“Ariella, take three giant steps." "Mother may I?" I stand across the room as my grandpa sits in his favorite chair. In line with the rules of the game, his eyes are closed. The game we often play is called Mother May I, where those playing must ask a question before taking the step instructed. When I was younger, I loved this game; as I got older I grew to understand it differently. Mother May I is about having the right answers to the questions you are asked, but in my experience, it has never been that simple. My life has been defined by my unusual answers. I have a condition called Congenital Melanocytic Nevus, a giant birthmark that covers my neck, shoulders, and back, as well as smaller "satellite" moles all over my body. It is not easy being one in half a million with this condition, but my life has been shaped by my answer to the question, “What’s on your skin?”. To me, continuing education means expanding knowledge and skills to find answers that will better patient care. I want to become a pediatric nurse and eventually a nurse practitioner so that I can work to provide patients and families with the accurate information that my parents did not receive when I was born. For the first week of my life, my parents were told, incorrectly, that I would not live past six months old. While coping with the devastating misinformation from the doctors, my parents remember one nurse in particular whose support made all the difference. Continuing nursing education means improving not only your knowledge but the support you can provide to patients. And improving patient care means not only having accurate information but knowing how to best support those around you when the answers you have are not the ones they want to hear. For so long, I struggled to answer the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I decided to major in Psychology because of my experiences working at a Jewish sleep-away camp. I found it so meaningful to be able to provide my campers with the different kinds of emotional support they needed to be successful away from home. The most impactful class I took for my degree involved volunteering in the memory care unit of an assisted living facility. The joy and sense of purpose I felt after each time I volunteered made me begin to think about becoming a nurse. I learned through my studies, volunteering, and camp that caring for others is my calling. Perhaps that’s what the game Mother May I is really about— caring for others and helping them find the answers that are right for them. When I was younger, I thought the game was about answering questions to win; I didn’t realize that my grandpa always peeked to help me reach the end faster. He has constantly supported me as I have tried to find the answers to my own questions, the way I am continuing my education in nursing to find the answers that will better patient care and that are right for others during vulnerable times in their lives. If I am granted the privilege and opportunity of receiving this scholarship to support my Master's in Nursing at Columbia University, I will be able to continue my education and learn all I can to help answer life’s most difficult questions—those that surround the health and well-being of an individual or their loved ones. I will work to find the answers that are right for each patient, family and community.

“Ariella, take three giant steps." "Mother may I?" I stand across the room as my grandpa sits in his favorite chair. In line with the rules of the game, his eyes are closed; I didn't realize until years later that he always peeked. The game we often play is called Mother May I, where those playing must ask a question before taking the step instructed. When I was younger, I loved this game; as I got older, I grew to understand it differently. Mother May I is about having the right answers to the questions you are asked; in my experience, it has never been that simple. My life has been defined by my unusual answers. I have a condition called Congenital Melanocytic Nevus, a giant birthmark that covers my neck, shoulders, and back, as well as smaller "satellite" moles all over my body. It is not easy being one in half a million with this condition, but my life has been shaped by my answer to the question, “What’s on your skin?” I am more accepting of others because I know what it feels like to be an outsider. I am sensitive to the needs and feelings of others because I know what it's like to be hurt by the power that words carry. I have learned how to answer questions about my skin, because my unusual answers about it have defined my life and who I am. I want to become a nurse so that I can work to provide patients and families with the accurate information and support that my parents did not receive when I was born. For the first week of my life, my parents were told, incorrectly, that I would not live past six months old. While coping with the devastating misinformation from the doctors, my parents remember one nurse in particular whose compassion and support made all the difference. If life is about answering questions, then an important part is knowing what to say when you do not always know the answer. And even more crucial is knowing how to best support those around you when the answers you have are not the ones they want to hear. Perhaps that’s what the game Mother May I is really about—helping others find the answers that are right for them. When I was younger, I thought the game was about answering questions in order to win; I didn’t realize that my grandpa always peeked to help me reach the end faster. He has constantly supported and guided me as I have tried to find the answers to my own questions, the way I want to pursue a career in nursing in order to help others find the answers that are right for them during vulnerable times in their lives. As a nurse, I will be able to transition into a role where I will do all I can to answer life’s most difficult questions—those that surround the health and well-being of an individual or their loved ones. These answers may be about treatments or solutions, but I want to become a nurse because I believe that the right answers are the ones that equally promote comfort, connection, and emotional well-being. I will work to find the answers that are right for each patient, each family and each community. As a nurse, I would like to work in Pediatric Oncology. I want to provide emotional support to patients and families, and build strong connections and trusting relationships to be the best advocate and provide the best care that I can.

“Ariella, take three giant steps." "Mother may I?" I stand across the room as my grandpa sits in his favorite chair. In line with the rules of the game, his eyes are closed; I didn't realize until years later that he always peeked. The game we often play is called Mother May I, where those playing must ask a question before taking the step instructed. When I was younger, I loved this game; as I got older, I grew to understand it differently. Mother May I is about having the right answers to the questions you are asked; in my experience, it has never been that simple. My life has been defined by my unusual answers. I have a condition called Congenital Melanocytic Nevus, a giant birthmark that covers my neck, shoulders, and back, as well as smaller "satellite" moles all over my body. It is not easy being one in half a million with this condition, but my life has been shaped by my answer to the question, “What’s on your skin?” I am more accepting of others because I know what it feels like to be an outsider. I am sensitive to the needs and feelings of others because I know what it's like to be hurt by the power that words carry. I have learned how to answer questions about my skin, because my unusual answers about it have defined my life and who I am. I want to become a nurse so that I can work to provide patients and families with the accurate information and support that my parents did not receive when I was born. For the first week of my life, my parents were told, incorrectly, that I would not live past six months old. While coping with the devastating misinformation from the doctors, my parents remember one nurse in particular whose compassion and support made all the difference. If life is about answering questions, then an important part is knowing what to say when you do not always know the answer. And even more crucial is knowing how to best support those around you when the answers you have are not the ones they want to hear. Perhaps that’s what the game Mother May I is really about—helping others find the answers that are right for them. When I was younger, I thought the game was about answering questions in order to win; I didn’t realize that my grandpa always peeked to help me reach the end faster. He has constantly supported and guided me as I have tried to find the answers to my own questions, the way I want to pursue a career in nursing to help others find the answers that are right for them during vulnerable times in their lives. As a nurse, I will do all I can to answer life’s most difficult questions—those that surround the health and well-being of an individual or their loved ones. These answers may be about treatments or solutions, but I want to become a nurse because I believe that the right answers are the ones that equally promote comfort, connection, and emotional well-being. I will work to find the answers that are right for each patient, each family and each community.