Watching my volleyball teammate claw her way back from ACL surgery was a wake-up call. Her grit in physical therapy was inspiring, but what really grabbed me was the science behind her recovery—the exact angles of her knee bends, the forces her body was handling, the data charting her progress. That’s when it hit me: I want a career in orthopedics and physical therapy, where math and human determination collide. High school AP math classes were my starting point, though I’ll be real—calculus scared me at first. It felt like a maze of abstract concepts. But then I started seeing how derivatives and integrals apply to the real world, and suddenly, it clicked. Now, I can’t unsee calculus in the field I’m chasing, and the BOLD Learner Calculus Scholarship feels like the perfect boost to help me turn this spark into a career. Think about biomechanics. When a physical therapist watches someone walk or toss a ball, they’re basically doing calculus. Derivatives show how speed shifts during a sprint or how force changes when you land a jump. This isn’t just classroom stuff—it’s how we figure out why injuries happen and how to stop them. I’ve shadowed therapists at a local clinic, and they use motion analysis software packed with calculus-based algorithms to check how patients move. The tech side blows my mind. Orthopedic implants have to handle insane forces while letting people move naturally, and that takes serious math to design. I’ve read about robotic surgical systems that lean on calculus to nail precise incision angles and predict recovery outcomes. As someone who’s grown up glued to tech, I’m stoked to be part of the generation blending these tools into patient care. What’s really cool is predictive analytics in rehab. Clinics now use software to track how patients are doing and tweak treatment plans based on recovery curves—yep, powered by differential equations and optimization tricks from calculus. I talked to a therapist recently who showed me her clinic’s system that predicts which exercises work best for certain injuries. That kind of math isn’t just neat; it’s changing lives. Even diagnostic tools like MRIs rely on calculus. Those crystal-clear scans showing exactly where an injury is? They’re built using integral equations. Without calculus, doctors would be guessing in the dark. I won’t lie, calculus can be a beast. Sometimes I’m staring at a problem, wondering why it matters. But then I think of my teammate’s comeback, the patients I’ve watched, or the tech being developed to revolutionize rehab. Every equation I wrestle with gets me closer to making a difference. The BOLD Learner Calculus Scholarship isn’t just money for school—it’s a nod to the power of math to help people. While some see calculus as a hurdle, I see it as my toolkit. With this support, I’ll build the skills to innovate in orthopedics, design better treatments, and maybe even spark the next big breakthrough in rehab tech. My dream? Use calculus to help people move better, heal quicker, and chase their goals. Every derivative I learn is a step toward making that real.

My shins ached with a throbbing pain I could no longer ignore. I thought I could juggle high school beach volleyball and indoor club volleyball at the same time. That meant two practices a day, and eventually, the toll caught up. The quick backstory is that I started figure skating at age seven and by ten, I was a national champion. By the time I entered high school, my skating career filled an entire wall with medals. My freshman year I missed being on the U.S. National Team by just one point. But in 2021, after COVID shut down the rinks, a combination of circumstances and family finances forced me to quit. It felt like my identity had been taken from me. My parents encouraged me to try volleyball. So in my sophomore year, I made the switch. Just a few months later, I played my first volleyball game. Going from a nationally ranked figure skater to a junior varsity athlete was humbling. I was behind my peers in every way, but I was determined to earn a college roster spot. That relentless pursuit, however, came at a cost. And that’s how I wound up with shin splints. While I wouldn’t call an injury “lucky,” the experience led me toward a new sense of purpose and my eventual major. My dad insisted I see a doctor, but I resisted; doctors seemed indifferent to my hopes of college recruitment. Fortunately, my dad found a physical therapist who genuinely cared about my injury and my future. It was there I discovered how my passion for sports could evolve into a viable career. During one of those visits, I noticed something: the therapist had charts and paperwork but didn’t ask about things like my nutrition or sleep—factors that clearly affect recovery. He asked how I felt, but there was no measurable data. As a female athlete, I recognized a gap. And that’s when I found my calling. Researching sports medicine, I came across startling statistics. For example, one in four athletes with an ACL tear won’t return to their prior level. My own experience echoed that lack of holistic care. No one asked about my energy levels or anything beyond “how does it feel today?” It felt like an incomplete picture. I began to wonder: what if we could change that? We already wear devices that track heart rate, sleep, and more. What if therapists could access that information in real time? I imagined a tool that could scan a week’s worth of data before a session, flag warning signs, and suggest an approach based on how an athlete is doing overall, not just feeling, but real data. To bring that vision to life, I plan to pursue a degree at the University of Louisiana Monroe that combines kinesiology, exercise science, computer science, and mathematics. Calculus will be foundational to my work. It offers a framework to model how the body responds to stress, motion, and recovery. Whether it's algorithms to predict injury risk or analyzing rates of muscle repair, I’ll need calculus to understand change, not just in theory, but in the day-to-day lives of athletes. Calculus is more than a course requirement; it links biology, physics, and engineering. In physical therapy, it models joint forces. In AI, it optimizes machine learning. In nutrition, it tracks metabolic changes. Like learning a new sport, mastering calculus takes practice and discipline, but its reach is powerful. I want to use it to create smarter, more responsive tools that empower athletes with science-backed care. That’s the impact calculus makes in the real world.

My shins ached with a throbbing pain that I could no longer ignore. I thought I could juggle high school beach volleyball and indoor club volleyball at the same time. That meant two practices a day, and well, the toll caught up. The quick backstory is that I started figure skating at age seven and by ten, I was a national champion. By the time I entered high school, my skating career eventually filled an entire wall with medals. My freshman year I missed being on the U.S. National Team by just a point. But in 2021, after COVID shut down the rinks, the combination of circumstances and family finances forced me to quit. It felt like my identity had been taken from me. But my parents encouraged me to try volleyball. So in my sophomore year, I made the switch to volleyball. Just a few months later, I played my first ever volleyball game. Going from a nationally ranked figure skater to a junior varsity team was humbling, for sure. I was behind my peers in every way, but I was determined to earn a spot on a college roster. That relentless pursuit, however, came at a cost. And that’s how I wound up with shin splints. While I wouldn’t call an injury “lucky,” the experience led me toward a new sense of purpose and eventually my chosen major. My dad insisted on seeing a doctor, but I resisted; doctors seemed indifferent to my aspirations of college recruitment. Fortunately, my dad found a physical therapist who genuinely cared about my injury and my future. It was there I discovered how my passion for sports could evolve into a viable career. During one of those visits, I realized something: The physical therapist had charts and paperwork but didn’t ask about things such as my nutrition or other metrics that would affect my therapy. He’d ask me how I felt but there was no measurable data. As a female athlete, I recognized a huge gap. And that’s when I found my calling. Researching sports medicine, I saw some startling statistics. Take, for instance, one in four athletes with an ACL tear won't play at their prior level again. Then there was my personal experience. When I was going through therapy, I noticed something odd: no one asked about my nutrition, my energy levels, or anything beyond “how does it feel today?” It felt like an incomplete picture. I started thinking, what if we could change that? We already wear devices that track heart rate, sleep, and more. What if therapists could use that information in real time? I started imagining a tool that could scan a week’s worth of data before a session, flag warning signs, and suggest an approach based on how an athlete is doing overall — not just based feelings but actual data. To realize this vision, I plan to pursue a degree at the University of Louisiana Monroe, blending kinesiology and exercise science with computer science and mathematics. I aim to develop AI systems that analyze biometric, dietary, and performance data, transforming it into actionable insights for therapists. Mathematics, including statistics and calculus, will enable me to build predictive models that adapt to each athlete’s recovery patterns, particularly for women, whose needs are often underrepresented. Like William Griggs, who encouraged his daughters to embrace science and math, I will use AI programming, biomechanics, and data analytics to create tools that make therapy more effective. These tools will shorten recovery times, reduce reinjury risks, and empower female athletes with personalized, science-driven care, inspiring more women to pursue STEM.

My shins ached with a throbbing pain that I could no longer ignore. I thought I could juggle high school beach volleyball and indoor club volleyball at the same time. That meant two practices a day, and well, the toll caught up. The quick backstory is that I started figure skating at age seven and by ten, I was a national champion. By the time I entered high school, my skating career eventually filled an entire wall with medals. My freshman year I missed being on the U.S. National Team by just a point. But in 2021, after COVID shut down the rinks, the combination of circumstances and family finances forced me to quit. It felt like my identity had been taken from me. But my parents encouraged me to try volleyball. So in my sophomore year, I made the switch to volleyball. Just a few months later, I played my first ever volleyball game. Going from a nationally ranked figure skater to a junior varsity team was humbling, for sure. I was behind my peers in every way, but I was determined to earn a spot on a college roster. That relentless pursuit, however, came at a cost. And that’s how I wound up with shin splints. While I wouldn’t call an injury “lucky,” the experience led me toward a new sense of purpose and eventually my chosen major. My dad insisted on seeing a doctor, but I resisted; doctors seemed indifferent to my aspirations of college recruitment. Fortunately, my dad found a physical therapist who genuinely cared about my injury and my future. And ironically, it was there I discovered how my passion and love for sports could evolve into a viable career. During one of those visits, I realized something that stuck with me: The physical therapist had charts and paperwork but didn’t ask about things such as my nutrition or other metrics that would affect my therapy. He’d ask me how I felt but there was no measurable data. As a female athlete, I recognized a huge gap. And that’s when I found my calling. Researching sports medicine, I saw some startling statistics. Take, for instance, one in four athletes with an ACL tear won't play at their prior level again. Then there was my personal experience. When I was going through therapy, I noticed something odd: no one asked about my nutrition, my energy levels, or anything beyond “how does it feel today?” It felt like an incomplete picture. I started thinking, what if we could change that? We already wear devices that track heart rate, sleep, and much more. What if therapists could use that information in real time? I started imagining a tool that could scan a week’s worth of data before a session, flag warning signs, and suggest an approach based on how an athlete is doing overall — not just based on a feeling but actual data. If we use tech the right way, I believe we can help players recover faster and smarter. Therapists could focus more on the person in front of them, instead of spending half the session writing notes. Athletes would feel more connected to their therapist. That’s what I want to work on. I want to help build the systems that make that kind of care possible, combining programming with what I’ll learn in kinesiology, physical therapy, and nutrition. AI is a tool, but it needs the right goals behind it. My goal is to meld STEM fields to make AI responsibly to give physical therapists more data and time to get athletes back into action.

My shins ached with a throbbing pain that I could no longer ignore. I thought I could juggle high school beach volleyball and indoor club volleyball at the same time. That meant two practices a day, and well, the toll caught up. The quick backstory is that I started figure skating at age seven and by ten, I was a national champion. By the time I entered high school, my skating career eventually filled an entire wall with medals. My freshman year I missed being on the U.S. National Team by just a point. But in 2021, after COVID shut down the rinks, the combination of circumstances and family finances forced me to quit. It felt like my identity had been taken from me. But my parents encouraged me to try volleyball. So in my sophomore year, I made the switch to volleyball. Just a few months later, I played my first ever volleyball game. Going from a nationally ranked figure skater to a junior varsity team was humbling, for sure. I was behind my peers in every way, but I was determined to earn a spot on a college roster. That relentless pursuit, however, came at a cost. And that’s how I wound up with shin splints. While I wouldn’t call an injury “lucky,” the experience led me toward a new sense of purpose and eventually my chosen major. My dad insisted on seeing a doctor, but I resisted; doctors seemed indifferent to my aspirations of college recruitment. Fortunately, my dad found a physical therapist who genuinely cared about my injury and my future. And ironically, it was there I discovered how my passion and love for sports could evolve into a viable career. During one of those visits, I realized something that stuck with me: The physical therapist had charts and paperwork but didn’t ask about things such as my nutrition or other metrics that would affect my therapy. He’d ask me how I felt but there was no measurable data. As a female athlete, I recognized a huge gap. And that’s when I found my calling. Researching sports medicine, I saw some startling statistics. Take, for instance, one in four athletes with an ACL tear won't play at their prior level again. Then there was my personal experience. When I was going through therapy, I noticed something odd: no one asked about my nutrition, my energy levels, or anything beyond “how does it feel today?” It felt like an incomplete picture. I started thinking, what if we could change that? We already wear devices that track heart rate, sleep, and much more. What if therapists could use that information in real time? I started imagining a tool that could scan a week’s worth of data before a session, flag warning signs, and suggest an approach based on how an athlete is doing overall — not just based on a feeling but actual data. If we use tech the right way, I believe we can help players recover faster and smarter. Therapists could focus more on the person in front of them, instead of spending half the session writing notes. Athletes would feel more connected to their therapist. That’s what I want to work on. I want to help build the systems that make that kind of care possible, combining programming with what I’ll learn in kinesiology, physical therapy, and nutrition. AI is a tool, but it needs the right goals behind it. My goal is to meld STEM fields to make AI responsibly to give physical therapists more data and time to get athletes back into action.

As a female volleyball athlete, I became a fan of LeBron James through his Nike shoes, which I’ve worn for three years. Their grip and support power my jump serves and quick lateral moves, blending performance with style. LeBron’s on-court dominance, from his soaring dunks to his selfless playmaking, mirrors the versatility I strive for on the volleyball court. His off-court work, like the I PROMISE School and advocacy for equality, inspires me as a young woman to use sports for positive impact. What stands out most, though, is LeBron’s longevity and his unique journey of playing alongside his son, Bronny, in the NBA—a feat that fuels my hope for a lasting athletic career. Is LeBron the greatest basketball player ever? As a volleyball player, I hesitate to name a GOAT, knowing each generation builds on the last. Comparing LeBron to legends like Michael Jordan, Julius Erving, Kobe Bryant, or Kevin Durant—a fellow forward—feels unfair. Jordan’s relentless competitiveness and six championships defined an era, but modern training wasn’t available. Erving’s aerial artistry revolutionized the game, yet he lacked today’s physical therapy. Bryant’s scoring brilliance and clutch mentality were unmatched, but medical advancements have evolved. Durant’s scoring versatility as a forward rivals LeBron’s, but his career arc is shorter. Advancements in kinesiology, recovery techniques, and medical care allow today’s players, like LeBron, to sustain elite performance longer, making cross-era judgments tricky. LeBron’s 22-year career, still thriving at 40, is a beacon for me. His ability to adapt, from Cleveland’s scrappy leader to Miami’s all-around star, shows a commitment to growth that I emulate in volleyball. Seeing him share the court with Bronny in 2024–25 is incredible—it’s a father-son story that humanizes his legacy and makes me dream of a long career where I can inspire the next generation. While Jordan, Erving, Bryant, and Durant each shaped basketball, LeBron’s enduring excellence and family milestone give me hope that with dedication and modern training, I can extend my volleyball journey and leave a lasting mark.

A Houston-born Texan, I first cheered for Zoe Jarvis at a Houston volleyball camp, awed by her hustle as a star tied to my state, playing for LOVB Austin and the Texas Longhorns. Her maiden name, Fleck, marked her early career, but her rise from a walk-on at UC Santa Barbara to a national champion and Team USA Olympian makes her my favorite athlete. Zoe’s journey, crowned with a 2022 NCAA title and 2023 Pan-American Cup medals, gives hope that my underdog story as a high school senior committed to walk on at the University of Louisiana Monroe (ULM) can soar. My volleyball journey began late, forced by circumstance. A national champion figure skater, I stood atop podiums, but life’s unpredictability led to volleyball in my sophomore year. Trading a national stage for a junior varsity team was humbling, trailing peers signing with D1 schools. Catching up demanded extraordinary effort. My father, eyeing college recruitment, enrolled me in every clinic and camp. One summer Tuesday, exhausted, I argued to skip a sparsely attended clinic, calling it “just one session.” He pointed to our backyard wall: each clinic was a brick, essential to a strong foundation. Missing one could leave a gap, like a missing stone. His words drove me to show up, even drained. This paid off when a top team’s coach picked me over veterans, citing my work ethic, leading to All-District honors and a walk-on roster spot at ULM, where I’ll start in August 2025. Perseverance built recognition—a lesson for a female athlete in a world often overlooking women’s achievements. Zoe’s story mirrors mine, fueling hope. At Sierra Canyon High School, she wasn’t a top recruit but walked on at UCSB, a mid-tier D1 school. Her relentless hustle transformed her into a key player, earning accolades at UCLA and Texas, where she won the 2022 NCAA championship. Her Olympic path with Team USA, competing globally, shows what’s possible. Like Zoe, I’m no star recruit, but I’m committed to ULM, inspired by her determination and work ethic. When I dove for a clutch dig in a high school game, heart racing, I channeled Zoe’s defiance of doubters, proving women can shine through grit. Our shared walk-on roots intertwine our dreams. Zoe’s Texas ties—Longhorns champion, Austin pro—resonate with my Houston pride, making her victories feel personal. I’m preparing to study kinesiology at ULM and volunteer, aiming for sports medicine to help athletes recover, inspired by Zoe’s resilience. Her journey from walk-on to Olympian, praised by teammates like Logan Eggleston for leadership, echoes my father’s “brick by brick” mantra. When I’m exhausted or defeated, her story reminds me dreams are possible, pushing me to keep working. Her global triumphs inspire me to dream of representing Team USA. Her Team USA success gives hope that my upcoming D1 journey at ULM could lead to bigger stages. Zoe Jarvis is my favorite Team USA athlete because her walk-on rise to national and Olympic glory parallels my journey, inspiring hope. From cheering her Texas games as a Houston native to admiring her global triumphs, I see my path reflected. I, too, aim to prove mid-tier D1 walk-ons can build towering legacies—brick by brick, dig by dig, dream by dream with relentless grit. Cheering for Zoe, I cheer for every underdog chasing greatness.

My volleyball journey began very late, forced by circumstance. As a national champion figure skater, I stood atop podiums, but life’s unpredictability led me to switch to volleyball in my sophomore year. Trading a national stage for a junior varsity team was humbling, placing me far behind my peers. They were signing with Division 1 schools, and I was playing my first game. Catching up required an extraordinary work ethic. My father, aware of the stakes for college recruitment, enrolled me in every clinic, camp, and lesson he could find. One summer Tuesday, exhausted and tempted to skip a sparsely attended clinic, I argued it was “just one session.” My father, gesturing to our backyard’s cinder block wall, delivered a metaphor that changed my perspective: each clinic was a brick, seemingly insignificant alone but essential to a strong foundation. Missing one could leave a gap, like a missing decorative stone in an otherwise perfect wall. His words drove me to show up consistently, even when drained or discouraged. This dedication paid off at tryouts for the next season when the top team’s coach chose me over more experienced players, citing my work ethic. My reputation drew inquiries from college coaches, earning camp invitations and, by my senior year, All-District honors and a roster spot at a Division I university. Perseverance built not just skill but recognition—a critical lesson for a female athlete in a world where women’s achievements are sometimes overlooked. The lessons didn’t stop at the gym. I learned to balance AP classes, community service, car maintenance, family obligations, and team leadership—all while staying committed to the court. Friends who prioritized socializing couldn’t grasp my commitment, but each late-night study session, early-morning practice, and volunteer effort was another brick in my wall. Volunteering at community service events required punctuality and more importantly, cheerfulness. These events raised money for charity and mailing it in would undermine that important effort. I volunteered on my church’s A/V team, which required me to be there while others were sleeping in. The focus I learned in sports helped me stay diligent through multiple services. This dedication was noticed, and the leader wrote one of my college recommendation letters. My work ethic shone during an internship at Biofit, a local sports performance gym, where I was the only intern offered a summer job. These experiences honed my ability to prioritize, plan, and push through challenges, whether tackling a test or perfecting a serve. Volleyball instilled a tenacity that transcends sports, preparing me for academic rigor and professional hurdles. This essay topic resonates with me and my teammates because, at my high school, the boys’ football and basketball programs dominate the spotlight—and the funding. One year, we didn’t even have enough properly sized volleyball uniforms for every girl. This unfairness reflects the broader landscape of women’s sports, but volleyball uniquely equipped me for these challenges. That’s not to say I haven’t learned from academics, faith, or my parents—those things matter deeply. But volleyball made me apply those lessons. It forced me to live them. As a female athlete, I’ve experienced how women’s sports receiving less attention and support than men’s. Every practice I attend, every late-night study session I finish, every time I step up to lead—these are the bricks I’m laying to build something lasting. That mindset will follow me into college, where I’ll compete at the Division I level, and beyond, as I pursue a career shaped by the same grit and drive. This scholarship will enable me to keep laying bricks toward a legacy of impact, resilience, and empowerment as a female athlete.

Title: “Chasing the Next Dream” Opening Scene: The camera pans over an empty volleyball court, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished wood still echoing in the air. It’s the end of a long practice, and a single volleyball rolls slowly across the floor. In the center of the court, I’m kneeling, tying my shoelaces, sweat dripping from my brow. My teammates have left, but I’m not ready to go just yet. As the camera zooms in, a voiceover begins: “Sometimes, life feels like the last few minutes of a game—you're exhausted, you’ve given everything, but there’s still more to play for. For me, it all started with a very different sport.” The scene shifts to a brightly lit skating rink. A younger version of me, no older than seven, glides gracefully across the ice, performing spins and jumps with precision. The wall behind me is lined with medals and trophies. The camera zooms in on one—‘National Champion, Artistic Figure Skating, Age 10.’ “Figure skating was my first love. It taught me discipline, determination, and the joy of perfecting something I was passionate about. But life, as it often does, had other plans.” The cheerful music of the skating rink fades abruptly, replaced by the sound of silence. The younger version of me stands frozen in the middle of the rink, staring at an empty schedule board. The camera pans out, showing the lights of the rink dimming. “After COVID and other challenges, skating became a closed chapter. I was devastated. My identity was tied to being a skater, and I didn’t know what came next. That’s when my dad—my coach and my constant supporter—suggested I try volleyball. I didn’t know it then, but God had a new path waiting for me.” The scene transitions to my first volleyball game. The gym is packed with cheering parents and teammates. I step onto the court for the first time, noticeably nervous. The ball comes flying toward me, and I dive, making an awkward but successful save. The crowd erupts into applause. “Starting volleyball as a high school sophomore felt like stepping into an entirely new world. I went from standing on top of a national podium to being a JV player, struggling to learn the basics. It was humbling, but it was also thrilling. I found a new kind of joy in the camaraderie of team sports and the challenge of building something from the ground up.” The scene fast-forwards, showing snippets of me training with coaches, mentoring younger players, and celebrating victories with my teammates. “By my senior year, I earned All-District honors, became a leader on my team, and found a passion for helping others grow—whether it was mentoring younger players or encouraging my teammates during tough games. This new path wasn’t just about volleyball; it was about learning how to lead, inspire, and persevere.” The camera cuts to a small church sanctuary. I’m sitting in the A/V booth, adjusting slides and managing lighting for a service. The sound of worship fills the room. “Faith has always been at the center of my life. It’s what guided me through every challenge, from leaving figure skating to building a new identity in volleyball. Serving on my church’s A/V team and volunteering at community events like the Walk for Life has taught me that small actions can make a big impact.” The scene transitions to a future vision. I’m standing in a rehabilitation clinic, working with a young athlete recovering from an ACL tear. I adjust her exercise routine, explaining the data from a wearable device monitoring her progress. The athlete smiles, nodding in understanding, as the camera zooms in on her taking her first steps toward recovery. “My future is about using everything I’ve learned—from the discipline of figure skating, the teamwork of volleyball, and the lessons of faith—to help others. I’m pursuing a degree in exercise science/kinesiology, with the goal of combining sports medicine and artificial intelligence to revolutionize how we approach injury prevention and recovery. I want to help athletes, particularly female athletes, overcome challenges and reclaim their dreams.” The scene ends back on the volleyball court, with me picking up the rolling ball and taking one final shot at the net. The camera freezes mid-air, capturing the ball just before it hits the target, as the screen fades to black. “Because in my story, there’s always another dream to chase.”

In the excerpt from Antigone, the guards represent the struggle between personal ethics and the cold, sometimes heartless rules we follow, highlighting how easy it can become to lose our sense of self when we're just trying to fit in or follow orders. "As for those three red-faced card players—they are the guards. One smells of garlic, another of beer; but they're not a bad lot. They have wives they are afraid of, kids who are afraid of them; they're bothered by the little day-to-day worries that beset us all. At the same time—they are policemen: eternally innocent, no matter what crimes are committed; eternally indifferent, for nothing that happens can matter to them. They are quite prepared to arrest anybody at all, including Creon himself, should the order be given by a new leader." Sophocles' Antigone dives into the deep waters of moral integrity versus just going with the flow. This paragraph might seem like just a side note about some guards, but really, it's a big deal. It shows how school rules, or any societal norms, can make us feel like we're just another number, not a person with feelings and choices. The guards here are described as if they could be anyone's dad or uncle—stressed about home life, maybe a bit embarrassed by their smell, but relatable. They worry about the same things we do at school: fitting in, family pressures, and the everyday drama. Yet, when they put on their uniform, they become something else—detached from the consequences of their actions, just like when we follow school rules without thinking about why we're doing it. My father, who was a Federal Agent, described a similar feeling in which the bureaucracy eventually wore him down until it was easier to go along to get along then to stand up for what is right. At school, there are many rules related to dress code and personal conduct. Even my varsity volleyball team had many rules. It's not that I disagree with all rules, but sometimes it is easy to feel like part of a system, not thinking or considering whether those rules are fair or right. And sometimes when you feel like a lone voice within a system it is easy to avoid conflict and simply do the thing that is expected even when it seems out of place. That's the guards. They're just doing what they're told, they’re not questioning if it's right. Perhaps, they even know it isn’t right but simply no longer care. The guards being "eternally innocent" and "indifferent" speaks to how we can sometimes shut off our conscience to fit into what's expected of us. I personally experienced this during my senior year when my varsity team put up with a coach who didn't treat us well. Most on the team found it easier to just get through the season rather than rock the boat by speaking out. Some players were concerned about playing time. Others were afraid of retaliation. Instead of speaking up, we went through the motions and I’m most certain the Athletic Director would refer to our play at the end as indifferent. But here's the thing—this passage isn't saying the guards are the bad guys; it's more about showing how we can all become part of something bigger that we don't fully understand or agree with. It's about the danger of not thinking for ourselves, much like when we're in the middle of high school drama or peer pressure, where it's easier to go with the flow than to stand for what we believe. Antigone, in contrast, stands up because she believes in something greater than rules, laws or societal expectations. She's like that one girl who isn't afraid to challenge the status quo, even if it means standing alone. Sophocles is pushing us to think: what if we're all just like these guards in our daily lives? What if our silence or indifference makes us complicit in things we don't agree with? The benefit of ancient literature is that we now have much history to see it play out. I can think of no greater modern example than described in the book Ordinary Men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland. In that real historical example, we are told of ordinary men who were not fanatics but were ordinary men who committed great evil because of indifference and conformity. I don’t know if I would consider Antigone a heroine. After all, it is a tragedy and in the end she takes her own life. But this part of Antigone is a reminder that sometimes, the real challenge isn't fighting the external challenges, but overcoming our own indifference or fear of standing out. It asks us to look at our own lives and decide if we're just going through the motions, or if we're truly living with our eyes open to the world around us. Are we just another guard, or are we brave enough to take a stand, just like Antigone.

I love playing volleyball and sports have always been a life passion. But I struggled with envisioning how this passion could evolve into a viable career. While I would never label an injury as fortuitous, it was actually my journey through physical therapy that led to my choice in STEM. I saw a unique chance to combine my enthusiasm for sports with my interest in technology through learning to program artificial intelligence. Most people don't understand the full impact injuries have on athletes. Take, for instance, the fact that one in four athletes with an ACL tear won't play at their prior level again. This is surprising, considering the advancements in sports medicine over the last half-century. AI is set to revolutionize many fields, but I've identified a specific gap in sports medicine where AI could make a significant impact. Imagine AI that adjusts recovery plans on-the-fly, keeping athletes on track and optimizing outcomes. With AI handling much of the data analysis, therapists could spend more time connecting with patients, making the recovery process more engaging and supportive. The challenge, as with any technical field, is programming AI to use appropriate data and prioritizing the correct problems. AI's effectiveness depends on the quality of the data used to train it. That’s where I plan to develop my career. By gaining knowledge in both programming and areas like kinesiology and physical therapy, I can help create AI that truly understands athlete rehabilitation. Integrating AI into physical therapy could transform our approach to sports injuries, turning recovery from a mere aspiration into a more predictable result. That's the kind of influence I hope to have in my career. Using AI to help athletes seems like a great way to continue my sporting career and to help people.

My shins ached with a throbbing pain that was hard to ignore. I’m pretty sure trying to play high school beach volleyball and indoor club volleyball was too much. But I was used to pushing myself and was determined to make it work. The back story to this is I started roller skating when I was seven. By ten, I was on the podium as a national champion figure skater. Not exactly a mainstream sport, I know. Then, at fifteen, the costs were more than my family could afford and I had to quit. I was devastated, but my parents encouraged me to switch to volleyball. I wound up playing my first game as a HS sophomore. I went from national champion to JV player, which was humbling to be sure. But I soon became obsessed with the game. I was way behind my peers and needed to work extra hard to catch up. I was determined to secure a spot on a college team. This relentless pursuit, however, came with its costs—numerous minor injuries. And that’s how I wound up with those throbbing shins. My father insisted on seeing a doctor, but I resisted; doctors often seemed indifferent to my aspirations of college recruitment. Fortunately, I had access to an exceptional physical therapist who genuinely cared about my athletic future. During one of these sessions, as I underwent leg manipulation followed by prescribed exercises, I noticed something striking – none of my sports medicine professionals were female. My pediatrician, nurses, and nurse practitioners had all been women, and while there were female trainers with sports teams, the field of sports medicine seemed disproportionately male-dominated, at least from my point of view. This is where I believe I found my calling. I LOVE playing volleyball, but I struggled with envisioning how this passion could evolve into a viable career. While I would never label an injury as fortuitous, this time, it guided me toward my career choice, something no career assessment tool ever helped me achieve. It’s a weird way to discover a path that blends my interests and passions…I've long had an interest in healthcare, initially thinking about nursing, but now I see my true calling is to aid athletes to pursue their athletic ambitions. My goal is to join a college team (preferably one that wins), and then use that experience along with my education, to achieve this dream. I’m involved in many community service projects that I could talk about, but when I’ve got free time, I really enjoy baking. I don’t really eat cookies myself, it’s just not my favorite dessert. Actually, come to think of it, I don’t eat much dessert at all. But I’ve found that baking is a way to be creative and to show others I care in a very personal way. Whenever I can, I like to make cookies and decorate them for friends and teammates. It doesn’t even have to be a special occasion. Everyone seems to love freshly baked cookies and it genuinely seems to brighten their day. Each time I bake, I can put a little bit of my personality into the cookie and it shows others I care enough to make something for them. Baking is also incredibly calming as it allows me to focus on the process and take my mind of scholastics and athletics. My parents, however, wish that I was more passionate about cleaning up after myself!

I started roller skating when I was seven. By ten, I was on the podium as a national champion figure skater. Not exactly a mainstream sport, I know. Then, as a teen, the costs were more than my family could afford and I had to quit. I was devastated, but my parents encouraged me to switch to volleyball. I wound up playing my first game as a high school sophomore. So I went from national champion to JV player which was humbling. But I soon became obsessed with the game. That’s what led to my love for math. Since I had started late compared to my peers, I needed to improve quickly. I soon began carefully I tracking my statistics as well as those of college teams. In order to understand what certain statistics meant such a hitting percentage, I needed to know how they were computed. Tracking and comparing my statistics in volleyball was one of the main ways I gauged my improvement. I could track my progress, see where I was improving, and where I needed to work more. And what athlete or coach doesn’t keep stats? The more math I did the easier it was to compute even advanced stats in my head on the fly. So, I studied the stats - how often I blocked, what kind of blocks I was making, and where on the court I was most effective. That dedication paid off by my senior year. I had 33 blocks, which was huge for me, and I even made the all-district team. Once you start liking mathematics instead of merely taking classes, it becomes easier to see the application all around you. Many activities I enjoy require math. Try baking without being able to multiply or divide! But there’s also budgeting, shopping, and time management. It’s handy to know math if you want good ACT/SAT scores for college. I didn't always love math. I mean, numbers and equations seemed so boring compared to the excitement of playing sports. It can be difficult to see why math is important until you’ve had the practical experience to need it. My love for math came from how it intersected with my sport. I believe that is one of the ways athletes can personally experience the value of scholastics and math, specifically.

My shins ached with a throbbing pain that was hard to ignore. I’m pretty sure trying to play high school beach volleyball and indoor club volleyball was too much. But I was used to pushing myself and was determined to make it work. The back story to this is I started roller skating when I was seven. By ten, I was on the podium as a national champion figure skater. Not exactly a mainstream sport, I know. Then, at fifteen, the costs were more than my family could afford and I had to quit. I was devastated, but my parents encouraged me to switch to volleyball. I wound up playing my first game as a HS sophomore. I went from national champion to JV player, which was humbling to be sure. But I soon became obsessed with the game. I was way behind my peers and needed to work extra hard to catch up. I was determined to secure a spot on a college team. This relentless pursuit, however, came with its costs—numerous minor injuries. And that’s how I wound up with those throbbing shins. My father insisted on seeing a doctor, but I resisted; doctors often seemed indifferent to my aspirations of college recruitment. Fortunately, I had access to an exceptional physical therapist who genuinely cared about my athletic future. During one of these sessions, as I underwent leg manipulation followed by prescribed exercises, I noticed something striking – none of my sports medicine professionals were female. My pediatrician, nurses, and nurse practitioners had all been women, and while there were female trainers with sports teams, the field of sports medicine seemed disproportionately male-dominated, at least from my point of view. This is where I believe I found my calling. I LOVE playing volleyball, but I struggled with envisioning how this passion could evolve into a viable career. While I would never label an injury as fortuitous, this time, it guided me toward my career choice, something no career assessment tool could achieve. At last, I've discovered a path that blends my passion for sports with my wish to assist others. I've long had an interest in healthcare, initially thinking about nursing, but now I see my true calling is to aid athletes, particularly female athletes, in recovering from injuries and pursuing their athletic ambitions. My goal is to join a college team (preferably one that wins), and then use that experience along with my education, to achieve this dream. I case it’s not clear by now, my motivation to work in sports medicine stems from my personal love for sports and my understanding of challenges athletes face. I believe that playing sports in college, alongside my studies, will give me unique insights into the issues that female athletes and the broader sports community encounter. My goal is to ensure that athletes, particularly girls, have access to professionals who truly understand the sport and what drives an athlete. Health care and sports medicine aren’t just about treating injuries. I can speak with experience when I say no athlete wants to be defined by injury much less spend all their time in physical therapy. Athletes want to compete and to do that they need to be at their peak, both mentally and physically. Sports medicine is about helping athletes whether it be nutrition, injury prevention, or injury treatment. And we cannot forget the emotional and mental challenges athletes face. Through my career in sports medicine, I will help athletes recover but also to transform how we approach sports healthcare to better meet the specific needs of women in sports.