I was born in a warlike country. I was born and raised in Venezuela, watching my country rapidly be ruined by a government that can only be described as evil. Poverty and crime were part of my everyday life. I learned to duck and cover from bullets before I could do long division. But the situation got worse in 2015. The power was out more often than not, there was constant political persecution, protesters were violently attacked by the army, there was very little food, and almost no medicine. I was struggling with epilepsy, and my parents struggled to find my medication, the medication I needed to survive. Around mid 2016, we received the news that my medication would not be produced or imported into the country anymore for the foreseeable future. On top of that, we were in constant danger from the government, so we had to live. But every door we tried to get out through was closed in our faces, and after long hours of prayer and involuntary fasting, a door opened up. An aunt, whom my parents hadn't seen in almost 20 years, told us that if we made it to Tennessee, we could stay with her so we could buy my medication. By God's grace, my dad managed to contact a man from our church who lives near my aunt, and he offered to pay for our plane tickets after hearing our situation. So, we said our goodbyes to friends and family, many of whom we never got to see and will never see again, and we packed our bags with almost nothing, and left for a foreign land with a language we did not speak. We arrived in the USA on December 24th at 11:59 pm in 2017. The next two years were like no other. I was quickly enrolled in a primarily white school where I knew no one and could not understand anybody. I became so depressed in the first three months that I got sick. I missed my family, my friends, my language, my culture...I was lost. Things started to get better, slowly, and the 8th grade rolled around. I started to have a bit more confidence in myself, and I started to speak and understand more English. I began tutoring because I wanted to skip gym. I used to say it was because I hated exercise, but the truth is that I didn't know anybody there, so I felt utterly alone. I fell in love with touring and found a passion for teaching others. It is an indescribable happiness when you see others learn from you. But what drove my passion forward was my 8th-grade history teacher, Mr. Harris, whose love for history and care for students was contagious. He continuously motivated me to be the best student I could be. Later, I met Professor Cobb in my second semester of college, who, like Mr.Harris, through kindness and love of education, inspired me. Both teachers awarded me as the student of the year in history. They both told me I was an example of the American Dream and reminded me of what I am capable of accomplishing through hard work and humility. My dream is to be like them, to teach history, and educate others. Winston Churchill said, "Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." I believe that to my core. I, like the teachers I mentioned, believe that teaching history shows students the change that everyday people can make, the change they can make, and past mistakes teach them to create a better future.