In the future, I want to become an educator who equips students with the tools to thrive not just academically, but in life. I plan to teach financial literacy, mental health awareness, and the power of asking questions. Students should know how to earn and keep money, how to care for their minds, and how to think critically about the world around them. These are not “extras” they are essentials. I want to be the teacher who gives students what I wish I had earlier: knowledge that builds confidence, independence, and purpose. Being Black means being loud, brave, unapologetically you. It means being fearless, strong, unwavering and yes, the most feared. I always say the one thing the world fears most is a Black person with education. Because once we are fed the information we need, we are unstoppable. I chose to attend Southern University because I’m a 36-year-old single mother who just had her first child. I realized I couldn’t ask something of my son that I hadn’t done myself. So I set the standard: if I can earn my associate’s at 34 and my bachelor’s at 36, then at the very least, he can give me a high school diploma and a few years of college to see if it’s for him. To me, an HBCU is the only place where African Americans learn our history truthfully. If we don’t learn it, who will be left to tell it?

The name of my class would be : Equipping Students for Life: A Class on Financial Literacy, Mental Health, and the Power of Questions If I could create one class that every K–12 student would be required to take, it would be a course called “Life Literacy: Thriving Through Money, Mind, and Meaning.” This class would weave together five essential strands investing, credit, budgeting, mental health, and the power of questions into a single, developmentally appropriate curriculum that grows with students from kindergarten through high school. Its purpose would be simple but transformative: to prepare students not just for tests, but for life. Too often, students graduate knowing how to solve for x but not how to manage a credit score, create a budget, or invest in their future. Financial literacy is not a luxury it’s a necessity. In this course, students would learn how to earn, save, and grow money, but more importantly, how to keep it. They would explore the real cost of credit, the basics of compound interest, and how to make informed financial decisions. These are not skills that should be reserved for adulthood or for those lucky enough to learn them at home. Every child deserves access to this knowledge early and often. Equally vital is the inclusion of mental health education. Children need to know that their mental well-being is just as important as their academic performance. This class would normalize conversations around emotions, stress, and self-care. Students would learn how to identify their feelings, seek help when needed, and build resilience. By embedding mental health into the curriculum, we would be sending a powerful message: your mind matters. You matter. The final thread teaching the power of questions might seem abstract, but it’s the glue that holds the course together. When students learn to ask thoughtful, critical questions, they become empowered learners and decision-makers. Whether they’re evaluating a financial offer, navigating a tough emotional moment, or exploring their identity, the ability to ask “why,” “how,” and “what if” gives them agency. It turns passive learners into active participants in their own lives. This class would not be a one-time elective, but a continuous thread throughout a student’s education. In early grades, it might look like role-playing with play money, journaling about feelings, and asking questions during story time. In middle school, students could simulate managing a household budget or explore how social media affects mental health. By high school, they’d be investing in mock portfolios, analyzing credit reports, and leading peer discussions on emotional well-being. The impact of this course would be profound. It would close opportunity gaps by giving all students not just the privileged few the tools to thrive. It would reduce stigma around mental health and equip students with lifelong coping strategies. And it would cultivate a generation of financially savvy, emotionally intelligent, and intellectually curious individuals who are ready not just to survive adulthood, but to shape it. In short, this class would teach students how to take care of their money, their minds, and their meaning. And that, I believe, is the kind of education every child deserves.

Early childhood development is one of the most critical stages in a person’s life. The foundation laid during these early years shapes a child’s ability to learn, relate, and thrive. That’s why I’ve committed myself to this field not just as a career choice, but as a calling. As a mother, a caregiver, and now an aspiring educator, I understand firsthand how essential it is for children to feel seen, supported, and safe in order to grow. Children need a safe space where it okay for them to explore and be a kid. I’m currently a senior at Southern University in Baton Rouge, pursuing a degree in Elementary Education with a concentration in Special Education. My goal is to become a teacher who not only educates young minds but also nurtures their emotional, social, and cognitive development. Children need educators who recognize that learning is not one-size-fits-all. That’s why I plan to reach each child by discovering their unique learning style and adapting my instruction accordingly. Whether a child learns best through movement, music, visuals, or hands-on activities I will meet them where they are. What made me pursue this field is a blend of my personal and professional experiences. I was a Girl Scout growing up, and it introduced me to leadership, empathy, and the power of community at an early age. Those early lessons in service stayed with me and continue to influence how I support others today. Later, during my student teaching, I met a child who was often dismissed due to behavioral challenges. No one engaged with him until I did. I invited him to sit by me, and although he was initially disruptive, I took him outside, walked with him, and simply listened. He told me he felt invisible. From that day on, I became his person. We worked together, and he began to thrive. That moment confirmed my passion and purpose. Early childhood development is about more than ABCs and 123s it’s about building trust, fostering curiosity, and helping children understand the world and their place in it. I want every student who enters my classroom to feel like they belong. I will support their development through trauma-informed practices, positive reinforcement, and inclusive, engaging instruction. In the future, I also hope to mentor new teachers, advocate for family engagement, and develop programs that support emotional growth alongside academics. Because when we invest in children early, we don’t just shape better students we build stronger, more resilient communities.

My passion for education and cultural literacy is rooted in the values that were instilled in me from childhood. As a former Girl Scout, I learned early on the importance of community service, leadership, and embracing diversity. Those values have stayed with me, guiding the way I move through life, parent my son, and pursue my degree in Elementary Education with a concentration in Special Education at Southern University in Baton Rouge. Growing up, the Girl Scouts gave me a sense of purpose and pride. It was one of the first places where I learned that I could lead, that my voice mattered, and that giving back wasn’t just a duty it was a joy. Today, as a 36-year-old single mother and senior in college, I carry those same principles into every space I serve. I believe that education is a powerful form of advocacy, especially for communities that have been historically overlooked. As an African American woman, I understand the importance of representation in the classroom and how deeply it impacts a child’s self-worth, identity, and ambition. I plan to be a safe space for each of my students no matter their race, disability, or cultural backgrounds. My classroom will be peaceful and a way for students feel safe being a kid and know that it is okay to make mistakes. Through my degree, I plan to use culturally responsive teaching strategies to ensure that every student feels seen and valued. I want to integrate literature, storytelling, art, and music that reflect my students’ cultures and lived experiences. I believe that when children see themselves reflected in their learning, they not only engage more they dream bigger. I plan to use the arts as a bridge to connect students from different backgrounds, fostering empathy and shared understanding in my classroom. Beyond academics, I want to make learning joyful and meaningful. I will adapt to each child’s learning style and create a safe environment where mistakes are welcome and growth is celebrated. Students need educators who believe in their potential both inside and outside of the classroom. I want to be the teacher who shows up for her students in every way someone who not only holds them accountable but also reminds them that it’s okay to be a kid. My goal is to build not just strong learners, but strong leaders. Leaders who understand the value of service, culture, and compassion just like I learned as a Girl Scout.

From a young age, I knew I was called to teach. I come from a long line of educators strong women who saw education not just as a job but as a legacy. My mother, in particular, had the most profound impact on me. As a child, she would have me check student papers, review lesson plans, and talk through projects at the kitchen table. I remember racing home from school to line up my stuffed animals and “teach” them what I had just learned that day, often mimicking my teachers’ styles and phrases. My mother never forced this path on me she simply showed me the beauty, importance, and influence of being a teacher. Watching her ignite curiosity in young minds showed me how deeply education could shape a life. Years later, during my student teaching, I found myself living that very lesson. I entered a classroom where one student stood out not because of what he said, but because of how silent he remained. Every day, he walked in, laid his head on the desk, and detached from the world around him. No one intervened. When I asked the lead teacher why, she said, “He has anger issues. We’ve learned not to bother him. He’ll only disrupt the class.” But I couldn’t ignore him. I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there. One day, I gently woke him and asked if he wanted to sit by me. As expected, he became upset and disruptive. I didn’t take it personally. Instead, I asked the teacher if we could step into the hallway. She agreed. Outside, I didn't lecture him I listened. We walked slowly up and down the hall as he shared his story. He confided that kids teased him about his clothes and that he slept in class because it was the only time people forgot he existed. That moment reshaped everything for me. I looked into the eyes of a child who didn’t need discipline he needed connection. I told him that from now on, he would sit beside me, and we would work together. “No one else in this class matters right now,” I told him. “You matter, and I see you.” From that day forward, our bond grew stronger. He began participating, turning in assignments, and even smiling a spark I hadn’t seen before. We accomplished more than just academics; we rebuilt trust. That one decision to reach out, to listen made a lasting impact not just on him, but on me. It solidified my belief that teaching is about relationships first and foremost. That experience also opened my eyes to what needs to change in education. If I could change anything, it would be to shift our focus from excessive standardized testing to meaningful, hands-on learning and formative assessments. I believe that students show us their understanding best through doing not bubbling in answer sheets. Formative assessments allow educators to meet students where they are, adapt instruction to their needs, and gather real-time insight into their thinking. While quizzes and tests may have their place, I believe assessment should inform instruction not define the student. Using formative tools without attaching grades helps create a space where students can make mistakes, ask questions, and grow without fear. Every child deserves a teacher who is willing to learn them not just teach content. That’s who I plan to be. I believe students need someone who can hold them accountable while still making room for grace. They need a classroom where they feel safe to explore, fail, and try again. I want to be a teacher who adapts to each student’s unique learning style and makes learning fun, accessible, and relevant. Whether that means incorporating movement, real-world projects, visual supports, or peer collaboration, I’ll do whatever it takes to reach every learner. As I prepare to graduate from Southern University in Baton Rouge, I carry with me every lesson personal and professional that has brought me here. I am a 36-year-old single mother who has faced adversity, but I’ve never stopped moving forward. I’ve worked multiple jobs while pursuing my education, raised a child, and helped care for the children of my late best friend. I understand struggle, and I understand resilience. I want to pass both of those lessons on to my students. To me, education is not just a career it’s a calling. And it all starts with the teacher. Before a student can become a doctor, lawyer, scientist, or artist, they must first encounter someone who believes in them. Teachers are the first impression. We plant the seed that grows into everything else. I plan to make that impression count for every child who walks into my classroom, especially the ones the world is quickest to give up on.

I am pursuing a career in teaching because I believe education is more than academics it's about connection, empowerment, and shaping lives beyond the classroom. As a 36 year old single mother, a survivor, and a lifelong learner, I’ve come to understand that the true impact of a teacher doesn’t stop at the final bell. It extends into a child’s confidence, their sense of belonging, and their belief in what’s possible for their future. Students need a teacher who wants to impact their lives both in and outside the classroom. They deserve someone who sees them not just as learners, but as whole people with dreams, challenges, and voices that matter. I will be that teacher. I will create a space where they can make mistakes and be reminded that it’s okay to be a kid. Where accountability is paired with compassion, and learning feels like discovery rather than pressure. I want to spark something in my students that shows them the importance of education and how far education can take them. I think one of the greatest joys any teacher can hear from a student is when they come back to visit or they see them out they say "you are one teacher I will never forget" or "Because of you I too became an teacher". I am deeply committed to meeting each child where they are. Every student learns differently, and I intend to understand those differences so that I can teach in ways that connect. I will be flexible and adaptable, changing my approach whenever necessary to serve my students better. Whether that means using movement, music, visuals, or storytelling, I will make learning fun, meaningful, and accessible to every student in my care. My goal is not only to teach lessons but to equip students with tools they will carry for the rest of their lives. I want them to leave my classroom with more than knowledge, I want them to leave with self-worth, resilience, and the understanding that they are capable of greatness. I plan to learn the strengths, struggles, and stories of each student, because only then can I truly teach them. And when they move on to the next grade, I want them to remember not just what I taught but how I made them feel. Education changed my life, and I know what it means to fight for a dream. That’s why I’m passionate about helping students discover the value of perseverance and the beauty of growth. Through patience, advocacy, and love, I will build the kind of classroom I wish every child had access to one that inspires, supports, and prepares them to shine in the world beyond its walls.

Charity is not just important to me it’s part of my identity. As a 36-year-old African American woman, single mother, and survivor of domestic violence, I’ve lived through hardship and found purpose in helping others heal and rise. I’m a senior at Southern University in Baton Rouge, majoring in Elementary Education with a concentration in Special Education. My goal is to use education as a tool for empowerment, especially for children and families affected by trauma. Due to my demanding course load and reduced work hours, I’m now struggling to afford tuition and books. This scholarship would help me cross the finish line and continue the work I’ve dedicated my life to supporting others through compassion, service, and advocacy. Community service is the foundation of my life. I volunteer with Penelope House, a shelter for domestic violence survivors, where I provide care items and mentorship. I work in a local hospital’s emergency room, often comforting women in crisis. I also serve through Jack and Jill of America, Incorporated, where we encourage women to embrace strength and vulnerability and reminding them it’s okay to take the cape off. Charity, to me, means showing up with empathy, presence, and love. I plan to continue giving back through trauma-informed teaching, mentoring young girls, and eventually opening a nonprofit that supports women and children facing adversity. My life’s mission is simple: to uplift others the way I was once uplifted, and to lead with heart.

My name is Anna, and I am a 36-year-old African American woman, single mother, and senior at Southern University in Baton Rouge, pursuing a degree in Elementary Education with a concentration in Special Education. My journey to this point has been anything but easy, but it has been purposeful. I’ve survived domestic violence, balanced full-time jobs with full-time studies, and cared not only for my own child but for my late best friend’s children as well. Despite all odds, I’ve remained committed to the promise I made to myself and my son that I would finish my degree and use it to give back to the communities that have shaped me. Now, as I approach graduation, the load has become heavier. My academic demands have increased significantly, forcing me to reduce my work hours. As a result, I’m struggling to afford tuition, books, and other essentials. This scholarship is not just financial assistance it’s a lifeline. It will help me cross the finish line, not just for me, but for the children I teach, the young women I mentor, and my son, who watches everything I do. Although I am not pursuing a traditional business or agricultural career, my mission is grounded in building human capital cultivating young minds, supporting families, and developing inclusive educational spaces that empower others to reach their full potential. As an educator, I see my role as both a nurturer and a change agent. I plan to implement trauma-informed practices and culturally responsive teaching methods that honor the diverse needs of my students, many of whom face challenges similar to those I’ve overcome. My community service extends well beyond the classroom. I am an active member of Jack and Jill of America, Incorporated, where I help support and empower mothers and their children through service and leadership. I volunteer regularly with Penelope House, a shelter for survivors of domestic violence, where I donate personal care items and mentor women in crisis. I also work in the emergency room at a local hospital, where I often encounter women in distress, victims of abuse and neglect whom I support through both practical help and heartfelt encouragement. Every step I’ve taken has been with purpose. I’ve dedicated my life to helping others rise despite their circumstances, because I know exactly what it feels like to fight for a better future. With this scholarship, I will be able to complete my degree and continue that mission rooted in service, sustained by resilience, and powered by love.

As an African American woman from Mobile, Alabama, I’ve experienced firsthand how systemic inequities can shape the trajectory of a woman’s life. From childhood, I understood the silent strength women are expected to carry the roles we’re assigned without consent and the sacrifices we’re expected to make without recognition. As a survivor of domestic violence, a single mother, and an active community advocate, I’ve chosen to turn my experiences into a mission: to empower, uplift, and be a voice for those still fighting to be heard. I am currently pursuing a degree in Elementary Education with a concentration in Special Education at Southern University in Baton Rouge. My purpose is rooted in more than academic achievement it’s about transformation. Education, for me, is a bridge. It connects pain to purpose, marginalization to empowerment, and silence to advocacy. I see my future not just as a teacher, but as a builder of safe spaces where BIPOC children, especially young girls, are encouraged to speak, dream, and heal. I am also a proud member of Jack and Jill of America, Incorporated a national organization dedicated to nurturing African American children and empowering women. Through this network, I help foster strength, sisterhood, and shared support. One of the messages we uplift is that it’s okay to take the cape off. So often, women especially Black women are expected to be everything to everyone: the mother, the wife, the provider, the counselor, the caregiver. And yet, despite wearing every hat, we are often underpaid, overlooked, and expected to suppress emotion. This is why I am so passionate about reminding women that asking for help is not weakness it’s wisdom. And being a woman is not a limitation it’s a privilege. I also volunteer with Penelope House, a shelter for survivors of domestic violence. I regularly bring personal items to women there, share my story, and speak life into them. My outreach doesn’t stop at the shelter, I also work in the emergency room of a local hospital, where I often encounter women fleeing abuse. I make it my mission to connect with them, share hope, and remind them that healing is possible. With my degree, I plan to return to classrooms and communities that are too often ignored. I will incorporate trauma-informed teaching, cultural responsiveness, and advocacy-based mentorship. I want to raise up confident, empowered young women who know from the beginning that their voice matters, their story matters, and they matter. Because we don’t just wear many titles, we earn them. And it’s time the world values everything we carry.

As an African American woman from Mobile, Alabama, my identity and experiences are deeply intertwined with my purpose: to empower, uplift, and advocate for BIPOC women who have long been silenced by systemic barriers and social expectations. The challenges I’ve faced surviving domestic violence, raising a child as a single mother, navigating financial hardship have shaped me into a woman of resilience and conviction. I am committed to using my education not just as a personal achievement, but as a tool to transform the lives of others. I am an active member of Jack and Jill of America, Incorporated, an organization rooted in service, leadership, and the empowerment of women and families. Through this community, I’ve had the honor of working with women from all walks of life offering encouragement, resources, and sisterhood. One of the most powerful lessons we promote is that it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to take the cape off. We are constantly expected to be everything for everyone the mother, the provider, the cook, the counselor, the nurturer while silently carrying our own pain. Women are often overlooked, underpaid, and unprotected. Yet despite that, we rise. This is why I’m so passionate about empowering other women. I want little girls who look like me to understand early that being a woman is not a burden it’s a privilege. We bear so much because we are strong, capable, and more than equipped to handle whatever life throws at us. My goal as an educator is to instill that confidence in my students from day one. I want to create classrooms where young girls of color feel seen, heard, and believed in where their voices are celebrated and their stories are valued. With my degree in Elementary Education and Special Education, I will focus on creating trauma-informed, culturally responsive learning environments. I plan to partner with community leaders, mental health providers, and grassroots organizations to build bridges between schools and the support systems our students and families need. I also aim to design and lead mentorship programs for girls, creating spaces where they can grow into their identities with pride and purpose. But my impact won’t stop at the classroom door. I will continue to share my story of survival, of loss, and of triumph to inspire and advocate for social justice and equity. Through education, outreach, and relentless empathy, I will remain dedicated to empowering women and shifting the systems that too often fail them. We are more than enough and it’s time the world sees it.

I am dedicated to empowering women because I am one, an African American woman who has lived through hardship, survived domestic violence, being a single mother, adopted at birth and turned pain into purpose. I know what it means to be overlooked, underpaid, and unprotected in a world that too often asks women to carry it all while receiving so little in return. I feel far to many women pour from a glass half empty with nothing left for themselves to have as nourishment, love, support, encouragement and hope. Women are expected to wear every title wife, mother, doctor, cook, counselor, emotional anchor, breadwinner while also being told we’re too sensitive, too ambitious, or not enough. We take care of everyone, yet rarely does anyone stop to ask how we’re doing. I’ve lived this reality. I’ve held it together for my child, for my community, for the children I now help raise after losing my best friend to domestic violence. And through all of it, I’ve found a deeper calling: to speak life into women who have been silenced, and to teach little girls who look like me that it is a privilege to be a woman. My career goal is to become a trauma-informed educator and advocate. With a degree in Elementary Education and Special Education, I want to create spaces where every child especially those affected by abuse, grief, or instability feels seen, safe, and valued. I want to break cycles of silence, shame, and self-doubt by showing up as the kind of adult I once needed. I also want to create a safe space for mother's like myself who need help and just someone to understand where they are in life. I want women to feel supported and encouraged. I want all women to understand that they are not alone and that no matter what life may bring that they are worthy of happiness and it is life outside those titles. It's okay to take time for yourself, it is okay to say no sometimes, and most importantly, it is okay to say you are not okay. Beyond the classroom, I will continue advocating for women through mentorship, volunteering, and public storytelling. My mission is to make sure no woman feels invisible and no girl questions her worth. Because the truth is, women wear all these titles because we are strong and we are more than equipped to handle anything life throws our way.

Social media has fundamentally reshaped how people present themselves and perceive others but the emotional cost is becoming impossible to ignore. What was once a tool for connection and creativity has increasingly become a source of anxiety, low self-esteem, and distorted self-worth impacting everyone from toddlers watching simple videos to adults measuring their lives against curated perfection. One of the most damaging consequences of social media is the pressure it places on users to appear perfect. People are constantly bombarded with filtered images, staged success stories, and celebratory milestones. Over time, this fosters the belief that unless you’ve reached a certain point in life bought a house, gotten married, achieved career success you’re somehow behind, unaccomplished, or even "less blessed." This illusion of constant success can make real-life struggles feel shameful instead of normal, leaving people feeling isolated and inadequate. Filters and editing tools have also distorted beauty standards and self-image, especially among young users. With one tap, users can alter their faces and bodies to fit narrow definitions of attractiveness causing many to feel that their unedited selves aren’t enough. This has sparked a mental health crisis, particularly among teens and preteens, who are developing their identities in the shadow of digital illusion. Worse, social media has made bullying easier and more harmful. What once took place in hallways or behind backs can now happen instantly, publicly, and relentlessly with the click of a button. A cruel post or comment can spread to millions in seconds. For victims, the humiliation isn’t confined to a moment; it lives online, often permanently, turning private pain into public spectacle. Yet it’s important to recognize that social media isn’t inherently negative. It has the potential to uplift voices, build communities, and spark important conversations. The challenge lies in how we use it and how we support those impacted by it. To begin addressing these harms, we must start with digital literacy. Teaching young people to critically engage with content, recognize unrealistic portrayals, and understand the emotional consequences of online engagement can foster healthier self-esteem and relationships. In schools and homes, honest conversations about self-worth, boundaries, and mental health should replace silence and shame. Tech companies, too, must play a role by building in safeguards like content warnings, age-appropriate settings, and tools to report and limit exposure to harmful content. Platforms can also amplify voices that promote authenticity, kindness, and resilience reminding users that their value isn’t measured in likes or followers. Ultimately, the solution lies in fostering real connection over online validation, encouraging self-worth that’s grounded in authenticity, and creating online spaces that nurture rather than harm. By acknowledging the impact and working collectively, we can protect minds and hearts at every age.

Continuing my education beyond graduation is not just a goal it’s a responsibility I feel deeply, both as a mother and as an advocate for children and families impacted by trauma. I plan to pursue a master’s degree in Education with a concentration in Trauma-Informed Practices or Counseling, so I can expand my ability to support students who face challenges beyond the classroom. I personally feel that everyone needs a safe space where they can be unapologetically themselves without judgement. I want to create that space not only for my students but for families. Mental health is something that far to many people ignore. I plan to use my Masters Degree to help people understand that it is perfectly fine to not be okay and to not always have the answers. Life is hard, and without being able to cope or understand why things happen it can turn people into things they never thought they would be. I plan to give people hope, a way to cope with things that was sent to break them. The cards I was dealt have not always been easy, which is why I never judge people and I am able to be so caring and understanding. I know what it feels like to not have a voice, not have a safe space to vent, to not be protected, and to feel alone in this world. My lived experience as a domestic violence survivor, caregiver, and educator has opened my eyes to the importance of educators who can recognize, respond to, and support children navigating personal adversity. I’ve seen how trauma can hinder not only academic success but also a child’s sense of safety and self-worth. A higher degree will allow me to deepen my understanding of how to build emotionally responsive classrooms, collaborate meaningfully with families and mental health professionals, and serve as a bridge between schools and the broader support systems students need. My long-term vision is to advocate for policy changes, provide mentorship for at-risk youth, and eventually develop professional development programs that train other educators to work from a place of empathy and resilience. I want to help shift the culture of education from one that sometimes overlooks pain to one that holds space for healing. Post-graduation, continued education will strengthen my voice, sharpen my skills, and give me the tools to turn the classroom into a sanctuary not just for learning, but for transformation.

I am an African American woman and a survivor of domestic violence. This is not just a cause I care about it is part of my lived experience and my purpose. In my early 20s, I woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and could no longer recognize the woman staring back at me. The emotional and physical trauma had stolen my spirit. My breaking point came when my mother told me she couldn’t bear to watch me suffer anymore. That same morning, I called my father, and with nothing but the clothes on my back, I boarded a plane from Alabama to California. I never looked back. Later, tragedy struck again. My childhood best friend, Satori Richardson, was brutally murdered by her abuser stabbed 32 times, choked with an extension cord, and left to die in her bathtub on the Fourth of July. Losing her changed me forever. I vowed to keep her name alive and become an advocate for all women who suffer in silence. Today, I help care for her children, my godchildren, and I speak life into every survivor I meet whether in the emergency room where I work, at the Penelope House shelter where I volunteer, or out in the community. I give personal care items, I listen, I share my story and Satori’s, and I remind each survivor that they are seen, valued, and not alone. Pursuing a degree in Elementary Education with Special Education is my path forward. I want to create safe, understanding spaces for children who carry trauma into the classroom because I’ve seen the toll it takes firsthand. After my godchildren lost their mother, I watched them struggle emotionally and academically. I knew then that I was called to be the kind of educator who not only teaches but truly sees and supports every child. I am not angry at anything that I went through in life nor the losses that I had to take along the way. I am grateful because it shaped me to be the loving, caring, and understanding person that I am. As an educator, I personally feel that you have to be stern but understanding. I am a safe place for a lot of people because of me knowing first hand what it feels like to not be protected. Through this degree, I intend to become an advocate within schools and across systems coordinating care and championing early intervention, especially for African American women and children impacted by domestic violence. My mission is to be a voice, a light, and a lifeline just as others were for me.