Growing up in D.C. in the 90s, my mother raised two kids on her own while making ten dollars an hour. Somehow, we never missed a meal, never went to school looking anything less than clean and cared for, and we stayed at the top of our classes. That wasn’t luck that was my mother’s standard. Homework came before anything, grades were nonnegotiable, and excuses didn’t get you far in our house. My mother only had an eighth-grade education, yet here I am now pursuing a master’s in education and raising a daughter of my own. If that isn’t perseverance passed down, I don’t know what is. Even though she didn’t live long enough to see me graduate from college, her lessons carry me through everything. She taught us that when one eats, we all eat. I’ve stepped into that spirit without even realizing it I’m the one who hosts Thanksgiving, buys gifts for all the kids, and keeps her traditions alive so the next generation still feels her love. College isn’t cheap, especially balancing tuition, books, childcare, home expenses, and transportation. But the sacrifice is worth it. Now, as a math specialist working with justice-involved youth many of whom don’t even have a stable home to return to I try to give them the same acceptance, structure, and love my mother gave us. Her legacy guides me, and I’m using it to build something better for my daughter, my nieces and nephews, and every student who crosses my path.

At nineteen, I thought I had life figured out. I dropped out of college and moved to New York, keeping it a secret from my family. I was chasing independence without much of a plan. Two months later, my mother passed away. I came home with the weight of grief and the realization that I needed to rebuild. That season of loss taught me resilience before I even knew how to define the word. At twenty-four, I moved to Houston with only a couple hundred dollars to my name and no one waiting on the other side. A two-month free rent promotion gave me a deadline: find work before the clock ran out. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was survival. By the end of those two months, I had secured employment and unknowingly stepped into my calling as an educator. What began as chance grew into lifelong purpose. Today, I am a Math Intervention Specialist in a juvenile justice facility. My students are some of the most misunderstood and underestimated young people in our system. Many carry the scars of trauma, illiteracy, and inequitable access to education. I see myself in them the detours, the struggles, the moments where giving up seemed easier. What I bring to the classroom is not just math strategies, but proof that setbacks don’t define us. I want my students to know they can rewrite their stories, just as I continue to rewrite mine. My biggest inspiration is my daughter, Mariah. She is the reason I push harder, dream bigger, and remain determined to build a better world for the next generation. She reminds me daily that resilience is not just about surviving, but about creating joy and possibility even after hardship. Alongside teaching and parenting, I am pursuing my master’s degree in education with a 4.0 GPA. As a first-generation college graduate, I carry not only my own dreams but also the unfulfilled ones of my mother. I strive to use education as a tool for justice, creating trauma-informed practices that help break cycles like the preschool-to-prison pipeline. My future goals include providing youth impacted by adversity with mentorship, academic support, and resources they deserve. Another part of my journey has been writing. I recently became a published author, contributing my story to a motherhood anthology. Sharing that chapter the struggles, the joys, and the unexpected strength that motherhood brings was both vulnerable and empowering. It confirmed for me that my voice, like the voices of the students I serve, has power and deserves to be heard. My path has not been linear, but every setback has been a setup for resilience. From leaving home at nineteen, to standing alone in Houston with little more than determination, to finding purpose in a classroom full of second chances each chapter has shaped me into someone who believes in community, perseverance, and the power of education. The Doc & Glo Scholarship represents more than financial support; it reflects the values that have guided my path resilience, kindness, and self-belief. My aspiration is simple yet bold: to continue teaching, finish my advanced degree, and one day start my own nonprofit, The Village Collaborative, in Washington, D.C., so that no young person feels unseen or unsupported in their pursuit of education. I’ve learned that dreams can be delayed, rerouted, or reshaped but they cannot be erased.

Pursuing higher education has always been more than a personal goal for me it is a radical act of resilience. As a single mother with a 4.0 GPA, working full time while raising a child and pursuing a graduate degree, I have learned to transform adversity into ambition. I am not simply earning a degree; I am rewriting a generational narrative. What gives me an advantage in this scholarship competition is not just my academic performance, but also my unwavering commitment to creating a positive impact both in my personal life and in my community. I currently serve as a math intervention specialist working with incarcerated youth in a juvenile justice facility. Many of my students have been failed by systems long before they entered a cell. They face barriers rooted in trauma, illiteracy, poverty, and systemic neglect. I do more than teach math; I build bridges back to hope through education. My work is an act of advocacy and transformation. In addition to my professional pursuits, I recently achieved a long-standing personal dream: becoming a published author. I contributed to the anthology Petals of Love: Chronicles of the Imperfectly Perfect Mother, sharing my story of infertility, grief, and the grace that followed. Writing this chapter was an act of vulnerability, but also of empowerment. It allowed me to affirm the power of storytelling and healing. I am now working on my first science fiction novel featuring a young Black female protagonist because representation matters, and so do the dreams of young girls like my daughter. Historically, higher education has not always been accessible for women like me, Black, working-class, and first-generation. Despite growing access, many of us still face financial barriers that threaten to stall or derail our progress. Yet, like generations of resilient women before me, I press forward. I pursue this degree not just for personal advancement, but to uplift others. I believe in the ripple effect of education: when you educate one woman, you empower a community. Receiving this scholarship would not only alleviate financial pressure, it would validate the sacrifices I’ve made and the work I’ve done to stay on this path. More importantly, it would allow me to continue investing in the youth I serve, the stories I write, and the future I’m building for my daughter. I am not just a student. I am a mother, a mentor, an educator, and a dreamer. And I am just getting started.

Math and I have a long, evolving history. I’ve always been naturally gifted in the subject. I completed all my required math credits by my junior year of high school. By 12th grade, I had the option to take pre-calculus, but instead, I chose AP Psychology, thinking I’d already “done enough” in math. That decision came back to haunt me during college orientation when I had to take a placement exam and didn’t do well. I was placed in a remedial math course. That moment was humbling but also eye-opening. Math is like a muscle. If you train it, it grows. But if you neglect it, you lose strength. I had to rediscover my math strength throughout college, especially as a fashion merchandising major with a business minor. From retail math to accounting and statistics, the basics came easily to me, but the higher-level concepts required effort and consistency. I came to appreciate that math isn’t just about natural talent, it’s about perseverance and practice. Later, during my alternative certification program to become a teacher, my coursework signaled that I was a great fit for math education. I was assigned to teach middle school math, and that assignment changed my life. Teaching math helped me fall in love with it all over again. From algebra to fractions, geometry to probability, I found joy in revisiting the foundational skills and learning how to explain them in ways that made sense to my students. Math is a puzzle worth solving. It challenges the brain, builds discipline, and teaches you how to think critically. It is more than numbers; it's a life skill, a tool, and a language. Teaching math allowed me to connect with students who, like me, may have once lost their way with the subject. Now, I find joy in helping them reconnect with their inner mathematician. What I love most about math is its consistency and potential it always has a solution, and the journey to finding it builds more than knowledge. It builds confidence, patience, and the ability to solve real-world problems. And that’s a lesson worth loving.

Pursuing a master’s degree while working full-time and raising a child as a single parent is a tremendous challenge, but one I have embraced with determination and purpose. Receiving this scholarship would provide meaningful support by alleviating some of the financial strain I am currently facing, allowing me to stay focused on my academic and professional goals without sacrificing my family's stability. I currently work full-time in the field of education, where I support students, many of whom come from disadvantaged backgrounds, on their academic journeys. I see the urgent need for passionate, trained professionals who understand the complexities of trauma, poverty, and the school-to-prison pipeline. This is one of the reasons I chose to return to graduate school. My goal is to earn my master’s degree in education, then continue on to pursue a doctorate, equipping myself with the tools to become not only an educator but a change agent. As a single mother, every dollar counts. From childcare to housing to tuition, the balancing act of managing household expenses while paying for graduate-level coursework is taxing. I often make personal sacrifices to ensure my daughter has what she needs, and while I gladly carry that responsibility, financial support like this scholarship would ease that burden significantly. It would help cover educational expenses like textbooks, course materials, and tuition payments, reducing my stress and allowing me to devote more energy to both my studies and my students. Education has always been my pathway to advancement not just for myself, but as an example for my daughter and the young people I serve. I want her to see firsthand that despite life's challenges, resilience and hard work can pave the way to a better future. This scholarship would not only help me reach my academic goals, but also reaffirm my belief that support systems matter and that community investment in education can transform lives. Professionally, my long-term vision is to create and lead programs that address the educational needs of underserved youth, particularly those involved in the juvenile justice system. I have already begun this work through direct intervention, mentorship, and instructional support. However, I want to expand my impact through research, curriculum design, and policy reform work that requires advanced degrees and continued study. I believe that with the right education and backing, I can help reshape the way schools serve vulnerable populations. Receiving this scholarship would be more than financial aid it would be a vote of confidence in my journey and in my potential to make a lasting difference in the field of education. It would relieve the pressure I carry daily and allow me to move one step closer to achieving my goals not only for me, but for my daughter, my students, and the communities I serve.

My ideal life is one of peace, purpose, and legacy. It is a life grounded in faith, driven by a desire to serve others, and rooted in unconditional love for my family and community. I envision a lifestyle that strikes a balance between ambition and rest, passion and discipline, and achievement and humility. At the center of this dream is financial freedom not just the elimination of debt, but the ability to make decisions without financial constraints. I want to live boldly, give generously, and build generational wealth that allows my children and their children to flourish without starting from scratch. I dream of owning a warm, welcoming home that I can one day pass down to my children a space filled with love, laughter, tradition, and wisdom. A place where Sunday dinners bring everyone together, where holidays are cherished, and where lessons are passed down like treasured heirlooms. A home that not only provides shelter but fosters identity, security, and purpose. As a mother, I want my daughter and one day, my future son, to grow up seeing the world beyond their neighborhood. I envision us traveling together across continents, learning about different cultures, exploring new perspectives, and understanding the interconnectedness of humanity. I want them to feel confident stepping into any space, knowing they belong. Through travel, they will build memories, gain wisdom, and develop compassion. Even as we explore the world, we will remain rooted in a God-centered life, grounded in prayer, gratitude, and faith in God’s plan for us. As a creative, I am passionate about storytelling. One of my biggest goals is to author a science fiction book series featuring a strong, complex African American female protagonist. I believe deeply in the power of representation. I want young girls, especially those who look like me and my daughter, to see themselves reflected in literature as more than side characters. I want them to see themselves as explorers, leaders, warriors, and world-builders. Through my books, I hope to spark imagination, confidence, and pride in young readers of color. Professionally, I aspire to become a successful business owner, launching a beauty brand that uplifts and celebrates Black identity, confidence, and self-expression. I also want to start a nonprofit organization that serves youth impacted by trauma, poverty, and systemic inequality. Through this work, I will continue to educate, empower, and uplift our future leaders through mentorship, academic support, and healing-centered programming. Ultimately, the life of my dreams isn’t about fame or luxury. It’s about impacting the lives I touch, the stories I tell, and the legacy I leave. If I can raise my children to be kind, curious, and confident; if I can build a legacy of service, strength, and self-worth; and if I can remain faithful to the calling God has placed on my life that will be more than enough for me.

Professor Harold Bloom’s statement, “The purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence,” speaks to the deeper mission of education not simply to fill minds with information, but to awaken within each student a sense of self, of value, and of unique identity. For special education students, this journey is particularly important. Too often, they are defined by their limitations or labels rather than their strengths, passions, and full potential. Helping them find their “presence” means helping them recognize their own voice, power, and rightful place in the world. To me, a student discovering their “own presence” is about self-awareness, self-worth, and the confidence to advocate for oneself. It is the moment a student realizes that they matter, that they are capable, and that their ideas and feelings are valid. As a special education teacher, my mission is to help each child reach this moment not just academically, but emotionally and socially. My passion for the special education profession comes from a place of empathy, purpose, and lived experience. As a mother and an educator in a juvenile justice setting, I have seen the incredible resilience of students who have been through trauma, poverty, and neglect. I have also witnessed how the smallest moments being heard, being understood, mastering a skill can completely shift a student’s perspective of themselves. To guide my students toward their sense of presence, I lead with patience, compassion, and high expectations. I believe in differentiated instruction, trauma-informed practices, and culturally responsive teaching. I create space for students to express themselves, to explore their interests, and to feel seen. I celebrate every small victory, because each one builds their confidence. I teach them to advocate for their needs, to recognize their emotions, and to set personal goals. I also partner with families and other professionals to build a strong support network around them. Ultimately, I believe teaching is about empowerment. My mission is to help students not just succeed in school, but to see themselves as intelligent, worthy, and powerful human beings. I want each of my students to leave my classroom with the belief that they can make an impact that they matter. That is what it means to find their presence. “The Light in the Garden: A Fairy Tale of Presence” Once upon a time, in a quiet village nestled between mountains and rivers, lived a kind and determined heroine named Miss Ash. She wasn’t a queen or a warrior, but she had a magic more powerful than any sword or crown: the ability to see light in others when they could not see it in themselves. Miss Ash lived in a cozy cottage with her brave little daughter, Princess Mariah, who loved to read stories and ask big questions. Every morning, Miss Ash would walk through the forest to the Garden of Potential, where young villagers who had been misunderstood, forgotten, or labeled “different” came to learn and grow. But the Garden was dark, overgrown, and filled with whispers of doubt: “You’re not good enough,” the trees would groan. “You’ll never succeed,” the wind would howl. The children who arrived there felt invisible, like shadows in a world that didn’t see them. Miss Ash, however, carried with her a lantern made of compassion, wisdom, and hope. One by one, she guided the children through the garden, lighting up the paths beneath their feet. She taught them how to listen to their own hearts, how to turn their struggles into strengths, and how to speak their truth. Princess Mariah would often visit and help her mother tend to the flowers of confidence and the trees of imagination. The children loved her kindness and laughter. Together, they created new paths, sang songs of self-worth, and chased away the whispers of doubt. Over time, the Garden of Potential bloomed with light. The children stood tall, glowing from within, knowing they were more than their challenges they were writers, builders, artists, thinkers, dreamers. They had found their presence. And Miss Ash? She kept her lantern close and her mission clear: to help every child discover the power that was already inside them. And they all lived, learned, and loved happily ever after.

My name is Ashley Stringfellow, and I am currently pursuing a master’s degree in education with a 4.0 GPA. I am also a single mother, and my greatest motivation is my daughter. Every assignment I complete, every late night of studying, and every classroom I step into is driven by my desire to create a stable, loving, and opportunity-filled future for her. My major in education is more than just a career choice it is my calling. I have been an educator for nearly a decade, working with youth who face some of the greatest barriers to learning and personal success. I currently serve as a mathematics intervention specialist in a juvenile justice setting, where I support students who have experienced trauma, poverty, and educational disruption. Many of my students enter with deep gaps in their academic knowledge and even deeper wounds from life circumstances beyond their control. I use my skills, compassion, and experience to help them access learning, regain confidence, and build toward a brighter future. As a first-generation college graduate, I know how powerful education can be in transforming lives. My late mother, who never finished school herself, instilled in me a deep respect for learning. She made it clear that education was not optional it was the path forward. Although she passed away before I earned my bachelor’s degree, I carry her lessons with me in everything I do, and I hope to pass that same determination and resilience on to my daughter. Attending a Baptist institution has allowed me to grow not only academically and professionally, but also spiritually. My faith plays a central role in my journey, guiding my purpose and reminding me that I am called to serve “for such a time as this” (Esther 4:14). I believe that education is a form of ministry. It allows me to witness through my work, to lead with love, and to show students the possibilities that exist beyond their present circumstances. This scholarship would greatly ease the financial burden that comes with being a full-time graduate student and a full-time mother. Balancing my responsibilities is not always easy, and while I’ve managed to maintain academic excellence, it has come with personal and financial sacrifices. With this support, I would be able to invest more into my studies and continue to model perseverance and faith-driven service for my daughter and my students. More than just helping me pay for school, this scholarship would affirm the very values that guide me ambition, sacrifice, and a belief in the power of women to uplift families and communities through education. I am grateful for the opportunity to apply and for any consideration given. I will continue to strive for excellence in both my academic and personal life, trusting that my steps are ordered and that I am exactly where I am meant to be. Thank you for helping women like me pursue our goals and answer our callings.

If someone were to ask me who had the most profound impact on my decision to pursue a career in education, the answer would be simple: my mother. Her unwavering commitment to my brother and me, her belief in the power of education despite her own limited schooling, and her daily sacrifices shaped not only who I am as a woman and mother, but also the educator I strive to be. My mother was a single parent working as an environmental specialist in hospitals. Her days began before sunrise, yet somehow she found the energy to sit us down every evening and make sure our homework was done. She didn’t just encourage education she demanded excellence. It wasn’t optional in our home. Because of her consistency, my brother and I were both identified as gifted and placed in advanced classes. At the time, we thought we were just naturally bright, but in truth, we were a direct reflection of her love, discipline, and investment. Growing up, I never realized my mother hadn't completed her own education. It wasn’t until I was older and we began navigating the complicated process of school enrollment and applications that she revealed she had dropped out in middle school. That revelation stunned me. How could someone who never completed her own schooling place such a strong emphasis on our academic success? But that was the beauty of my mother she knew firsthand the limitations that come from a lack of education, and she was determined to make sure we had more options than she ever did. She used to say we were “smarter than her,” but we were just a product of her sacrifice. We were an extension of her dreams deferred. She knew that knowledge opened doors. She never let her own educational shortcomings define her; instead, she used them as fuel to push us forward. We were latchkey kids, as many children of working single parents are. We had to grow up quicklyfilling out our own school applications, advocating for ourselves at parent-teacher conferences, and learning how to manage responsibilities beyond our years. But in doing so, we also learned resilience, independence, and self-motivation skills that I now pass on to the students I teach. My mother passed away when I was 19 years old. She never got the chance to see me walk across the stage to receive my bachelor’s degree, but I know she was there in spirit. She is still with me today as I work toward my master’s in education and continue nearly a decade of work as a classroom teacher and math interventionist. Every student I teach, every lesson I plan, and every child I advocate for is done in her honor. I work in a juvenile justice facility now, supporting youth who have often been failed by the very systems meant to protect and educate them. Many of them remind me of the child I could have been bright, full of potential, but needing someone to believe in them and hold them accountable. I teach math, but more than that, I try to instill confidence, stability, and hope. Just as my mother did for me. I am also a mother now. My daughter is young, but I already see her curiosity blooming, and I want nothing more than to give her the same foundation my mother gave me. My mission is to create a stable and loving home where education is not only a priority but a joy where she learns that knowledge is power and that her dreams are within reach, just as my mother taught me. Being a first-generation college graduate means something deep to me. It means rewriting a legacy. It means proving that cycles can be broken and that dreams planted in the heart of a middle school dropout can bloom through her children. It means honoring my mother’s vision in every classroom I enter and with every child I serve. If I could summarize my philosophy as an educator in one sentence, it would be this: education removes barriers that poverty creates. Knowledge empowers. And when youth are empowered, they are equipped to change not just their lives, but their communities. My mother may not have held a degree, but she was my first and most important teacher. Her lessons on discipline, resilience, and the value of education have carried me through every challenge I’ve faced and continue to guide me as I work to make a difference in the lives of my students.

If I had the opportunity to create a class that all students in grades K–12 were required to take, it would be a financial literacy course. Financial literacy is a critical life skill that is too often overlooked in the current education system. While subjects like math, science, and English are vital, many students graduate without knowing how to manage a bank account, budget effectively, build credit, or save for their future. As someone who has faced challenges with saving, budgeting, and credit repair as an adult, I believe that early and consistent financial education could change the trajectory of many lives. Growing up, I didn’t learn about interest rates, credit scores, taxes, or retirement planning in school. Like many adults today, I had to figure these things out the hard way often after making costly mistakes. When I began working in Houston, Texas, I noticed that the state curriculum included financial literacy as part of the high school coursework. It was refreshing to see students learn about real-world concepts like budgeting, understanding credit, and making informed financial decisions. Unfortunately, many states do not prioritize this subject, and the Common Core curriculum does not mandate it. Requiring a financial literacy course for all K–12 students would have a long-lasting impact. Early exposure in elementary school could begin with simple concepts like needs versus wants, the value of saving, and understanding coins and dollars. In middle school, students could learn about allowances, budgeting for small expenses, and the importance of setting financial goals. By high school, the curriculum could expand to cover checking and savings accounts, credit and debit cards, loans, credit scores, taxes, insurance, and investing. These lessons could be taught in an age-appropriate, hands-on way, with real-life simulations and interactive tools. The benefits of this course would be far-reaching. Students would graduate more confident and prepared to make informed financial choices. It could reduce the likelihood of falling into debt traps, improve creditworthiness, and encourage a culture of saving and planning. Financial literacy is also an equalizer it gives every student, regardless of background, the tools they need to build a stable future. It is especially powerful for students from low-income communities, where financial hardship is often generational and financial guidance may be limited at home. Making financial literacy a core component of K–12 education would empower young people with the knowledge to make smart decisions that can impact their entire lives. This course would bridge the gap between academic learning and real-world application. It would help students become not only better consumers but also future homeowners, business owners, investors, and financially secure adults. In short, teaching financial literacy early and consistently is not just a good idea it is a necessary one. As someone who has experienced the stress of financial uncertainty, I know firsthand how life-changing this knowledge can be. I hope to see a future where every student leaves school with the financial tools and confidence they need to thrive.