For a long time, the concept of passion didn’t make sense to me. Growing up, I wasn’t surrounded by happy people. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy, my family saw me as a solution, an answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. They wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. Through middle and high school, I did everything to make our dream possible. But despite my efforts, I couldn’t walk the path with confidence. I was unhappy, knowing each step brought me closer to something I wasn’t passionate about. Everything changed in my second year of high school, when I took my first Ethnic Studies class on Mexican-American history. Our first lecture flipped a switch. I was no longer bound by my family’s desires. The class opened my eyes to a world I had never considered. I realized I was so focused on becoming who they wanted, I never figured out who I wanted to be. It wasn’t their fault they hadn’t found success, it was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated being treated as a tool instead of a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer.

For a long time, the concept of passion did not make sense to me. Growing up, I was not surrounded by happy people. I could tell my grandpa and dad did not enjoy their jobs. My earliest memories are of them complaining and being angry for what seemed like no reason. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy. My family saw me as a solution. The answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. I was Mexican, so I needed to take pride in what I did, no matter what. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. My grandpa and dad wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. My grandpa and dad wanted me to become rich and help them all. So, I wanted to become rich and help them all. Throughout middle and high school, I did everything possible to make our dream possible. I joined clubs, took honors classes, and participated in district-wide challenges focused on the STEM majors of the next generation. I sure had fun and learned a lot during that time. Despite everything I did, I could never walk the path with confidence. I did not enjoy what I was doing. I was unhappy living a life, understanding every action I took would lead me to do something I was not passionate about. My second year of high school was when I took my first Ethnic Studies class about Mexican-American history. Our first lecture was like a flip was switched, and I was no longer restrained to my family’s desires. The class put the world into a perspective I’d never considered before. I felt like I left the class with a better understanding of how the world works. Compared to what my family was telling me. I was so tunnel-visioned on my family’s goals that I forgot to create some of my own and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I understood why my family felt the way they felt and treated me the way they did. It was not their fault they could not find success. It was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated that they treated me as a tool rather than a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer, not for their sake, but for my own. A fire in me sparked that was never there before. I could not recognize it for the longest time because the feeling was foreign. But it was passion. The passion to encourage the next generation that they are capable of more than anyone’s expectations. The desire to make sure no child would ever feel the same way I did growing up. All this to say, that I am passionate about being a first-generation Mexican American. Discovering my passion has taught me that I was not alone in my experience of working towards and unwanted future, sacrificing my dreams and character to satisfy these false portrayals of success. It's unfortunate to say but the most common factor amongst students who share these experiences is their parent's influence and expectations drilled into these students. As a teacher I strive to create an environment to nurture, inspire, and show the next generation the value of their dreams.

For a long time, the concept of passion did not make sense to me. Growing up, I was not surrounded by happy people. I could tell my grandpa and dad did not enjoy their jobs. My earliest memories are of them complaining and being angry for what seemed like no reason. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy. My family saw me as a solution. The answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. I was Mexican, so I needed to take pride in what I did, no matter what. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. My grandpa and dad wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. My grandpa and dad wanted me to become rich and help them all. So, I wanted to become rich and help them all. Throughout middle and high school, I did everything possible to make our dream possible. I joined clubs, took honors classes, and participated in district-wide challenges focused on the STEM majors of the next generation. I sure had fun and learned a lot during that time. Despite everything I did, I could never walk the path with confidence. I did not enjoy what I was doing. I was unhappy living a life, understanding every action I took would lead me to do something I was not passionate about. My second year of high school was when I took my first Ethnic Studies class about Mexican-American history. Our first lecture was like a flip was switched, and I was no longer restrained to my family’s desires. The class put the world into a perspective I’d never considered before. I felt like I left the class with a better understanding of how the world works. Compared to what my family was telling me. I was so tunnel-visioned on my family’s goals that I forgot to create some of my own and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I understood why my family felt the way they felt and treated me the way they did. It was not their fault they could not find success. It was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated that they treated me as a tool rather than a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer, not for their sake, but for my own. A fire in me sparked that was never there before. I could not recognize it for the longest time because the feeling was foreign. But it was passion. The passion to encourage the next generation that they are capable of more than anyone’s expectations. The desire to make sure no child would ever feel the same way I did growing up. All this to say, that I am passionate about being a first-generation Mexican American. Discovering my passion has taught me that I was not alone in my experience of working towards and unwanted future, sacrificing my dreams and character to satisfy these false portrayals of success. It's unfortunate to say but the most common factor amongst students who share these experiences is their parent's influence and expectations drilled into these students. As a teacher I strive to create an environment to nurture, inspire, and show the next generation the value of their dreams.

For a long time, the concept of passion did not make sense to me. Growing up, I was not surrounded by happy people. I could tell my grandpa and dad did not enjoy their jobs. My earliest memories are of them complaining and being angry for what seemed like no reason. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy. My family saw me as a solution. The answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. I was Mexican, so I needed to take pride in what I did, no matter what. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. My grandpa and dad wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. My grandpa and dad wanted me to become rich and help them all. So, I wanted to become rich and help them all. Throughout middle and high school, I did everything possible to make our dream possible. I joined clubs, took honors classes, and participated in district-wide challenges focused on the STEM majors of the next generation. I sure had fun and learned a lot during that time. Despite everything I did, I could never walk the path with confidence. I did not enjoy what I was doing. I was unhappy living a life, understanding every action I took would lead me to do something I was not passionate about. My second year of high school was when I took my first Ethnic Studies class about Mexican-American history. Our first lecture was like a flip was switched, and I was no longer restrained to my family’s desires. The class put the world into a perspective I’d never considered before. I felt like I left the class with a better understanding of how the world works. Compared to what my family was telling me. I was so tunnel-visioned on my family’s goals that I forgot to create some of my own and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I understood why my family felt the way they felt and treated me the way they did. It was not their fault they could not find success. It was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated that they treated me as a tool rather than a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer, not for their sake, but for my own. A fire in me sparked that was never there before. I could not recognize it for the longest time because the feeling was foreign. But it was passion. The passion to encourage the next generation that they are capable of more than anyone’s expectations. The desire to make sure no child would ever feel the same way I did growing up. All this to say, that I am passionate about being a first-generation Mexican American. Discovering my passion has taught me that I was not alone in my experience of working towards and unwanted future, sacrificing my dreams and character to satisfy these false portrayals of success. It's unfortunate to say but the most common factor amongst students who share these experiences is their parent's influence and expectations drilled into these students. As a teacher I strive to create an environment to nurture, inspire, and show the next generation the value of their dreams.

For a long time, the concept of passion did not make sense to me. Growing up, I was not surrounded by happy people. I could tell my grandpa and dad did not enjoy their jobs. My earliest memories are of them complaining and being angry for what seemed like no reason. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy. My family saw me as a solution. The answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. I was Mexican, so I needed to take pride in what I did, no matter what. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. My grandpa and dad wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. My grandpa and dad wanted me to become rich and help them all. So, I wanted to become rich and help them all. Throughout middle and high school, I did everything possible to make our dream possible. I joined clubs, took honors classes, and participated in district-wide challenges focused on the STEM majors of the next generation. I sure had fun and learned a lot during that time. Despite everything I did, I could never walk the path with confidence. I did not enjoy what I was doing. I was unhappy living a life, understanding every action I took would lead me to do something I was not passionate about. My second year of high school was when I took my first Ethnic Studies class about Mexican-American history. Our first lecture was like a flip was switched, and I was no longer restrained to my family’s desires. The class put the world into a perspective I’d never considered before. I felt like I left the class with a better understanding of how the world works. Compared to what my family was telling me. I was so tunnel-visioned on my family’s goals that I forgot to create some of my own and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I understood why my family felt the way they felt and treated me the way they did. It was not their fault they could not find success. It was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated that they treated me as a tool rather than a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer, not for their sake, but for my own. A fire in me sparked that was never there before. I could not recognize it for the longest time because the feeling was foreign. But it was passion. The passion to encourage the next generation that they are capable of more than anyone’s expectations. The desire to make sure no child would ever feel the same way I did growing up. All this to say, that my dream is to inspire and encourage the next generation of scholars. Discovering my passion has taught me that I was not alone in my experience of working towards and unwanted future, sacrificing my dreams and character to satisfy these false portrayals of success. It's unfortunate to say but the most common factor amongst students who share these experiences is their parent's influence and expectations drilled into these students. As a teacher I strive to create an environment to nurture, inspire, and show the next generation the value of their dreams.

For a long time, the concept of passion did not make sense to me. Growing up, I was not surrounded by happy people. I could tell my grandpa and dad did not enjoy their jobs. My earliest memories are of them complaining and being angry for what seemed like no reason. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy. My family saw me as a solution. The answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. I was Mexican, so I needed to take pride in what I did, no matter what. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. My grandpa and dad wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. My grandpa and dad wanted me to become rich and help them all. So, I wanted to become rich and help them all. Throughout middle and high school, I did everything possible to make our dream possible. I joined clubs, took honors classes, and participated in district-wide challenges focused on the STEM majors of the next generation. I sure had fun and learned a lot during that time. Despite everything I did, I could never walk the path with confidence. I did not enjoy what I was doing. I was unhappy living a life, understanding every action I took would lead me to do something I was not passionate about. My second year of high school was when I took my first Ethnic Studies class about Mexican-American history. Our first lecture was like a flip was switched, and I was no longer restrained to my family’s desires. The class put the world into a perspective I’d never considered before. I felt like I left the class with a better understanding of how the world works. Compared to what my family was telling me. I was so tunnel-visioned on my family’s goals that I forgot to create some of my own and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I understood why my family felt the way they felt and treated me the way they did. It was not their fault they could not find success. It was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated that they treated me as a tool rather than a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer, not for their sake, but for my own. A fire in me sparked that was never there before. I could not recognize it for the longest time because the feeling was foreign. But it was passion. The passion to encourage the next generation that they are capable of more than anyone’s expectations. The desire to make sure no child would ever feel the same way I did growing up. All this to say, that I am passionate about being a first-generation Mexican American. Discovering my passion has taught me that I was not alone in my experience of working towards and unwanted future, sacrificing my dreams and character to satisfy these false portrayals of success. It's unfortunate to say but the most common factor amongst students who share these experiences is their parent's influence and expectations drilled into these students. As a teacher I strive to create an environment to nurture, inspire, and show the next generation the value of their dreams.

For a long time, the concept of passion did not make sense to me. Growing up, I was not surrounded by happy people. I could tell my grandpa and dad did not enjoy their jobs. My earliest memories are of them complaining and being angry for what seemed like no reason. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy. My family saw me as a solution. The answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. I was Mexican, so I needed to take pride in what I did, no matter what. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. My grandpa and dad wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. My grandpa and dad wanted me to become rich and help them all. So, I wanted to become rich and help them all. Throughout middle and high school, I did everything possible to make our dream possible. I joined clubs, took honors classes, and participated in district-wide challenges focused on the STEM majors of the next generation. I sure had fun and learned a lot during that time. Despite everything I did, I could never walk the path with confidence. I did not enjoy what I was doing. I was unhappy living a life, understanding every action I took would lead me to do something I was not passionate about. My second year of high school was when I took my first Ethnic Studies class about Mexican-American history. Our first lecture was like a flip was switched, and I was no longer restrained to my family’s desires. The class put the world into a perspective I’d never considered before. I felt like I left the class with a better understanding of how the world works. Compared to what my family was telling me. I was so tunnel-visioned on my family’s goals that I forgot to create some of my own and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I understood why my family felt the way they felt and treated me the way they did. It was not their fault they could not find success. It was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated that they treated me as a tool rather than a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer, not for their sake, but for my own. A fire in me sparked that was never there before. I could not recognize it for the longest time because the feeling was foreign. But it was passion. The passion to encourage the next generation that they are capable of more than anyone’s expectations. The desire to make sure no child would ever feel the same way I did growing up. All this to say, that my dream is to inspire and encourage the next generation of scholars. Discovering my passion has taught me that I was not alone in my experience of working towards and unwanted future, sacrificing my dreams and character to satisfy these false portrayals of success. It's unfortunate to say but the most common factor amongst students who share these experiences is their parent's influence and expectations drilled into these students. As a teacher I strive to create an environment to nurture, inspire, and show the next generation the value of their dreams.

For a long time, the concept of passion did not make sense to me. Growing up, I was not surrounded by happy people. I could tell my grandpa and dad did not enjoy their jobs. My earliest memories are of them complaining and being angry for what seemed like no reason. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy. My family saw me as a solution. The answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. I was Mexican, so I needed to take pride in what I did, no matter what. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. My grandpa and dad wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. My grandpa and dad wanted me to become rich and help them all. So, I wanted to become rich and help them all. Throughout middle and high school, I did everything possible to make our dream possible. I joined clubs, took honors classes, and participated in district-wide challenges focused on the STEM majors of the next generation. I sure had fun and learned a lot during that time. Despite everything I did, I could never walk the path with confidence. I did not enjoy what I was doing. I was unhappy living a life, understanding every action I took would lead me to do something I was not passionate about. My second year of high school was when I took my first Ethnic Studies class about Mexican-American history. Our first lecture was like a flip was switched, and I was no longer restrained to my family’s desires. The class put the world into a perspective I’d never considered before. I felt like I left the class with a better understanding of how the world works. Compared to what my family was telling me. I was so tunnel-visioned on my family’s goals that I forgot to create some of my own and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I understood why my family felt the way they felt and treated me the way they did. It was not their fault they could not find success. It was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated that they treated me as a tool rather than a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer, not for their sake, but for my own. A fire in me sparked that was never there before. I could not recognize it for the longest time because the feeling was foreign. But it was passion. The passion to encourage the next generation that they are capable of more than anyone’s expectations. The desire to make sure no child would ever feel the same way I did growing up. All this to say, that I am passionate about being a first-generation Mexican American. Discovering my passion has taught me that I was not alone in my experience of working towards and unwanted future, sacrificing my dreams and character to satisfy these false portrayals of success. It's unfortunate to say but the most common factor amongst students who share these experiences is their parent's influence and expectations drilled into these students. As a teacher I strive to create an environment to nurture, inspire, and show the next generation the value of their dreams.

For a long time, the concept of passion did not make sense to me. Growing up, I was not surrounded by happy people. I could tell my grandpa and dad did not enjoy their jobs. My earliest memories are of them complaining and being angry for what seemed like no reason. I was the start of the next generation, and rather than see me as a bundle of joy. My family saw me as a solution. The answer to a problem. From kindergarten, the importance of hard work and devotion was drilled into me. I was Mexican, so I needed to take pride in what I did, no matter what. My grandpa and dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. So, I wanted to be a civil engineer. My grandpa and dad wanted me to go to college. So, I wanted to go to college. My grandpa and dad wanted me to become rich and help them all. So, I wanted to become rich and help them all. Throughout middle and high school, I did everything possible to make our dream possible. I joined clubs, took honors classes, and participated in district-wide challenges focused on the STEM majors of the next generation. I sure had fun and learned a lot during that time. Despite everything I did, I could never walk the path with confidence. I did not enjoy what I was doing. I was unhappy living a life, understanding every action I took would lead me to do something I was not passionate about. My second year of high school was when I took my first Ethnic Studies class about Mexican-American history. Our first lecture was like a flip was switched, and I was no longer restrained to my family’s desires. The class put the world into a perspective I’d never considered before. I felt like I left the class with a better understanding of how the world works. Compared to what my family was telling me. I was so tunnel-visioned on my family’s goals that I forgot to create some of my own and figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I understood why my family felt the way they felt and treated me the way they did. It was not their fault they could not find success. It was the world around them. I hated that they blamed the world, and part of me hated that they treated me as a tool rather than a son. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be the answer, not for their sake, but for my own. A fire in me sparked that was never there before. I could not recognize it for the longest time because the feeling was foreign. But it was passion. The passion to encourage the next generation that they are capable of more than anyone’s expectations. The desire to make sure no child would ever feel the same way I did growing up. All this to say, that I believe my greatest achievement to date and probably throughout my entire life would be finding my passion for education. It may seem insignificant, however I am eternally grateful that I took that step out of my comfort zone. Because now I can work towards something I know I can be happy doing. And unfortunately that's more than most people can say. A lot of students face the pressure of of expectations from themselves and their family and end up sacrificing their humanity and character to satisfy these false portrayals of success ingrained into them by their environment. Discovering my passion has taught me that these experiences are unfortunately extremely common amongst students of color. It's unfortunate to say but the most common factor amongst students who share these experiences is their parent's influence and expectations drilled into these students. As a teacher I strive to create an environment to nurture, inspire, and show the next generation the value of their dreams.

One of the most significant influences on my desire to teach was my fourth-grade math teacher, Mr. Algae. He was the kindest and most challenging teacher I've had. His passion for making math engaging and fun made me never want to miss a class, and I could see how much he cared about his students' learning. However, he also had a strict side. As quick as he was to high-five you for getting the answer right, he was just as quick to flip over your desk for forgetting to bring a pencil to class. The fourth-grade science fair was a pivotal moment in my academic journey. During this project, I faced the pressure of expectations and reality for the first time. Mr. Algae checked in with all the students the week before the fair about their progress. It wasn't until he called me up that I realized I had no progress to show. "How's your progress going, Angel?". "It's good. I have the idea but haven't started the actual project". "What do you mean you haven't started? The deadline is in a week. Are you dumb?" That hit me like a ton of bricks, although it may not have been appropriate. Looking back, I realized I needed to hear it. I cried at home because I was terrified of failing. I had nothing to show three days before the fair, and I cried in the middle of class. It wasn't until Mr. Algae apologized and guided me in the right direction that I found the courage to start. Luckily, I was able to finish just in time for the fair. When it came time for the teachers to judge my project, I was petrified. I was prepared to cry right there on the spot. But before I could, Mr. Algae leaned towards me and said, "You did a good job not giving up, Angel. Be happy." I instantly felt the tears retreat, and my body relaxed. I even cracked a smile. Those few words changed my perspective on learning for the rest of my life. Mr. Algae showed me that the value isn't in the outcome. The value lies within the process. I still cried because I got the worst grade of my life. But if it weren't for Mr. Algae, I'd be following a completely different path right now. My goal has always been to inspire others; this has been my goal due to so many experiences that have made me feel less than an afterthought to others. It's in my character to put others before myself. That's why I'm working towards a teaching degree, not just for me but for all the students who don't have anyone to help them. Growing up, I was taught the value of hard work, integrity, and family. But I wasn't taught the value of empathy, kindness, and, most importantly, failure. In my case, my family set out a path for me. They forgot to tell me that the path would not be easy, and I would stumble, encounter obstacles, and fail. But I never felt comfortable telling them how difficult it was because it'd be met with a "toughen up and stop complaining." With my degree, I will create an environment that fosters sympathy, dependability, and honesty among my students. My students will feel safe to express their struggles and to know that failure is not the end but an opportunity to learn and grow. Every student needs a Mr. Algae in their life, and If I could be that for just one student, I'd accomplish my goal.

One of the most significant influences on my desire to teach was my fourth-grade math teacher, Mr. Algae. He was the kindest and most challenging teacher I've had. His passion for making math engaging and fun made me never want to miss a class, and I could see how much he cared about his students' learning. However, he also had a strict side. As quick as he was to high-five you for getting the answer right, he was just as quick to flip over your desk for forgetting to bring a pencil to class. The fourth-grade science fair was a pivotal moment in my academic journey. During this project, I faced the pressure of expectations and reality for the first time. Mr. Algae checked in with all the students the week before the fair about their progress. It wasn't until he called me up that I realized I had no progress to show. "How's your progress going, Angel?". "It's good. I have the idea but haven't started the actual project". "What do you mean you haven't started? The deadline is in a week. Are you dumb?" That hit me like a ton of bricks, although it may not have been appropriate. Looking back, I realized I needed to hear it. I cried at home because I was terrified of failing. I had nothing to show three days before the fair, and I cried in the middle of class. It wasn't until Mr. Algae apologized and guided me in the right direction that I found the courage to start. Luckily, I was able to finish just in time for the fair. When it came time for the teachers to judge my project, I was petrified. I was prepared to cry right there on the spot. But before I could, Mr. Algae leaned towards me and said, "You did a good job not giving up, Angel. Be happy." I instantly felt the tears retreat, and my body relaxed. I even cracked a smile. Those few words changed my perspective on learning for the rest of my life. Mr. Algae showed me that the value isn't in the outcome. The value lies within the process. I still cried because I got the worst grade of my life. But if it weren't for Mr. Algae, I'd be following a completely different path right now. My goal has always been to inspire others; this has been my goal due to so many experiences that have made me feel less than an afterthought to others. It's in my character to put others before myself. That's why I'm working towards a teaching degree, not just for me but for all the students who don't have anyone to help them. Growing up, I was taught the value of hard work, integrity, and family. But I wasn't taught the value of empathy, kindness, and, most importantly, failure. In my case, my family set out a path for me. They forgot to tell me that the path would not be easy, and I would stumble, encounter obstacles, and fail. But I never felt comfortable telling them how difficult it was because it'd be met with a "toughen up and stop complaining." With my degree, I will create an environment that fosters sympathy, dependability, and honesty among my students. My students will feel safe to express their struggles and to know that failure is not the end but an opportunity to learn and grow. Every student needs a Mr. Algae in their life, and If I could be that for just one student, I'd accomplish my goal.

Growing up, I always felt different from my peers. I went to a predominantly Hispanic and Asian Elementary school. But I always felt isolated, like I could never fit in with other kids, even though they looked like me. It was also challenging to make friends because school was easy for me; I thrived on learning, and my classmates often labeled me the "smart kid" or the "teacher's pet ."I usually cared for and taught my cousins, so I tried to help my peers, but they often disregarded me because they knew I was different. I quickly learned that my support could only go so far, especially as an elementary school student. My situation would stay like this until the fourth grade. One of the most significant influences on my desire to teach was my fourth-grade math and science teacher, Mr. Algae. He was simultaneously the kindest and most challenging teacher I have had. His passion for making math engaging and fun made me never want to miss a class, and I could see how much he cared about his students' learning. However, he also had a strict side. As quick as he was to high-five you for getting the answer right, he was just as quick, if not quicker, to flip over your desk for forgetting to bring a pencil to class. The fourth-grade science fair was a pivotal moment in my academic journey. During this project, I faced the pressure of expectations and reality for the first time. The week before the fair, Mr. Algae checked in with all the students about their progress. It wasn't until he called me up that I realized I had no progress to show. The pressure surmounted, and I had never felt anything like it before. "How's your progress going, Angel?". "It's good. I have the idea but haven't started the actual project". "What do you mean you haven't started? The deadline is in a week. Are you dumb?" That hit me like a ton of bricks, although it may not have been appropriate. Looking back, I realized I needed to hear it. I cried at home because I was terrified of failing. What if I'm not the "smart kid" anymore? I had nothing to show three days before the fair, and I cried in the middle of class. It wasn't until Mr. Algae apologized and guided me in the right direction that I found the courage to start. Luckily, I was able to finish just in time for the fair. When it came time for the teachers to judge my project, I was petrified. I tried to explain, but I knew my fate was sealed. I was prepared to cry right there on the spot. But before I could, Mr. Algae leaned towards me and said, "You did a good job not giving up, Angel. Be happy." I instantly felt the tears retreat, and my body relaxed. I even cracked a smile. Those few words changed my perspective on learning for the rest of my life. Mr. Algae showed me that the value isn't in the outcome. The value lies within the process. I still cried because I got the worst grade of my life. But if it weren't for Mr. Algae, I'd be following a completely different path right now. My goal has always been to inspire others; this has been my goal due to so many experiences that have made me feel isolated, less than an afterthought to others. It's in my character to put others before myself. That's why I am working towards a teaching degree, not just for me but for all the students who don't have anyone to help them along the way. The minority household is very polarizing. It is a community that holds a substantial sentimental value for the family but often disregards communication and empathy. It happens all too often when children of color are left to teach themselves and be their biggest supporters because the parents are busy working to keep the water running and a roof over their heads. This is more of an issue with the systems and institutions that make it impossible for minorities to excel in academics and the workplace. However, it'd be dishonest not to acknowledge that parents are just as accountable for these problems within our community. I will target these issues when I get my degree and become a teacher. Growing up, we are taught the value of hard work, integrity, and family. But we aren't taught the value of empathy, kindness, and, most importantly, failure. In my case, my family set out a path of success for me. They forgot to tell me that the path would not be easy, and I would stumble, encounter obstacles, and fail. But I never felt comfortable telling them how difficult it was because it'd be met with a "toughen up and stop complaining." With my degree, I will create an environment that fosters sympathy, dependability, and honesty among my students. My students will feel safe to express their struggles and to know that failure is not the end but an opportunity to learn and grow. I hope to instill this mindset in my future students, guiding them through their academic challenges with compassion and understanding. Every student needs a Mr. Algae in their life, and If I could be that for just one student, I'd accomplish my goal.

One of the most significant influences on my desire to teach was my fourth-grade math teacher, Mr. Algae, at Lairon College Preparatory Academy. He was the kindest and most challenging teacher I've had. His passion for making math engaging and fun made me never want to miss a class, and I could see how much he cared about his students' learning. However, he also had a strict side. As quick as he was to high-five you for getting the answer right, he was just as quick to flip over your desk for forgetting to bring a pencil to class. The fourth-grade science fair was a pivotal moment in my academic journey. During this project, I faced the pressure of expectations and reality for the first time. The week before the fair, Mr. Algae checked in with all the students about their progress. It wasn't until he called me up that I realized I hadn't even started. "How's your progress going, Angel?". "It's good. I have the idea but haven't started the actual project". "What do you mean you haven't started? The deadline is in a week. Are you dumb?" That hit me like a ton of bricks, although it may not have been appropriate. Looking back, I realized I needed to hear it. I cried at home because I was terrified of failing. I had nothing to show three days before the fair, and I cried in the middle of class. It wasn't until Mr. Algae apologized and guided me in the right direction that I found the courage to start. Luckily, I was able to finish just in time for the fair. When it came time for the teachers to judge my project, I was petrified. I was prepared to cry right there on the spot. But before I could, Mr. Algae leaned towards me and said, "You did a good job not giving up, Angel. Be happy." I instantly felt the tears retreat, and my body relaxed. I even cracked a smile. Those few words changed my perspective on learning for the rest of my life. Mr. Algae showed me that the value isn't in the outcome. The value lies within the process. I still cried because I got the worst grade of my life. But if it weren't for Mr. Algae, I'd be following a completely different path right now. My goal has always been to inspire others; this has been my goal due to so many experiences that have made me feel less than an afterthought to others. It's in my character to put others before myself. That's why I'm working towards a teaching degree, not just for me but for all the students who don't have anyone to help them. Growing up, I was taught the value of hard work, integrity, and family. But I wasn't taught the value of empathy, kindness, and, most importantly, failure. In my case, my family set out a path for me. They forgot to tell me that the path would not be easy, and I would stumble, encounter obstacles, and fail. But I never felt comfortable telling them how difficult it was because it'd be met with a "toughen up and stop complaining." With my degree, I will create an environment that fosters sympathy, dependability, and honesty among my students. My students will feel safe to express their struggles and to know that failure is not the end but an opportunity to learn and grow. Every student needs a Mr. Algae in their life, and If I could be that for just one student, I'd accomplish my goal.

One of the most significant influences on my desire to teach was my fourth-grade math teacher, Mr. Algae. He was the kindest and most challenging teacher I've had. His passion for making math engaging and fun made me never want to miss a class, and I could see how much he cared about his students' learning. However, he also had a strict side. As quick as he was to high-five you for getting the answer right, he was just as quick, if not quicker, to flip over your desk for forgetting to bring a pencil to class. The fourth-grade science fair was a pivotal moment in my academic journey. During this project, I faced the pressure of expectations and reality for the first time. The week before the fair, Mr. Algae checked in with all the students about their progress. It wasn't until he called me up that I realized I had no progress to show. "How's your progress going, Angel?". "It's good. I have the idea but haven't started the actual project". "What do you mean you haven't started? The deadline is in a week. Are you dumb?" That hit me like a ton of bricks, although it may not have been appropriate. Looking back, I realized I needed to hear it. I cried at home because I was terrified of failing. I had nothing to show three days before the fair, and I cried in the middle of class. It wasn't until Mr. Algae apologized and guided me in the right direction that I found the courage to start. Luckily, I was able to finish just in time for the fair. When it came time for the teachers to judge my project, I was petrified. I was prepared to cry right there on the spot. But before I could, Mr. Algae leaned towards me and said, "You did a good job not giving up, Angel. Be happy." I instantly felt the tears retreat, and my body relaxed. I even cracked a smile. Those few words changed my perspective on learning for the rest of my life. Mr. Algae showed me that the value isn't in the outcome. The value lies within the process. I still cried because I got the worst grade of my life. But if it weren't for Mr. Algae, I'd be following a completely different path right now. My goal has always been to inspire others; this has been my goal due to so many experiences that have made me feel less than an afterthought to others. It's in my character to put others before myself. That's why I'm working towards a teaching degree, not just for me but for all the students who don't have anyone to help them. Growing up, I was taught the value of hard work, integrity, and family. But I wasn't taught the value of empathy, kindness, and, most importantly, failure. In my case, my family set out a path for me. They forgot to tell me that the path would not be easy, and I would stumble, encounter obstacles, and fail. But I never felt comfortable telling them how difficult it was because it'd be met with a "toughen up and stop complaining." With my degree, I will create an environment that fosters sympathy, dependability, and honesty among my students. My students will feel safe to express their struggles and to know that failure is not the end but an opportunity to learn and grow. Every student needs a Mr. Algae in their life, and If I could be that for just one student, I'd accomplish my goal.