned that day at 3 AM. Oh, and I had no dance experience prior to that. Needless to say, I danced like an uncooked noodle and still cringe each time I watch the video my friend filmed. However, as embarrassing as it was, I walked out with two things: confused looks in my direction and a newfound definition of confidence. I had always associated confidence with pride, so much pride in oneself to the point where simply speaking comfortably in public signified a superiority complex. However, that day, I realized that confidence simply meant comfort. Comfort of one’s abilities, comfort from the lack of fear from others' judgments, and comfort knowing that in the end, no matter how embarrassing a performance may be, everything will be ok. As I reflect on my time as a Starbucks barista, I remember how I once was scared to order food and needed my brothers to speak for me. As I lead coding workshops for middle and high schoolers, I remember how shy and scared of a student I used to be. Even through the smallest things like exploring subjects I would have never touched to giving hugs in the hallway, I’ve been able to recognize just how far this confidence has spilled into every other aspect of my life. As I now teach dance workshops of my own, I strive to share this feeling of growth, genuine expression, and individuality with my peers. Confidence means appreciation, because when we truly appreciate who we are, we no longer rely on the judgement of others; I will continue to carry this mindset wherever I go.

For most of life, my teachers told me to study because education would prepare me for life. I was told that reading my math textbook would land me a job at NASA, scoring A’s on my biology exams would lead to the cure for cancer, and that everything I learned had an application. I was optimistic, I mean, who wouldn’t be? I wanted to begin this “life” knowing as many things as I could, so I continued to learn. However, these promises of preparation soon felt empty. I completed a math class to be told that I was ready for the next in the sequence, I learned biology to be told that I was ready to move on to physics, and I simply completed each grade level to be told that I was prepared for next year. I struggled to find any application beyond calculating tax or understanding how plants grew, but I was being told that I was ready for this “next stage” that always came and left. School became a place where I merely graduated to be stuck in another, teaching became a profession where people merely recited a curriculum, learning became limited to the confines of the classroom, and this “life” that my education was preparing me for wasn’t even something I understood. Then I took 8th grade science with Mrs. S. To put it simply, her class was life-changing. She taught with a contagious passion for science, strayed from textbooks, and challenged us to think about the impossible rather than dwelling in the well-defined realm of physics. I stopped worrying about answering questions perfectly and instead began to ask myself questions as I went home each day and learned things by myself. She challenged me, and I learned more than I could have ever imagined. Not only did she help me realize what learning truly was, but she changed my perception of education as a whole. Teaching is about inspiring. Learning is about questioning, curiosity, and passion. Education, is simply life itself. Even after years of pondering her class and my own thoughts, I still realize just how elusive the education system really is. NASA jobs and cancer cures require sheer amounts of hard work and passion beyond textbooks, and while I want to change our education system that is badly in need of reform, I strongly believe that sometimes, one person is all it takes to inspire change. We're oftentimes too focused on making global impacts all at once, but through just changing one student's life, we are changing the world. With every single student, every classroom, every institution, being an educator means an opportunity to inspire, to challenge, and to change somebody else's life. Mrs. S centered her classroom around the growth of her students, not herself. Her selflessness inspired me to rethink traditional education and to pursue change. I am particularly interested in the field of technology education. Especially in newer and growing fields such as quantum computing and cryptocurrency, in order to develop a genuine and true understanding of their social and technological contexts, we must be open to changing the way we approach these seemingly simple ideas. Math and computer science should not be about memorization, rather, it should be about fostering spaces for creativity and innovation, and challenging the student to think beyond traditional norms. As I reflect on my experiences as a student, epiphanies as a student-teacher, and goals as an upcoming undergraduate in computer science, I want to change the world one student, one classroom, and one institution at a time.

Mental illnesses often pride themselves on one thing: That we, as humans, often live knowing that we’ve never been good enough. Growing up as an Asian-American female meant growing up knowing that I would never be good enough. Whether it was being too dumb, ugly, chubby, American, or Chinese, I did everything I could to be seen as enough, but nothing ever worked in the end. Returning home from boarding school due to the COVID lockdown, I was met with the usual comments about my weight gain. “It’s like all the oil you eat went to your hair.” “You got so ugly. Eat less.” “What happened to you?” “Disgusting.” Disgusting. Usually, I would bat this word away. However, I couldn’t help but think about the impending (and soon to be 1.5 year) quarantine in combination with the confines of my room. Maybe, just maybe, I could do something. Something that would finally make me enough. It began with small workouts, refusing meals, and naively tracking calories, but my family was quick to notice what I was doing. I was scolded at dinner, questioned as my siblings walked in on me working out, and made fun of for the spreadsheet of calories I had. My efforts to work harder soon spiraled out of control. I began working out at 5am, exercising during Zoom classes, working 7 hour shifts directly afterwards without food, and going back to sleep to repeat the cycle. I spent all day secretly looking at my calorie spreadsheets and adjusting my diet that was slowly dwindling by day. Every morning, I woke up with a sore throat and a headache, dreading the day that was to come. I wanted the clock to strike 10:00pm so I could just go to bed and lie there, crying and stomach hurting, until I could fall asleep and wake up in pain again. Doing homework no longer seemed necessary. Being with my friends no longer seemed fun. The movies I watched no longer seemed interesting. When my grandpa passed away, I couldn’t seem to bring any tears out. I stared at the ceiling for days, wondering how I could have gotten to this point. I had fallen so irrevocably in love with the voice in my head holding me prisoner, yet the need to please it outweighed everything. In losing weight, I lost everything. My eating disorder was the only thing I had left. Social media often glamorizes ED recovery, but the entire time, I was told and thus believed that my habits weren’t enough to be classified as an ED. I was told that I was looking better, healthier, and happier. I felt ecstatic each time I heard this, and this only sent me into a deeper spiral. You see, the key isn’t in attacking the physical habits - that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Instead, the key is to demonstrate to and provide self-love, self-acceptance, and self-motivation for the person that has become void of it. In May of 2021, I met that very person in, of all things, a video game at 1AM. “IK” the random online teammate I had been assigned. Though we were mere avatars to each other, he talked so genuinely as if we were simply long-time friends playing games together. Side conversations about school and news quickly turned into a discussion about pandemic life, and soon, the topic changed. In the next four hours, I learned what a household run by alcoholics and a life with dysthymia was like. He shared in great detail what a life ruled by drugs, sex, and fear from Mexican street violence looked like. He shared his feelings of guilt, shame, and never quite being enough. His strength, his authenticity, the way he was able to share such vulnerable details in a way that sparked discussion left me in awe. That night, for the first time, I shared how I felt. I shared how I felt about my worth, my body, my relationships, everything that I had seemed to bottle up and wanted to forget. We joked, we talked about this while playing too many rounds of video games, but most importantly: we listened. Through listening, we realized that our feelings were valid. Through listening, we realized that it was all about perspective. Through listening, we realized that we were worthy of being listened to. Through just one person, I realized how I should have been loving myself. Slowly but surely, my recovery became focused on reconnection. Over the next few months, I quit my toxic job and found a more supportive community at Starbucks, began journaling my thoughts, made efforts to go to events and meet-ups both virtually and in-person, and caught up on schoolwork. I began reading stories of people with similar experiences and talking to more people online about it. As I began to redefine my mental perspective, my physical habits slowly changed with it. I relapsed, had negative thoughts, and argued an innumerable amount of times, but each time, I began to reflect and learn something from each situation. Those months leading up to my senior year were some of the hardest in my life, but when I returned to campus for an in-person school year, I returned as a changed person. I am still in recovery to this day, but I have learned more than I could have ever imagined. Addressing mental health has lost its authenticity; nowadays, we are so focused on addressing surface-level symptoms that we have forgotten the biggest power that humans have: empathy. When we take the time to truly understand, listen to, and genuinely talk to individuals, we have the capacity to demonstrate the love and acceptance that the individual has lost as a result of mental illness. IK demonstrated kindness in a place where I least expected it, and I will forever be grateful for his empathy. Addressing mental health starts with one thing: listening. From there, we can genuinely change the world.

Mental illnesses often pride themselves on one thing: That we, as humans, often live knowing that we’ve never been good enough. Growing up as an Asian-American female meant growing up knowing that I would never be good enough. Whether it was being too dumb, ugly, chubby, American, or Chinese, I did everything I could to be seen as enough, but nothing ever worked in the end. Returning home from boarding school due to the COVID lockdown, I was met with the usual comments about my weight gain. “It’s like all the oil you eat went to your hair.” “You got so ugly. Eat less.” “What happened to you?” “Disgusting.” Disgusting. Usually, I would bat this word away. However, I couldn’t help but think about the impending (and soon to be 1.5 year) quarantine in combination with the confines of my room. Maybe, just maybe, I could do something. Something that would finally make me enough. It began with small workouts, refusing meals, and naively tracking calories, but my family was quick to notice what I was doing. I was scolded at dinner, questioned as my siblings walked in on me working out, and made fun of for the spreadsheet of calories I had. My efforts to work harder soon spiraled out of control. I began working out at 5am, exercising during Zoom classes, working 7 hour shifts directly afterwards without food, and going back to sleep to repeat the cycle. I spent all day secretly looking at my calorie spreadsheets and adjusting my diet that was slowly dwindling by day. Every morning, I woke up with a sore throat and a headache, dreading the day that was to come. I wanted the clock to strike 10:00pm so I could just go to bed and lie there, crying and stomach hurting, until I could fall asleep and wake up in pain again. Doing homework no longer seemed necessary. Being with my friends no longer seemed fun. The movies I watched no longer seemed interesting. When my grandpa passed away, I couldn’t seem to bring any tears out. I stared at the ceiling for days, wondering how I could have gotten to this point. I had fallen so irrevocably in love with the voice in my head holding me prisoner, yet the need to please it outweighed everything. In losing weight, I lost everything. My eating disorder was the only thing I had left. Social media often glamorizes ED recovery, but the entire time, I was told and thus believed that my habits weren’t enough to be classified as an ED. I was told that I was looking better, healthier, and happier. I felt ecstatic each time I heard this, and this only sent me into a deeper spiral. You see, the key isn’t in attacking the physical habits - that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Instead, the key is to demonstrate to and provide self-love, self-acceptance, and self-motivation for the person that has become void of it. In May of 2021, I met that very person in, of all things, a video game at 1AM. “IK” the random online teammate I had been assigned. Though we were mere avatars to each other, he talked so genuinely as if we were simply long-time friends playing games together. Side conversations about school and news quickly turned into a discussion about pandemic life, and soon, the topic changed. In the next four hours, I learned what a household run by alcoholics and a life with dysthymia was like. He shared in great detail what a life ruled by drugs, sex, and fear from Mexican street violence looked like. He shared his feelings of guilt, shame, and never quite being enough. His strength, his authenticity, the way he was able to share such vulnerable details in a way that sparked discussion left me in awe. That night, for the first time, I shared how I felt. I shared how I felt about my worth, my body, my relationships, everything that I had seemed to bottle up and wanted to forget. We joked, we talked about this while playing too many rounds of video games, but most importantly: we listened. Through listening, we realized that our feelings were valid. Through listening, we realized that it was all about perspective. Through listening, we realized that we were worthy of being listened to. Through just one person, I realized how I should have been loving myself. Slowly but surely, my recovery became focused on reconnection. Over the next few months, I quit my toxic job and found a more supportive community at Starbucks, began journaling my thoughts, made efforts to go to events and meet-ups both virtually and in-person, and caught up on schoolwork. I began reading stories of people with similar experiences and talking to more people online about it. As I began to redefine my mental perspective, my physical habits slowly changed with it. I relapsed, had negative thoughts, and argued an innumerable amount of times, but each time, I began to reflect and learn something from each situation. Those months leading up to my senior year were some of the hardest in my life, but when I returned to campus for an in-person school year, I returned as a changed person. I am still in recovery to this day, but I have learned more than I could have ever imagined. Addressing mental health has lost its authenticity; nowadays, we are so focused on addressing surface-level symptoms that we have forgotten the biggest power that humans have: empathy. When we take the time to truly understand, listen to, and genuinely talk to individuals, we have the capacity to demonstrate the love and acceptance that the individual has lost as a result of mental illness. IK demonstrated kindness in a place where I least expected it, and I will forever be grateful for his empathy. Addressing mental health starts with one thing: listening. From there, we can genuinely change the world.

From 7 to 7:40AM each weekday, the commons of my dormitory turn into a cafe. Now, it’s not really a full-blown coffee shop. It’s more like a small table holding my equipment and ingredients, adorned with a couple of kitchen decorations. Lately, I’ve been greeting students with my newest creation: iced vanilla americanos with hazelnut sweet cream. Most usually get the classic vanilla iced latte, but lately more people have been appreciating the beauty that is pumpkin spice. No matter the season, though, I'm always serving up new recipes that I've developed as I study and experiment with different equipment, beans, brew styles, flavor profiles, and ingredients. My stand is also unlike a shop because, well, there isn’t really a shop aspect to it: each coffee is free. Now that my boarding school is in person, I made a vow to take back what a year of online school took away: genuine connections with my community. Through my time working at Starbucks, I found that I could make those connections through coffee. Whether it’s brewing extra-strong roasts for people who pulled all-nighters (trust me, I can tell) or creating drinks for coffee-haters, knowing that I get to be a part of so many unique routines through one beverage is so incredibly special, and to put it simply, caffeine works wonders for getting through those 8 AM classes. To me, coffee means warmth, an outlet for creativity, and a means of giving back to a community that has helped me grow so much. Armed with my lattes, I am ready to give back and grow indefinitely.

For most of life, my teachers told me to study because education would prepare me for life. I was told that reading my math textbook would land me a job at NASA, scoring A’s on my biology exams would lead to the cure for cancer, and that everything I learned had an application. I was optimistic, I mean, who wouldn’t be? I wanted to begin this “life” knowing as many things as I could, so I continued to learn. However, these promises of preparation soon felt empty. I completed a math class to be told that I was ready for the next in the sequence, I learned biology to be told that I was ready to move on to physics, and I simply completed each grade level to be told that I was prepared for next year. I struggled to find any application beyond calculating tax or understanding how plants grew, but I was being told that I was ready for this “next stage” that always came and left. School became a place where I merely graduated to be stuck in another, teaching became a profession where people merely recited a curriculum, learning became limited to the confines of the classroom, and this “life” that my education was preparing me for wasn’t even something I understood. Then I took 8th grade science with Mrs. S. To put it simply, her class was life-changing. She taught with a contagious passion for science, strayed from textbooks, and challenged us to think about the impossible rather than dwelling in the well-defined realm of physics. I stopped worrying about answering questions perfectly and instead began to ask myself questions as I went home each day and learned things by myself. She challenged me, and I learned more than I could have ever imagined. Not only did she help me realize what learning truly was, but she changed my perception of education as a whole. Teaching is about inspiring. Learning is about questioning, curiosity, and passion. Education, is simply life itself. Even after years of pondering her class and my own thoughts, I still realize just how elusive the education system really is. NASA jobs and cancer cures require sheer amounts of hard work and passion beyond textbooks, and while I want to change our education system that is badly in need of reform, I strongly believe that sometimes, one person is all it takes to inspire change. We're oftentimes too focused on making global impacts all at once, but through just changing one student's life, we are changing the world. With every single student, every classroom, every institution, being an educator means an opportunity to inspire, to challenge, and to change somebody else's life. Mrs. S centered her classroom around the growth of her students, not herself. Her selflessness inspired me to rethink traditional education and to pursue change. I am particularly interested in the field of technology education. Especially in newer and growing fields such as quantum computing and cryptocurrency, in order to develop a genuine and true understanding of their social and technological contexts, we must be open to changing the way we approach these seemingly simple ideas. Math and computer science should not be about memorization, rather, it should be about fostering spaces for creativity and innovation, and challenging the student to think beyond traditional norms. As I reflect on my experiences as a student, epiphanies as a student-teacher, and goals as an upcoming undergraduate in computer science, I want to change the world one student, one classroom, and one institution at a time.

Math. When it came to math, my teachers always warned about something called "the real world." With every word problem, textbook reading, worksheet, test, I was always told of this ominous world that would appear the moment we graduated high school. With this scare in mind, learning math became about preparation for the next year, the next class, the next test. Yet, each time I completed those things, I simply started over in the cycle. I've always found a particular preference for math and science, but over the years, my teachers limited my interests to the confines of the syllabus. This "learning" felt so restricted, but I had to go into the "real world," this world that I didn't even know much about, prepared, right? This year, I discovered what this world truly meant. Having taken calculus online in my junior year due to the COVID-19 pandemic, my idea of "applications" were limited to those repetitive word problems of pools being filled up with hoses. However, this year, I was challenged with three post-calculus math classes: Linear Algebra, Multi-variable Calculus, and Differential Equations. Needless to say, the mindset I had in calculus needed to be dropped. As I modeled linear transformations with matrices, connected vector subspaces to 3D modeling in multiple dimensions, calculated line integrals and simplified differential equations with 5+ variables, I realized that my previous notions of learning math had been so incredibly misinformed. Learning a concept just for the sake of being prepared for another just didn't do it justice; each concept we learned had a real, genuine application, and though it was the stepping stool for another, I began to understand the importance of spending time to understand the applications beyond the basic mechanics. In order to succeed in these classes, I needed to shift my mindset. I could no longer view things simply in the standard two dimensions, instead, I had to approach each problem with an infinite field. With each mechanic we learned in Multi-Variable Calculus, I went back to BC Calculus and recognized its applications beyond the swimming pool problems. As funny as it sounds, even though it took me until post-calculus electives to see the true importance of calculus, in doing so, I recognized the importance of authenticity when it comes to math education. We should be teaching students to see learning not as a destination, but rather as a never-ending journey. When we approach math merely as a sequence of electives, we fail to truly understand the importance of every single concept, class, and application. Especially in newer and growing fields such as quantum computing and cryptocurrency, calculus is extremely important in modeling complex, infinite ideas with familiar, continuous concepts. In order to develop a genuine and true understanding of their social and technological contexts, we must be open to changing the way we approach these seemingly simple ideas. Learning and teaching our younger generations to do so is a great challenge, but is something that I seek to work on and eventually teach.

For most of life, my teachers told me to study because education would prepare me for life. I was told that reading my math textbook would land me a job at NASA, scoring A’s on my biology exams would lead to the cure for cancer, and that everything I learned had an application. I was optimistic, I mean, who wouldn’t be? I wanted to begin this “life” knowing as many things as I could, so I continued to learn. However, these promises of preparation soon felt empty. I completed a math class to be told that I was ready for the next in the sequence, I learned biology to be told that I was ready to move on to physics, and I simply completed each grade level to be told that I was prepared for next year. I struggled to find any application beyond calculating tax or understanding how plants grew, but I was being told that I was ready for this “next stage” that always came and left. School became a place where I merely graduated to be stuck in another, teaching became a profession where people merely recited a curriculum, learning became limited to the confines of the classroom, and this “life” that my education was preparing me for wasn’t even something I understood. Then I took 8th grade science with Mrs. S. To put it simply, her class was life-changing. She taught with a contagious passion for science, strayed from textbooks, and challenged us to think about the impossible rather than dwelling in the well-defined realm of physics. I stopped worrying about answering questions perfectly and instead began to ask myself questions as I went home each day and learned things by myself. She challenged me, and I learned more than I could have ever imagined. Not only did she help me realize what learning truly was, but she changed my perception of education as a whole. Teaching is about inspiring. Learning is about questioning, curiosity, and passion. Education, is simply life itself. Even after years of pondering her class and my own thoughts, I still realize just how elusive the education system really is. NASA jobs and cancer cures require sheer amounts of hard work and passion beyond textbooks, and while I want to change our education system that is badly in need of reform, I strongly believe that sometimes one person is all it takes to inspire change. My goal in life is to simply be the person that Mrs. S was to me: a good teacher to as many people as possible. Learning happens everywhere, and whether it’s through tutoring, designing curriculums for younger kids, being a good teammate or even just encouraging my mom during a workout, I want to help people discover what learning is to them and find joy in it. My long-term goal for the future is to create a space for innovative learning and discovery, but no matter what career I pursue, this mindset will be with me forever.

For most of life, my teachers told me to study because education would prepare me for life. I was told that reading my math textbook would land me a job at NASA, scoring A’s on my biology exams would lead to the cure for cancer, and that everything I learned had an application. I was optimistic, I mean, who wouldn’t be? I wanted to begin this “life” knowing as many things as I could, so I continued to learn. However, these promises of preparation soon felt empty. I completed a math class to be told that I was ready for the next in the sequence, I learned biology to be told that I was ready to move on to physics, and I simply completed each grade level to be told that I was prepared for next year. I struggled to find any application beyond calculating tax or understanding how plants grew, but I was being told that I was ready for this “next stage” that always came and left. School became a place where I merely graduated to be stuck in another, teaching became a profession where people merely recited a curriculum, learning became limited to the confines of the classroom, and this “life” that my education was preparing me for wasn’t even something I understood. Then I took 8th grade science with Mrs. S. To put it simply, her class was life-changing. She taught with a contagious passion for science, strayed from textbooks, and challenged us to think about the impossible rather than dwelling in the well-defined realm of physics. I stopped worrying about answering questions perfectly and instead began to ask myself questions as I went home each day and learned things by myself. She challenged me, and I learned more than I could have ever imagined. Not only did she help me realize what learning truly was, but she changed my perception of education as a whole. Teaching is about inspiring. Learning is about questioning, curiosity, and passion. Education, is simply life itself. Even after years of pondering her class and my own thoughts, I still realize just how elusive the education system really is. NASA jobs and cancer cures require sheer amounts of hard work and passion beyond textbooks, and while I want to change our education system that is badly in need of reform, I strongly believe that sometimes one person is all it takes to inspire change. My goal in life is to simply be the person that Mrs. S was to me: a good teacher to as many people as possible. Learning happens everywhere, and whether it’s through tutoring, designing curriculums for younger kids, being a good teammate or even just encouraging my mom during a workout, I want to help people discover what learning is to them and find joy in it. My long-term goal for the future is to create a space for innovative learning and discovery, but no matter what career I pursue, this mindset will be with me forever.

I first met "I-K" in a video game. At 2AM. When I first queued with him, he shocked me not only with his normalcy (a teammate that didn't insult me in the first two minutes? Crazy) but also with his incredible friendliness. Commentary about the game slowly turned into conversations about school, and soon we were conversing about anything ranging from TV shows even to politics. My initial skepticism soon turned to awe; though I was the mere combination of a video game avatar and a microphone, he treated me as if I were simply a friend on a Monday night. We continue to play for hours, and our conversations carried on. One hour later, amidst a conversation about the pandemic, I noticed him quiet down. "You good?" I remember asking. A dozen seconds of silence passed before his answer - one that I"ll never forget. "I don't know you anyways, so I can tell you." Taken aback, I asked him if he was sure. "Yeah. It's not like anybody cares anyways." As we began to talk about general mental health during the pandemic, he began to share some of his most vulnerable experiences. Soon, as he unveiled his story, I listened as the teammate I had known to be cheerful and optimistic became reduced to tears. I-K was a 17-year-old living in Mexico City. Having lived in Tijuana, Mexico, and Caracas, Venezuela for all of his childhood, he grew up only knowing a life ruled by drugs, sexual violence, alcoholism, and gang violence. I'll never forget how he vividly described his household run by two alcoholics, his struggles as a man who was sexually assaulted (primarily with the stereotypes of sexual assault and his gender), his first encounter with a dead body, and the fear of never knowing when he would die as his family fled Tijuana to Mexico City. He had only recently started school in Mexico City, and all of these circumstances in combination with the pandemic had left him clinically diagnosed with dysthymia. Initially, I was scared. I was scared not only because his situation was something so unfamiliar to me, but also because I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help him, but what could I do as a mere 17-year-old? For the next four hours, we talked. But most importantly, I listened. I listened as he shared his opinions, regrets, struggles, and wishes. I listened as he questioned his entire life and identity. I listened as he called himself stupid for never getting better. The more I talked to him, the more I realized that though I couldn't solve all of his problems, I could listen. To show up for somebody, you don't need to understand or experience their story firsthand. Instead, you simply listen. You listen to their story. You understand their perspectives. You provide your genuine and honest thoughts. You show them that no matter how critical they are of themselves, you're there for them, their story, and their life. I learned the greatest lesson of my life from him: in the end, we are more alike than we think. No matter the circumstances we face, we each have a story that is worthy of being heard, recognized, and shared. It's just a video game. It's just a random person. Though it was just these things, I learned just how incredibly important it is to show up for others. Every interaction is an opportunity to demonstrate kindness, and because of I-K's kindness, we showed up for each other. So, listen. Just listen. You never know how much it can mean.

Education is well-established. Growing up, I went to school knowing that with good grades, I could earn degrees and earn jobs with those degrees. I went to school each day to fill my mind with information that would prepare me for what the teachers always called “the real world.” Every time my 5th-grade class misbehaved, my teacher lectured us on how we were about to enter the difficult world of middle school. Learning became about preparation for the next year, the next class, the next test, yet every time I completed each of those things, I simply started over in the cycle. I’ve always had a particular interest in math and science, but over the years my interests became limited to the confines of memorization and grades. This “learning” felt so restricted, but I had to be prepared for the “real world,” so I continued. It wasn’t until I took 8th-grade science with Mrs. S that I realized my perception of learning had been so misinformed. No matter how textbook-based or common-core the curriculum was, she taught concepts in authentic and creative ways. She talked passionately about recent breakthroughs in science and challenged us to think outside of the curriculum. She told us that we were all more than grades and gave us advice for our high school and college careers. She learned new things with us in class and taught science with glowing eyes and the biggest smile. Through her class, I was able to redefine the purpose of education and the true meaning of learning. Education was not preparation for the real world because education was the world itself. Learning meant to challenge, question, and be curious not for the sake of landing a job, but for the sake of self-discovery. Two years later, I took my first computer programming course. All the years of dwelling in the long-established fields of chemistry, physics, and biology slowly disappeared every time I opened up a blank canvas. No matter how many textbook chapters we were forced to read, I felt inspired knowing that I was in charge of the algorithm and the data structures used with every program I wrote. You see, CS is much less defined compared to other fields. Instead of being driven by discoveries of the existent, it’s characterized by the approaches towards the nonexistent. People have been able to create amazing applications from almost nothing, and it’s this very motivation that continues to drive our technological society forward. Yet despite this open-ended potential, CS education has strayed from the creativity and critical thinking that it claims to inspire. My curriculums placed a greater emphasis on syntax rather than algorithms, memorization rather than application, solving defined prompts rather than establishing undefined problems, and reading textbooks rather than hands-on coding. After spectating various programming classes, reading books, tutoring my classmates, and reflecting on my experiences, I realized the simple reason as to why these approaches were the way they were. You simply can’t teach creativity. The more I began to research, the more I began to reflect on what Mrs. S taught me. She inspired so much creativity from such well-defined subjects, and even two years later, the frustrations I had about my education were the perfect embodiment of situations where Mrs. S encouraged us to take initiative. If absolutely nobody was going to create an adequate learning space for my peers and me, then I would do that for them just like how Mrs. S did that for me. I continued tutoring my classmates but also found the opportunity to extend my tutoring to students of frontline workers. I co-founded a club at my school that gave students the opportunity to create and lead various coding projects that gave back to the community. I spent months on a speaker event that invited professors and software engineers to have a discussion on the current CS education system. I became a head curriculum writer to help introduce middle schoolers to CS in a creative and authentic way. I taught and will continue to teach because I know that sometimes, all it takes is just one person to inspire. While there’s still so much to learn as a sixteen-year-old, I do know that no matter the career path I take after pursuing a degree in computer science, I will strive to be a good teacher; a good teacher may not necessarily need a classroom to help others find their creativity and motivate people to better themselves every day. Mrs. S inspired me in ways that I can’t put into words, and because of what I’ve learned, my long-term goal in life is to create a STEM-based learning space that fosters creativity and challenges students in innovative ways. If that means I’ll get there through working in game development, gaining experience in startups, managing IT projects, or simply being an actual teacher, there are so many opportunities to expand on my passion for computer science. I now know that every class I take, the degree I earn, the job I have, and the experience I gain will help me become a better learner, and I want to share my passion for learning with as many people as possible. Education has played a huge role in my life. I am eternally grateful for all the knowledge, experiences, reflections, and teachers that have inspired me to be the person I am today. Education will continue to be elusive, complicated, frustrating, in need of reform, but at the end of the day, it is something that will inspire the next generation of critical thinkers. I hope to give back and to inspire others for the rest of my life.

When people ask me why I’m pursuing CS, I often joke around by replying, “well, I suck at everything else!” In a sense, this is true, but not in the way that you may think it is. For most of my life, I defined “not sucking” in terms of grades. While I’ve always had straight A’s, I never loved learning for most of my school years. My teachers always emphasized memorization over application, recitation over discussion, and grades over passion. To teach, they merely had to recite a curriculum summarized by centuries of discoveries. I simply found no creativity or passion in memorizing definitions, applying formulas to impractical word problems, or reciting textbook readings. I sucked at those classes because I had no motivation to learn, and I was completely lost when it came to my future. During my sophomore year, I was introduced to CS. Even though the class relied heavily on textbooks, videos, and copying code, the idea of translating binary instructions to a limitless possibility captivated me immediately. I loved how there was never only one way to solve a programming prompt. My assignments no longer reflected the pages we were supposed to read, but rather my individual research and algorithms. I began helping my classmates not by giving them code, but by helping them organize their ideas and translating them into code. CS challenged me in a way like never before, and as cheesy as it sounds, it helped me during the time when I lost my passion for learning. There is beauty in CS because it is not as well-defined as other fields. Instead of being driven by discoveries of the existent, technological breakthroughs are powered by ambitions to establish undefined problems and creating innovative solutions. And when it comes down to teaching this concept, teachers simply can’t teach creativity; that is something only the students can discover for themselves. The more I began to think about teaching and our current CS education system, I thought about all the STEM classes I took, the guidance I wished I had received, and how I would help somebody who couldn’t discover their passions. This is what motivates my aspirations to be a computer science educator. While I can’t teach creativity, I can foster an environment that is inspiring, is encouraging, is challenging, and motivates creativity. Though I’ve been scolded, lectured, and laughed at for this career path I’ve chosen, I want to create a space for students that strays from what I grew up in. I want to challenge the students I tutor, inspire the middle schoolers I write CS curriculums for, redefine genuine learning, and simply be a good teacher that helps people discover their creativity. With the encouragement I’ve been fortunate enough to receive, I’ve gone from helping my classmates to helping to bring CS to middle school classrooms. With future guidance, I hope to share my contagious passion for CS with as many people as possible and inspire the next generation of ambitious thinkers.

For most of life, my teachers told me to study because education would prepare me for life. I was told that reading my math textbook would land me a job at NASA, scoring A’s on my biology exams would lead to the cure for cancer, and that everything I learned had an application. I was optimistic, I mean, who wouldn’t be? I wanted to begin this “life” knowing as many things as I could, so I continued to learn. However, these promises of preparation soon felt empty. I completed a math class to be told that I was ready for the next in the sequence, I learned biology to be told that I was ready to move on to physics, and I simply completed each grade level to be told that I was prepared for next year. I struggled to find any application beyond calculating tax or understanding how plants grew, but I was being told that I was ready for this “next stage” that always came and left. School became a place where I merely graduated to be stuck in another, teaching became a profession where people merely recited a curriculum, learning became limited to the confines of the classroom, and this “life” that my education was preparing me for wasn’t even something I understood. Then I took 8th grade science with Mrs. S. To put it simply, her class was life-changing. She taught with a contagious passion for science, strayed from textbooks, and challenged us to think about the impossible rather than dwelling in the well-defined realm of physics. I stopped worrying about answering questions perfectly and instead began to ask myself questions as I went home each day and learned things by myself. She challenged me, and I learned more than I could have ever imagined. Not only did she help me realize what learning truly was, but she changed my perception of education as a whole. Teaching is about inspiring. Learning is about questioning, curiosity, and passion. Education, is simply life itself. Even after years of pondering her class and my own thoughts, I still realize just how elusive the education system really is. NASA jobs and cancer cures require sheer amounts of hard work and passion beyond textbooks, and while I want to change our education system that is badly in need of reform, I strongly believe that sometimes one person is all it takes to inspire change. My goal in life is to simply be the person that Mrs. S was to me: a good teacher to as many people as possible. Learning happens everywhere, and whether it’s through tutoring, designing curriculums for younger kids, being a good teammate or even just encouraging my mom during a workout, I want to help people discover what learning is to them and find joy in it. My long-term goal for the future is to create a space for innovative learning and discovery, but no matter what career I pursue, this mindset will be with me forever.

“多喝牛奶,” my dad would tell me. “Drink more milk.” I hate milk. The texture is watery, the aftertaste is sour, and there is a bitterness to it that I can’t seem to explain. Growing up, my dad forced me to drink milk every morning. I would plug my nose, chug, and try not to gag as the vile taste of it spread throughout my tongue. “I don’t care if it tastes bad, it’s good for you,” he would tell me. You see, my parents are short. Hoping for their four kids to surpass their genetically unlucky heights, they put their hopes and dreams into that milk. In a sense, my family was like cereal: small, golden, and surrounded by white. My parents put everything into that white. My earliest school memories were those of confusion. I was terrible at math yet I was met with disappointed looks from my teachers rather than adequate help. I always wondered why the cafeteria ladies laughed and made faces at my dad’s pronunciation of “gravy” during parent day. I saw my parents at every musical performance, show, school event, and volunteering opportunity yet something always seemed off. My mom signed me up for dance, tumbling, swimming, and ballet, ANYTHING that the other girls were doing, but instead of rehearsing with the other students, my sister and I were instructed to sit on the side. I vividly remember the day I quit dance; we arrived at the studio to learn that the rest of the class had learned a dance at practices that we never knew about. As my sister and I sat on the floor, my teammates stared at us and listened as my mom yelled at the instructor outside of the rehearsal room. “Why didn’t they let us dance?” I asked while we were walking to the car. Exhausted, she replied: “We’ll find something else. I promise.” My parents simply wanted to give us a normal childhood, and my younger-self did not come to realize what being Asian-American truly meant; my parents had put everything into the surrounding white. Trusting the words of my dad, I continued to drink milk even though it tasted bitter. In middle school, I stopped drinking milk. I was sick of my parents doing things for me that always hurt in the end. I was sick of having to drink such a vile beverage that seemed to me like a cold, white lie. I was Chinese, and I grew hostile to being anything else. I studied for the competition math team, placed in chess tournaments, worked hard to be a starter and all-around player on the volleyball team, excelled in school, and established a solid friend group not for myself, but for the hostility I felt. I trained relentlessly on and off the volleyball court for the people who made fun of my hand-me-down shoes and shorts. I studied to improve my math skills for the people who undermined my accomplishments because of my race. I found a group of Asian-American friends for the classmates that made fun of my lunches and squinted their eyes at me. I became full of hate. The once-golden piece of cereal had become soggy, pale, and colorless. Even without the white, it remained that way. “Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” This quote from MLK junior, although cheesy, is such a great embodiment of my experiences as an Asian-American. I now realize that although I was young and naive, my parents did everything that they did out of love. Like many of my other Asian-American peers, I’ve oftentimes felt too Chinese in one place and too American in another. However, it is when we only attach one of these mere labels to ourselves that we get hurt. During freshman year, I began to do things for the sole sake of bettering myself. While being Asian and being American were important parts of my lifestyle and culture, I no longer let the two govern every single aspect of my life. I worked hard to place in math competitions not because I was Asian, but because I truly had a passion for mathematics. I pushed myself during volleyball practice and trained in the gym every day not to make up for the things I was once made fun of for but because I knew I was strong enough to make the elite club team and to be an all-around starter. I no longer lived as a weird American or an oppressed Asian, but rather simply as Alice. Somebody who was slowly starting to gain color, perspective, and a life that no longer had to be governed by a label, somebody who realizes that she is more than a “model minority” or “white-washed” Asian, and somebody who loves herself for who she is. I still hate milk, but I’ve been able to keep off osteoporosis with my bearable consumption of almond and plant-based milk. Even though I’ve only grown a couple of inches in the past few years, “I’m still growing in spirit,” I tell my dad frequently. My experiences have greatly shaped who I am today, and no matter how many more bad days my labels may bring, I am ready to grow infinitely.

I am a good student. I know you’re wondering how pretentious I must be to say this, and I get it. While I do have straight A’s, I’m only a junior in high school and I have yet to dive into the world of careers and graduate school. However, I know for a fact that being a good student is not about a quantitative measure of knowledge, nor is it about getting good grades. I used to hate learning. Up until my last year of middle school, the limitations placed by my district left me constantly wanting more from my so-called “advanced” classes. My teachers emphasized memorization and concept-definition recitation rather than application, because like my seventh-grade biology teacher said, “if you memorize this and keep it in your head for five more years, med school will be a piece of cake.” While I could maintain this information as my teachers instructed me to do so, I walked out of school each day feeling drained; my straight A’s and labels of a “high honors student” felt empty and fake. Over time, this nonexistent enthusiasm for learning began to spill into my other activities and I simply became somebody who didn’t have a burning desire to accomplish anything. I finished assignments on time, received good grades, and was a starter in sports. I was a good student, right? Then I took eighth-grade science with Mrs. Sollenberger. It was a required, non-advanced class and this left me unmotivated from the start. However, she was unlike any other teacher I had before. She could go from defining the word “energy” to expatiating on thermodynamics and entropy, she would stray from the required textbook curriculums and bring in dry ice to demonstrate the states of matter, and sometimes she would simply talk about the universality of science for the entire class period. Instead of having us recite Newton’s law of universal gravitation, she stumped us with questions about warped spacetime and had us discuss whether or not gravity extended out forever. While I initially went home and learned these things on my own for the sake of being able to answer these questions in class (that’s what a “good student” was, right?), this perfectionist urge to answer every question gradually disappeared. I stopped anticipating finishing my homework and instead began to listen to what she said. I found myself conversing with her after class and educating myself beyond the syllabus not for the sake of answering her in-class questions but for the sake of asking more questions myself. While I was learning the same concrete curriculum as the other classes, I discovered something else that I would have never learned if I had a different teacher: the sheer joy of learning. She taught me that learning is not about memorization but rather about questioning, curiosity, hard work, and passion. She taught a grade junkie like me to look beyond the report card and push myself to learn something new every single day. She taught me that a good student is somebody who loves learning, and through her class, I was able to become just that. After years of thinking about our current system, reflecting on my experiences, designing curriculums, tutoring people, and remembering Mrs. Sollenberger’s class, I now realize that education is much more elusive than it seems. “No man is your friend, no man is your enemy. Every man is your teacher.” As an aspiring educator, this quote really resonates with me. You don’t have to be in a classroom to learn something, nor do you necessarily have to be a teacher to teach something. My future career may be an actual teacher or professor, or it may be something completely different. Regardless of my career, I simply want to be a person that Mrs. Sollenberger was to me: a good teacher and a genuine person. I often tell the people I tutor to not think of me as a teacher, but rather as a good friend as we’re talking in a coffee shop. As a tutor, I can’t teach creativity, passion, or curiosity; that is something only the students can realize for themselves. However, what I can do is create an environment that inspires, motivates, and provides resources for the student. Being a good teacher sometimes is simply being a good student, and it is through my experiences that I have realized this. The field of education is home to a host of problems and possibilities. Redesigning curriculums to keep up with the advancing world, redefining the way we teach, and improving existing facilities are only the tip of the iceberg. While reforming the current system will require the work of many hands, sometimes one person is all it takes to inspire change. Mrs. Sollenberger inspired me to become a good teacher to other people, and I am proof that good students can be made by good teachers. I am a good student, and I hope to be one for the rest of my life.