I've always believed that education is one of the most powerful tools we have to shape the future, not just of individuals, but of entire communities. My interest in pursuing a career in teaching comes from both a deep respect for the profession and a personal understanding of how a great teacher can change the course of a student's life. Growing up, school wasn’t always easy for me. I was shy, quiet, and often unsure of myself, especially when it came to speaking up or sharing my ideas. I was the kind of student who would sit in the back of the classroom, hoping not to be noticed. That all began to change in 4th grade, when I had a teacher named Mrs. Scott. She was my "core" teacher, and from the very first day, she made it clear that every student in her classroom mattered. But it wasn’t just what she said, it was how she listened. Mrs. Scott had a way of noticing students others might overlook. She paid attention to the quiet ones, encouraged the hesitant ones, and challenged the confident ones. One day, she handed me back a writing assignment with a simple note: “This is amazing, you should share this.” It may have been a small comment, but it was the first time I truly believed that what I had to say mattered. From that moment on, I began to participate more, take risks, and even enjoy the process of learning. That experience made me realize how transformative a single teacher can be. Mrs. Scott didn’t just teach English, writing, math, and science, she taught me self-worth and confidence. It was the first time I saw how a teacher could impact a student’s life far beyond the subject matter. Years later, that experience continues to drive me. I want to be that person for someone else, the teacher who sees potential where others might not, who makes students feel safe, seen, and capable. I believe teaching is about more than lesson plans and grading papers. It's about building relationships, creating an environment where students feel valued, and helping them discover what they’re capable of. I’m particularly interested in working with preschool or elementary school students because I know how pivotal those years can be. Children learn about how to care for one another, share their ideas, and find their personality. Having a supportive, compassionate adult in their corner can make all the difference. Of course, I know teaching comes with challenges. It's a profession that requires patience, resilience, and constant learning. But those are challenges I welcome. I’m excited to grow alongside my students, to learn from them just as much as they learn from me, and to be part of something bigger than myself. In the end, I’m pursuing teaching because I want to make a difference. Just like Mrs. Scott changed the course of my life, I hope to inspire, support, and uplift the next generation of learners.

My name is Allyson Meredith and I am 19 years old from Walton, KY. I’m currently pursuing a degree at Eastern Kentucky University in Elementary Education and Special Education with the goal of working at my old elementary school. I’m someone who loves connection, whether that’s connecting with people, ideas, or music. I believe in the power of kindness and representation, and I’m determined to build a career where I can make a difference, even in small, everyday ways. As for my educational plans, I hope to graduate from EKU and eventually go back for graduate school. My dream is to be someone students can count on: a safe place in a sometimes overwhelming world. I know that change doesn’t always happen in big moments. Sometimes it’s just listening, showing up, and reminding someone they matter. That’s the kind of impact I want to have. Paying for college is one of the biggest challenges I’m facing. I plan to apply for scholarships like this one, work part-time during school, and take advantage of any grants or aid I qualify for. I know the cost of education can be intimidating, but I also know it’s worth it, and I’m doing everything I can to make it happen without putting an overwhelming burden on myself or my family. Now, how did I become a MOA? It wasn’t planned. One day, I randomly stumbled across the “Run Away” music video on YouTube, and something just clicked. The visuals were stunning, the choreography was emotional, and the music felt honest. It was the first time I’d seen a group that wasn’t afraid to express vulnerability, confusion, or growing pains in such a creative way. TXT didn’t feel like performers trying to be perfect, they felt like real people figuring things out, just like me. What makes TXT stand out to me more than other groups is their storytelling. From The Dream Chapter to The Name Chapter, every album feels like a continuation of their journey, and ours. The themes they explore, like self-doubt, friendship, identity, and mental health, have helped me feel less alone. They’re not afraid to admit when they’re lost, and somehow, that gives me strength to keep going. I love all the members, but if I had to choose one who inspires me most, it would be Taehyun. He’s so thoughtful, grounded, and hardworking. He has this calm presence but still speaks with honesty and confidence. Watching him grow and support his members makes me want to carry myself with the same grace and strength in my own life. One of my favorite TXT songs is “Blue Hour.” It reminds me of that strange, in-between time when you're not sure who you are or where you're going—but you're hopeful anyway. I listened to that song a lot during a period of change in my life, and it reminded me that it’s okay to feel uncertain. You don’t need to have everything figured out to keep moving forward. TXT has honestly helped shape my goals in life. They’ve shown me that creativity, kindness, and honesty can have a real impact. They’ve also made me more passionate about working with youth, especially teens, who are in that same vulnerable phase TXT often sings about. Whether I end up counseling, teaching, or mentoring later in life, I want to help young people feel like they’re not alone, that their feelings are valid, and that there’s beauty in being who they are. Being a MOA is more than just being a fan. It’s being part of a community that believes in growth, empathy, and dreaming big. TXT reminded me that even when life feels overwhelming, there’s always hope, and there’s always art. And that’s the kind of light I want to bring into the world, too.

I’ve always believed that the early years of a child’s life are some of the most important. During this time, children are learning how to trust, express themselves, and make sense of the world around them. Their brains are growing at an incredible rate, and so is their curiosity. That’s what draws me to the field of early childhood education, it’s a chance to be there at the very beginning, to nurture a child’s growth when it matters most. My plan to support early childhood development starts with creating a learning environment where every child feels safe, loved, and valued. Before children can absorb letters, numbers, or shapes, they need to know that they belong. I want to build a classroom where children feel seen and heard, where their questions are welcomed, and where they’re encouraged to explore and try new things without fear of making mistakes. That kind of environment helps children build confidence, resilience, and a love of learning that can last a lifetime. I also believe in the power of play-based learning. Young children learn best through doing, through touching, moving, creating, and imagining. I want to give them opportunities to engage in hands-on activities that develop their motor skills, language, and social-emotional understanding all at once. Whether it’s stacking blocks, painting a picture, or solving a simple problem with a friend, every moment is a chance to support their growth and development. Another key part of my approach will be working closely with families. Parents and caregivers are a child’s first teachers, and when educators and families are on the same team, children benefit tremendously. I want to build strong partnerships with families by keeping them involved, informed, and respected. That means communicating openly, listening to their concerns, and working together to meet each child’s unique needs. I didn’t choose this field because it was easy or convenient, I chose it because I’ve seen what a difference it makes. I still remember a little girl I babysat for during high school. She had a lot of energy and sometimes struggled to stay focused. But she also had the brightest imagination and the sweetest heart. When I slowed down, met her where she was, and made learning into a game, everything changed. She lit up. That experience showed me how much potential lives in every child, and how the right support can unlock it. I’ve also seen how early childhood educators help build more than academic skills. They help build kindness, curiosity, patience, and empathy. These aren’t just “soft skills”, they’re the foundation of who children grow up to be. Being part of that process feels like both an honor and a responsibility I’m ready to take on. My goal isn’t just to teach. My goal is to care, to listen, and to support the whole child. Because if we can get those early years right, if we can give children the support, love, and tools they need, we’re not just helping them succeed in school. We’re helping them thrive in life.

"I have learned that the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence." – Professor Harold Bloom This quote by Harold Bloom gets right to the heart of why I want to be a special education teacher. To me, Bloom is saying that real teaching isn’t just about test scores or memorizing facts, it’s about helping students feel grounded in who they are. It’s about helping them realize, “I belong here. I matter. I have something to say.” That feeling, of presence, of being seen, is something every student deserves, especially those with special needs who are often overlooked or misunderstood. My journey into special education started in high school, specifically my senior year. I signed up for a peer mentoring class at my school's preschool, not really knowing what to expect. I worked with many students who were special education students. One specific student, James, was nonverbal. The first few times we met, I felt nervous. I wasn’t sure how to connect with him. I kept wondering, if I was doing something wrong. I also thought things like, "Is he enjoying our time together?" or "Does he understand what I'm staying?". But over time, I began to notice the small things; a quick smile, the way his eyes lit up when we played together, the way he relaxed when I sat beside him. He didn’t need to speak to make himself known. He had presence. During lunch, he sometimes needed help opening things. We tried every day to get him to say "Help" instead of just handing things to us. Although we understood it was a big ask because he usually only said words like yes and no, we always put our best effort into getting him to verbally ask for help. I will never forget the day he did say "Help". This day, there was only one of our usual three teachers, plus me. When it was time for lunch, I got to sit at the "head" of one of the two tables. Some of the other kids in the class had already asked me to sit with them, and they ended up sitting at the same table that James always sat at. He always sat in the same seat to make it easier for the teacher to help him. Since I was that "teacher" today, I was the one he handed things to when he needed help opening it. Each time, I tried to prompt him to say "Help" like we always had. One of the last few times, I noticed him trying to say something, so I looked at him and said "What are you trying to say James?". It took him a little bit, but he began pulling something else out of his lunchbox and said "Help". I was so excited, but knew I couldn't show it incase it scared him out of saying it again. It felt like a huge win, even more so than graduating from high school felt. Everything from that experience stuck with me. It taught me that communication is more than words, that connection requires patience, and that every child, regardless of ability, deserves to feel seen and understood. I realized I wanted to spend my life helping kids like him unlock their own voices, in whatever form that takes. As a future special education teacher, my goal is simple: to create a classroom where every student can come into their own. One where they feel safe, capable, and genuinely valued. To do that, I’ll start by making learning personal. Every child learns differently, and in special education, there’s no one-size-fits-all. Some students might need visual supports, others need movement breaks, others may thrive with hands-on tasks. I want to meet each student where they are, not where the system says they should be. I want to help them succeed on their own terms, and show them that progress looks different for everyone, and that’s okay. Equally important is creating a space where students feel emotionally safe. A classroom should be a place where students are allowed to make mistakes, ask for help, or just take a breath. For students with special needs, many of whom have faced rejection, frustration, or being misunderstood, feeling safe is the foundation for learning. My students won’t have to earn kindness, patience, or respect. They’ll walk in knowing those things are already theirs. But beyond academics and emotional support, I want to empower my students to see themselves as capable and full of potential. That means teaching them how to advocate for themselves, giving them choices, and helping them discover what they love, whether that’s drawing, building, problem-solving, or simply being a good friend. Their presence is not something they have to prove; it’s something I will honor and help them recognize in themselves. Families will be an essential part of this journey. I’ve seen how powerful it is when teachers and families work together. Parents know their children in ways we never will, and I want to make sure they always feel like respected partners in their child’s education. We’ll celebrate progress together, and face challenges together, too. Being a special education teacher won’t always be easy. I know there will be hard days, frustrating days, emotional days, but I also know there will be moments that make it all worth it. Moments when a child says their first word. Or solves a problem on their own. Or just smiles with pride because they feel good at something. Those moments aren’t just “wins” they’re proof that the student sees their own presence and believes in it. Teaching, to me, is about helping students not only learn but feel alive in their learning. It’s about helping them show up fully, even in a world that sometimes tells them they’re too different. I want my classroom to be the place where they learn to trust themselves, to express who they are, and to know that who they are is enough. So, when I think about Bloom's words, about teaching being the act of helping a student recognize their own presence, I think of every child I’ll get to teach. I think of helping them not just get through school, but find joy, purpose, and a sense of self along the way. That’s the teacher I want to be. And that’s why I’m called to special education. (For privacy purposes, I have changed the student's name.)

If I could create a class that every student K-12th had to take, it would be called “Life Literacy.” It wouldn’t focus on textbooks or memorization. Instead, it would teach the things many people wish they’d learned earlier; how to manage money, navigate emotions, think critically, and take care of ourselves and others. In short, it would prepare students not just to pass tests, but to live life with confidence and purpose. The idea came to me when I realized how much I had to figure out on my own, like what a credit score is, or how to manage stress when everything feels overwhelming. I’ve watched friends struggle with the same things: feeling lost about student loans, unsure how to set boundaries, or feeling overwhelmed by the pressure of being “successful” without knowing what that even means. It always made me wonder why we weren't taught these things in school and instead were forced to read Shakespeare. In this class, financial literacy would be introduced in age-appropriate ways from an early age. Elementary students might learn about saving and spending, while high schoolers could dive into budgeting, credit, and taxes. It would also be stressed that it’s not just about money, it’s about feeling in control of your future. Another big part would be emotional intelligence and mental health. Students would learn how to recognize their emotions, how to deal with stress, and how to support others. I believe that if we normalize these conversations early, we can break the stigma around mental health and create schools where students feel safe, heard, and understood. Digital literacy is another must. We live so much of our lives online, but we’re rarely taught how to use technology responsibly. Students would learn how to spot misinformation, protect their privacy, and understand how their digital presence affects their real lives. It’s about teaching kids how to be thoughtful, kind, and safe in a digital world that isn’t always either of those things. At the heart of the class, the students would learn critical thinking. I want students to question the world around them, think for themselves, and not just accept things at face value. Paired with that would be lessons in civic engagement; understanding how government works, why voting matters, and how to use your voice to make a difference, even at a young age. The impact of this class could be huge. I imagine students graduating not just with academic knowledge, but with real-life confidence. They’d know how to take care of themselves, manage their money, navigate tough emotions, and contribute to their communities. They’d be prepared not just for college or a job, but for life. I know that one class can’t solve every problem. But I truly believe that giving students the tools to understand themselves and the world around them can make a lasting difference—not just for them, but for everyone they touch.