What I want to build is this specialized technical design and manufacturing firm, kind of rooted in the South Sound region of Washington state. Honestly, my whole academic ride has been driven by that stubborn need to really get complex technical concepts and then apply them toward real world outcomes. Building this company feels like the final stop of my education, a real way to connect technical innovation, more responsible production methods, and community momentum. My path through higher education started with a clear commitment to academic excellence AND practical skill development, not just theory. Across my courses, I kept a 3.5 GPA and earned Dean’s List honors at Green River College, and I leaned hard into building solid foundations in computer-aided design, current manufacturing approaches, and digital workflow tuning. Now I’m preparing to move over to the University of Washington Tacoma to finish my undergraduate degree, and I’ve kept looking for chances to push my analytical abilities further. Every class, lab, and design project has been like a steppingstone, setting me up to launch a business centered on local supply chain resilience, plus agile high precision manufacturing, in a way that actually fits the region. Still, the value I’m aiming for goes past selling finished products. I want to establish a facility that works like an educational and career launchpad, for people who come after me. Based on my own experience juggling rigorous school expectations while doing hands on community service on a farm in Maple Valley, plus my long-term career direction, I’ve seen how much mentorship and practical work matter. My firm would actively partner with regional institutions to run technical internships, rapid prototyping workshops, and hands-on training programs, so emerging engineers and designers can use modern industry tools without having to wait forever. On a personal level, building this firm confirms years of serious study and it gives me a chance to turn upper-division coursework into professional independence. For my community, it means reliable technical components for local businesses, stronger regional supply chains, and a pipeline that helps grow the next generation of technical talent. Education is the engine that turns this idea into something real. But paying for upper-division tuition is still a pretty big wall. The "Let's Aim Higher" Scholarship from Bulkthreads.com would offer key financial support, and it would directly help close my tuition gap at UW Tacoma. With less financial pressure pushing back on my schedule, I can spend more time focused on advanced technical coursework, and that should speed up my ability to build an enterprise that leaves a lasting, positive effect in my community.

When my father immigrated to the United States from the Middle East in 2001, he carried, not much more than a relentless work ethic and this steady belief that a better future could happen if he kept sacrificing and kept learning through education. He arrived during a kind of rough historical moment, and my family had to sort of figure out everything, adapting to a new culture, picking up a new language, and dealing with money stress that never really stayed away. Seeing my parents and the older family members build a life from the ground up changed how I thought about the world, completely. It felt like they were showing me early on that grit, self reliance, and perseverance aren’t just pretty ideals or words, they’re basically survival strategies, especially for an immigrant family trying to leave something lasting behind. Growing up in a home grounded in traditional Arab culture, but also adjusting to American society, gave me this kind of dual view that I still use to this day. I saw up close how immigrants help community resilience through small things, daily labor. Like supporting extended family, handling multi-generational responsibilities, or turning sparse resources into real opportunities, somehow. Our family never treated adversity as some sort of excuse to quit, instead they treated every setback as a stepping stone, toward progress. From that I developed a deep respect for human dignity and this belief that success isn’t just about personal wealth. It’s more like how much opportunity you create for other people, whether they know it yet or not. That legacy of perseverance really shaped my academic path in Washington state. I was juggling family obligations along with my studies, and I still kept a 3.5 GPA. I earned Dean’s List honors at Green River College before moving on to the University of Washington Tacoma to finish my undergraduate degree. Every academic milestone I reach feels like a tribute to what my father sacrificed, when he stepped off the plane in 2001. The discipline he and my family showed me taught me to handle difficult problems with focus and patience, so it strengthened my resolve to complete my degree as a first-generation college student, no easy shortcuts. My career goals come straight from my family’s immigrant story. I want to set up a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. Using the values of adaptability and service I grew up with, I plan to build an enterprise that focuses on local supply chain resilience, advanced digital workflows, and product design that’s actually accessible. And more than that, I want the business to act like an economic engine for the community, creating technical career pathways, offering mentorship opportunities, and providing stable jobs for underrepresented students, DACA recipients, and immigrant families who are working hard to build their own futures. The Carlos F. Garcia Muentes Scholarship matters to me in a way that goes beyond just financial support it reflects the ambition that drives immigrant families across the country. Getting this award would help close my tuition gap at UW Tacoma, so I can fully focus on my technical coursework and on enterprise planning. If I can reach my educational and professional goals, I hope I’m honoring my family’s 2001 journey and showing that the immigrant spirit is still one of America’s strongest assets, even now.

To most people, a "genius" looks sort of quiet elegance like this pristine white lab coat, clean chalkboards full of neat equations, or a sleek corporate boardroom where every idea slides into place via a polished deck. But a mad genius? Well… the thing is kind of chaotic, like constant iteration, obsession that refuses to quit, and this stubborn refusal to accept a problem is unsolvable just because the conventional rules say so. Being a mad genius isn’t really about being a villain or tearing everything down. It’s more like staring at rigid parameters, and basically saying “no,” not in a dramatic way, more in a stubborn engineering way, where you build an unexpected solution out of pure will, late nights, and creative thinking. My first real taste of thinking like a mad genius didn’t come from some high-tech lab, honestly it came from the pressure-cooker life of competitive high school athletics and technical design projects. I competed in Washington state as a distance swimmer, and my thing was the 500-yard freestyle. That race feels like ninety percent mental fortitude and ten percent raw physical threshold, if you want the plain truth. By my senior year, I took on a challenge that sounded borderline unhinged: I decided to compete in both the 500 freestyle and the 50 freestyle in separate events, during the same season, which is… yeah, a little crazy. In competitive swimming, trying to fuse extreme endurance with that explosive, fast-twitch sprinting vibe is often treated like athletic madness. The physiological demands clash hard. Sprinting wants maximum force output with basically no oxygen pacing, while distance wants energy conservation and aerobic efficiency, like you’re rationing everything. So to make it work, I had to dismantle my training approach completely, and turn my routine into this obsessive laboratory of human performance, even when it felt uncomfortable or weirdly repetitive. I started tracking heart rate variability, calculating stroke rates, and tweaking recovery protocols with almost microscopic precision. My teammates would watch me pacing the deck between sets, and they’d act like it was amusing, but I was just locked in. I was constantly analyzing the data, adjusting strategy, and pushing my body through these opposite demands, like two different sports trying to share the same lane. The “madness” in this wasn’t just noise, it was about finding a workable method inside the chaos, and pretending the contradictions weren’t contradictions. When you operate with that kind of intense focus, patterns show up where other people mostly see roadblocks. In distance sets I learned to break thousands of meters into split targets that actually felt manageable, pacing myself with robotic accuracy. Then right after that, I’d flip gears, explode off the blocks, and train my neuromuscular system for maximum speed. It meant treating my mind and body like a complex machine, something you can tune, rewire, and optimize, even if it sounds a little dramatic. That stretch of experimentation paid off, sure, it helped me drop time on the board, but the bigger shift was in my mindset. Eventually I earned my team’s prestigious "Golden Swim Cap" , which is basically an award for the competitor who shows relentless grit, unconventional problem-solving, and solid team spirit. That experience made my definition of a mad genius click, and it came down to this: someone who takes intense passion, channels it through rigorous discipline, and doesn’t get scared of pushing beyond conventional boundaries in order to invent a new way forward. Today, as an undergraduate student finishing my degree at the University of Washington Tacoma, after maintaining a 3.5 GPA and earning Dean’s List honors at Green River College, I carry that same mindset into my academic and professional goals. My long-term objective is to launch a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. Traditional manufacturing here tends to move slowly, stuck with legacy systems, and it wastes resources through messy, outdated pipelines. I want to disrupt that whole paradigm by using advanced digital workflows, automated design principles, and hyper-efficient manufacturing methods, basically so local supply chains can become more responsive and less sluggish. To create real change, you can’t just follow the blueprint someone else already drew for you. You need to be willing to experiment, fail forward, and allow a little touch of creative madness to exist without apologizing for it. Whether it’s training a body to sprint and grind distance at the same time, or building a new business from scratch, thinking like a mad genius is about having the audacity to imagine a better outcome and then having that relentless drive to actually make it happen, even when it’s not “supposed” to work.

Here is this statement: "He who wills the end wills also the indispensably necessary means thereto that are within his power. This proposition is, as regards the volition, analytical; for in the volition of an object as an effect produced by my agency, my causality as an acting cause, or the use of means, is already thought, and the imperative derives the concept of necessary actions to this end from the concept of a volition of the end itself." — Immanuel Kant, Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals (1785) In the Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals, Immanuel Kant kind of lays out a base line for rational action, by looking closely at how human volition actually works. In the part you picked, Kant claims that if someone is willing a certain outcome, then— like it or not— a rational person is also already committed to willing the means that make it happen. He is not really giving you a moral advice column, or a simple little practical hack, instead he treats the link between an intended end and the required means as an analytical thing, not just a suggestion. When you read Kant with care, it starts to feel like his real point is about what “rational agency” is, in the first place: volition is not just passive hoping, it’s an active sort of commitment to causality, and that commitment pulls a rational actor into contact with reality. To really get what Kant is driving at, you have to notice how he separates “wishing” from “willing” on purpose. In normal talk, a person can wish for something, like grades, financial steadiness, or some ethical self-improvement, and then do almost nothing, like they just keep it as a daydream. Kant rejects that as genuine volition. When Kant says that “in the volition of an object ... my causality as an acting cause ... is already thought,” he is basically saying that if you truly will an end, you also have to imagine yourself as the cause that produces it. So, if someone says they want the result but won’t do the necessary steps they have within reach, then they didn’t actually will the end, they only entertained a kind of empty wish. Kant calls this a n analytical proposition, and that word matters a lot for the argument. In Kantian logic, analytical statements are those where the predicate is already inside the concept of the subject, like saying a triangle has three sides, you aren’t adding some new info from the outside. Once you use that structure for action, Kant’s point shows up more sharply: “willing an effect” already includes, logically, “using the means.” The command to act doesn’t pop up later like an afterthought, it’s built into the first choice to chase the goal. If you try to split the goal from the work that gets it, you end up with a contradiction in your own reasoning, almost like your reason is undermining itself. He also adds a qualification— “(so far as reason has decisive influence on his actions)”—and this is where he tries to handle human imperfection without denying the principle. Rational beings can be derailed by competing desires, fear, fatigue, or just plain procrastination. Kant basically admits that people have reason, but they do not always act with full rationality all the way through. That parenthetical clause is like a reminder that not carrying out the necessary means isn’t only a minor practical failure, it’s a temporary collapse of rational unity. When emotion or laziness blocks action, reason has kind of lost its decisive grip over the will, at least for the moment. If you bring this kind of close reading into the broader picture of higher education and personal development, Kant’s point starts to feel less abstract. For example, as an undergraduate in Washington state, trying to handle demanding coursework while keeping a 3.5 GPA and Dean’s List honors at Green River College, and planning the shift to the University of Washington Tacoma, the idea lands pretty hard. Higher education becomes, in a real sense, an activity of Kantian volition. Joining a degree program or trying to launch an initiative in technical design and manufacturing, can’t stay as vague intentions floating around. The end mastery of a field and real contribution to a community logically calls for the means: focused study, careful analysis, and steady engagement with hard concepts even when it’s not convenient. So, at the end of the day, Kant’s underlying message here is an imperative for real human agency. By showing that the means are analytically contained within the end, Kant takes away the excuses people keep using to avoid action. He pushes you to match your rational aims with actual causality. To live and study with purpose is to accept that setting a goal comes packaged as an implicit pledge: you’re promising the work required to turn the goal into something real, not just something you wanted in theory.

Growing up I learned pretty early on that making a strong, resilient community isnt just some big idea, it really takes hands-on dedication and a real kind of attention to the people around you. For me that lesson showed up in the fields and orchards at an elk farm in Maple Valley, Washington, where working shoulder to shoulder became this kind of daily lesson. I harvested fresh fruits and vegetables, you know crisp apples, bright berries, and whatever seasonal produce was ready ,and honestly it felt way more than regular physical work. It was a meaningful chance to practice compassionate service, and to help local food security in a pretty direct way. The economy can be harsh, and a lot of families have trouble getting fresh, nutritious food on a steady basis. so i tried to aim my time toward making sure our harvest went to people who actually needed it. Harvesting in Maple Valley meant discipline, early mornings, and constant hard work. We gathered apples, picked fragile berries with care, and boxed fresh vegetables so local food pantries, community meal programs, and neighborhood distribution networks could count on wholesome locally grown food. Seeing how one crate of apples or berries could ease the stress for a family, that just stuck with me. It really reinforced that community strength is made through intentional, everyday acts of care, even when it feels small. Also, past harvesting, the season gave me room to mentor younger volunteers and student groups who came out with us. I helped them with proper harvesting techniques, stressed sustainable agricultural practices, and talked about the importance of giving back, right here locally. Guiding younger peers so they understood how their effort in the field becomes meals for local families—turned farm work into more than labor. It became an educational, community focused experience. That mentorship built teamwork and responsibility, plus this sense of civic duty, because when a group shows up with the same purpose the impact really multiplies, even if nobody says it out loud. This elk farm experience ended up shaping my academic and professional goals while i was in Washington state. During my studies I kept a 3.5 GPA, made Dean’s List at Green River College, and got ready to move on to the University of Washington Tacoma. I carried those values, hard work and community service, into whatever I did next. Long-term I want to launch a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. And honestly the sustainability and service mindset I built in Maple Valley still guides me. My plan is to create an enterprise that relies on ethical local supply chains, supports community agriculture initiatives, and offers real career opportunities for local youth. Communities do better when neighbors actively lift each other up. My time picking fresh produce on the elk farm basically proved to me that simple localized efforts can still produce lasting positive change. The Books for Good Scholarship from J&Y Law would mean direct financial relief, which would help close my tuition gap at UW Tacoma. When higher education costs feel less heavy, it gives me room to keep going academically, expand community initiatives, and grow into a civic leader who strengthens the neighborhoods that raised me.

Living with diabetes kind of forces this daily vigilance thing on you, and I mean honestly most people outside the chronic illness world don’t really get it. It’s like, constant blood glucose checks, dealing with the high low rollercoasters, and figuring out insulin doses while you’re still trying to keep up with class, work, and athletic training. So yeah, it’s a 24/7 technical juggling act. But for me, managing it hasn’t been some total restriction. Instead, it’s sharpened my resilience, made me hyper-aware, and built a stronger problem-solving mindset. Going through these requirements every day has really pushed me toward engineering, and manufacturing too so I can help design medical technology that feels more human and usable for others living with chronic autoimmune conditions. During my time in Washington state, I kept a 3.5 GPA and made Dean’s List at Green River College, while I was also preparing to transition to the University of Washington Tacoma. Honestly, taking care of my health during that season taught me how important reliable, well-thought-out tools are. Medical devices like continuous glucose monitors, insulin delivery systems, and wearable sensors aren’t just “nice to have”, they’re lifelines. Still, a lot of the current devices come with design issues, skin irritation, adhesive failures, awkward user interfaces, and manufacturing costs that stay too high. As someone who depends on this technology, I don’t just see a design flaw as an engineering snag. I see it as a chance to improve a patient’s quality of life, directly, in a real-world way. My big professional goal is to launch a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound area. The focus would be accessible, very dependable components for medical devices and health technology. I want to combine advanced digital workflows, modern rapid prototyping, and user-centered engineering practices. Then partner with medical technology innovators to create smarter, more durable, and more cost-effective devices. I’m especially interested in wearables that naturally fit into an active lifestyle, so there’s less physical hassle, and less social friction, for people managing autoimmune illness every single day. Beyond technical innovation, empathy has to be part of engineering, not just an extra. I’ve lived the daily “friction” of handling an autoimmune condition, so I bring a firsthand lens that designers who don’t live with diabetes sometimes overlook. I plan to mentor, and hire, other students and professionals who also have chronic conditions. My aim is an inclusive workplace culture where real personal health experience actually informs product design and quality assurance, not just during interviews but throughout the whole process. Diabetes has taught me that empathy and technical innovation need to work together, if we want meaningful change. This scholarship would be a key financial boost as I finish my undergraduate degree at UW Tacoma. It would help me concentrate on my upper-division technical classes, plus my design projects. With my engineering education and my lived experience with diabetes, I’m determined to build a career around creating technology that helps people with chronic conditions live freely, confidently, and without limits.

Raised in a home steered by the steady wisdom , and sometimes just the tiring sacrifices of my elders , shaped my work ethic, identity and the way I think about resilience. When my father emigrated from the Middle East to the United States in 2001, to build something safer, and honestly more promising, our family had to figure out what it meant to plant roots as Arab Americans in a brand new place. During key moments of my upbringing, my grandparents and guardians stepped in , not only to soften the stress but to keep things stable , and to keep our culture present even when the world felt a bit too loud. It taught me that strength is often built through low key perseverance, flexible adaptation and keeping faith in community— even when nothing feels certain. Living in a multi-generational household where traditional Arab values met American life was honestly a kind of rich learning space. My guardians gave me a real sense of cultural pride, while guiding me through the challenges of growing up as an underrepresented minority. They showed self-sufficiency in the most practical way, like when money felt tight, or when responsibilities stacked up, they handled it without turning it into drama. They modeled how to move through adversity with grace, and with resourcefulness too. Whether it was managing family duties, supporting each other through financial hardship, or dealing with cultural barriers that didn’t always come with clear explanations, my guardians made it clear that effort plus faith in what’s next are the real engines behind success. Their sacrifices instilling in me a deep gratitude , and a determination to make the most of every chance I get. All of this ended up shaping my academic path and my personal ambitions in Washington state. Because I learned discipline at home, I pushed myself in school, keeping a 3.5 GPA and earning Dean’s List honors at Green River College. Trying to balance household expectations with academic expectations taught me how to manage my time, and also how to stay locked onto long-term goals. Now I’m transitioning to the University of Washington Tacoma to finish my undergraduate degree, and the lessons of self reliance, stubborn perseverance, and patience passed down by my guardians are still like a grounding force I can return to. My future goals connect directly to the legacy of opportunity my family worked hard to build. I want to launch a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. But beyond building innovative local supply solutions, I want to build an enterprise that actually creates career opportunities, mentor pathways, and supportive routes for underrepresented minority students, and people coming from non traditional backgrounds. I want to pay forward that steadiness and encouragement my guardians gave me, so others with a similar story have the resources they need to reach higher education, and real professional success. Being raised by guardians who gave up so much to set our family up here in America made me look at challenges as openings for growth, not just obstacles. This scholarship would provide important financial assistance, easing my tuition gap at UW Tacoma directly, and allowing me to focus more fully on my studies plus community initiatives. If I achieve my educational goals, I hope to honor my family’s journey from 2001 to today and show that resilience and community support can lead to lasting positive impact, not just short-term relief.

Growing up as the child of a Vietnam War veteran, I learned early on that adaptability and discipline are essential tools for getting through life’s challenges, even when things get messy. My father’s quiet resilience kinda set the tone for how I handle my own education. As I moved through higher education in Washington state keeping a 3.5 GPA and earning Dean’s List honors at Green River College while preparing to transition to the University of Washington Tacoma online tools, digital platforms, and virtual resources have been my real backbone for academic growth. They give me the flexibility I need to juggle family responsibilities and still stay locked into rigorous coursework. To deepen my understanding of complex technical concepts, digital design principles, and business management, I lean on interactive learning platforms plus open-access digital libraries. Platforms like Coursera and LinkedIn Learning have helped me top up my college curriculum with specialized modules in computer-aided design, digital workflow optimization, and project management. Also, virtual technical forums, interactive simulation software, and academic databases such as JSTOR and IEEE Xplore, have basically acted like a digital lab for me. When I run into intricate engineering or analytical problems, online tutoring portals and collaborative digital whiteboards let me connect with peers and mentors remotely, breaking things down little by little, step by step. Honestly, these online tools have done more than just help me absorb textbook theory. They’ve changed how I apply knowledge in real world settings. For example, using web-based CAD simulations and digital prototyping software let me test abstract technical concepts in virtual environments, before I even touch physical designs. That trial-and-error mindset sharpened my digital literacy, improved my problem-solving speed, and forced me to pay closer attention to detail. Instead of treating technical challenges like roadblocks, online platforms taught me to research, iterate, and refine my ideas in a structured way which feels a lot like the modern industry workflow. Looking ahead, my goal is to launch a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. The practical skills I’ve built through online platforms everything from managing cloud-based design files to collaborating across virtual teams will be the operational backbone of that future enterprise. I want to create a digitally integrated workplace, using remote learning tools and adaptable online workflows, to train employees, streamline production, and open more accessible job pathways for local veterans and community members. Online learning resources have helped me take full ownership of my educational journey, so I can build real-world technical competency no matter the geographical distance or financial constraints. The Learner’s Annual Online Innovator Scholarship would be huge for me; it would provide critical financial relief and directly help close my tuition gap at UW Tacoma. With that support easing the cost burden, I can keep using innovative digital tools as I complete my upper-division studies, honor my father’s legacy of service, and work toward making a lasting impact in my community.

Living with a parent diagnosed with ALS kind of changes, everything about how you move through daily life, and you end up growing up fast while still carrying this huge emotional weight and financial hardship. Seeing my parent deal with a progressive, degenerative condition makes the whole “normal” schedule feel different right away, like priorities shuffle on their own. Then you get hit with the compounding expenses too, specialized medical care, home adjustments, and those everyday assistive tools, and it can feel like a household is always one step away from falling behind. For me, living in that reality meant school could never just be “go to class, get it done” it turned into proof that I can adapt, stay steady, and keep my academic attention even when things are constantly demanding. Balancing all the family responsibilities while trying to pursue higher education took serious discipline. Even with all the pressure at home, I stayed focused on my academic path during my time in Washington state, keeping a 3.5 GPA at Green River College and earning a spot on the Dean’s List. Now I’m transitioning to the University of Washington Tacoma to finish my undergraduate degree, and I can still feel those same lessons in resilience working in the background. Having to face my parent’s diagnosis while also dealing with severe financial strain taught me that adversity shouldn’t become an excuse to pause. It has to push you forward, almost like it becomes fuel for purpose, and for building something stable and meaningful for the future. This scholarship would make a real difference for my education, because it would directly shrink the tuition gap and ease the financial pressure our family lives with. ALS-related costs often force families into these terrible decisions, where you basically have to choose between necessary care and education expenses, and neither option feels “easy”. Getting the Sandra West ALS Foundation Scholarship would help reduce the constant stress of covering university fees and academic materials, so I can focus my energy on upper-division coursework and technical training, without adding more strain on my household. Outside of academics, this whole experience has shaped my commitment to community support and advocacy. I’ve connected with ALS support networks and local community care efforts that are trying to help families deal with the daily hurdles of mobility loss, and caregiver burnout fatigue. Whether I’m helping with a local awareness event, or joining community fundraisers that support patient resources, being part of these groups has strengthened my desire to give back in a practical way. Long-term, I want to build a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. I’m planning it with the empathy and structural awareness I gained from watching my family’s journey, and I want the business to center universal design and accessible engineering approaches. The Sandra West ALS Foundation Scholarship won’t only help me reach my degree at UW Tacoma, it also helps me convert this season of intense personal hardship into something sustained, a long-term commitment to innovation, service, and real community support.

Growing up in a household shaped by military service-related Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) really kind of, i guess, restructures how I see resilience empathy and support. I’m the child of a military veteran who carried the unseen wounds of service, and i learned early that trauma does not just stop when a deployment finishes. It keeps going right into the homes, into the day to day life of the people who love them. So navigating the quiet complexities of service related PTSD in my family taught me that real strength isn’t the absence of struggle, but the willingness to meet long-term challenges with patience, understanding, and something more structured than just “hope” alone. Living alongside the lingering impacts of military PTSD showed me how isolating it can be, not only for veterans themselves, but for their loved ones too. I saw it up close, trauma can show up as hypervigilance, emotional distance, or sudden anxiety, and then it builds these invisible walls between veterans and the civilian world. And from that, I picked up this strong lesson about empathy and connection: people working through service-related trauma need consistency, safe environments, and communities that recognize sacrifices without judgement. That whole shift, it gave me purpose, like i want to be a bridge of support for military families who are walking that same kind of path. All of this background has influenced my educational journey and the way I think about my career ambitions in Washington state. I approached my studies with the discipline and fortitude that I saw in my home, and I kept a 3.5 GPA at Green River College. That effort helped me earn a spot on the Dean’s List before I transitioned to the University of Washington Tacoma. My goal is to build a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. Beyond creating practical production frameworks, I’m serious about using my business as a platform to support veterans. I plan to actively partner with veteran support networks so I can help create direct employment opportunities, offer mentorship, and build structured workplace environments that are accessible and fit for people adjusting to civilian life after service-related trauma. Also, I hope to use my lived experience being the child of a veteran s a way to advocate for comprehensive mental health resources and stronger community support programs. By sharing what we learned from my family’s journey, I want to chip away at the stigma around military PTSD. Basically, encourage veterans to seek help early, and make sure their families also have the tools they need to support them in real life, not just in theory. The Bryent Smothermon PTSD Awareness Scholarship would give me important financial relief, and it would directly help close my tuition gap at UW Tacoma. If the financial pressure on my household eases, i can focus more fully on my upper-division studies and community leadership. Getting this scholarship would not only honor Bryent’s legacy of fiercely protecting and uplifting the people around him, it would also push me forward to keep advocating for veterans and their families as I work toward building a supportive, meaningful future.

Mental health challenges usually don’t show up by themselves, more like they crawl in alongside really big disturbances in the social world and in the relationships, we depend on. For a while I honestly thought adversity was only the kind of thing you meet as academic pressure or physical obstacles, you know the typical stuff. But between 2022 and 2023, I went through a brutal relational crisis. It happened when a close circle of people I called friends started, in a very systematic way, betraying my trust. Losing those foundational friendships basically broke the feeling of safety I had, and it turned into a long stretch of emotional strain that wasn’t contained, it bled into my family life too. By summer and fall of 2023, that whole situation, had piled up to the point where it felt like it hit a high note of stress. I was always on edge, full of self-doubt, and I kept drifting into isolation. Even simple daily routines became these heavy mental hurdles. During those months I experienced anxiety and emotional burnout, and it made it hard to keep any confidence in myself, or to trust the people around me. And it wasn’t just me suffering quietly in my own corner my family could see it, the quiet weight I was carrying every day. When you watch someone, you care about moving through mental distress, it becomes an indirect hardship for the entire household. It takes an enormous amount of patience, open conversation, and steady reassurance, almost like everyone has to learn a new language overnight. Working through that dark period in late 2023 ended up becoming a turning point for how I see myself and grow. With the steady support of my family, I started a more deliberate process of untangling what happened, putting in healthy emotional boundaries, and rebuilding my self-worth in a way that actually felt real. I understood that mental strength isn’t about dodging pain or pretending the hard parts don’t exist. It’s more about growing resilience, reaching for help when it matters, and re-aiming your energy toward goals that last longer than the moment. That internal shift reshaped how I approached school while I was in Washington state. Instead of letting emotional distress control my direction, I funneled my focus into Green River College, and I leaned on intentional discipline, plus some stubborn mental fortitude. I ended up with a 3.5 GPA and I earned a spot on the Dean’s List. Now I’m getting ready to transfer to the University of Washington Tacoma to finish my undergraduate degree, and the lessons from that rough stretch are still right there, driving me forward. My plan is to form a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. I want a workplace that feels supportive and collaborative, and where integrity and mental well-being are treated as priorities not just nice words. The Elizabeth Schalk Memorial Scholarship would make a big difference because it could cover part of my tuition gap at UW Tacoma directly. If it eases the immediate financial pressure on my family, it gives me space to preserve my mental energy for upper-division coursework and leadership projects. Receiving this award would also honor Elizabeth Schalk’s memory, and it would push me to keep converting past emotional hardship into something constructive, like lifelong resilience, steady ambition, and real community impact in a positive way.

Living with a severe leg injury pretty much scrambles your day-to-day life, like, the stuff that used to feel automatically becomes this planned out, careful endurance test. When I’m trying to move around with limited mobility, it turns out the world is sort of built with the idea that you don’t need help or time, or ramps that actually work. It quickly shows how our physical surroundings, and even the bigger social setup, often assumes accessibility is optional. Being part of the disabled community because of my mobility challenges has really remade how I see things... teaching me to watch systems, spaces, and chances through inclusion, flexibility, and resilience instead of just “how it’s always been done”. Before I dealt with a severe leg injury, I could just take smooth movement for granted. Like nobody tells you about the quiet obstacles until you run into them yourself. Once physical limitations became real in my body, it revealed barriers that people with mobility impairments face every day, from places that aren’t accessible buildings and uneven ground, to the kind of social isolation that happens when exertion shrinks what you can join. That experience swapped out my old, sort of passive thinking and replaced it with real empathy, plus a sharper awareness. It taught me that accessibility isn’t some nice bonus or a later upgrade, it is a basic requirement for fair opportunity. And it also made one thing crystal clear, physical limitations don’t water down a person’s intellect, ambition, or ability to lead. This change in viewpoint has shaped my academic path here in Washington state, and it’s also tied to my bigger career plans. Having to adapt to physical constraints pushed me toward discipline, problem-solving, and steady mental toughness. When physical energy is limited, focus and strategic planning become your main tools. I brought that approach with me at Green River College, where I held a 3.5 GPA, and I earned a spot on the Dean’s List, and now I’m planning to transfer to the University of Washington Tacoma to finish my undergraduate degree. My goal is to connect my technical background with an entrepreneurial mindset and eventually launch a specialized design-and-manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. My own experience with mobility limitations will be at the center of how I run the company. I’m aiming for an operational model that leans into universal design and practical accessible engineering frameworks, so that our products and our workplace spaces both support people fully. If I design workflows that can flex for different bodies and needs, I can create real openings for people who are commonly ignored in traditional manufacturing environments. Being in the disabled community has given me a clearer sense of purpose. It has shown me that real strength shows up in how well you adjust around structural hurdles. This scholarship would bring needed financial relief, and it would help reduce my tuition gap at UW Tacoma, so I can put more time and mental bandwidth into upper-division studies. Getting this award means I can turn what I learned from recovery and mobility struggles into long-term innovation and show that physical constraints can actually become fuel for meaningful impact that lasts.

Higher education has the transformative power to redefine a student’s trajectory, yet the soaring costs of tuition, textbooks, and enrollment fees often turn this pursuit into an uphill battle. For a student navigating this journey independently, financial aid is not merely an administrative detail; it is the vital foundation that allows ambition to materialize into real-world impact. I should be considered for this scholarship because my academic path has been defined by a deliberate, continuous commitment to technical excellence, structured leadership, and proactive community engagement. My journey through the Washington state educational system spanning from foundational high school coursework to advanced collegiate technical programs demonstrates the drive, ambition, and resilience that align directly with the core values of the Christian Fitness Association. My academic journey began with a focus on disciplined development during my time at Tahoma High School. It was within those classrooms that I first realized that true academic accomplishment is not achieved through passive learning, but through active, focused engagement. I sought out challenging coursework that pushed my analytical thinking skills, learning early on how to balance rigorous study schedules with personal responsibilities. This early discipline proved essential as I looked for ways to expand my technical education beyond the standard curriculum, seeking out specialized opportunities where I could apply classroom theory to complex, real-world scenarios. Recognizing my growing passion for applied science and technology, I spent my junior and senior years diving into specialized, career-focused training at the Puget Sound Skills Center (PSSC) during the 2023–2024 academic year. Enrolling in the Aerospace Engineering and computer science tracks at PSSC transformed my approach to education. I was no longer just memorizing equations; I was utilizing advanced software like AutoCAD to draft aerodynamic components, learning the foundational principles of structural mechanics, and understanding how software logic governs physical systems. This environment demanded absolute precision I quickly learned that a single misplaced variable or a minor drafting error could compromise an entire project. Navigating this rigorous technical curriculum while maintaining high academic standards across both institutions was a significant accomplishment that solidified my problem-solving mindset and technical discipline. The analytical skills and work ethic I forged at the Puget Sound Skills Center served as a direct launchpad for my higher education. I transitioned to Green River College for the 2024–2026 academic years, where I focused on maximizing my academic and professional growth. Treating my college education with the strategic mindset of an entrepreneur, I balanced advanced coursework with meticulous time-management strategies. This focused approach yielded exceptional results: I maintained a 3.5 GPA and consistently earned a spot on the prestigious Dean’s List. At Green River College, my academic achievements were deeply intertwined with hands-on application. I utilized my knowledge of computer-aided design and technical systems to break down complex challenges into structured, manageable components. Moreover, I sought out extracurricular opportunities to uplift my peers, routinely participating in academic study groups and mentoring incoming students who were navigating the challenging transition into higher education. I believe that true leadership involves sharing knowledge and fostering collaborative environments where everyone can succeed. My time at Green River College proved that physical and mental discipline are complementary forces, allowing me to maintain academic excellence while preparing for the heavy demands of upper-division university coursework. Now, in the summer of 2026, I am preparing to take the next major step in my educational journey by transitioning to the University of Washington Tacoma to complete my undergraduate degree. My long-term career goal is to combine the technical skills I developed at PSSC with the business acumen I sharpened in college to launch a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm right here in the South Sound region. I plan to leverage advanced digital tools to create highly efficient, sustainable production frameworks that help local businesses optimize their operations and reduce structural waste. To achieve an ambitious goal of this scale, I must dedicate my full energy and focus to the rigorous upper-division coursework awaiting me at UW Tacoma. However, the escalating costs of tuition, technology fees, and essential academic resources present a substantial barrier that threatens to split my focus between mandatory financial survival and academic excellence. Receiving this scholarship would provide vital financial relief, close my current tuition gap and significantly reduce the need to balance exhaustive work hours alongside my demanding engineering and technology courses. The Christian Fitness Association looks for individuals who demonstrate ambition, drive, and a commitment to creating a lasting, positive impact. Throughout my academic career from the classrooms of Tahoma High School to the precision labs of the Puget Sound Skills Center, and onto the Dean’s List at Green River College I have proven that I do not shrink from challenges; I adapt, structure a plan, and overcome them. My journey is a testament to what can be achieved when personal discipline is matched with clear educational goals. I have consistently turned obstacles into opportunities for growth, maintaining a strong academic record while actively contributing to the success of those around me. By investing in my education through this scholarship, you are not simply funding a degree; you are empowering a dedicated, disciplined student to bring an entrepreneurial, technically precise vision to life at the University of Washington Tacoma and eventually utilize those skills to drive structural innovation and economic growth within the community.

Mental health has kind of shaped my life in ways I didn’t fully get until I looked back on what happened, and how I reacted. I have not always struggled in obvious ways, but the stuff I dealt with through bullying, isolation, and self-doubt showed me how deeply emotional well-being matters for basically every part of a person life. Those experiences ended up shaping my goals, strengthening some of my relationships with people who are genuinely kind, and giving me a clearer sense of what other folks silently carry. One of the hardest chunks of my life was during sports. I joined water polo thinking it would help me find my place on a team and build confidence, but instead I ran into bullying and getting left out. A teammate kept undermining what I tried to do during games and practices, and another person I thought was a friend , made me feel unwelcome, and honestly small. I started questioning my abilities and wondering if I really belonged. I didn’t talk about how I felt, I just kept it inside because I figured I only had to endure it. But now I see it differently, holding those feelings back just made them heavier, like for no good reason. Swimming became both a struggle and a kind of healing. When I was little, I was scared of the water, and I would panic as soon as I stepped into a pool. I learned to swim through patience, encouragement, and just showing up again and again. Gradually the fear that used to control me turned into something I could push past. I still had setbacks, and I narrowly missed qualifying for league competition in my senior season , but I learned that success isn’t only medals or rankings. It’s also that resilience , the ability to keep moving ahead even when you’re disappointed. These experiences changed how I understand relationships. I learned that real friends aren’t only people who hang around with you. They are people who push you forward, respect you, and actually cheer for your wins instead of making them smaller. I also noticed that some people look confident but might have invisible emotional burdens going on, underneath the surface. Because of that, I try to come at others with empathy, not judgment. Sometimes it’s a small act of kindness, or being willing to listen, and it can change the tone of someone whole day, maybe more. My experiences have also nudged my goals. I want to keep studying, and I want to build a future where I can contribute in a positive way to my community. Whether it’s through my career or just how I act day to day, I hope I can help create spaces where people feel respected, included, and actually heard. I learned that emotional strength isn’t pretending everything is fine. It’s having the courage to ask for help, to offer support, and to keep growing even when life gets hard. Most importantly, this journey changed how I see the world. Mental health challenges are way more common than many people realize, but they stay hidden because of fear, stigma, or shame. Every person has a story that others can’t see, and every bit of compassion has the potential to shift someone life in a meaningful way. My own story taught me resilience, empathy, and perseverance. I can’t erase what I went through, but I can allow it to form me into someone who lifts others up and encourages more open conversations about mental health. That’s the view I want to carry with me through my education, my career, and whatever comes next in my life.

Growing up as the kid of a Vietnam War veteran kind of, really messaged my whole worldview, my values and even how I think about my final career path. My father’s service in Vietnam was all about immense sacrifice, resilience and this quiet, steadfast sense of duty that he just carried with him long after he came back into everyday civilian life. Watching him work through that strength, and also the physical plus emotional hurdles he had as a wartime veteran, built a deep respect for service in me. It also sparked this desire to aim for a job that’s really about supporting other people, not only myself. Those experiences taught me resilience and adaptability pretty early. His stories about survival and this brotherhood thing he described, along with his quiet perseverance through the lingering effects of the war, basically became my daily map for dealing with hard days. At some point it clicked that a career shouldn’t be pushed purely by personal ambition. Like, it should be anchored in purpose and a genuine commitment to lift up the people around you. That base is what nudged my decision to pursue my undergraduate education and shape where I’m trying to go professionally. My academic journey through the Washington state educational system, from my early years to Green River College, and now stepping into the University of Washington Tacoma, has been guided by the work ethic my father showed me. I’ve handled my studies with a kind of entrepreneur mindset, keeping a 3.5 GPA, and ending up on the Dean's List because I genuinely understand the value of the opportunities my father fought to protect, even when things were heavy. My career goal is to start a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm in the South Sound region. I want to use advanced engineering plus digital workflows to help local systems run better, and reduce resource waste in the process. The leadership, structural discipline, and integrity I saw in my father are the exact principles I plan to build my business on. I also want to create an enterprise that doesn’t just push technological innovation but also actively backs and employs veterans, along with their families, inside our local community. Getting the Veterans Next Generation Scholarship would be a huge help because it would provide critical financial relief, specifically to close my current tuition gap at UW Tacoma. By easing the financial pressure of university fees and the academic stuff like materials, I could focus more fully on the tougher upper-division coursework and the technical training ahead. Honestly, this scholarship would both honor my father’s legacy of service in Vietnam and also help me turn the resilience he taught me into a career focused on innovation, leadership, and real community impact.

In 2020, during a year of immense global change, I found myself slowly getting pulled in toward the complicated world of politics. As a young student trying to untangle the constant news cycles and the way society keeps rearranging itself, I was really after answers about how power gets used, how communities are governed, and how truth is kept from slipping away. My curiosity kept building, and then in 2021, right in my freshman year at Tahoma High School, I came across George Orwell’s Animal Farm. At first, it was just a normal English assignment, but it turned into the single most influential book I have read, and it’s still shaping how I see the world, how I feel about literature, and even the direction of my long-term plans. Animal Farm changed the way I sort information, read rhetoric, and judge authority. I was drawn in by how Orwell, using a pretty simple allegory about farm animals, managed to show political manipulation, the rot that can hide inside “noble” goals, and the risk of blindly going along with whatever comes next. It made it clear to me that truth doesn’t survive on its own , it depends on an educated, questioning public. And since I had already been quietly researching political systems since 2020, reading it felt like a kind of mental switch flipped. It boosted my interest in politics a lot, and it also showed me that the words we choose, and the books we protect, are some of the strongest tools we have for defending human rights and real democratic ideals. That connection between literature and society is also what sparked my deeper appreciation for libraries, and for the preservation of books. Books aren’t just passive entertainment, they’re like storage vaults for our shared history, the warning signs we should take seriously, and the many viewpoints that keep the conversation from shrinking. Because of this, I’ve built my ambition around volunteering in library spaces and working alongside educational resources. Like Barbara, who devoted her life as a librarian to growing a love for reading, I want to support libraries as living places where critical thinking actually happens. I want to help the next group of readers find the books that challenge them, the ones that push them to think on their own, question authority in a steady way, and keep reaching for the truth. Now, as I continue my undergraduate education, Animal Farm still sits in the back of my mind as a reminder of why I study history, political systems, and communication. It taught me to look past the surface, to care about historical accuracy, and to stay loyal to my principles even when it’s easier to do otherwise. Getting the Barbara Memorial Scholarship would mean real help financially, especially for covering my tuition gap, so I can spend more time on my studies and on volunteer work in libraries and educational communities. When you invest in my education, you’re backing a student who is committed to keeping the powerful, transformative, critical role of books moving forward for future generations.

Swimming is the unreal mix of grace, teamwork, and a ton of room that hasn't really been tapped yet. My path as a competitive swimmer through Tahoma High School’s program with the Washington Interscholastic Activities Association, WIAA, from 2021 to 2025 basically shaped who I am. It pushed my limits, made me rethink what the sport could be, and honestly, it set my vision for where swimming should go next. I’m the kind of athlete Speed League Swimming was built for: durable, driven, I know the little cracks in the amateur system, and I have that builder mindset that’s supposed to move things forward into a new era, yeah. My athletic identity got formed in the distance lanes at Tahoma. Distance swimming, especially the 500-yard freestyle, is kind of a solo sport. you’re pacing, doing strategic math with every lap, and you need a serious tolerance for discomfort that just keeps stacking up. but in 2024, during my junior year under the WIAA structure, the lonely vibe of the 500 free got smashed by community. I was grinding through those tough mid-laps, my body begging for oxygen, and I glanced over at the wall. My whole Tahoma team was lined up there, yelling loud, cheering hard, and driving me forward with every stroke. that race felt like a turning point. I got that idea clear, swimming is individual on paper, but the engine inside people runs on shared energy. That support lifted me higher than I expected, and it taught me that elite performance happens when athletes feel seen, backed, and connected to something bigger than themselves. By senior year in 2025, the ambition stayed, but the support actually grew with it. I decided to broaden my training. I took on the long grind of the 500 freestyle, and also chased the pure, jump-out-of-your-skin power of the 50 freestyle, but in separate events. Trying to balance those two ends of the spectrum wasn’t small. It forced a major shift in how I trained, learning how to build both aerobic capacity and that quick fast-twitch burst of muscle. And the community energy, it was at a peak. I kept pushing my body toward the limits in both races. I was right there on the edge of qualifying for the WIAA state leagues. This was a goal I had worked toward for four straight years, no exaggeration. But during the final stretch of my senior season, stuff I couldnt predict—both personal and structural—made me withdraw from the last qualifying opportunities. It was honestly frustrating, and it hurt a lot. I knew, and my coaches knew, that I had the times, the taper, and the physical ability to reach leagues and make a real impact. Even so, losing that postseason chance didnt erase the work. In recognition of my work ethic, my flexibility between the 500 and 50 free, and the leadership I brought up on the deck, I was awarded Tahoma’s “Golden Swim Cap.” It’s basically a sign of the ultimate competitor, someone who carries the heart, grit, and team spirit. Going through the high school system opened my eyes to what the current amateur setup is missing. The traditional model is rigid, and it leans hard on this single, straight-line pathway. If an athlete hits an obstacle like a sudden life event, or just doesn’t fit into the usual pipeline—they can get ignored completely. They end up without alternatives to compete, grow, or even show what they can do. Swimmers give up youth and comfort, but the sport still has limited professional room unless you’re aiming at the Olympics. The current approach doesn't bring enough creativity, it lacks fail-safes for athletes trying to transition, and it doesn't really celebrate the athlete’s actual personality and story alongside what they post on the scoreboard. So yeah, this is why Speed League Swimming matters now. Swimming deserves a professional, high-energy format that treats athletes like pros and turns the sport into something that feels mainstream. A league built around short races, fast results, and high engagement where personality, rivalry, and storytelling are always there would shift everything. It would change my career path, and it would change the sport itself. And it gives an alternate route for athletes like me, who have the drive, the advanced skills, and the ability to connect with audiences, but who still get dropped by the traditional system because life happens at the worst times. If I were competing in Speed League Swimming, I’d bring that same versatility from my senior year. the grit to grind the distance, and the explosive ability to sprint. Beyond blocks and race-day energy, I would also show up as a voice on purpose and me earning the Tahoma Golden Swim Cap by my captains and the team has taught me how to lead, how to build culture, and how to represent a brand with real pride. I want to help build a league where athletes are partners in the sport’s growth where we talk with fans directly and help shape the entertainment side of everything. Right now, while I pursue higher education, the financial side is a huge obstacle. Balancing tuition, training costs, and academic materials while still trying to stay in elite physical condition is a constant pressure. I’m actively searching for scholarships to close the tuition gap, so I can put my attention into school and keep my body ready for the pool. this scholarship would give real relief, help me bridge that gap, and allow me to train without compromise. I’m ready to represent the next generation of swimming, bold and resilient, and ready to help build a future for the sport with Speed League Swimming and for my Washington Athletic association.

Honestly the shift into parenthood kind of reorders everything, like your daily rhythm becomes this constant juggling thing between what your immediate family needs right now and what you’re trying to build long term. Doing that as a single parent, while also pushing through a rigorous undergrad program, takes that pressure and multiplies it, no question. For a non-traditional student who has to manage home logistics, child-rearing, and a heavy academic schedule, college stops being some laid back, “just attend” situation. It becomes this calculated test of resilience, scheduling, and plain stubborn determination. And being both a single parent and a student means you have to run at high performance every single day, turning what could be chaotic obstacles into something clearer, almost like a purpose-driven mission. The most intense challenge, balancing single parenthood with school life, is the sheer scarcity of time and flexibility. In a more traditional college setup, students can usually carve out long, uninterrupted blocks for deep study, research, and extracurricular teamwork. But since I’m the only parent in the picture, my schedule has to be planned with microscopic precision. Like every hour gets accounted for, whether that’s school drop off and pick up, meal prep, childcare, or lectures, lab time, and the deadlines for assignments. There’s no second adult to split the load, so any surprise event like a kid getting sick, or a sudden domestic demand—can mess with weeks of carefully planned academic momentum. That quiet pressure stays with you, and to keep moving forward I have to stay emotionally disciplined, and I have to refuse to let exhaustion decide how strong my work turns out. This disciplined mindset has basically been the engine behind my whole academic path in Washington state. From the early focus I built during high school, to my time at Green River College where I worked through advanced coursework to hold a 3.5 GPA and earn a spot on the Dean’s List, I’ve treated education like a necessary investment. Now I’m moving on to the University of Washington Tacoma to finish my upper-division undergraduate studies, and the stakes are higher, like noticeably. The classes require more analytical thinking and a deeper technical focus, and they’re happening at the exact same time my child depends on my steady presence and emotional guidance. Working through the structural friction between these two demanding worlds has sharpened my resolve, and honestly, it’s pushing me to grow as both a provider and a scholar, at the same time. For the long run, I want to use the technical knowledge and business know-how I’m building in college to start a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm here in the South Sound region. My plan is to rely on advanced digital tools and engineering workflows to create efficient, sustainable production frameworks, so local businesses can optimize operations and cut down on resource waste. Building an enterprise from the ground up takes the same foundation of drive, adaptability, and leadership that I practice at home daily. Pursuing an entrepreneurial goal at this level isn’t just about personal validation. It’s also about setting a legacy of self-reliance and showing my child that structural barriers can be dismantled through consistent, strategic effort not luck, not shortcuts. The Single Parent Scholarship through the Organic Formula Shop would be a major financial catalyst for me. Rising costs tuition, mandatory technology fees, and essential learning materials create a real financial wall that can split attention between basic survival needs and actual academic excellence. Getting this $2,000 award would directly help close my current tuition gap at UW Tacoma, easing the immediate stress on our household. And by lowering the need to take on exhausting outside work hours alongside my studies, this scholarship would help me keep my energy for rigorous upper-division coursework and technical research. Ultimately, investing in my higher education through this opportunity has a direct ripple effect across generations. It brings the financial stability needed to finish my degree without compromise, which means I can graduate on time and move straight into the regional tech and manufacturing sector. More than that, it lets me model a relentless work ethic and a steady commitment to self-improvement for my child. By taking the vulnerabilities of single caregiving and turning them into a structured, long-term plan focused on ambition and community impact, I’m securing a more prosperous and stable future for my family while also getting ready to contribute meaningful innovation within the community.

Going back to higher education as a non-traditional student while raising a family honestly completely rewires how I think about time, discipline, and what matters most. There’s no way around it, you end up living inside this constant juggling act where every day feels like it has to be mapped out, down to the minute. On one hand you have the absolute responsibility of parenthood, on the other hand you’re staring at the rigorous expectations of an undergraduate program. So, the main thing I’ve had to face in this whole process is that careful, almost sensitive balancing act making sure my kids get the steady support they need while I still keep the focus high enough to do well academically, within the competitive Washington state higher education environment. When I decided to return to school, I knew the whole “traditional” college experience was not going to fit me. I can’t treat my education like it’s a single, isolated priority. It has to sit inside a working system that already includes family logistics, home management, and the financial obligations we can’t ignore. At first, the sheer number of responsibilities felt too much. Coursework, lectures, and time for technical projects all pile up, and then the personal downtime just shrinks. I had to get serious about time-management, and organization too, basically treating my academic schedule like a business model focused, disciplined, and always aiming for maximum efficiency. This journey has basically forced me to fully use the skills I built through my academic path in Washington. From the foundational discipline I worked on years ago, to carrying demanding college workloads at Green River College where I kept a 3.5 GPA and also earned a Dean’s List spot, I’ve had to keep proving my resilience. Now I’m moving on to the University of Washington Tacoma to complete my upper-division undergraduate studies, and the stakes are even higher. The coursework keeps getting more layered, requiring deeper analytical thinking at exactly the same time that my children need active, present guidance so there’s no “set it and forget it”, it’s constant attention. Long term, I want to launch a specialized technical design and manufacturing firm right here in the South Sound region. I want a business that uses advanced engineering workflows to streamline local supply chains and reduce resource waste. For me, that goal isn’t only about personal satisfaction, it is also about showing my children that structural barriers can be worked through using persistent momentum and carefully measured effort. I want them to see, up close, that being on a non-traditional path doesn’t automatically shrink your opportunities. It shouldn’t limit what kind of impact you can create, or how long it can last. The Jerrye Chenes Memorial Scholarship would give real, necessary financial relief, and it would directly help close my current tuition gap at UW Tacoma. If I can ease the immediate financial stress of balancing university fees with household expenses, I can preserve more of my energy for rigorous technical studies, instead of splitting my attention across too many extra outside work hours. With this scholarship, I’d be better positioned to keep moving toward my educational goals and prove that with enough ambition and resilience, a parent can bridge the gap between family commitment and academic excellence.

Watching my parent manage the weight of every household responsibility alone didn't just teach me about hard work; it forced me to take ownership of my own future. I realized that my education was the most reliable tool I had to provide future security for myself and my family. This sense of ownership defined my time at Tahoma High School. I knew that to reach my goals, I had to excel despite any financial or logistical hurdles. Graduating with Honors was my first major step in proving that my circumstances would not limit my potential. I carried this "bold" mindset into Green River College, where I took on the responsibility of navigating my higher education with a high level of independence. Achieving a 3.5 GPA and earning a spot on the Dean’s List was a direct result of the resilience I developed at home. Being the child of a single parent meant I didn’t always have a safety net, so I worked harder to ensure I didn’t need one. My journey has now led me to the University of Washington Tacoma, a milestone that felt nearly impossible when I was younger. Being part of a single-parent family shaped my educational path by making me more resourceful and ambitious. I learned to seek out opportunities, manage my time effectively, and maintain a high standard of excellence because I understood the sacrifices being made to get me here. Because of the support I received from community programs during my upbringing, giving back is a core part of my identity. I have dedicated time to volunteering because I know how much of a difference a helping hand makes for families like mine. In the future, I plan to use my degree and my career to advocate for and mentor other students from single-parent households. I want to help them navigate the complex world of college applications and financial aid, showing them that their background is a source of strength, not a weakness. By succeeding at UW Tacoma, I hope to prove that the "staggering" statistics regarding single-parent homes do not define our success. I am committed to finishing my degree and returning to my community as a leader who provides the same encouragement and support that helped me stay on my path. This scholarship would be a critical investment in that mission, allowing me to focus on my studies and my future impact.

True leadership isn't shown by giving orders from the sidelines, but more like being right there, working shoulder to shoulder with the group, to hit a shared community target. That idea servant leadership yes is something I really felt click in the summer of 2024. During that time, I organized a big volunteer harvesting push at the Elk Farm in Maple Valley Washington. At first, it was just a seasonal thing, we had a heavy crop load to handle, but it quickly turned into this deeper lesson about how well-organized voluntary service can actually shore up local food security, and also build this steady, real community bond that you can feel. As the lead organizer, my job was not only “show up and pick.” I had to pull in a team of peer volunteers, arrange daily transportation to the farm, and set up the workflow so we stayed efficient during the busiest harvesting weeks. Working with other students in a tough, physical environment meant I had to plan carefully, and keep communication clear, because if you don't, things slow down fast. To help everyone stay energized and also safe in the summer heat, I set up a rotating shift system. That way the heavier field work was balanced with sorting and packaging tasks, and somehow our mood stayed steady even when the days were long. Besides managing logistics, I stayed in the action with them, harvesting crops and loading crates for hours each day. I honestly thought it mattered a lot that I modeled the same commitment I expected from the volunteers I was directing. When you are out there with the crew, you can build genuine relationships, spot issues as they happen, and keep the whole team aligned on what we were really doing, which was delivering fresh local produce to regional food banks and community distribution centers. By the end, our structured effort worked out in a major way. Local officials and farm managers ended up publicly praising us for organization, efficiency, and overall impact. They pointed out that the number of crops we harvested and processed was way higher than past volunteer attempts, which meant more help for families across the Maple Valley area. Getting that recognition from community leaders was genuinely affirming, but the real payoff was seeing the results in a practical sense, like how our collective work showed up across the region. This experience really sums up why leadership through service matters so much. When leaders meet challenges with a willingness to serve, not a need to dominate, they pull real dedication and unity out of their teams. Serving the community on purpose, voluntarily lets students look past themselves and start taking ownership for the wellbeing of their neighbors. And as I keep moving through my undergraduate journey, I carry these lessons with me: accountability, drive, and the value of structured teamwork. I feel ready to organize more future initiatives that use servant leadership to create change that lasts, not just change that looks good for a moment.

Protecting our planet really takes a deliberate, careful move away from continuous consumption and toward intentional preservation, almost like we choose restraint on purpose instead of letting habits run the show. And honestly this shift isn’t just about a temporary vibe, or a trend that fades. It depends a lot on how we build, create, and operate the physical world around us day to day. My commitment to environmental sustainability did not just appear out of nowhere; it started to form with a clear, almost stubborn structure during my sophomore and junior years at Tahoma High School. Joining campus clubs that leaned into environmental advocacy and engineering let me watch, firsthand the connection between human innovation and immediate ecological impact. In those working spaces, we looked closely at local waste streams and brainstormed sustainable campus initiatives, which was a bit chaotic, and it somehow still sparked a strong desire in me to combine technical design with practical environmental caretaking. Those early experiences then basically laid down a steady base for my academic pathway, moving me from Green River College and now into my undergraduate studies at the University of Washington Tacoma. I see my education in technology and precision design as a real engine for ecological improvement, not just something you do because it’s in the textbooks. My longer-term entrepreneurial goal is to launch a specialized design and manufacturing firm right here in the South Sound area, keeping sustainable production frameworks as the core priority of the whole business model. Using advanced technical software like AutoCAD, I plan to optimize material efficiency, tighten up production loops, and reduce industrial waste in a way that is measurable. The idea is to help local businesses cut their carbon footprints in practical terms, not in vague promises. I also truly believe the next generation of green thinkers has to tackle environmental sustainability with a highly disciplined, business-minded structure, instead of relying only on good intentions, because intentions alone don’t manufacture anything. Through the work of my future firm, I want to contribute to a healthier world by developing durable, eco-friendly alternatives to the usual manufacturing components, directly confronting issues linked to global resource depletion. Getting through higher education has taken the same kind of calculated drive I used to stay on track academically and earn a spot on the Dean’s List during my early college transition. A scholarship like this would provide crucial financial support as I finish my upper-division coursework at UW Tacoma, which helps me preserve my energy for rigorous technical studies. By reducing that funding gap, this opportunity lets me carry forward the core lessons of community collaboration from my high school clubs and scale them into lasting, real-world engineering solutions that protect the environment for generations to come.

A terminal diagnosis does not only touch one person; it restructures the entire household, changing the rhythm of daily life overnight. When my relative was diagnosed with a progressive illness, our home transformed into a space centered around medical calendars, caregiving routines, and the constant, quiet pressure of racing an advancing disease. Seeing a loved one who used to be a steady foundation of our family slowly lose mobility while their mind stayed completely sharp was the heaviest emotional weight I have ever had to carry. Because I was a student trying to keep up with coursework while also dealing with immediate caregiving needs, I had to grow up fast, learning how to pull strength out of deeply vulnerable moments. Still, this adversity did not crush my spirit; it sharpened my resolve. Seeing my relative move through each stage of their illness with quiet grace, choosing to lean into the love we had as a family instead of getting stuck on the physical limitations, became my primary motivation. They never let the illness become a barrier to encouraging my future. Watching that level of resilience in real time taught me that real strength is not the lack of hardship, but the will to keep moving forward when life throws obstacles. It showed me that the challenges I run into during my academic journey are surmountable compared to the daily fight my relative faced with complete determination. Because of that, my motivation and my long-term dreams look completely different today. Before the diagnosis, my goals were vague, but stepping into a caregiving role lit up a much deeper ambition in me. I realized I wanted to work in the healthcare and technical spaces with true purpose. I am currently moving through my undergraduate program, using the focus and time-management habits I built at home to keep my GPA strong, comfortably above the 3.0 bar. I see education as a privilege and a platform, and I plan to dedicate my studies toward understanding complex systems so eventually I can help develop assistive technologies or patient-care logistics that genuinely raise the quality of life for families managing severe illnesses. Mary Jane Sanders believed in family and in going after what brings true fulfillment. Our family’s experience has proven to me that we can endure things that feel impossible as long as we support one another. This scholarship would be a major financial relief, easing some of the heavy burdens that come with long-term medical care and giving me the ability to put my full attention into my upper-division studies. I am entirely committed to honoring my relative’s legacy of resilience by doing my very best every day and turning what we lived through into a long-term mission of ambition, purpose, and community impact.

My passion for science, it didn’t really start with text-heavy encyclopedias, more like with this sudden realization that code is kind of an instrument like it can turn abstract theory into something you can actually touch and see. Growing up, I was constantly drawn to the way digital logic can steer massive, complex physical structures, and it was always kinda mind blowing. That curiosity, naturally, pulled me toward computer science, especially when it shows up as a critical part of aerospace engineering. To stretch my understanding past the usual high school curriculum, I spent the 2023–2024 academic year enrolled in the Aerospace Engineering program at the Puget Sound Skills Center (PSSC). At PSSC, computer science moved from being just lines of text on a monitor into the kind of foundational nervous system behind flight technology. I was honestly captivated by how programming languages and software architecture have direct effects on aerodynamics, avionics, and structural mechanics. Over the school year, I got really involved in independent and group projects, learning how to use specialized software like AutoCAD to draft and simulate accurate aerodynamic parts. Trying to balance coding with mechanical design made me sharpen my analytical discipline, which I didn’t expect to be so intense. I learned that in aerospace computer science, a single misplaced variable can shift an entire trajectory, and yeah this is the kind of truth that requires absolute precision, and a no-nonsense problem-solving mindset. Still though, being good in the lab is only part of the story. The real worth of scientific innovation, in my view, comes when it’s shared, and understood by the public. I started noticing a growing wave of public skepticism toward technical advancements, and that made me realize science advocacy matters almost as much as the research itself. In my community and at school, I have actively worked to make computer science and engineering feel less mysterious for my peers. I routinely volunteer to show how code connects to physical models, and I try to break down complicated software ideas into everyday language. When I show younger students how software logic directly controls the mechanics of flight, I’m working to undo the belief that engineering is some far-off, intimidating subject. So what happens if we don’t push for scientific literacy, well then future innovation just slows down. When people don’t trust technology or they don’t even understand it—funding tends to dry up, talented minds hesitate, or simply don’t enter the field, and progress becomes this stalled, slow machine. By combining the technical skills I built at the Puget Sound Skills Center, with a steady commitment to public outreach, I want to become a leader who not only develops next-generation software but also speaks up for the scientific method and why it matters. This scholarship would be a crucial support step as I pursue my higher education degree, and it would help me keep bridging that gap between advanced computer science and public understanding.

The impact of incarceration stretches far beyond the walls of a correctional facility, deeply altering the lives, stability, and dynamics of the families left behind. Growing up in a household directly impacted by the incarceration of a close family member, I learned early on that the criminal justice system shapes entire communities. The sudden absence of a foundational figure in my life introduced immediate financial strain and emotional hurdles that could have easily derailed my focus. However, navigating the complex feelings of separation and the social stigma that often accompanies an incarcerated relative forced me to grow resilient, transforming a difficult personal hardship into a profound motivation to pursue my education. This experience taught me that structural challenges do not define a person's worth or ultimate capacity for success. Through the long process of visiting hours, phone calls, and witnessing the barriers to re-entry that individuals face after serving their time, I gained a unique perspective on the importance of support networks. I realized that education is one of the most powerful tools for breaking cycles of hardship and building a stable future. Instead of allowing the adversity at home to discourage me, I channeled my energy into my studies, working hard to maintain strong academic standing from my time in high school to my undergraduate courses. Experiencing the systemic ripple effects of incarceration firsthand has entirely shaped my academic and career aspirations. Currently pursuing my undergraduate degree, my goal is to focus on public policy, social work, or legal studies so that I can eventually work within advocacy programs dedicated to family stabilization and re-entry services. I want to help build resources that support children and students who are navigating the unique challenges of having an incarcerated parent or relative, ensuring they have the mentorship and guidance necessary to stay on the path to higher education. This scholarship would provide vital financial relief, helping to bridge the funding gaps in my tuition and allowing me to dedicate more time to both my upper-division coursework and community volunteering. By easing the financial pressures on my family, I can focus entirely on achieving my goals and turning a challenging background into a career centered on empathy, structural support, and positive community impact.

The Universal Language of Logic To me, mathematics is more than just a bunch of numbers, formulas, or rigid equations that you memorize for an exam. It feels like a universal language that brings order, clarity, and predictable sense into a chaotic world, and honestly that’s what keeps me attached to it. What I love most is its absolute certainty. In a world full of subjective opinions, and shifting variables, math gives you this kind of landscape where truth isn’t negotiable. You can get creative while solving a complicated equation, even doing trial and error as you go, but in the end the destination is built on logic, clean logic, no tricks no unneeded stuff. My interest in this subject grew a lot through my academic milestones. From the advanced coursework at Tahoma High School to being on the Dean's List at Green River College with a 3.5 GPA. In those spaces, I realized that math is the ultimate tool for problem solving. Whether I’m mapping out structural dimensions in AutoCAD, or I’m analyzing economic budgets, math offers the framework that lets us build, innovate, and improve. It also makes the human mind think with more precision, and it breaks down huge obstacles into more manageable steps. So instead of feeling lost, you approach challenges with a kind of systematic focus. Now, as I transition to the University of Washington Tacoma to pursue my undergraduate degree, my passion for mathematics is still a main pillar of my career goals. I see math as the engine behind modern technology, business infrastructure, and scientific progress. To love math is, in a way, to love the actual process of discovery, and the satisfaction that comes when you find an elegant solution to something that looked intricate at first. This scholarship would give vital financial support, so I can fully dedicate myself to my quantitative studies at UW Tacoma, and keep using mathematical logic to create a positive, lasting impact in my community.

Every individual has this one weirdly specific trait that, kind of, acts like a personal signature. For me it’s my neurodivergence, or really, the way my brain runs. Being autistic means I perceive, process, and interact with the world differently than most of my peers, and honestly that difference showed up pretty early. Growing up, that “difference” would end up looking a bit awkward in traditional social settings, like not on purpose, just… it happened. Sometimes it was my intense hyper-focused attention on obscure topics, sometimes it was how I interpret language very literally, and sometimes it was that I really need specific routines to handle sensory overload. I was always aware I didn’t exactly fit the standard mold, even when I couldn’t really explain why yet. In my early school years those traits sometimes made me a target for teasing, and other times I’d just end up feeling kind of stranded on the edge of social circles. But then when I got to Tahoma High School, my whole view started to shift, like big time. I came to understand that the things that set me apart weren’t just problems they were also my strongest tools. My ability to lock in deeply helped me master more complex analytical concepts, which then led me to graduate with Honors. What used to feel like an awkward barrier, ended up becoming a reason I could stick with academics and grow. That realization kept expanding during my time at Green River College. Instead of treating my own processing style like some kind of limit, I leaned into it as an entrepreneurial advantage. My neurodivergence lets me look at problems from unusual angles and then build structured, systematic solutions that other people might miss. When I embraced that angle, I held a 3.5 GPA and stayed on the Dean’s List. I also got better at navigating collaborative spaces in higher education, partly because I was open about how I communicate, and that helped me form stronger, more genuine connections with classmates and professors. Like, it didn’t just make things easier it made them real. Now I’m transitioning to the University of Washington Tacoma, and I see my way of thinking as a driving force behind my ambition, not something I need to cover up. The world has complicated challenges that can’t be solved by conventional thinking only. It takes people who are wired differently, people who can question the status quo and bring in fresh ideas, even when it doesn’t look normal. My goal is to use my education to create real impact, showing that the things that made me look different or feel “awkward” back then are often the same traits that help you lead and innovate later. This scholarship would provide crucial support as I keep turning what makes me stand out into positive change.

Throughout my journey of sobriety, the meaning of recovery has continuously evolved. In the beginning, breaking free from alcohol felt completely unreachable, like a milestone I would never be strong enough to achieve. However, after dedicating a few years to consistently attending AA and NA meetings, my confidence began to grow. At that pivotal point in time, recovery transformed into the realization that I could live a successful, fulfilling life no longer chained down by alcoholism. Today, recovery means putting my best foot forward every single day. It means making the conscious choice to do the next right thing and reaching out to help others who are currently facing the same dark seasons I once endured. I strive to live a genuinely free life, maintaining my resilience even through the hardest moments. Sobriety is not a static achievement; it is something you must constantly and intentionally work for. Today, I am incredibly proud to say that I am five years sober from alcohol. This milestone serves as a daily reminder that with determination and a strong support system, a life of freedom is entirely possible.

True selflessness kind of lives in the choice to put your time and energy toward something that feels bigger than just you, without waiting for anything back. Honestly, life ends up being shaped by the connections we make and the kind of support we offer to people around us, all the way through. During the summer of 2024, I got to try this idea out in a real way, right here in Maple Valley, Washington, at a community harvest effort at Elk Run. The whole thing pushed my body more than I expected and it also strengthened my belief in altruism, showing me, how much localized community service can matter, especially for families dealing with food insecurity. That summer had those long, hot days, you know, and still there was this real need for fresh produce in our local food banks. I volunteered to help harvest fruit and vegetables, like strawberries oranges, and different seasonal greens. Agricultural volunteering is hard work, it is bend over for hours under the sun, carefully sort the harvest so it stays high quality, then lift and move the yields. From that first week I went all in, like maximum effort. I kept going through the physical fatigue because I kept the end goal clear in my head: every basket we filled meant fresh, nutritious food that could actually reach a family who needed it. After a while, my perseverance didn’t just stay personal it turned into something closer to leadership out in the field. Because I stayed consistent and worked with real drive, I became one of the more effective and dependable volunteers in the program that summer. But being “the best” in a service setting didn’t feel like I was trying to outshine other people. It was more like I was raising the bar for myself in a way that helped others stay focused and keep moving. When newer volunteers started to feel tired, or just overwhelmed by the heat, I tried to stay close and work with them offering encouragement, sharing hydration, and showing efficient harvesting techniques. In my mind, selflessness is making sure the whole group succeeds, so the community can benefit the most possible from what we produce, together. Now I’m transitioning to the University of Washington Tacoma, and I’m pursuing my longer-term career goals while carrying what I learned from that summer. Michael Rudometkin once shared that life is about doing what truly fulfills you, while also helping others along the way. Feeding my neighbors, and leading with empathy at Elk Run, is what fulfills me. This scholarship would give meaningful financial help, easing the pressure of student debt so I can spend more time on community service initiatives at my new campus. I’m committed to keeping that momentum, using my education to build a career where I can keep working toward a better, more equitable world.

Growing up between 2020 and 2023 was kind of a wild mix of stuff, and i mean that in a messy way because it felt both cultural and personal at the same time. Like as a teenager then, the whole world seemed paused and also speeding up, somehow, creating this hyper-aware relationship with time. It was during that time that Olivia Rodrigo’s discography really kicked into the mainstream, and it did this exact thing where it caught the angry, growing, and low-key heart-ache longing that kind of defined my generation. I keep coming back to her song "deja vu", especially the line, “Am I dental floss? / Do you laugh at the jokes that I told you when you’re with her?” And it hit me, not just because it’s literally heartbreaking, but because there’s this deeper vibe of watching a past version of your life get reused or left behind like it was some kind of copy-paste. That feeling matched what I was dealing with, teenage nostalgia, that awkward kind where you want the past back, but you also know you’re supposed to move. The early 2020s were basically a rollercoaster of friends changing, routines shifting, and this constant pressure to “discover yourself” even when you didn’t really know how. In Maple Valley, it felt extra intense, like the social stuff was always turning, and you could build these tight little bonds over months, make inside jokes, collect specific local places you only knew with your people… and then suddenly life shuffles everyone into new directions like, no warning. Hearing Olivia sing about old memories sticking on repeat made me realize how fast the present gets turned into the past. I caught myself looking back at 2021 or 2022 with this heavy nostalgia, like I was grieving certain parts of my teenage years while I was still living them. Olivia’s music also taught me something I didn’t expect, nostalgia isn’t only a cozy, warm thing. There’s weight to it. In "deja vu" there’s a frustration with how easily old patterns show up again, even when the people are new. For me it wasn’t only about a romantic mess, it was more about leaving the core of my teenage self behind. Watching friends move on to different schools, seeing old hangouts change, and realizing that the exact kind of magic from those early 2020s days couldn’t be recreated perfectly, yeah that was hard to swallow. Her lyrics kinda gave me permission to feel that ache, like it’s allowed to mourn chapters of your life while you’re already writing the next ones, even if it feels confusing at first. Honestly, dealing with that nostalgia helped me build more passion and drive for whatever comes next. Instead of being stuck in a loop of looking backward, I learned to use the energy from those vivid teenage memories as fuel. The whole ordeal of getting through the uncertainties from 2020–2023 proved I’m resilient. Olivia’s raw honesty, in the way she writes, made me want to treat my own emotional history as something useful, not just something heavy. And now, as I step into new academic and personal chapters, I carry those lessons with me not really grieving what’s gone but being grateful for the music and the memories that helped shape who I’m becoming.

Grief has a way of rearranging our priorities, and it tests your resolve even when you didn’t plan on any of it. In December 2024, my world shifted in a way I still feel in my day-to-day life after. My grandmother passed away in Cairo Egypt, and she had been a foundational presence, like an anchor, offering steady support, and grounding our family with her quiet wisdom. When she was gone, I was left with a huge emotional gap within me, and I was very emotional when I heard the news for the entire day. At the same time, I still had to handle the demands of higher education, which honestly felt like one of the toughest things I’ve ever tried to balance. Still, I chose to take that pain and turn it into motivation, not just to survive it, but to honor her memory through disciplined effort. At that point, I was already building on the academic foundation I created at Tahoma High School. I graduated with Honors, and that achievement felt like something she would’ve been proud to see continue. When I moved to Green River College, the loss of my grandmother made it harder to keep momentum. Some days, focusing felt nearly impossible, and the pressure from coursework could pile up fast. But I kept thinking about her pride in my progress, and I understood that keeping her spirit close meant embodying the resilience and work ethic she always encouraged, some days later we went to Egypt in February 2026 and we visited our grandmothers cemetery and we pray and sat down with her for several minutes until we leave in peace. That moment struck me as I love my grandmother very much. Instead of letting the tragedy shrink my ambitions, I leaned into my studies with a renewed drive. I learned to handle grief through structure: setting strict goals and treating my education like a tribute to the legacy she left behind. Through perseverance, I maintained a 3.5 GPA and earned a spot on the Dean’s List at Green River. Those accomplishments became more than just numbers on a transcript; they were proof that I could convert heartbreak into growth and still succeed academically. Now, as I transition to the University of Washington Tacoma, the lessons I learned from losing my grandmother still guide me. I’m stepping into this next chapter with a clearer vision, and a deeper commitment to my future career. Loss has given me sharper empathy, and a stronger desire to use what I learn to create a positive impact on the people around me. Even if December 2024 will always be part of my story, it has shown me something important: resilience is possible. Continuing to pursue my degree at UW Tacoma with dedication and drive, I’m building a future that reflects the values she instilled in me, and demonstrating that hope and purpose can endure, even after a loss that cuts deep.

Human connection is often viewed as a passive part of life, but my educational journey has taught me that building relationships is an active, deliberate skill. From my junior and senior years in high school to my time in higher education, my growth has been entirely shaped by the mentors and peers who challenged me to look beyond myself. By learning to connect deeply with others, I transformed from an independent student into a collaborative leader. The relationships I forged at Tahoma High School, the Puget Sound Skills Center, and Green River College did not just help me survive academic challenges; they defined who I am today and how I intend to impact the world. The foundation of this understanding began during my junior and senior years at Tahoma High School. High school can easily become an isolating experience focused solely on individual performance. However, my time there taught me that true leadership requires building bridges. Whether working on group projects or supporting classmates, I realized that academic success is amplified when we lift others up. This realization deepened significantly when I joined the Aerospace Engineering program at the Puget Sound Skills Center (PSSC). At PSSC, I was introduced to a highly specialized, rigorous technical environment. It was here that a defining relationship emerged with my instructor and my lab peers. Aerospace engineering relies heavily on precise communication and absolute trust; a single miscalculation in a design affects the entire team's project. When I was mastering complex tools like AutoCAD, I didn’t just focus on my own blueprint. I spent hours building connections with my classmates, breaking down difficult design steps, and helping them troubleshoot their models. The mutual support we gave one another earned me the Most Improved Award, but the real reward was learning that technical fields are completely dependent on human connection. We were not just building machines; we were building a community of reliable problem-solvers. This relationship-first mindset became my anchor when I transitioned to Green River College. The leap to higher education brings a new level of independence, which can often feel lonely. Instead of retreating, I actively sought to foster authentic connections within my new campus. I formed study groups, engaged deeply with my professors, and used my experiences from PSSC to mentor peers who were struggling with the transition to college-level coursework. Maintaining a 3.5 GPA and earning a spot on the Dean’s List was a collective victory. It was the direct result of the academic relationships I nurtured connections built on shared goals, late-night study sessions, and mutual encouragement. Now, as I take the next major step at the University of Washington Tacoma, my commitment to human connection remains my driving force. Relationships are the engine of my long-term professional ambitions. I do not view my future career as merely a path to personal stability, but as an opportunity to build networks of support for future students and professionals, particularly within tech and engineering spaces. My journey has proven that authentic connection requires vulnerability, patience, and a willingness to serve. By honoring these values in my past, I have learned how to bring diverse groups of people together to achieve a common goal. This scholarship will allow me to continue prioritizing relationship-building at UW Tacoma, ensuring that my education is always used to foster community, close communication gaps, and build a more connected future.

Leadership is often characterized by those who stand at the front of a room, but I have found that the most impactful leadership happens in the trenches—when you are helping a peer solve a problem or inspiring a team to keep pushing during a difficult moment. As a student with special needs, my journey has required a unique brand of "drive" to navigate academic and social environments. However, these experiences have not been obstacles to my leadership; they have been the very things that shaped it. To me, being a leader means turning my own resilience into a resource for others. My commitment to leading through action was first recognized at Tahoma High School, where I was honored with the Most Inspirational Award on the water polo team. In a sport as physically and mentally demanding as water polo, it is easy to become discouraged when the score is down or exhaustion sets in. I made it my mission to be the voice of encouragement, ensuring that my teammates felt supported regardless of the circumstances. Being "inspirational" didn't mean I was the highest scorer; it meant I was the one who refused to give up and who empowered others to do the same. This award taught me that a leader’s primary job is to sustain the morale and momentum of the group. I carried this philosophy into my technical studies at the Puget Sound Skills Center. While enrolled in the Aerospace Engineering program in Puget sound skills center in 2023-24 year, I faced the steep learning curve of complex design software. Rather than becoming overwhelmed, I applied myself with a focus that eventually earned me the Most Improved Award. My growth in that class allowed me to transition from a learner to a mentor. I became the person my classmates turned to for help with AutoCAD. By simplifying difficult concepts and patiently guiding my peers through their designs, I realized that technical expertise is most valuable when it is shared. Leading in the classroom meant ensuring that no one was left behind by the curriculum. This dedication to continuous growth is reflected in my broader academic history. From earning Honors at Tahoma to maintaining a 3.5 GPA and reaching the Dean’s List at Green River College, I have consistently modeled the "Ambition" that this scholarship seeks to reward. Now, as I transition to the University of Washington Tacoma, I am prepared to bring this leadership to a larger stage. I am not just pursuing a degree for my own advancement; I am pursuing it to prove that individuals in the special needs community possess the grit and the vision to lead in high-stakes fields like engineering and technology. Leadership is the culmination of discipline, empathy, and the willingness to help others succeed. Whether I am in the pool, the lab, or the university lecture hall, I lead by example. I am a leader because I have learned how to transform personal challenges into a collective strength. With the support of this scholarship, I will continue to invest in my education at UW Tacoma, building a future where I can create more equitable opportunities for the next generation of learners and leaders.

To “build” something meaningful, sometimes you don’t need brick and mortar… it’s more like, you build a foundation of knowledge, resilience and purpose. Throughout my academic journey, my main aim has been to craft a life that’s rooted in impact, leadership, and positive change. And yeah, this whole “construction” thing started back when I was at Tahoma High School, it got steadier at Green River College, and now it’s widening as I pursue my undergraduate degree at the University of Washington Tacoma. At Tahoma High School I was focused on building my work ethic and discipline, honestly i just tried to stay consistent and disciplined enough to do the work even when it was annoying. Graduating with Honors was my first real milestone, it proved to me that I can set high benchmarks and reach them. But high school was basically the scaffolding, it was support, not the full structure. When I transitioned to Green River College, i decided to build a more refined set of academic skills. I learned how to approach difficult problems with a critical mindset, manage time with real rigor, and collaborate effectively with peers who came from all kinds of backgrounds. Keeping a 3.5 GPA, and earning a steady spot on the Dean’s List, felt like the natural result of that intention. Those achievements didn’t just validate my own growth, they showed me those skills could become usable tools, something practical I could lean on to make a measurable difference. Now, at UW Tacoma, the big picture of what I’m building has started to come into focus. I am building a career centered on community advocacy and empowerment. I want to build systems, through local organizational leadership, mentorship programs, or professional resources—anything that helps underserved populations handle the complexities of higher education and career development. I also want to use the academic skills I strengthened at Green River, to examine systemic challenges in my community, and then develop solutions that actually move. This scholarship will be a major accelerator for what I’m trying to build. By reducing the financial weight and the risk of debt tied to a university education, I can focus fully on expanding my impact both inside and outside the classroom. The “Let’s Aim Higher” philosophy matches my path in a very straightforward way. I’ve spent years laying a strong foundation at Tahoma and Green River, and with your support, I’m ready to build a future at UW Tacoma that uplifts not just me, but the entire community around me.

At break of day, you know, when you feel all reluctant to get up, have this thought ready, kind of waiting in your head “I am getting up to a human being’s work. Do I still then resent it, if I am going out to do what I was born for, the things which I was brought into the world to do? Or was I created to wrap myself in blankets and keep warm?” Then, like the voice inside answers, “But this is more pleasant.” and it keeps going, “Were you then born for pleasure all for feeling, not for action? ” And honestly, this whole idea, The Mandate of Action, it reads like a quiet argument about purpose and duty, especially in Book 5 of Meditations, where Marcus Aurelius puts a kind of talk, between the self and the soul, out in the open, not just some simple morning routine. On the surface it looks like he’s fighting laziness, but when you read it close, the point turns into something heavier: human life is not really measured by how comfy your circumstances are, it’s measured by the intentionality behind what you contribute. Aurelius seems to say that our “nature” is tied to social and professional labor, and that choosing comfort over responsibility is basically a rejection of your own humanity. I didn’t notice it at first, but this has been, like, the silent engine for my educational path too. It’s been pushing me to pursue excellence at Tahoma High School and then at Green River College, and now, as I transition to the University of Washington Tacoma, it still feels like the same question is following me around. Aurelius sets it up fast, almost like a strict fork: “human being’s work” versus “blankets. ” The blankets, to me, feel like that closed internal world, the place where you’re safe, warm, and somehow everything stays at zero impact. In contrast, the “ work ” is the outside world with friction, challenge, and that kind of growth that makes you stronger, even if it’s not soothing. When he asks, “ Or was I created to wrap myself in blankets and keep warm? ” he’s not being gentle. The irony is sharp; it points to how pointless it is to spend a life avoiding difficulty. His idea of the human “design” isn’t passive existence. It’s action. That lines up with the ambition that modern academics demand. There were plenty of mornings at Green River College when the “blankets” of complacency were way too tempting. Still, once I accepted that I was “born for action”—like the action of sharpening my mind, not just existing with routines I could hold steady and still keep moving. I maintained a 3.5 GPA and earned a spot on the Dean’s List. For a student, “work” is the constant pull toward knowledge, and like Aurelius, I see purpose in active engagement, not in settling for the status quo. The most noticeable part is the counter, “But this is more pleasant.” Right after that, Aurelius dismantles the urge by asking, “Were you then born for pleasure all for feeling, not for action?” The text makes this clear separation between feeling and doing, and it’s kind of disturbing if you think about it. Feeling is reactive, it follows whatever mood shows up, doing is proactive, it commits even when it’s inconvenient. During my move from Tahoma High School to UW Tacoma, I ran into moments where “ feeling ” could have dragged my standards down. But high-level academics, they don’t care what’s comfortable, they demand the rejection of the “ pleasant ” route in favor of the meaningful one. My Honors designation at Tahoma wasn’t just me chasing enjoyment. It came from choosing “ action. ” Underneath, Aurelius is saying that a person’s value shows up in output and fidelity to duty. So when I choose the “ human being’s work ” of scholarship, I feel like I’m not just studying, I’m actually fulfilling my nature as a learner, and as someone trying to become a future leader in my community. Then Aurelius lands on the idea that we are “ brought into the world to do ” specific things. That implies the work isn’t only for us, it flows outward, toward the “whole” the community that includes everyone else. This is where my “Drive” and “Impact” start matching the Stoic philosophy pretty closely. My education at UW Tacoma becomes the tool I’m using to perform this “human work.” If I stayed under the metaphorical blankets, avoiding the costs and pressure of a four-year degree, I’d be failing a duty to contribute to society, even if nobody hands me a certificate for that failure. And the deeper meaning in Aurelius feels like an indictment of potential that never gets used. It says talent isn’t free, it’s like a debt owed back to the world. By keeping a high GPA and pursuing a university path, I’m paying that debt. I’m choosing the “action ” of a meaningful career over the “feeling ” of temporary ease. For conclusion Marcus Aurelius reminds us that getting out of bed, in its own small way, is a mirror for living a life with significance. A close reading suggests that for him, “action ” is the only response that truly counts. As I start my final two years of undergraduate study at UW Tacoma, I’m carrying this with me. I’m not chasing a degree just for the “pleasure” of a title. I’m chasing the “work” it makes possible. My academic record at Green River and Tahoma is proof, at least to me, that I’ve been choosing the path of action all along. And I plan to continue that momentum, making sure my life is defined by the meaningful impact I leave behind, long after the comfort of the blankets would have convinced me to stop.

Education has never been just a solitary pursuit for me; it is a tool for empowerment. Growing up with the values of hard work and community, I have always understood that academic success is most meaningful when it is used to lift others up. Like Mrs. Marion Makins, I believe that faith, service, and education are the pillars of a purposeful life. My journey from Tahoma High School to the University of Washington Tacoma has been defined by a commitment to these values, ensuring that my "ambition" is always balanced by "impact." My commitment to excellence began at Tahoma High School, where I graduated with Honors. While maintaining a rigorous schedule, I made it a priority to stay active in my community and church, recognizing early on that leadership is found in service. Whether volunteering for local programs or supporting church initiatives, I learned that the strongest communities are built by those willing to show up and lead with compassion. This foundation of service fueled my drive as I transitioned to Green River College. At Green River, I faced the challenge of balancing high-level academics with my personal responsibilities. I am proud to say that I maintained a 3.5 GPA and earned a place on the Dean’s List. For me, the Dean’s List was more than a personal accolade; it was proof that I could manage the "drive" required to succeed in higher education while remaining a reliable member of my community. I often found myself mentoring peers in study groups, sharing the knowledge I had gained to help others reach their own academic goals. To embody a life of service is to recognize that my success is tied to the success of those around me. As I prepare to continue my education at the University of Washington Tacoma, my goals are clearer than ever. I plan to use my degree to address the needs of underserved populations, bridging the gap between professional expertise and compassionate community advocacy. Financial constraints have often made this path a challenge, but they have also deepened my "ambition" to succeed so that I may one day provide the same support to others that this scholarship offers to me. I will use my education at UW Tacoma to be a voice for those who feel unheard and a resource for those seeking a better life through learning. By maintaining the same academic excellence that defined my time at Tahoma and Green River, I aim to honor the legacy of Mrs. Marion Makins. I am ready to work hard, serve faithfully, and use my education to create a lasting, positive impact in the world.

Pursuing of a higher education is more than just a sequence of classes; it is a commitment to personal growth and professional stability. However, as the cost of tuition continues to rise, the barrier between a student and their goals often becomes financial rather than intellectual. I believe that academic merit should be the primary driver of success, and throughout my journey from high school to the university level, I have consistently demonstrated the discipline required to turn that belief into reality. My academic foundation was built at Tahoma High School, where I graduated with Honors. This experience taught me the importance of rigor and time management early on. I didn't just aim to pass my courses; I aimed to master them. This mindset followed me to Green River College, where I further elevated my standards. While navigating the challenges of higher education, I maintained a 3.5 GPA, earning a consistent spot on the Dean’s List. These accolades are not just lines on a transcript; they represent late nights of studying, a proactive approach to learning, and a refusal to let my momentum slip. Now, as I transition to the University of Washington Tacoma, I am eager to apply this same level of excellence to my upper-division coursework. UW Tacoma represents a significant milestone in my journey toward a stable and impactful career. However, the financial reality of attending a major university is a hurdle that requires strategic planning. This scholarship would serve as a vital bridge, allowing me to focus entirely on my studies rather than the stress of rising educational costs. I deserve this scholarship because I have already proven that I can thrive in diverse academic environments. My GPA reflects a sustained effort over several years, proving that I am a reliable investment for this committee. By supporting my education, you are supporting a student who values the "valuable pursuit" of college and possesses the "bright and talented" track record to see it through to graduation. College should never be a skipped step due to financial constraints. With your support, I can continue to build on the honors I earned at Tahoma and the success I found at Green River, ensuring that my time at UW Tacoma is defined by academic achievement and a clear path toward my future career goals.

Growing up, I did not serve in the military myself, but I have come to understand the impact of service-related PTSD through my interactions with veterans in my community. Their stories and personal experiences have transformed my understanding of resilience and strength and the covert difficulties that numerous individuals bear throughout their daily lives. Before, I associated strength mostly with physical endurance or discipline, but through veterans, I learned that true strength often comes from continuing to move forward despite internal struggles that others may not see. I have learned that the crucial lesson about PTSD shows that it does not indicate personal weakness. Many veterans return home after serving their country and face challenges that are difficult to explain to others. They may struggle with anxiety, memories, or adjusting back to everyday life. The recognition has increased my understanding that I need to practice patience and empathy while maintaining back to everyday life for my own personal development. I have learned that sometimes the most meaningful support is listening without judgment and showing respect for what someone has been through. As a student, I try to support veterans in ways that are accessible to me. I need to practice respectful behavior toward veterans through understanding their needs while I work to develop my knowledge about PTSD and mental health. The process of raising awareness has value according to my understanding. When people understand what veterans go through, it reduces stigma and encourages more open conversations. People can create positive effects by performing simple tasks, which include showing appreciation for their service and recognizing their experiences. I want to enhance my future activities by dedicating myself to help veterans through direct involvement with support initiatives. Veterans who need help to transition back to civilian life can receive assistance through my volunteer work with organizations that help their transition process and through my support of mental health programs and my participation in community events to raise awareness about PTSD. I want to create a space where veterans receive recognition, comprehension, and companionship instead of feeling excluded. I want to use my education to advocate for the development of improved resources and support systems which will benefit veterans. I want to ensure that all veterans who served their country receive the necessary medical treatment along with appropriate respect through my community work and my professional career. His work includes increasing mental health awareness while creating policies that enable veterans to access help without facing social discrimination. My experiences have shown me that veteran support requires more than service acknowledgment since it demands services which help them overcome their challenges during their transition from military life. I want to continue learning, growing, and contributing in meaningful ways so that I can help create a more supportive and compassionate community for veterans dealing with PTSD.

It does not add up for any other bearing on the origin of my interest in environmental sustainability than that I grew up with the natural landscape of Washington and saw firsthand the impacts of human activities on forests, water, and wildlife. Being in nature made me realize how closely intertwined our quality of living is with the health of our environment. Gradually, that awareness developed into a desire to preserve those spaces and species that future generations depend on. At Green River College, I see people focusing on protecting the environment and having some environmental clubs. I am deeply fascinated by the idea that sustainable practices may balance human needs for environmental protection into perpetuity. With the knowledge I gain from my studies, I aim to become an informed agent of change whose technical skills and ethical reputation are built upon the protection of ecosystems rather than their detriment. In the long run, I would like to work on conservation or environmental planning that helps communities deliver sustainable options that foster forests, wildlife, and natural resources while allowing people to flourish.

Mental health became important to me not because of a single moment, but because of years of quietly carrying pressure, grief, and expectations while trying to keep moving forward. As a student, I learned early that success is often measured by grades, performance, and achievements, but rarely by how someone is actually doing inside. Over time, I realized that ignoring mental health doesn’t make challenges disappear—it only makes them heavier. In high school at Tahoma, I was deeply involved in sports such as cross country, track, swimming, and water polo. Being an athlete taught me discipline and resilience, but it also taught me how easy it is to hide stress behind a strong exterior. There were days when I felt mentally exhausted but still showed up to practice, class, and competitions because that was expected. I learned that mental strength isn’t just about pushing through pain—it’s also about recognizing when you need support and rest. That realization changed how I viewed myself and others. Everyone is fighting a battle we can’t see, and that awareness shaped the way I treat people. When I transitioned to Green River College, the pressure shifted but didn’t disappear. Balancing college coursework, financial stress, family responsibilities, and long-term uncertainty challenged my mental health in new ways. I had to learn how to manage anxiety, self-doubt, and burnout on my own. That process taught me the importance of healthy routines, asking for help, and checking in with myself instead of ignoring warning signs. Mental health became essential to my academic success because without stability, focus and motivation are impossible. Advocating for mental health doesn’t always mean leading a club or giving speeches. For me, it’s about creating safe spaces in everyday life. I make a point to check in with friends, teammates, and classmates when I notice someone struggling. I listen without judgment and remind them that needing help doesn’t mean weakness. In group projects, I encourage open communication so no one feels overwhelmed alone. In my family, I speak openly about stress and emotions, which wasn’t always common, but has helped normalize honest conversations. I also advocate for mental health through example. I am open about taking breaks when I need them, setting boundaries, and prioritizing sleep and balance. When people see that it’s okay to step back and care for yourself, it gives them permission to do the same. I’ve learned that advocacy is often quiet and consistent, not loud or performative. It’s built on empathy, patience, and presence. Mental health matters to me because I know how easily it can be overlooked, especially in academic environments that reward productivity over well-being. I believe students succeed best when they feel supported as whole people, not just as test scores or résumés. By continuing to advocate through conversation, awareness, and compassion, I hope to help build a culture where students feel seen and supported. This scholarship would help ease some of the stress that comes with pursuing higher education and allow me to continue focusing on both my academic and personal growth. More importantly, it would support my ongoing commitment to mental health awareness—one conversation, one person, and one day at a time.

In countless ways, being brought up into a household where only a single parent lived has contributed to the person I have become. My parent has always been my strength, support, and resilience-with life throwing all sorts of situations, emotional or financial. Seeing my parent manage work and home with our needs as family showed me some responsibility, empathy, and determination from a young age. Early in life, I acquired the understanding that all efforts and persistence are not for my benefit but for others. It is through a process of learning that I came to realize that selflessness and commitment can really leave a mark in the lives of others, regardless of the hurdles put in place. Or rather, this is the background that made my dreams and objectives a reality. I have come to appreciate service and community and the role of the needs of the unprivileged, most especially toward others similar to what my family underwent. I believe that help, generosity, and guidance can alter the trajectories of people, and I want to be the kind of person who renders such an experience to others. For now, for posterity, through volunteerism, mentorship, or my line of work in the future, I hope to utilize my abilities for remarkable contributions to the greater society. I spent quite a bit of time volunteering with local organizations, working on community initiatives and countless projects wherever I could to bring about positive change. Those experiences have only reaffirmed my belief that small things can ultimately lead to quite significant changes. I think I have spent a lot of my time and my entire being, immersing the observation of my parent, who has been quite resilient, in developing very strong organizational skills and interpersonal skills that I intend to take into the future, helping those in need. I have dreams of going forward to a bigger tomorrow that can include my abilities, education, and compassion in the right means of servitude to humanity. While I would not say I have a specific career trajectory at this point in time, I am committed to using whatever opportunities come my way to encourage support within my community and empower those in need to overcome life's challenges. I would wish my efforts to be transformed into hope and guidance for those most in need, just like my parent has done for me-in education, mentorship, social services, or community programming. Being raised in a single-parent household taught resilience, empathy, and what it meant to help others. Indeed, it has motivated me to live a life focused on not just personal development but example lifting others and contributing positively to the world. This scholarship is going to catapult me further in realizing my educational aspirations as I strive to give more to the world and realize the lessons my parent imbued in every single day..

For me I became very interested in history, cultural anthropology, political science and geography when I was in middle school back in mid-2020 during the covid-19 lockdown. It started off as me going onto Wikipedia because I never tried it before until I came across this article that really changed my life. The article is called List of wars between 1945-89 and when I looked at the wars, I was shocked, confused and very interested about this because at that time I didn't understand the concept of proxy warfare in the cold war. That was the beginning of me learning history, cultural anthropology, political science and geography. Since than from 2020 to now I have learned so much of history, cultural anthropology, political science and geography. I first learned mainly the cold war and American history, but I evolved myself into now learning all periods of history from prehistorical period to modern periods now like Roman Empire, Byzantine Empire, Seljuks, Abbasids, Empire of Trebizond, Crusades, Cold War, and various more that I know. I also expanded my learnings into learning cultural anthropology of ethnicity, linguistics, religions and etc since history and political science pave me the way for learning cultural anthropology and how it shaped history and politics and culture. As for geography its the same thing as for cultural anthropology, it's mainly due to me learning history which makes me expand my knowledge on geography and me learning how geography has changed overtime. So that was my background now I want to tell you how I can plan to make a difference based on my knowledge that I know and my passion since mid-2020. The first plan I will do is is to pursue formal education in fields related to history, geography, and political science so I can strengthen my analytical skills. While much of my learning so far has been self-directed, I want academic training that allows me to research responsibly, evaluate sources critically, and connect historical patterns to modern global issues. This foundation will help me turn curiosity into meaningful understanding. My second plan is to apply historical and geographic knowledge to modern social and political problems. Many conflicts today exist because past decisions were misunderstood, ignored, or oversimplified. By understanding cultural identities, historical grievances, and geographic realities, I want to contribute to more informed discussions about conflict, borders, governance, and cooperation. Whether through research, policy analysis, or public education, I aim to help reduce misinformation and promote context-driven solutions. My third plan is to share knowledge in accessible ways. History and geography should not feel distant or intimidating. I want to create educational content, discussions, or tools that help others especially young students understand the world with nuance rather than division. My own journey began with a single article, and I believe accessible information can inspire others the same way it inspired me. The Ryan T. Herich Scholarship reflects curiosity, critical thinking, and a deep interest in how the past shapes the present. My journey since 2020 has been driven by those same values, and my plans are focused on using knowledge not just to learn, but to make the world more informed and thoughtful. With this I would like to thank you guys for reading my essay.

When I was little one of my relatives back in 2014 had cancer, it was my grandmother. I first heard it when my father and mother started crying over this, again when I heard them crying I came downstairs and see them really upset about this, I asked them what happened and what's going on in a confusing ans worrying manner, and they said my grandmother has cancer which absolutely hit me down to the core. I was absolutely devastated and horrified because cancer is not a thing to cure. I was now them crying in grief because of this. I remember crying for like a few hours because of this when I heard the story, it was really sad and really heartbreaking. As I went to school I could not stop thinking about cancer all the time. So I decided to do some research more about cancer and when I heard about this it made me even more devastating of what it actually is and what it does to a human. As I came back home from school I was still very scared and crying about this, then my mother told me that everything is gonna be fine but I disagree about that explaining what it is bases om the reasearch I did when I was in school and then my father said yeah it is true but your grandmother will make it my father said. I still didn't believe them but later after a few days of this I receive the news from my parents that my grandmother is slowly recovering from cancer and I was absolutely so happy because of this. I just cried a bit because of how much happiness I had when I heard the news about it. That's was the experience I had when it comes to cancer of one of my relatives. So what I learned about it is cancer is a terrible disease that is not cured for humans and is consider a threat for human life. You can not cure it so the best hopes is to treat it and pray you don't die from it. Hundreds of thousands if not millions of people died from cancer every year because of this, but there is still hope for people that are still fighting against cancer and you are not alone in this for those who do have cancer. This scholarship would help me based on the experience I had when I first heard cancer of how bad it is when it hit my grandmother, so with that I would like to thank you guys for reading my story and my experience I had when I was little.

Taylor Swift has always been more than a musician to meshe has been a storyteller, a comfort, and an inspiration. Her songs have a way of speaking to the emotions that so many of us struggle to put into words. From the first time I heard “Love Story” as a child, to the nights I stayed up waiting for surprise song reveals on the Eras Tour, Taylor’s music has been the soundtrack to so many stages of my life. This scholarship celebrates not only Taylor’s artistry but also the way she has built a community of fans who feel less alone because of her words, and I am proud to be a part of that community. One of the things I admire most about Taylor is her ability to reinvent herself without losing authenticity. Her transition from country to pop, and later into the indie-folk styles of folklore and evermore, reflects the courage to grow, to take risks, and to evolve even when the world is watching. That lesson has deeply influenced me. It taught me that it’s okay to embrace change and that identity is not fixedit’s something we continue to shape with every decision we make. For me, this has meant being brave enough to pursue new opportunities even when they seemed daunting, like joining organizations where I didn’t know anyone or challenging myself with classes outside of my comfort zone. Taylor’s lyrics also hold a kind of wisdom that has helped me through difficult times. When I struggled with self-doubt, “Shake It Off” reminded me not to let criticism define me. When I felt heartbreak, “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” gave me permission to grieve and move forward. And in moments of uncertainty, songs like “You’re On Your Own, Kid” reminded me that resilience and independence can be beautiful things. Her words don’t just entertain they heal, empower, and inspire growth. What makes Taylor even more extraordinary is the way she builds connections. Whether it’s through Easter eggs, surprise songs, or simply acknowledging the fans who line up outside her shows, she makes us feel seen. That has inspired me to be more intentional in the way I connect with others. I try to offer support to friends who are struggling, to listen with empathy, and to create spaces where people feel valued. Just as Taylor creates a safe haven for her fans through her art, I want to create safe havens for people in my own community. The Eras Tour, in particular, symbolized more than just a concert it was a global celebration of music, identity, and storytelling. Watching videos of fans trading friendship bracelets and crying during their favorite songs reminded me how powerful it is when people come together over something they love. It showed me that art has the ability to unite, to heal, and to create joy even in difficult times. That is the kind of impact I hope to make in my own future, whether through my career or personal relationships. The Taylor Swift Fan Scholarship represents more than financial assistance to me; it represents the way music can change lives. Taylor’s work has shaped my beliefs, my resilience, and my relationships. I know that no matter where life takes me, her songs will continue to be a source of strength and inspiration. Just as Taylor says in “Long Live,” I want to remember this moment for the rest of my days—because being a Swiftie isn’t just about loving music, it’s about being part of a community that celebrates growth, creativity, and courage.

My name is Baha Abukhater and I’m 18 years old, and I recently graduated from Tahoma High School. As I transition to Green River College to continue my education through the transfer degree pathway, I look back at the last few years of my life with pride for the challenges I faced and the growth I achieved. Throughout the early 2020s, I participated in three sports that shaped me mentally and physically swimming, cross country (XC), and track. Swimming taught me discipline and consistency. The early mornings, long practices, and quiet focus in the water became a personal test of endurance and self-motivation. Later on, I joined XC and track in 2024, where I developed new levels of mental toughness and embraced the strength that comes from being part of a team. Competing in races was more than physical it demanded emotional strength and the ability to keep pushing when things got hard. These sports not only kept me active but also built my resilience and time management skills, which helped me balance athletics with academic life. Outside of school and sports, I volunteered at a local elk farm for ten hours, helping with animal care and basic operations. It may not seem like much on paper, but that experience gave me a connection to my community and helped me appreciate the value of quiet, behind-the-scenes work. I learned the importance of responsibility, compassion, and showing up even when no one is watching lessons I carry with me in all parts of life. In addition to high school, I also participated in Running Start, which allowed me to earn college credit while still enrolled at Tahoma. This experience helped me adapt to the pace and expectations of college-level learning early on and gave me a strong foundation for continuing my studies at Green River College. My goal is to complete my associate degree and eventually transfer to a four-year university. Kalia D. Davis’s story resonates deeply with me. Her work ethic, ambition, and love for life remind me of what I strive to become someone who is not only academically focused but also deeply involved in their community and always willing to lift others up. Like Kalia, I’ve balanced school, sports, service, and planning for my future all while doing my best to stay true to who I am. This scholarship would greatly support my educational journey by relieving financial stress and allowing me to focus more fully on my goals. I want to continue pushing forward, giving my best in every opportunity, and making a positive impact in everything I do. I hope to honor Kalia’s legacy by living with the same dedication, kindness, and drive that she embodied. Thank you for considering my application and for celebrating the life of such an inspiring individual.

I was born into a family that carried stories of strength, survival, and sacrifice across borders. My parents immigrated to the United States seeking a better life, not just for themselves, but for the children they hoped to raise in a country filled with opportunity. Their journey and their values have shaped how I see the world and what I want to do with my life. Growing up in an immigrant household taught me to value every small win. My parents came with limited resources but endless determination. They took jobs that many overlooked, worked long hours, and built a home full of love and lessons. They never complained about the difficulty of starting over in a new country. Instead, they focused on what they could build for the future. That future was me and my siblings. As a child, I remember translating documents and helping with small tasks that were big responsibilities for someone my age. At the time, I didn’t fully understand how much my family depended on me, but those moments planted seeds of responsibility, independence, and empathy. I also saw firsthand how language, citizenship status, and cultural differences created obstacles for families like mine. Those challenges didn't discourage us. They made us stronger. My parents' sacrifices helped me understand the value of education. They never had the chance to attend college, but they dreamed that I would. That dream became my mission. I work hard in school not just for myself but for the generations before me who didn’t have the same chances. I want my success to be their reward. Their belief in me fuels my ambition every single day. Watching my family persevere through financial hardships and cultural barriers shaped my belief in resilience and kindness. I believe the world can change for the better, but only if people are willing to care deeply and work relentlessly. That is why I want to pursue a career that combines service and leadership. I am passionate about studying political science and social policy so I can one day advocate for immigrant communities, create equitable education policies, and uplift underrepresented voices. When people talk about the American Dream, they often refer to financial success. For me, that dream is about making an impact. I want to be a voice for people like my parents—people who came to this country with hopes and values that are just as American as anyone else’s. I want to use my career to ensure that no family has to struggle silently, and that children from immigrant backgrounds are seen, heard, and supported. My family’s story is not one of fame or fortune. It is a story of quiet courage and everyday heroism. It is a story that has shaped every belief I hold about community, justice, and possibility. And it is a story I carry with pride as I move forward into higher education and beyond. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial assistance. It would be a recognition of the journey my family has taken and the values that journey has instilled in me. It would allow me to focus more on my education, deepen my impact, and take one step closer to a future where I can give back to the communities that shaped me. I am proud to be the child of immigrants. Their story is my story. And that story continues with me

I have never worn a military uniform. I have never stood watch on a distant shore, served on a ship, or seen war firsthand. But I do know what it means to be deeply impacted by those who have. Lance Gillingham was a Vietnam Navy veteran who passed away in 2023 due to complications from Agent Orange exposure. Though I didn’t know him personally, his story has stayed with me. He served his country with courage during one of the most difficult chapters in American military history. Veterans like him made sacrifices that continue to shape the freedoms I live with every day. I believe it is not just veterans who carry the weight of their service. It is also our shared responsibility as citizens to honor them, learn from them, and make sure their legacy continues to inspire. Hearing stories about Vietnam veterans has helped me better understand how complex and human the idea of service really is. Many who returned from Vietnam did so without a hero’s welcome. They faced medical challenges, emotional scars, and a society that often didn’t fully understand what they had gone through. Yet, they carried on. They raised families, worked hard, contributed to their communities, and showed what resilience really means. Lance Gillingham was one of those people. His life, like many veterans’, reminds me that heroism doesn’t always come with medals or ceremonies. Sometimes it lives quietly in service, sacrifice, and strength. The military, to me, represents more than defense and combat. It represents discipline, commitment, and the belief that some things are worth protecting even at great personal cost. Veterans have taught me what it means to be part of something bigger than oneself. Their willingness to serve, often in the face of fear, uncertainty, and loss, is a kind of courage I deeply respect. In a world that often feels divided, the stories of veterans help remind us of shared values like duty, honor, and perseverance. The U.S. military brings together people from all backgrounds, united not by where they come from but by what they believe in. That unity and purpose are powerful. It shows me that no matter our differences, we can work together for a common good. As a student, I have tried to carry some of those values with me in my own life through my commitment to school, sports, and community. While my path will likely never lead me to military service, I still hope to serve in my own way: through education, kindness, and contributing to a more understanding and compassionate world. The example set by veterans like Lance Gillingham gives me a deeper sense of what it means to be an American. It means not just enjoying the benefits of freedom but working to earn them every day. This scholarship gives me the chance to honor that example, to recognize the sacrifices made by those who serve, and to show my gratitude in the best way I know how. I hope to continue learning, growing, and serving others in return. I may not wear a uniform, but I carry with me the lessons of those who have.

The first time I put my face in the water, I panicked. I was five years old, clinging to the edge of the pool while the instructor encouraged me to try again. That moment could have made me fear swimming forever, but instead, it sparked a fire. I didn’t give up. I kept coming back to the water until the panic turned into comfort. That small victory launched a lifelong passion for swimming that continues to shape who I am today. Swimming began as a challenge, but it quickly became my safe space. It became a place where I could be fully myself. I joined the Tahoma Swim Team in high school, and that’s when my relationship with the sport deepened. Swimming wasn’t just about lap times or technique anymore. It became about pushing past limits, learning how to work with others, and showing up even on the hard days. Being on the Tahoma Swim Team taught me dedication in ways nothing else ever has. Practices meant early mornings, sore muscles, and balancing schoolwork on top of everything else. There were days I wanted to quit, but I didn’t. My senior year was my proudest season. I trained harder than ever and came incredibly close to qualifying for leagues. Even though I fell just short, that experience taught me that success isn’t always defined by medals or rankings. Sometimes, it is measured in how much heart you put into the effort. Swimming has helped me grow mentally and emotionally. In the water, I’ve learned to silence doubt and trust my body. I’ve found peace during stressful times and strength during setbacks. Swimming reminds me that progress happens one stroke at a time. That lesson carries over into every part of my life. Just as important as the personal growth is the community I’ve found through swimming. My teammates became like a second family. We cheered each other on at meets, celebrated small wins, and supported one another during tough seasons. Inspired by that support, I began mentoring younger swimmers. I offered advice, demonstrated drills, and encouraged them just like older teammates once did for me. Giving back to my team has been one of the most rewarding parts of my journey. That is why Cynthia Browne Vino’s story means so much to me. Her commitment to swimming and to helping others reminds me of the kind of impact I hope to make. Like her, I want to be remembered not just as someone who loved the sport, but as someone who used it to bring out the best in others. Whether I become a coach, a mentor, or simply a positive presence in my future community, I hope to carry her legacy forward. Swimming changed my life and continues to shape my character, discipline, and dreams. I am proud of how far I’ve come and excited about how far I can still go, both in and out of the water. This scholarship would allow me to further my education while continuing to live out the values that swimming and leaders like Cynthia Vino have instilled in me: perseverance, growth, and service to others.

I remember the first time I helped a classmate understand a science concept. It was freshman biology, and we were studying the parts of a cell. My friend looked overwhelmed, confused by terms like “mitochondria” and “endoplasmic reticulum.” I didn’t think twice before grabbing a sheet of paper and sketching out diagrams, simplifying the terms, and relating them to things we both understood. A few minutes later, her eyes lit up with understanding. That was the moment I realized I didn’t just love science—I loved sharing it. Since then, tutoring has become a core part of who I am. I’ve volunteered after school and during summer programs, helping students across different grade levels, especially in biology and chemistry. I’ve also joined science clubs and participated in community events, teaching kids about experiments and the scientific method. These experiences have made me passionate about not only pursuing a career in science but using it to make a real impact—especially through education and accessibility. I plan to study biological sciences with the goal of becoming either a science educator or a researcher who also mentors young students. I want to help bridge the gap between science and everyday people. Too often, science feels out of reach for many students because it’s taught in a way that’s overly complex or intimidating. I want to change that. Whether I end up in a classroom or a lab, I will work to make science understandable, exciting, and inclusive. The impact I hope to have through my science career is threefold. First, I want to educate—to spark curiosity and confidence in the next generation of scientists. I want to help students realize that science is not just about memorizing facts; it’s about asking questions, solving problems, and seeing the world with wonder. I believe that by making science relatable and engaging, we can inspire more students—especially those from underserved communities—to pursue STEM fields. Second, I want to contribute to research that improves lives. Whether it’s studying biology to help fight diseases or researching environmental solutions, I believe science should serve humanity. With the rise of global challenges—from health crises to climate change—the world needs scientists who are not only knowledgeable but also compassionate and driven by a sense of purpose. I hope to be one of them. Lastly, I want to give back to my community in Washington by creating more opportunities for students to engage with science early on. I’ve seen firsthand how access to quality tutoring and mentorship can change someone’s path. I plan to volunteer with youth programs, offer science workshops, and eventually help create a local science outreach initiative that connects high school and college students with younger learners. Zachary Scheppat’s story inspires me deeply. Like him, I’ve found joy in helping others learn, and I know the value of supporting students who are passionate about science. This scholarship would not only support my college education, but also empower me to continue tutoring, volunteering, and spreading scientific curiosity wherever I go. Science is not just a subject—it’s a tool for change. With it, I want to teach, discover, and inspire. My goal is to build a career that reflects Zachary’s legacy: using science to empower others, foster understanding, and make the world a better place.

Education is one of the most powerful tools we have to reduce intimate partner violence (IPV) and promote healthier, safer communities. Through awareness, advocacy, and empowerment, education can break cycles of abuse and replace them with cycles of understanding, resilience, and hope. Intimate partner violence often thrives in silence and secrecy. Survivors may not recognize the signs of abuse early on, or they may be manipulated into believing the abuse is their fault. Education—starting from a young age—can change that. Comprehensive relationship education in schools can help young people learn the difference between healthy and unhealthy dynamics, setting the foundation for respectful communication, boundaries, and mutual support. When students are taught that love should not hurt, and that controlling behavior is not romantic but dangerous, they are more likely to recognize red flags and seek help sooner. Higher education also creates opportunities for survivors to rebuild. Many survivors of IPV have had their confidence, autonomy, or financial independence eroded over time. Pursuing a degree is not just about academic achievement—it’s about reclaiming agency, building skills, and accessing resources that can help someone escape and heal from abuse. College and trade school environments, when inclusive and trauma-informed, can offer vital support networks that promote recovery and long-term success. Personally, I believe education is not only about self-improvement but also about service. I plan to use my degree as a bridge between knowledge and action. With a strong background in psychology and public health, I aim to work in community-based advocacy—creating programs that provide mental health support, shelter access, and economic empowerment to survivors. I’m especially interested in developing peer-led support systems that reflect the voices and needs of those most affected by IPV, including women of color, LGBTQ+ individuals, and undocumented survivors who face additional barriers. My volunteer work in crisis hotlines and youth education programs has already shown me the importance of community education. In those roles, I saw how even brief conversations could plant the seeds of awareness and change. I want to take that further. By partnering with schools, local nonprofits, and public health agencies, I hope to implement prevention programs that don’t just react to violence—but stop it before it starts. Ultimately, I believe that every person has the right to feel safe in their relationships and their own bodies. Education can normalize this belief, challenge toxic norms, and create a more compassionate society. But it takes work, and it takes people who are willing to lead with both knowledge and empathy. This scholarship represents more than financial support—it is a statement that survivors matter, that their goals matter, and that their futures are worth investing in. If awarded, I will carry this honor with responsibility and purpose, continuing to grow as a scholar, advocate, and ally to those affected by IPV. Together, through education and action, we can break the silence and build something better.

Michael Rudometkin was more than just a friend to those who knew him—he was a guiding light. His life was defined by kindness, compassion, and an unwavering commitment to helping others. Michael believed that success wasn’t measured solely by grades or awards, but by the positive impact one left on the people and world around them. Through this scholarship, we are given the opportunity to honor a life that was devoted to service, relationships, and joy. Michael understood the true meaning of community. He was always willing to lend a hand, whether it was volunteering at a local shelter, helping a neighbor with yard work, or simply being there to listen. He had a gift for making people feel seen, valued, and supported. It wasn’t about recognition or praise for him—it was about doing the right thing because it made someone else's life a little brighter. What made Michael truly unique was how naturally he brought people together. He didn’t just participate in his community; he built it. He found happiness in lifting others up and encouraged those around him to do the same. His friendships crossed boundaries—social, cultural, and personal—and he never hesitated to stand beside someone going through a hard time. He led with empathy and acted with heart, leaving behind a ripple of kindness that still moves through the lives he touched. Michael also understood that joy and purpose go hand in hand. He followed his passions and urged others to do the same. He knew that life wasn’t just about getting through it—it was about making it meaningful. Whether it was sharing a laugh, offering advice, or supporting a cause he believed in, Michael lived intentionally. He reminded us that fulfillment isn’t found in perfection, but in connection and contribution. This scholarship serves not just as a memorial, but as a call to action. It asks us to live more like Michael: to serve without expectation, to care deeply, and to build a better world in small and meaningful ways. Those who receive this scholarship are not just receiving financial support—they are being entrusted with the continuation of Michael’s mission. They are stepping into a legacy built on love, service, and hope. In a world that often feels divided or rushed, Michael’s example reminds us to slow down, to make time for people, and to lead with generosity. His life teaches us that even one person, through consistent acts of kindness, can shape a community and inspire change. The Michael Rudometkin Memorial Scholarship is more than an honor—it’s a promise. A promise to carry forward a legacy built not on fame or fortune, but on everyday actions that make life better for others. May all who apply and receive this scholarship be inspired by Michael’s spirit, and may we all strive to live with the same open heart, joyful presence, and relentless dedication to making a difference.

This scholarship seeks to honor the legacy of Willie Mae Rawls by supporting students pursuing an education at an HBCU who plan to make a positive impact on the world through their studies and future career goals.The Willie Mae Rawls Scholarship was established to honor a woman whose life was a testament to strength, perseverance, and a deep commitment to education and community. Through this scholarship, her legacy lives on by empowering students attending Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) who aspire to make a lasting, positive impact on the world. Willie Mae Rawls believed in the power of education—not only as a pathway to personal achievement but as a tool for collective progress. She understood that when one student rises, entire communities are uplifted. Her legacy is rooted in this belief: that access to higher education, especially for Black students, is both a right and a responsibility. This scholarship was created to ensure that her vision continues, by investing in the dreams and futures of students who are committed to creating meaningfulchange. The scholarship is designed for students enrolled at or planning to attend an HBCU, recognizing these institutions as critical environments for nurturing Black excellence, leadership, and innovation. For generations, HBCUs have provided culturally affirming education, community support, and academic rigor that prepare students not just to succeed, but to lead. Willie Mae Rawls deeply respected the role of HBCUs in shaping future leaders, and this scholarship pays tribute to that enduring legacy. Applicants for the Willie Mae Rawls Scholarship are expected to demonstrate a clear passion for creating positive change—whether in their local communities, across the nation, or globally.Whether through education, public service, business, healthcare, the arts, environmental advocacy, or any other field, students must show a vision for how their studies and career goals will contribute to a more equitable, just, and compassionate world. But this scholarship is not just about academic potential—it’s about heart, purpose, and legacy. Willie Mae Rawls lived her life grounded in values such as service, determination, and integrity. She often mentored young people, encouraged lifelong learning, and led by example in her everyday actions. The scholarship reflects her unwavering belief in the next generation’s ability to lead with courage, intelligence, and compassion.Recipients of the Willie Mae Rawls Scholarship are more than just students—they are changemakers. They are individuals who understand that success is not measured solely by personal gain, but by the impact one leaves on others. These scholars are expected to carry forward Willie Mae’s example by using their education as a platform to uplift their communities and make meaningful contributions to society. In providing financial support, the scholarship helps to alleviate one of the many barriers that can hinder access to higher education. By removing some of the financial burdens associated with college, this scholarship gives students the freedom to focus on what matters most: their growth, their studies, and their dreams.Through this initiative, Willie Mae Rawls’s life and values will continue to inspire countless students to pursue their passions and fulfill their potential. Each awardee will carry a piece of her story with them as they navigate their educational journey and step into roles that require vision, integrity, and purpose. As new generations of scholars rise up through the support of the Willie Mae Rawls Scholarship, they carry with them the promise of a brighter future—not only for themselves but for the many lives they will touch through their work. This is more than a scholarship; it is a call to action. It is an investment in potential, leadership, and the belief that every student can-given the chance.

The Gregory A. DeCanio Memorial Scholarship, generously funded by John & Ilia Walsh, stands as a tribute to a man whose life was defined by service, compassion, and commitment to others. Valued at $10,000 and awarded to four deserving recipients annually, this scholarship is more than financial assistance—it is a celebration of the spirit of community that Gregory embodied every day of his life. Gregory A. DeCanio dedicated his life to emergency services, where he earned a reputation for excellence, bravery, and a steadfast dedication to the well-being of others. Whether through firefighting, EMS, or broader public safety efforts, Gregory’s career reflected a rare blend of technical skill and heartfelt humanity. He was not only a responder in times of crisis but also a mentor, a neighbor, and a community leader who consistently went above and beyond to support those around him. This scholarship was created to extend Gregory’s legacy by supporting individuals who share his passion for service. It is designed for students residing in New York State, particularly those living in the hamlets within the Town of Islip, Suffolk County. Applicants must be pursuing careers in emergency services, public safety, healthcare, social work, or another community-based service field. By investing in their education, this initiative aims to cultivate the next generation of heroes—those who will continue to carry the torch that Gregory once held so proudly. The Gregory A. DeCanio Memorial Scholarship is open to students at all educational levels, including high school seniors, undergraduates, graduate students, and adult learners engaged in continuing education. Whether someone is entering a degree program or completing essential certifications through a recognized institution, they are eligible for this opportunity if their goals align with serving their community in a time of need. More than ever, the fields of emergency response and community care require dedicated, well-trained professionals. From paramedics and firefighters to mental health counselors and social workers, these roles are essential to the health and safety of our society. This scholarship not only provides financial support but also publicly recognizes the importance of these professions, encouraging more people to see them as noble and attainable careers. What sets this scholarship apart is its deep connection to one man’s legacy and the tangible impact he had on his community. Gregory’s life is a reminder that greatness is not always measured in headlines or accolades, but in the quiet, daily acts of courage and kindness that shape the lives of those around us. Through this fund, his values—compassion, dedication, humility, and courage—are passed on to a new generation of changemakers. The application process includes an opportunity for students to express their passion for public service and describe how they plan to make a difference. Selected recipients will each receive $2,500, which can be used toward tuition, training, books, or other educational expenses necessary to achieve their career goals. With the application deadline set for August 15, 2025, and winners announced on September 15, 2025, this scholarship stands as a beacon of support and inspiration for students ready to step into roles that demand selflessness, resilience, and heart. In memory of Gregory A. DeCanio, this scholarship not only supports education—it fosters a future where service, integrity, and compassion remain at the heart of our communities.

Though I do not live with Type 1 diabetes, I am deeply inspired by the life and legacy of Carolyn Craddock. Her story moved me—not just because of the physical challenges she faced, but because of how she lived with purpose, compassion, and resilience. Carolyn’s fierce determination, loyalty to friends, and her efforts to uplift others, including animals and people from all walks of life, reflect the kind of person I strive to be every day. In school, I have worked hard to balance academics with service and involvement. I’ve taken challenging college-level courses while participating in sports, student government, and volunteering regularly. I believe in showing up for my community, just as Carolyn did. At my local food bank, I help sort donations and prepare care packages for families in need. I also coach younger kids in soccer, encouraging them not only to play well, but to support one another and build confidence—on and off the field. Carolyn’s kindness and inclusivity remind me that it doesn’t take much to make someone feel seen and valued. At school, I make a point to reach out to classmates who are often left out. Whether it’s inviting someone to sit at my lunch table, offering help with classwork, or just listening when someone needs to talk, I try to create a space where everyone feels welcome. Like Carolyn, I believe that our differences should be celebrated—not hidden or judged. Her love for animals also resonates with me. I volunteer at a local animal shelter, helping walk dogs, clean kennels, and assist with adoptions. It’s not always easy work, but it’s meaningful. I see the way animals respond to patience and care—just like people do. Carolyn’s ability to connect with others, human and animal alike, reminds me that kindness truly has no limits. One of the most powerful parts of Carolyn’s story is how she used her own health journey as a way to educate and support others. While I do not have diabetes, I am passionate about health education. I lead a health and wellness club at my school where we talk about mental health, physical activity, and making smart choices about food and technology. Like Carolyn, I believe in using my voice to spread awareness and create positive change. Carolyn also had an incredible work ethic—balancing school, jobs, fitness, and equestrian competition—all while managing her health. Her example motivates me to push forward in my own life when things get hard. I’ve had moments of burnout and stress, but I remind myself of people like Carolyn who kept going not just for themselves, but for others. To honor Carolyn is to live with purpose, to care deeply for others, and to turn challenges into opportunities for good. This scholarship is a powerful way to keep her spirit alive, and I would be honored to carry a part of her legacy forward in my own life. I may not share her diagnosis, but I share her values. I hope to continue making a positive impact in my community, being a friend to those in need, and living a life that reflects the strength, compassion, and courage Carolyn showed every day.

My name is Baha Abukhater, and I am a proud white American currently pursuing an Associate of Arts transfer degree at Green River College. I graduated from Tacoma High School with a strong academic record and a GPA above 3.8, and I’ve continued to maintain that standard in college. Coming from an underprivileged background, I understand what it means to strive for more, to work hard despite the odds, and to believe in the transformative power of education—values that echo the legacy of Mark Anthony Green. Throughout my academic journey, I’ve always recognized the importance of service and community. During high school and continuing into college, I dedicated time to volunteering with local nonprofit organizations, including food distribution efforts, community park cleanups, and tutoring younger students. I’ve also helped support fundraising events aimed at helping low-income families during the holidays. These experiences opened my eyes to the challenges many families face and instilled in me a lifelong commitment to making a difference, no matter how small it may seem. I believe that education is not just a personal achievement—it’s a pathway to giving back. My goal is to transfer to a four-year university, earn my bachelor’s degree, and ultimately work in a field that allows me to advocate for equity in education. I want to help other students from underrepresented or underserved communities access the same opportunities I’ve had. Whether it’s through advising, mentoring, or public service, I want to be a resource for those who feel overlooked or left behind. What makes me a strong candidate for the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship is not only my academic dedication, but my drive to turn hardship into action. Like Mr. Green, I’ve faced obstacles, but I continue to push forward because I believe in building a better future—not just for myself, but for others. The financial support from this scholarship would lift a significant burden from my shoulders, allowing me to focus more on my studies and community work without the added stress of financial insecurity. Receiving this scholarship would not only be an honor, but a reminder that the values I live by—resilience, service, and determination—matter. I will carry those values with me throughout my academic and professional journey, and I will work hard to ensure that others receive the same encouragement and support that has helped me along the way. Mark Green’s story resonates with me deeply because it’s a reminder that greatness isn’t about where you start—it’s about how far you’re willing to go and how much you’re willing to give back. I am committed to continuing that legacy by being a leader, a learner, and above all, someone who uplifts others. Thank you for considering my application and for honoring the life and values of Mark Anthony Green through this scholarship. I am ready to make a lasting impact—with your support.

Hello my name is Baha Abukhater and let me tell you about my essay story. I have a passion for civil aviation when I was little and I want to become an aerospace engineer, for all my life I have been dreaming of being an aerospace engineer and I wanted to make that happen and here is why. The first example is when I took aerospace manufacturing and engineering class in 2023 for summer class my teacher Mr Buck gave me and my team an assignment on making a space shuttle. But in the first few days we had to learn how to build and 3d print new things which I became good at. The after this for the next 2 in the half weeks we made the space shuttle using my skills in this class and after a while of hard work we finally made the space shuttle project, it was hard but we succeeded with not just my skills individually but also working together as a team. That was for example number one. My second example is when I took this class officially in fall of 2023 in the puget sound skills center in Washington. For the first semester I learned new things now on how to build with new tools, new models and new designs, but I was stressed on several occasions when it comes to making 3d models and designs. But after sometime I finally got used to this new technology of autocad and printing something. In the second semester of Puget sound skills center in aerospace engineering class I finally was able to master it and I started sometimes creating my own stuff like creating a jetliner airplane for example. Not to mention I also began to help other people mostly in Autocad on 3d printing, for example I help one student who is struggling on the fidget spinner and I had to explain that do this and not what the tutorial saids because they had a different version of Autocad and they agreed. Also I was able to build some pieces and areas for the humble telescope like one of the satellite area. That for the second example. When it comes to financing I am unsure about my future. The reason why is because it depends on the US economy, what state I am living in or the university I am living in, or how I use my FAFSA aid depends on my future. That is one of the reasons why I am concerned about financing later in life after graduation. That's for my essay, thank you for reading my aerospace essay.

Hello my name is Baha Abukhater and I am a tahoma high school student and I am currently a senior and I am 18 years old. Let me tell you my educational goals for this. My first educational goal is I am gonna graduate high school in 2025 by finishing political science class in Green River because I am currently a running start student and my counselor wants me to require to do political science class because it's for my graduation. The next step is what's I am done with high school I am gonna go to green river and I am gonna spent the remaining year doing green river college in four quarters summer, fall, winter, and spring. During this I will take engineering classes and a few algebra classes between summer to spring of 2026 quarters. Once I am done and I graduated from green river community college in the spring of 2026 I will transfer the degree of Asociates transfer degree to University of Washington in any campus likes Tacoma or Seattle for example if I can and then I will complete the four year long transition of university of Washington to get the associate degree of becoming an aerospace engineer or something related to aviation because first of all I have a passion of aviation mainly civil aviation, second is when I was in junior year I earned the most improved award for my skills in aerospace manufacturing and engineering class in puget sound skills center. I will work really hard academically for the next four years learning new and improving algebra skills, new tools I can use, technological skills, improving communication skills, improving problem solving skills, and many more. After four years of learning academically I will then graduate from university of Washington in the year 2031 and then I will use my academically skills to get a job in the aviation industry. That is how I will take my steps towards from graduating from high school to graduating from university of Washington in 2031. It is long term but I know I can succeed this. Thank you for reading my paragraph.