I grew up in a home where children’s voices were often ignored, silenced, or dismissed. My parents were not always present, and when they were, they didn’t always know how to be the kind of parents I needed. Abuse and neglect were part of my everyday life. From a young age, I took on the role of raising my younger siblings, trying to shield them from the pain I understood all too well. In the middle of that chaos, there was one person who changed everything for me—my fourth-grade teacher. She saw me for who I was, not just a struggling child, but a person with potential. She cared about my well-being as much as my education. Her encouragement planted a seed in my heart: the belief that a single caring adult can change the course of a child’s life. As a teenager, I became a mother myself. I was still a child in so many ways, yet now I had a child of my own depending on me. Later, I found myself in an abusive relationship, and leaving it meant becoming a single mother of two. That was my turning point. I made a promise to myself and my children: I would break the cycle. I would prove that our past does not have to define our future. I returned to school determined to build a better life. Along the way, I discovered something life-changing—I had fallen in love with teaching. Teaching was not just about lessons and textbooks; it was about shaping lives, creating safe spaces, and helping children find their voices. I became passionate about protecting the ones who could not yet speak for themselves, the ones who had been silenced by fear, circumstances, or the voices of others overpowering their own. I want my students to see themselves as leaders, innovators, and people who can create change. I want to be the teacher who tells a child, “Your voice matters,” and then helps them believe it. I want to guide them toward seeing their worth, their potential, and the power they have to influence the world around them. Every child, no matter their background, deserves to feel safe, loved, and capable. Now, I am in my final semester at Central New Mexico Community College, preparing to graduate this fall with my associate degree in Teacher Education, specializing in birth through third grade. My journey has been full of challenges—times when it would have been easier to give up—but each obstacle has only strengthened my resolve. I carry my own childhood experiences with me into the classroom, not as a weight, but as a source of empathy, understanding, and motivation. I know how it feels to be voiceless, and I will spend my career making sure no child in my care ever feels that way. This is more than my profession—it is my life’s work.

The summer semester of 2022 was supposed to be the time I finished strong. I had worked hard all term—balancing school, two jobs, and raising my four boys. But during finals week, my world completely fell apart. I lost my sister, and the pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced. In just a moment, everything changed. I fell into a deep depression. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t think clearly. I was heartbroken, overwhelmed, and mentally exhausted. Because of that, I failed my finals—and it felt like I had failed everything I worked so hard for. That failure crushed me. I’ve always been the one who keeps going no matter what, even through the challenges of being a first-generation college student, working long hours, and managing ADHD and anxiety. But this time was different. I truly wanted to give up. My grief made me question everything—my path, my purpose, and even my own strength. I felt lost. For a while, I stopped believing in myself. I lost my motivation and my faith. But even in the darkness, something kept whispering to me not to quit. I slowly began to pray again. I found God again—and with Him, I found hope. I remembered everything I had already overcome to get where I was. I reminded myself that I was doing this for my children, for the future I had promised them, and to honor the memory of my sister. She wouldn’t have wanted me to stop—she was always proud of me. Mental health struggles are real, and mine are a part of my story. I live with ADHD, anxiety, and depression. But I’ve also learned how to keep fighting, how to ask for help when I need it, and how to show compassion to others who are going through silent battles of their own. That’s the kind of educator I want to be—one who understands, one who listens, and one who offers hope. Today, I continue pushing toward my degree, proud of how far I’ve come. I may have stumbled, but I didn’t stay down. I’ve grown through my grief, and it’s made me more passionate about making a difference in the lives of children. I want every child I teach to know that no matter what challenges they face, they are never alone—and that their dreams are still possible, just like mine. I learned that with failure comes success.

Why I’m Passionate About the Special Education Teacher Profession Professor Harold Bloom once said, “I have learned that the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” To me, this means guiding students—especially those with special needs—to discover their own voice, identity, and value in the world. It’s not just about learning facts or passing tests. It's about helping each child understand that they matter, that they are capable, and that they belong. Children with special needs often face barriers—socially, academically, and emotionally—that can make them feel invisible or misunderstood. As a future special education teacher, I believe it is my calling to help these students recognize the power of who they are. I want to create a space where every child feels seen, heard, and celebrated. That’s what it means to help them find their "presence"—their inner light, their confidence, and their sense of purpose. My mission is to make learning accessible and joyful. I plan to use inclusive teaching practices, build strong relationships with families, and create classroom environments filled with warmth, structure, and encouragement. I will use each child’s strengths to support their growth and help them develop independence and pride in what they can do. My goal is to be the teacher who never gives up—who believes in her students even when others don’t. A Fairy Tale: “AnJell and the Garden of Quiet Voices” Once upon a time in a small village, there lived a young woman named AnJell who dreamed of becoming a teacher. But not just any teacher—she wanted to help children whose voices had been silenced by fear, doubt, or difference. These were children who lived in a hidden garden called The Garden of Quiet Voices, where no one listened and few believed they could bloom. One day, AnJell packed her books, her heart, and her dreams and journeyed to the garden. When she arrived, she didn’t speak at first. Instead, she sat beside each child and listened. She learned that one child spoke in colors, another in rhythms, another through movement. She brought them tools—paint, instruments, pictures, stories—and together, they began to bloom. As each child discovered a new way to express themselves, their voices became stronger. Some whispered, some sang, some danced—but they all began to shine. AnJell taught them that their voices were magic, and that even if they didn’t sound like everyone else, they still mattered. The garden transformed. It became a place where every flower was different but celebrated. Where silence turned into laughter, and doubt turned into pride. And though the garden had once been forgotten, people from all over came to see the beauty that grew there. AnJell didn’t become famous or rich. But in that garden, she became something more: a hero to children who had once been invisible, but now stood tall in the light of their own presence. This is the kind of teacher I want to be—one who shows up, listens deeply, and reminds every child that their story, their way of learning, and their presence are all beautifully enough. That is my passion, and my purpose.

My name is AnJell Castellon, and I am a proud Mexican-American woman, a first-generation college student, and a mother of four amazing boys. Every day, I balance being a full-time student with working two jobs and raising my children. It’s not easy—there are times when I feel stretched thin emotionally, financially, and physically—but I continue pushing forward because I know I am building a better future for my family. I didn’t grow up with many examples of higher education. I come from a low-income household where survival often came before dreams. But even as a little girl, I always believed in something more. I knew that education could be my way out—and my way forward. Now, as I work toward my degree, I carry not only my own hopes but the hopes of my children, my family, and my culture. What drives me is the dream of becoming a teacher who truly makes a difference. I want to be the kind of educator who sees the whole child—who makes every student feel seen, safe, and valued. Especially for children who come from homes like mine, who may be struggling in silence or going without, I want to be the adult in their life who shows up with love, patience, and belief in their worth. Scholarships have made it possible for me to continue this journey. Without them, I would not be in school. They have helped cover tuition, buy books, and keep me on track when working two jobs still isn’t enough. This scholarship would relieve a tremendous financial burden and allow me to focus more on my studies and my children without constant stress. It would help me reach the finish line—not just for me, but for everyone counting on me. As an educator, I plan to create a classroom where all children feel like they belong. I will build strong connections with families, honor children’s diverse backgrounds, and foster a love for learning. I want to be the reason a child feels brave enough to try, strong enough to grow, and loved enough to shine. Teaching isn’t just my career goal—it’s my purpose. I'm so close to graduating and super excited it has been a long journey and a lot of struggles along the way. Like losing my sister, falling into a depression and struggling to find motivation to continue my degree plan. But I will not give up and I'm truly thankful for people like you that are willing to help people like me.

I’m passionate about being a first-generation, Mexican-American college graduate because it represents so much more than just earning a degree—it’s about breaking barriers, honoring my roots, and paving a new path for my children and future generations. Growing up in a low-income Mexican-American household, college wasn’t always talked about like it was possible. My parents worked hard, sacrificed so much, and did the best they could with what they had. Education was important, but surviving came first. I’ve seen what it’s like to struggle, to go without, and to feel like certain dreams were meant for “other people.” But even through the hard times, I always carried a deep desire to do more—not just for myself, but for my family and community. Being the first in my family and generation to go to college means everything to me. It’s proof that with faith, perseverance, and support, anything is possible. I didn’t have a clear roadmap. I had to figure out financial aid, applications, and deadlines on my own while raising my children and working multiple jobs. There were times I wanted to give up, especially when life got overwhelming—but I didn’t. I kept going because I knew what this meant. I knew I wasn’t just doing it for me. As a Mexican-American woman, I carry a strong sense of pride in my culture, my language, and my identity. There’s strength in where I come from, and I want to use that to uplift others. When I walk across that graduation stage, I carry my ancestors, my parents, my children, and every little girl who needs to know that her dreams are valid—regardless of where she starts. This journey has made me stronger, more resilient, and more passionate about changing lives through education. Being a first-generation graduate isn't just a title—it's a responsibility. And I wear it with pride. I value my culture, where I come from and I want to show my children even with the barriers that may come into our lives as Mexican- Americans that we are still grate and we can still be powerful in multiple ways. I want my sons to understand to never be embarrassed from where they come from or what they look like but to show that we are human and all alike in ways and we can all achieve greatness with love and support from people like you! We are powerful, mindful and strong hold that with pride where we come from and don't ever let anyone take that from us.

Why I Want to Be a Teacher and the Teacher Who Changed My Life My desire to become a teacher comes from both my life experiences and my deep love for children. I believe that teaching is one of the most powerful and impactful professions in the world. Educators have the ability to shape not only what a child learns but how they see themselves and their potential. For me, teaching is more than a job—it’s a calling. It’s the path that allows me to give back, break generational cycles, and create safe, nurturing spaces for children who need it most. I grew up in a very low-income household and faced many challenges during my early years. There were times when school felt like the only stable and safe place in my life. I know what it’s like to come to class carrying emotional burdens that most children should never have to bear. I know what it’s like to feel invisible, overlooked, and unimportant. But I also know how one teacher can change all of that. In fourth grade, I met Ms. Garcia. She wasn’t just my teacher—she became my lifeline. She noticed when I was sad, when I was quiet, and when I wasn’t myself. Instead of brushing it off, she leaned in. She asked questions. She encouraged me. She gave me small responsibilities that made me feel like I mattered. I remember one moment in particular that I’ll never forget: she stayed after school to help me write a short story for a class assignment. I was nervous and didn’t know where to begin, but she sat beside me and guided me without judgment. When I turned it in, she told me I had a gift. That one moment sparked something in me. For the first time, I felt proud of myself. I felt capable. Ms. Garcia saw me when I felt unseen. She believed in me when I didn’t yet believe in myself. Her kindness and support gave me a reason to keep going, and that experience planted the seed that would eventually grow into my passion for education. Now, as a mom of four and a future educator, I want to be that person for other children. I want to be the teacher who listens, who creates safe and loving environments, and who helps children discover their strengths and gifts. I’m especially passionate about working with children in early childhood and those with special needs. I currently work at a school where many of our children receive early intervention services, and I’ve seen firsthand how vital it is to meet children where they are and support their development with patience, compassion, and culturally responsive practices. I also believe that families are a child’s first teachers, and I want to build strong relationships with parents and caregivers. I want to create classrooms that reflect the cultures, languages, and experiences of the children who walk through my door. I want every child to feel valued, respected, and loved. Pursuing a career in teaching is about so much more than lesson plans and test scores. It’s about healing, hope, and building brighter futures. It’s about being the difference in a child’s life, just like Ms. Garcia was in mine. Her impact stayed with me all these years, and now it’s my turn to pass that light on to others.

I plan to support early childhood development by creating nurturing, inclusive, and culturally responsive learning environments where every child feels seen, safe, and valued. My goal is to foster social-emotional growth, language development, cognitive skills, and curiosity through developmentally appropriate practices. I believe that early childhood is the most critical time in a person's life, and as an educator, I want to lay a foundation that helps children thrive not only in school, but in life. I currently work in a classroom where many of the children have special needs and receive early intervention services. This has deepened my understanding of how individualized support, patience, and intentional strategies can make a lasting difference. I use a variety of tools—visual aids, sign language, sensory activities, songs, and routines—to meet children where they are and help them build on their strengths. My approach is rooted in empathy, observation, and flexibility. I believe in child-led learning and honoring each child’s unique developmental path. I also strongly believe in the importance of family engagement in early learning. As a mother of four, I know how critical it is for families to feel like partners in their child’s growth. I plan to support development by building strong relationships with families—listening to their voices, learning from their experiences, and keeping them informed and involved in their child’s progress. I want families to feel welcomed, supported, and respected in my classroom, no matter their background. What led me to this field was my own personal journey. I grew up in a very low-income household where opportunities were limited, and I often struggled in school. But in fourth grade, I had a teacher who changed my life. Ms. Garcia didn’t just teach me—she cared for me. She noticed when I was struggling emotionally and created a space where I felt seen and safe. Her compassion gave me hope and sparked a dream in me to one day become that kind of teacher for someone else. I am also the first in my family and generation to attend and graduate college. That alone is a huge motivation. I know what it means to face barriers—and I want to help children and families overcome theirs. My own experiences, both as a student and as a mother, drive me to ensure that all children have access to quality education, loving teachers, and the chance to succeed—regardless of their circumstances. In every child I work with, I see potential. I see futures full of promise. And I know that if I continue to show up with patience, love, and professional knowledge, I can help children grow into confident, curious, and capable learners. Early childhood education isn’t just a job for me—it’s my calling. I am committed to supporting development through inclusive practices, meaningful connections, and a deep belief in every child’s worth. This is more than a career—it’s my purpose.

The Change I Hope to See in Education If I could change one thing in the education system, it would be how we hire and support teachers—especially in special education. Too often, schools focus solely on credentials and overlook passion, cultural awareness, and lived experience—qualities that can truly transform a child’s life. Hiring educators who reflect the communities they serve and equipping them with proper support would create lasting, positive change for students—especially those from marginalized, low-income backgrounds or those with special needs. I say this not just as a future educator, but as someone who lived on the other side of the system. I grew up in a very low-income household and am the first in my generation and family to graduate college. As a child, I often carried burdens too heavy for someone my age—yet it was a teacher who changed everything. My fourth-grade teacher, Ms. Garcia, didn’t just see a student who struggled—she saw a child who needed safety, love, and encouragement. She taught with her heart, not just her degree. Her patience and kindness helped me feel seen and capable, and I have never forgotten the way she made me feel. Now that I’m walking my own path toward becoming an early childhood educator, I carry her influence with me. I currently work in a school where many children receive early intervention and support for developmental delays. I’ve witnessed firsthand how important it is for teachers to meet children where they are—to recognize their individual needs and help them thrive through inclusive, compassionate, and culturally responsive teaching. I’ve also seen how hard teachers work with little support—emotionally, professionally, and financially. If I could shift the system, I would advocate for hiring practices that value a candidate’s character, motivation, and lived experience just as much as their credentials. I would build more pathways for bilingual individuals, first-generation college students, and parents like myself to enter the profession. We need more teachers who understand the realities our students face and can connect with them on a deeper level. But hiring is only step one. We must also give teachers the resources they need to succeed: fair pay, mental health support, access to mentorship, and meaningful professional development. Special education teachers especially need strong collaboration with specialists, families, and administrators to prevent burnout and ensure their students get the best support. We also need to foster a culture in education where empathy is just as important as expertise. Yes, academics matter—but so do connection, compassion, and trust. Without those, children who are neurodivergent, live in poverty, or face trauma at home are at risk of slipping through the cracks. We must build classrooms that are emotionally safe and inclusive if we truly want to help children succeed. One of the most powerful reminders of this came during my time working with a toddler who had significant developmental delays. When I first met him, he was mostly nonverbal, avoided eye contact, and didn’t participate in group activities. While some saw him as difficult to engage, I saw a child trying to communicate in his own way. I took the time to build a relationship—joining him during solo play, mirroring his actions, and speaking gently even when he didn’t respond. I noticed how his body relaxed when I sang certain songs or how he’d make brief eye contact when I used simple sign language. Over time, those small signs of trust grew. He began responding to his name. Then one day, he reached out and grabbed my hand, guiding me toward a toy. A few weeks later, he said his first word in the classroom: “ball.” When I shared his progress with his family, they were overcome with emotion. For the first time, they felt hope. They thanked me for seeing their child, for not giving up, and for believing in him when others had doubts. That moment affirmed everything I believe about early childhood education: every child has potential. We just need to be willing to look closer, try harder, and lead with love. Moments like that fuel my purpose. I don’t want to be a teacher who just checks boxes or follows a script. I want to be a teacher who helps children feel loved, capable, and safe every single day. I want to build strong partnerships with families, welcome their cultures and voices into my classroom, and create environments where all children can grow. And it all goes back to Ms. Garcia—the teacher who saw me when I felt invisible. At a time when my family was struggling and school felt like the only stable place in my life, she showed up for me in every way that mattered. She didn’t just teach me academics; she made me feel important. She stayed after school to help me write my first short story when I was too nervous to even begin. She sat beside me patiently, never making me feel ashamed for not knowing how. And when I turned it in, she smiled and told me I had a gift. That moment sparked something in me. For the first time, I felt like I had something to offer. Ms. Garcia didn’t just help me survive school—she gave me a reason to dream bigger. Because of her, I believe in the power of teachers to shape lives far beyond the classroom. Now, as a mom of four, I think about the kind of educators I want my children to have. I want them to have teachers who see their whole selves—who are trained, supported, and most importantly, driven by love and belief in their students. That’s the kind of teacher I am becoming. That’s the kind of change I hope to inspire in the system. Changing how we hire and support educators won’t happen overnight, but I am committed to being part of that transformation. Not just by talking about it—but by modeling it. By standing in front of my students and choosing, every day, to teach with heart, to lead with empathy, and to never underestimate the power of believing in a child.

Empowering Future Generations: A Required K–12 Financial Literacy Class If I could create a class that every student in grades K through 12 would be required to take, it would focus on financial literacy and real-world money management. Too often, students graduate high school without understanding even the most basic aspects of personal finance, such as budgeting, taxes, credit, or how to buy their first home. I believe that equipping young people with this knowledge would have a lifelong impact, empowering them to make informed choices and break cycles of debt or poverty. The class would start in early grades by teaching age-appropriate lessons about money. For example, kindergarteners could learn about identifying coins and understanding that money is earned through work. As students progress through elementary school, they would practice setting simple savings goals, distinguishing between needs and wants, and understanding how spending decisions affect their lives. In middle school, the curriculum would grow more sophisticated. Students would learn to create basic budgets, balance a checkbook, and explore how banks and credit unions work. This phase would also introduce the concept of credit—how borrowing money can be both helpful and harmful. Students would begin to understand the consequences of late payments, high-interest loans, and the importance of saving for emergencies. By high school, the class would cover advanced topics that many adults still struggle to grasp. Students would complete units on filing taxes, including what W-2s, 1099s, and I-9s are and why they matter. They would learn to read pay stubs and understand deductions. Lessons would explain credit scores in detail—how they are calculated, why they matter for getting loans or renting apartments, and what habits can improve them. Finally, the class would walk students step by step through the process of buying their first home. They would learn about mortgages, down payments, interest rates, and how to shop for the best loan terms. The goal would be to remove the fear and confusion that often surrounds these big milestones so that students feel confident when they enter adulthood. I believe this class could have an extraordinary impact on individuals and society as a whole. Financial stress is one of the leading causes of anxiety and relationship problems among adults. By teaching kids early and reinforcing the lessons throughout their school years, we could help prevent many of the financial mistakes that trap people in debt or limit their opportunities. Students would graduate not only with academic knowledge but also with practical skills that affect every aspect of their futures.

I have chosen to pursue higher education because I am determined to break the cycle of poverty and struggle that has been a constant part of my life. Growing up in a low-income family, I faced many challenges, including financial insecurity and limited opportunities. However, I realized that in order to create a better future for myself and my children, education was the key. College is not just a personal achievement; it is a tool to build a more stable and hopeful life for my family and me. As the first person in my family to attend college, I’ve faced unique challenges. The path has been exciting yet overwhelming. To prepare for this journey, I’ve worked tirelessly. I’ve juggled multiple jobs to cover tuition and other expenses, often spending long nights studying after working long days. Balancing work, parenting, and studying has been exhausting, but my determination to change the trajectory of my life has kept me going. I knew that no matter how difficult it got, I couldn’t afford to give up on this opportunity. These sacrifices have taught me invaluable lessons in perseverance and time management. I’ve learned to prioritize my responsibilities and stay focused on my long-term goals. Without family members who had been through college, I had to navigate the college process on my own. I sought guidance from advisors and mentors whenever needed and made it a priority to learn everything I could about higher education to ensure I was prepared. What keeps me going is not just the promise of a better life for myself, but the desire to set an example for my children and others in my community. I want them to know that despite the struggles they may face, they can still achieve their dreams through hard work and determination. I want to show them that success isn’t determined by where you come from, but by how hard you’re willing to work to change your circumstances. Pursuing higher education is not only about personal achievement but about breaking generational cycles and creating opportunities for future generations. This journey is just the beginning, and I am excited for what lies ahead, both for me and my family. Although we all struggle in life I knew I had to start somewhere and that somewhere for me was going to school to better my self and to create a better outcome for my children's future as well.

I believe that my unique talents and skills, particularly my ability to empathize and connect with others, will play a pivotal role in helping build a more empathetic and understanding global community. My passion for education and my commitment to teaching students to embrace diversity and kindness will allow me to foster positive change, not just in the classroom, but in the larger world as well. One of the core skills I bring is the ability to see and appreciate others’ perspectives, regardless of their background, culture, or personal circumstances. Growing up in a Hispanic family, I have developed a strong understanding of the importance of community, mutual respect, and compassion. I believe these qualities are vital for creating a more harmonious and inclusive world. By integrating these values into my teaching, I can help children understand that despite our differences, we all share fundamental human experiences that deserve empathy and understanding. In the classroom, I plan to nurture these qualities by creating an environment where respect for others is at the forefront. I will encourage my students to be curious about other cultures, to listen to people with different viewpoints, and to offer kindness without judgment. This will not only prepare them to be compassionate individuals but will also equip them with the tools to engage positively with the world. I want my students to leave my classroom with an understanding that empathy is a powerful tool for resolving conflicts, bridging divides, and creating connections. Additionally, my skills in communication and collaboration will enable me to foster relationships within a diverse community. I plan to work closely with other educators, families, and community members to create a supportive and inclusive atmosphere. By promoting open dialogue and actively listening to the concerns and ideas of others, I can contribute to a collective effort to break down barriers and build understanding. Beyond my classroom, I hope to use my role as an educator to advocate for greater empathy and inclusivity in the wider world. I will continue to educate myself about global issues, seek out diverse perspectives, and engage in conversations that promote mutual respect and understanding. Whether through the lessons I teach or the actions I take, I will always strive to create spaces where empathy and love are the guiding principles. Ultimately, my goal is to not only build an empathetic classroom but to contribute to a more compassionate world where people of all backgrounds can connect with each other and support one another in meaningful ways. I truly believe that small actions of kindness and understanding, when multiplied, have the power to make a significant global impact.

I come from a Hispanic family that has shaped my identity in ways that go beyond just cultural traditions. Growing up, my family instilled in me the importance of hard work, resilience, and the deep value of family. These values are at the core of everything I do. In our household, education was always seen as a bridge to better opportunities, but also as a means of lifting up not only ourselves but our community as well. The love and support from my family created a strong foundation, and they encouraged me to pursue my dreams, even when the path wasn’t always clear or easy. Being part of a Hispanic family has also influenced the way I see the world and interact with it. It has taught me to value connections, both with people and with my roots. Family is everything—whether it’s those related by blood or those we choose to consider family. There is a sense of belonging that comes from being part of a tight-knit community, one where everyone supports each other, and where success is celebrated as much as overcoming challenges. This sense of community has fueled my desire to give back, especially to those who may not always have the same opportunities or support. My upbringing has also made me more aware of the importance of diversity and inclusion in all aspects of life. I understand the need to create spaces where people feel seen, heard, and valued for who they are, regardless of their background. These values guide how I approach teaching and how I hope to impact my students. I want them to feel like they belong and to know that their voices matter. Just as my family showed me the strength in my heritage, I want to empower my students to embrace their own unique backgrounds and to see those backgrounds as something to be proud of. Additionally, being from a Hispanic family has taught me resilience. Life hasn’t always been easy, and we’ve had to navigate challenges, both as a family and as a community. These experiences have shaped my perspective, making me more empathetic to the struggles of others and more determined to help create positive change. It has instilled in me the belief that no matter the obstacles we face, we can overcome them with perseverance and support from those around us. As I move forward in my career, my goal is to be a teacher who not only educates but also instills in children the importance of caring for others, regardless of their skin color, religion, or background. I believe that love is something that should be shown regardless of the challenges we face as humans. It’s my mission to teach my students that true kindness knows no boundaries and that showing compassion to others is a fundamental part of who we are. I hope to create a classroom environment where every child feels respected, valued, and loved, and where they learn the importance of loving others no matter what differences they may have. In everything I do, I carry the lessons and the values from my Hispanic background—hard work, resilience, community, and pride in who I am. These are the qualities that inspire my passion for education, and they are the qualities I hope to pass on to the students I have the privilege of teaching.

The inspiration for becoming a teacher comes from a powerful and unforgettable experience I had in fourth grade with a teacher who saw me for more than just a student. She didn’t just care about my academic performance—she cared about me as a whole person. There were times when I came to school looking rough, not just physically but emotionally, and she noticed. When I was struggling with personal challenges, she didn’t ignore it or push it aside; instead, she took the time to nurture me. She was there for me when I felt invisible and when I didn't have the support I needed elsewhere. Her ability to see beyond the surface, to recognize when I needed more than just lessons from a textbook, left a lasting impact on me. She cared for my well-being, making sure I felt comfortable, safe, and valued in her classroom. I vividly remember moments when she would ask me how I was doing, not just in terms of schoolwork, but in life. Her kindness and attention made me feel seen and understood. She took the time to show me that my worth wasn’t defined by my grades or how I appeared in class. I was more than just a student to her—I was a person who deserved to be cared for, nurtured, and encouraged. This experience deeply shaped my view of education and the role a teacher can play in a student’s life. I didn’t just want to be a teacher who focused on academic success; I wanted to be a teacher who could make a difference in the lives of children who might be struggling with things beyond their control. I knew that I wanted to create an environment where students felt not only safe but loved. A classroom should be a sanctuary for every student—a place where they can grow, not only intellectually but emotionally, socially, and personally. I plan to use the lessons I learned from that teacher to inspire my own students. Like her, I want to make sure every student in my classroom feels like they are seen, heard, and valued for who they are. I want to provide a sense of security for students who may lack that at home. My approach to teaching will be rooted in empathy, compassion, and patience. I will always make it a priority to check in with my students, to show them that they are important not only for their potential but for who they are in the present moment. I believe that when students feel loved and supported, they are more likely to reach their full potential, both inside and outside the classroom. This is the legacy I want to carry forward. I want my students to know that no matter what challenges they face, they are capable, they are worthy, and they are loved. My goal is to create a classroom environment where students are encouraged to be their authentic selves, where their struggles are acknowledged, and where they feel empowered to succeed, knowing they have a teacher who genuinely cares about them. In a world that often focuses on achievement over well-being, I believe it is essential for teachers to offer both. I hope to inspire my students, just as my teacher inspired me, by showing them that they are more than their circumstances—they are more than enough.

Olivia Rodrigo’s song “Teenage Dream” from her album GUTS taps into the raw emotional intensity that defines the adolescent experience, especially in the lyric: “They all say that it gets better, it gets better the more you grow. Yeah, they all say that it gets better, it gets better, but what if I don’t?” These words capture the silent fear that so many teens face—the fear of not improving, not growing, and not living up to the expectations placed on them. This lyric resonates deeply with the emotional weight I felt as a teenager, reflecting the complex and often overwhelming pressure to become someone better, someone more whole, while secretly doubting whether that transformation would ever happen. During adolescence, you are constantly bombarded with the message that things will get better, that the confusion and struggles you’re facing now will eventually give way to clarity and self-assurance. Adults, teachers, and even peers tell you that all the uncertainty will fade, that you’ll grow into yourself, and things will fall into place. But when you’re in the thick of it—dealing with emotional highs and lows, struggling with self-identity, and grappling with expectations—those reassurances can feel distant, almost impossible to believe. You want to trust that things will improve, but what if they don’t? What if you stay stuck in this place of insecurity and doubt? This lyric perfectly encapsulates that fear, that gnawing sense of being left behind while others move forward. For me, this lyric speaks to the fear of failure and the paralyzing worry that I wouldn’t grow into the person I was supposed to become. During my teenage years, I felt an immense pressure to succeed—whether academically, socially, or personally. It often felt like I was on a journey where I didn’t know the destination, and every misstep would somehow reflect on my future. This uncertainty is exhausting. Rodrigo captures the inner dialogue so many teens have—the doubt, the anxiety, and the fear of not living up to the person you’re supposed to be. It’s the worry that things won’t fall into place, and you’ll somehow fail at becoming yourself. This lyric also speaks to the suffocating weight of perfectionism. Society tends to place unrealistic standards on teenagers, pushing them to excel in every area—grades, relationships, appearance. And when you inevitably fall short of these impossible ideals, it’s easy to internalize a sense of failure. The fear of stagnation, of not improving or growing in the ways others expect, adds to that emotional burden. In these lines, Rodrigo captures the emotional rollercoaster of adolescence—the intense pressure to change, the fear of not doing enough, and the haunting possibility that maybe, just maybe, things won’t get better.