Smooth surfboards, malleable clay, and squirming golden trout--I love studying the tangible and tactile things in my life. I was brought up through a Waldorf school, which prioritized hands-on learning and three-dimensional teaching and catalyzed in me a potent appreciation for learning about the physical world with the physical world--life science. As I advanced into high school, and as my schedule became more specialized, I leaned into the intuitive pull I feel towards the natural sciences. As a freshman, I sped through biology, inhaling the content--from ecology to microbiology. My favorite class days were the ones where we would pile, like sardines, into a school van and drive down to the tidal pools on the coast to study local biology with our senses. My teacher recognized my enthusiasm, so in my junior and senior years, I’ve served as a substitute teacher for freshman biology. To further my interest, I'm taking AP Biology this year--a class that’s only offered every other year at my school and is legendarily difficult. I’m also in a class new to my school this year, Environmental History and Justice, where I’ve studied humans' role in shaping the environment and how to protect it equitably and effectively. Moreover, at the Harvard C-CHANGE youth summit, I applied what I'd learned in the field to create a climate action plan for my community, building pollinator corridors throughout the Ojai Valley to help bolster Bee species with native plants. Outside of the world of academia, I lead volunteer trips to Channel Islands National Park to do restoration work, pulling invasive weeds or mulching steep trails with fifth graders. Sitting on cloudy Anacapa Island, it's gratifying to understand the intricacies of the weeds in my hands--why they can outperform the native competition. More than satisfying, understanding an ecosystem is like learning its language. It allows you to communicate with it, learn from it, and enjoy it to a much greater extent. You become part of the landscape when you can navigate it intelligently. That feeling of being a part of an ecosystem is what drew me to pursue a STEM degree in college with a focus on sustainability and outdoor gear. To that end, I've been accepted to the Stanford School of Sustainabilty and next year I'll be studying Science, Technology, and Society, if I can piece together the finances. My journey, from tactile childhood explorations to the academic rigor of high school and beyond, underscores my belief in the critical role of STEM in understanding and safeguarding our planet. It reflects a dedication to merging hands-on environmental activism with the analytical depth of science and technology. Pursuing a degree in STEM is, for me, a natural progression of my life’s work and interests—a means to contribute meaningfully to the sustainability and well-being of our world. It's a path for a more sustainable future—in touch with the world that we are entrusted to protect.

The journey toward a sustainable future for humankind hinges on developing solutions that integrate renewable and traditional energy sources. This balanced approach is crucial for environmental sustainability and meeting our energy needs. Renewable energy sources, including solar, wind, hydroelectric, and geothermal power, are pivotal in this sustainable vision. Their minimal greenhouse gas emissions and increasing efficiency make them increasingly viable. Solar energy, adaptable from individual homes to large solar farms, and wind energy, effective in high-wind regions, lead this transition. Hydroelectric power, while requiring careful ecological management, offers consistent energy flow. Geothermal energy, location-dependent, provides stable and clean power. The concept of biomimicry offers innovative solutions within renewable energy. Mimicking natural processes, such as the tubercle design of humpback whale fins to enhance wind turbine efficiency, showcases how nature-inspired innovations can optimize renewable technologies. This approach aligns with my academic journey, as I will be studying sustainability next year at the Stanford Doerr School of Sustainability, a commitment to understanding and advancing these critical concepts. Traditional energy sources, essential in the current landscape, must evolve to align with sustainability goals. Enhancing fossil fuel efficiency and minimizing emissions are key. Carbon capture and storage (CCS) technologies exemplify efforts to use traditional energy sources more cleanly during the transition to renewables. Addressing renewable energy intermittency is vital. Hybrid systems that combine renewable and traditional energies can ensure a consistent energy supply. Energy storage solutions like advanced batteries and pumped hydro storage are essential in managing energy availability. Smart grid technologies further improve the efficiency and distribution of energy. In transitioning to sustainable energy, traditional energy frameworks play a crucial role. They act as a base for developing sustainable solutions. The existing infrastructure and knowledge in traditional energy can be used to speed up the adoption of renewable technologies. For example, coal plants can be converted to use biomass or existing pipelines could be repurposed for biofuels and hydrogen. This approach uses what already exists, ensuring energy stability during the transition. The skills and experience from traditional energy are valuable for improving renewable technologies, making them more effective and suited to different settings. The combination of traditional and renewable energy systems is key to moving towards a sustainable energy future practically and efficiently. This journey towards sustainable energy is complex, encompassing technological, social, and economic elements. Policies and incentives promoting renewable energy and cleaner traditional energy technologies are critical. Ongoing research and development are necessary to improve the efficiency and affordability of both renewable and traditional energy sources. In summary, sustainable energy solutions require an integrated approach combining renewable and traditional energy sources, enhanced by innovative and holistic practices like biomimicry. This strategy, reflecting the vision of environmental pioneers like Dennis L. N. Yakobson, is vital in creating a sustainable, renewable energy-powered world.

“With gorilla gone, will there be hope for man?” asks a telepathic primate in Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. Ishmael intertwines lessons of the importance of environmentalism, human humility, and overall awareness about the dangers of unmitigated advancement. Everyone in the world should read Ishmael because it educates the reader on the human ego - how we have removed ourselves from the natural and biological processes of the earth and how this will eventually lead to the death of our planet. Ishmael the gorilla serves as a Lorax-like figure, a representative of all other species, and the spiritual teacher for the reader throughout the novel. Quinn leaves the narrator unnamed so that the reader can insert themself into the narrator's place, adding a dimension of personal connection. I'd like to hope that if everyone in the world read Ishmael it would allow for a large scale restructuring of what we as a species value and where we see ourselves on the biological ladder. Ishmael taught me to question the status quo with an air of humility that I previously lacked. After reading Quinn's novel I feel more connected with the environment and more aware of issues with humans' hunger for advancement - an awareness that I think most of the world could benefit from achieving. Ishmael reminds humans that we are not the final product of evolution on this planet and we shouldn't treat our planet like we are. Easy to digest and not overcharged, Ishmael should be read by all to dilute the human ego and maybe save our beautiful planet.

I dream that every atom of my future being will be energized, slightly caffeinated, and poised to create, to wonder, and to love.

My lacrosse journey has not been a linear one. I first picked up a lacrosse stick when I was 3 years old, playing one-on-one with my older brother in our underwear. I tried out for my first team when I was in fifth grade, in Woodstock Vermont, a town where hearts beat for hockey in the fall and winter and lacrosse in the spring and summer. I made the team's first try and proved myself to be worthy of starting as Midfielder by coming in first for every single conditioning exercise. While there were boys who could shoot more accurately than me and had more elaborate tricks in their repertoire, my coach put me in to start because I couldn't be beaten in conditioning. "The heart makes the athlete", he would say. Still, I would spend hours in my room at night watching youtube videos of Paul Rabil to try and master different freestyle tricks; sidewall stalls, around the world's, and Indian pickups. Then, in seventh grade, I was ripped away from the world of lacrosse as my father got a job in southern California, 3000 miles away. I was torn from my lacrosse club and my community of athletes. In California, the closest lacrosse club I could find was in Los Angeles, a two-hour drive south. But I was committed. I tried out and made the team, Mad Dog LA. Twice a week I would drive down the 405 highway to try and foster a new community. Four hours of driving, four hours that would have been spent on homework otherwise. But I persevered, maintaining a 4.0 GPA freshman year. Then COVID hit and I was no longer able to drive to LA where COVID cases were skyrocketing. But nothing could tear me away from the sport that I was born to play. So, in my local community, I helped start a small lacrosse program and even convinced my English teacher, an ex-d3 college lacrosse athlete to coach us. While most kids were unskilled, either football players looking for another contact sport or volleyball players interested in the fast-paced dynamic, we compete in tournaments, improved, became close friends, and had a blast. The universe was trying to terminate my love for lacrosse and I said no. Now, in my junior year, I realized that in my community while I had created a program for boys interested in lacrosse, the girls had nothing. So I wrote up a proposal to get a girls' lacrosse program at my school and it was approved. I will be an assistant coach on that team next year! So, on the field during practice and games, my heart and commitment are what people remember. I'm first in conditioning, first to ground balls, and also first home after practice to get my homework done! Off the field, I'm president of my school's ASB, vice president of a youth coalition protecting our local pollinators, I run a rock-climbing club, I have maintained a 4.86 GPA during my junior year, and scored 1470 on my SAT. So, I embody commitment because, in the face of relentless opposition, I have made lacrosse my priority. I embody teamwork because of my ability to facilitate leadership in creating both boys' and girls' lacrosse programs. Lastly, I embody discipline because of my ability to succeed on and off the field, starting on my lacrosse team and excelling in the classroom and in my community service in my free time.

I've been a builder since before I could walk. Back in New Hampshire, where I was born, I would spend my free time with mud, sticks, and elaborate ideas for how to create ships, houses, and weapons. These creations I would use to terrorize my little sister. This love for creating translated quickly to my academic life where in art class I would design blueprints for houses for my art projects. So while architecture isn't a classical STEM field, it encapsulates all fundamental pillars of STEM; Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math. The natural world and specifically the woods in my backyard in New Hampshire inspired my creative, architecturally focused mindset and motivated me to pursue a degree in STEM. I built my first tree house out of trash in those same woods in New Hampshire. One day, my father was throwing away some rotting pallets, wet old, and decaying. I quickly snatched the wooden pieces and stole some screws and a screw gun and hurried into the woods stewing over a plan. Upon finding the perfect tree; large, weathered, and with a "Y" shape, I cut up one of the pallets to make a ladder and began to construct. In the end, my fortress, my castle, consisted of a secured pallet floor, three walls, and a ceiling. As proud as Da Vinci after creating a masterpiece, I climbed up my ladder and sat in silence enjoying my little creation. The tree house, being rotted, fell down later that day and with it, I tumbled to the ground. But this didn't upset me or deter my love for building as I came to recognize failure as part of the process. Now, I live in sunny California and I apply this same motivation to my Varsity Robotics team, five AP courses, and surfing. I still draw blueprints in my free time and I am working on a plan to build a ceramics studio in my backyard. I will never forget the silent woods of New Hampshire as I take the values they taught me and the inspiration they bestowed into me into the next chapter of my life; college. So, these quiet and stoic woods of New Hampshire, with their wet logs, low fogs, and resilient underbrush taught me the values of persistence and resilience, both necessary qualities in the world of STEM, and have inspired within me, an undying flame of inspiration towards the world of Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math.