One of the greatest obstacles I’ve faced in my life was the passing of my great-grandmother—my Nana. Her death was more than a personal loss; it was the loss of the person who first introduced me to learning, who believed in me from the very beginning, and who helped shape the woman I am becoming. When she passed, school became harder to attend. I was grieving deeply, and everything felt heavy. I found it difficult to concentrate, to complete assignments, or even to show up for class. Still, I continued, because I knew that’s what she would have wanted for me. Nana played a huge role in my development. She taught me how to read when I was four years old, long before I ever entered a classroom. She had a sharp memory and could recite full phone numbers and addresses off the top of her head. She would sit with me, teaching me how to memorize numbers and how to stay focused. Her love for learning was contagious, even though she didn’t have the same opportunities for education that I do today. She saw something in me early on, and she nurtured it. She made me feel smart, capable, and special. That foundation stuck with me. Her passing left a void, but it also reminded me why I can’t give up. It reminded me that I have a responsibility to carry forward what she instilled in me. Education was one of the first gifts she gave me, and continuing my academic journey became my way of honoring her. Pushing through my grief taught me how to show up for myself, even when it hurts. It taught me how to hold space for my emotions while still working toward something greater. That’s a skill I carry with me not just as a student, but as a future educator. Her influence is a major reason I’ve chosen to pursue a career in education. I want to be that early spark for another child—the person who introduces them to learning and makes them feel seen and believed in. I understand what it means to be poured into by someone who didn’t have much to give but gave you everything anyway. That’s the kind of impact I want to have in the classroom. Losing Nana was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced, but it showed me how powerful love, legacy, and education can be. It shaped my purpose. It gave me a deeper “why.” My career choice isn’t just about teaching—it’s about continuing the work she started with me. I want to help young people unlock their own potential, just like she helped me unlock mine. So while grief brought pain, it also brought clarity. I know now more than ever that I’m walking the path she hoped I’d walk—and I’m doing it for both of us.

I have chosen to pursue higher education because, as an African American woman and first-generation college student, I view education as both a personal achievement and a powerful act of resistance and progress. It is a tool that allows me to break generational barriers, build a meaningful career, and open doors for others who look like me. My pursuit of a college degree is about more than academics—it is about representation, equity, and hope. Growing up, I didn’t always see myself reflected in my teachers or school leaders. There were very few Black women in positions of influence around me, and that absence was felt. Still, I pushed forward with the understanding that if I couldn’t see the example, I could become it. I’ve always believed that my presence in higher education matters. When Black girls and boys see someone who looks like them succeeding, they begin to believe that they can succeed too. As a first-generation student, the journey hasn’t been easy. My family couldn’t guide me through the college process because they had never experienced it themselves. But what they did give me was strength, determination, and the belief that I could do something more. I made it my mission to figure out how to get to college. I attended workshops, met with counselors, researched scholarships, and asked questions—even when I was unsure of what to ask. I knew I would have to advocate for myself in ways many of my peers didn’t, and I embraced that challenge. Throughout my academic journey, I’ve often found myself stepping into the role of a mentor and supporter for others, even when I was still figuring things out myself. Whether it was helping a classmate navigate a difficult assignment, translating complex material into simpler terms, or simply offering encouragement to someone who felt overlooked, I’ve always believed in the power of showing up for others. These small but meaningful acts helped me recognize that education is not just about grades or achievements—it’s about connection, empowerment, and shared progress. Being able to lift others while continuing to grow myself made me realize I want to dedicate my life to doing that professionally. I’ve also prepared mentally and emotionally. I understand that as an African American woman in higher education, I may face challenges that others won’t. I’ve experienced feeling underestimated or overlooked, but I’ve also learned how to speak up, stay focused, and push forward with grace and grit. I have built a foundation of resilience that will carry me through college and beyond. Higher education represents possibility. It is my way of claiming space in a system that hasn’t always welcomed minorities and helping to change that system from the inside out. I want to become an educator who reflects the brilliance and strength of Black women, who lifts others as I rise, and who leaves a legacy rooted in empowerment, purpose, and representation. I am not just going to college for myself—I’m going for every young Black girl who needs to know that she can.

What sets me apart is my ability to connect with anyone, no matter their walk of life. Whether I’m sitting across from a young student trying to figure out their first job or guiding a professional making a career pivot, I listen without judgment and lead with empathy. I’ve lived many lives in one: professional, student, coach, and now mother. That gives me a deep well of understanding to draw from. I see people for who they are and who they can become, and I meet them exactly where they are. I taught myself how to navigate corporate America as a Black woman, which is something no one really prepares you for. I didn’t grow up with a roadmap or a network of professionals to lean on. I had to learn how to speak the language of professionalism while staying grounded in who I am. I figured out how to advocate for myself, earn respect in rooms I wasn’t expected to be in, and move confidently through spaces that weren’t always welcoming. Once I figured it out, I knew I had to turn around and help others do the same. That’s how I became a career coach. Over the years, I’ve helped more than 200 people—mostly youth, students, and individuals from underrepresented backgrounds—revamp their resumes, ace interviews, negotiate salaries, and land life-changing opportunities. I didn’t just help them get jobs. I helped them see themselves differently. I helped them walk taller and believe they belonged. I shared every lesson I had to learn the hard way, so they didn’t have to do it alone. After years of establishing my career and building a reputation for being reliable, detail-oriented, and mission-driven, I became a mother. Having my son, Rockett, has deepened my purpose. He’s the next generation I’ve been advocating for all along. Now I understand even more intimately what it means to dream while providing, to keep pushing forward while nurturing. I want to show him, and others watching, that motherhood and ambition are not at odds. You can do both. You can thrive. What makes me different isn’t just my resilience, it’s my relatability. I’ve been the underdog and I’ve been the one making decisions. That dual experience makes me someone people trust and feel seen by. I know what it takes to survive, and I know what it takes to succeed. And I teach others how to do both. I make a difference by showing up fully and helping others do the same. I’ve created a ripple effect that stretches beyond me, and I’m only getting started.

When I was young, I always wondered what my future career would be. My family would tell me to “be a lawyer or journalist!” because of their high salaries. Deep within, I sensed those specific careers weren’t my true calling. In my younger years, I possessed a sharp social consciousness recognizing teachers didn’t make a high salary like other popular professions but money didn’t deter my purpose to shape young. What matters most is waking up knowing you love what you do than having a career you dislike because it pays better. School was my sanctuary, where I felt safe and acknowledged. My teachers saw my potential first hand and they could see my growth and development. Children’s award-winning author and illustrator, Donald Crews once said “Teachers are the first people who can show confidence in children outside of family members—and the opinions of outsiders usually make a stronger impression than relatives.” In contrast to my parents who love me and supported me because of that, these educators pushed me academically. I had a history teacher in high school who saw my potential and knew my capabilities. My visions came to life because he would support them. With his assistance, I started two new high school clubs—The People of Color Student Union and Poetry Club. For students, these clubs are essential to connect with peers and share their emotions or experiences in a safe space created for them. Being a first generation student, my parents couldn’t provide me with the resources I needed to succeed. When I came to this realization—I understood that there are children that will be just like me, yearning for guidance they cannot receive at home. I can relate to feeling alone, not knowing where to start, and not wanting to seek aid in fear of seeming needy. As a black teacher I will provide a mirror for students. Growing up, I can barely count on one hand how many of my teachers looked like me. Representation in education is crucial and provides children with the motivation to succeed. As a child, seeing a black teacher, doctor, or lawyer allows you to envision yourself in any profession you deem possible. Students will look to me for support and what makes my support more impactful is my circumstances weren’t ideal— I didn’t come from a wealthy home with my future set up for me, I fought for my future by carving my own path from humble beginnings. By becoming an educator, I am resolved to empower and inspire the black youth to manifest the futures they envision. You have to create the change you want to see. I will lend an ear, hand and do everything in my power to ensure my students succeed.

A woman who’s helped me with my educational and professional goals is my mentor Kim Connolly. In my process she has been such a great person as far as helping me expand my network and motivating, and supporting me throughout my journey to become an educator. We speak weekly about different strategies and academic plans and formulate next steps. Kim is very important to my educational goals because she encourages me to persevere. My schedule has become filled because I work full-time while also attending class and it gets difficult sometimes. Since I am a first gen student, it is my obligation to do both as this is how I pay off my loans and pay for my tuition. Kim is also my friend and we can also share similar stories, and situations so it doesn’t feel solely like a professional relationship. She is like a sister to me and I appreciate every piece of advice she gives to me. When thinking of my future, Kim assures me that all my hard work will pay off. In these times, it is so refreshing and empowering to be supported by another woman because of gender inequality, we aren’t presented with the same opportunities as our male counterparts. Intersectionality is another big factor in my life which Kim and I also share because we are both women of color—she is Asian American and I am African American. Challenges often occur in life due to these differences but we persevere. In my academic and professional journey, I have embarked on a remarkable path— meeting not only my mentor but also my soul sister. My journey with her began through the introduction by my high school history teacher, Mr. Ikeda, who recognized the potential synergy between us. From our initial meeting, the energy was delightful and we could not stop talking or laughing. Our connection was instant and I knew this would be a friendship that would last a lifetime. Our similarities are what drive us to create a different narrative in our story. When I grew into adulthood, I didn’t have the proper guidance, let alone resources being a low-income minority, and everything I’ve earned I had to strive for. There have been many sleepless nights, packed schedules, and dark days but I open my eyes and keep going, no matter how hard it gets. Kim sees this determination in me and always makes sure to let me know that she is by far impressed and proud of me. It was evident that Kim's commitment to diversity and equity was significant—it was a guiding principle in her everyday actions. This has transformed my goal of focusing on one thing in education but to explore other opportunities in the education field. Kim demonstrated an ingrained ability to pinpoint and nurture my strengths throughout our mentorship. She tailored her guidance to align with my individual goals, offering incredible insights into the complexities of navigating a diverse professional world. Under her wing, I gained a deeper understanding of my career and a sense of clarity and confidence. Kim is compassionate, dependable and ambitious. She provided unwavering support during challenging times, fostering an environment where I felt empowered and encouraged to explore new opportunities. Her outstanding work-ethic speaks volumes about her dedication to creating positive change and inspires me to be a better me every day. In essence, I am deeply grateful for her mentorship, which has not only shaped my educational and professional goals but has also instilled in me a lifelong commitment to not just showing up but impacting those I encounter everyday.