I was once again told how my life did not fit the definition of normalcy when as a nine-year-old I had to refer to my father in the past tense. However, cancer does not fit the definition of normal and neither does a daughter having to say goodbye to her father. Most kids' conversations with their parents consist of “How was your day?” or “What was exciting at school?” When I came home, I was sat down and told what to do if my dad began having a seizure. For two years, it was ingrained in my brain the exact steps I needed to take if he became unresponsive or experienced a bad reaction to his medicine, as I watched the cancer slowly eat away at him. Normal was once again not used to describe me as ICU doctors explained to me that I no longer had a functioning pancreas and was a Type 1 Diabetic. I now was responsible for daily blood sugar test, insulin shots, and carb ratios; not your average responsibilities for a thirteen-year-old. Another area where I was not ordinary, was the sport of gymnastics. As I grew up, I watched my friends go to parties, dances, and football games, having their “normal” childhood experiences. While they were out having fun, I was at the gym, diligently working to obtain new skills; constantly challenging my body both physically and mentally. For over 10 years gymnastics was a defining point of my life which caused family dinners, vacations, and other typical events to be a rarity. It was the summer after my freshman year when I realized my life was not normal. I would constantly see my friends posting on Snapchat and Instagram, by the pool and hanging out. However, that summer I decided to put my goals and ambitions first. During those three months I trained almost everyday, working out 7 days a week for over 30 hours. In addition to ‘normal’ gymnastic training, I consistently sacrificed free time and added additional, private, lessons. Then, all the sacrifices appeared to be for nothing. With gymnasts, pain is the normal. However, my practices became increasingly more painful, along my spine. After a trip to the doctor, I was diagnosed with an untreatable condition in my spine. The persistent pain forced my retirement from gymnastics. When I look back at the difficult challenges I have faced in life, I realize that “normal” would have never cut it—I had to become “extraordinary” to conquer them and be able to go on to pursue my dreams and goals. Having these different life experiences has taught me how to adapt to any difficult situation and to find a way to persevere, and work towards my goals. One goal, forged and developed through my difficult experiences, is a strong interest in pursuing a career in STEM and the biomedical field. I have taken the first steps with a 90-hour veterinary internship and research in multiple medical fields. Helping others that have gone through similar situations as I have is an important priority to me. Having been there, I understand the difficult challenges that these kids have faced and in this way I can help serve my community. In society today, people are taught to blend in and not be seen, to be part of the consensus, to be “normal.” This helps us define our community values at large. But I believe that it is our differences that define us at the individual level and allow us to become who we choose to be. And I choose to be extraordinary.

When most people hear the word loss, they think of misplacing a valued item. However, to me those simple four letters invoke the memories of the beeping of machines in the hospital and the smell of insulin in its vial. I first experienced loss at the age of nine. my life did not fit the definition of normalcy when as a nine-year-old I had to refer to my father in the past tense. However, cancer does not fit the definition of “normal” and neither does a daughter having to say goodbye to her father. Most kids' conversations with their parents consist of “How was your day?” or “What was exciting at school?” However, when I came home, I was sat down and told what to do if my dad began having a seizure. For two years, it was ingrained in my brain the exact steps I needed to take if he became unresponsive or experienced a bad reaction to his medicine. While most kids' biggest worries were who they were going to sit by at lunch, I came home every day wondering if that morning was the last time I would see my father alive. My dad was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was seven. He fought hard and went through five brain surgeries, but a week and a half after my ninth birthday he passed away. It was at this time that I learned how impermanent the world is and it taught me to never take the experiences and time that I have with the people for granted. For two years, I watched my father lose his health as the cancer slowly ate away; it took him with it. A few years later, in eighth grade, I soon was in a similar position as my body began to turn on me. I was a young healthy kid that suddenly had no energy, could barely stay awake, and was quickly losing weight. A trip to the emergency room and a four-day ICU stay would reveal that I was a Type One Diabetic and in diabetic ketoacidosis. I now had a new perspective on the world. I was no longer a 13-year-old girl trying to figure out school and gymnastics, I was now in charge of my own health and responsible for every insulin injection, finger stick, and blood sugar reading. I watched my entire family grieve my father’s death and saw the toll it took on everybody I loved. When I received the news of being diabetic, I knew that I had to take responsibility for my health so that my actions would never lead to my family to have to deal with that type of loss again. Although my dad was gone, I was fortunate to be surrounded by loving families’ members. Yes, plural. My dad and mom divorced when I was two years old, so I never knew a time when they were together. My life had been split between half time at mom’s house and the other half at dad’s. My stepmom was in my life since I could remember. Just because dad was gone, I did not think it meant I had to stop going to my other home. Lucky for me, my mom recognized I had already experienced enough loss and did not want me to lose anyone else. When I was in the hospital, there were two people by my side the entire stay. These two very different moms have supported me in their own way and styles. Both, made sacrifices to provide me with a full educational and athletic experiences.

My least favorite word in the English language consists of six simple letters. Out of the 171,476 words present in the Oxford English Dictionary, only one has the ability to change my expression in a mere second: the word “normal”. Normal is a word that has plagued me since I was little. I was told that having two houses and the word “step” in front of parents was not a thing that most children had experienced. My family dynamic was different from others and did not compose your average Christmas card. I was once again told how my life did not fit the definition of normalcy when as a nine-year-old I had to refer to my father in the past tense. He was larger than life, a Secret Service Agent and my dad, indestructible. However, cancer does not fit the definition of “normal” and neither does a daughter having to say goodbye to her father. Most kids' conversations with their parents consist of “How was your day?” or “What was exciting at school?” However, when I came home, I was sat down and told what to do if my dad began having a seizure. For two years, it was ingrained in my brain the exact steps I needed to take if he became unresponsive or experienced a bad reaction to his medicine. On a brighter note, I was not a “normal” gymnast—I was an amazing gymnast and worked very hard for it. For over 10 years gymnastics was a defining point of my life. While my friends went to parties, dances, and football games having their “normal” childhood experiences, I was at the gym, diligently working to obtain new skills; constantly challenging my body both physically and mentally. And while this is that part in the essay where I’d “normally” describe all my great future gymnastics accomplishments to come, instead I’ll describe how the ICU doctors subsequently explained to me that I no longer had a functioning pancreas and was a Type 1 Diabetic. Instead of being responsible for a gymnastics routine, I now was responsible for daily blood sugar testing, insulin shots, not the “normal” responsibilities for thirteen-year-old. Then, all the sacrifices appeared to be for nothing. With gymnasts, pain is the normal. However, my practices became increasingly more painful, along my spine. After a trip to the doctor, I was diagnosed with an untreatable condition in my spine. The persistent pain forced my retirement from gymnastics. When I look back at the difficult challenges I have faced in life, I realize that “normal” would have never cut it—I had to become “extraordinary” to conquer them and be able to go on to pursue my dreams and goals. Having these different life experiences has taught me how to adapt to any difficult situation and to find a way to persevere, and work towards my goals. One goal, forged and developed through my difficult experiences, is a strong interest in pursuing a career in STEM and the biomedical field. Helping others that have gone through similar situations as I have is an important to me. Having been there, I understand the difficult challenges that these kids have faced and in this way I can help serve my community. In society today, people are taught to blend in and not be seen, to be part of the consensus, to be “normal.” This helps us define our community values at large. But I believe that it is our differences that define us at the individual level and allow us to become who we choose to be. And I choose to be extraordinary.

My least favorite word in the English language consists of six simple letters, out of the 171,476 words present in the Oxford English Dictionary, only one has the ability to change my expression in a mere second, the word normal. “Normal” is a word that has plagued me since I was little. I was told that having two houses and the word step in front of parents was not a thing that most children had experienced. My family composition was different from others and did not compose your average Christmas card. I was once again told how my life did not fit the definition of normalcy when as a nine-year-old I had to refer to my father in the past tense. However, cancer does not fit the definition of normal and neither does a daughter having to say goodbye to her father. Most kids' conversations with their parents consist of “How was your day?” or “What was exciting at school?” When I came home, I was sat down and told what to do if my dad began having a seizure. For two years, it was ingrained in my brain the exact steps I needed to take if he became unresponsive or experienced a bad reaction to his medicine, as I watched the cancer slowly eat away at him. Normal was once again not used to describe me as ICU doctors explained to me that I no longer had a functioning pancreas and was a Type 1 Diabetic. I now was responsible for daily blood sugar test, insulin shots, and carb ratios; not your average responsibilities for a thirteen-year-old. Another area where I was not ordinary, was the sport of gymnastics. As I grew up, I watched my friends go to parties, dances, and football games, having their “normal” childhood experiences. While they were out having fun, I was at the gym, diligently working to obtain new skills; constantly challenging my body both physically and mentally. For over 10 years gymnastics was a defining point of my life which caused family dinners, vacations, and other typical events to be a rarity. It was the summer after my freshman year when I realized my life was not normal. I would see my friends posting on Snapchat and Instagram. However, that summer I decided to put my goals and ambitions first. During those three months I trained 7 days a week for over 30 hours. Then, all the sacrifices appeared to be for nothing. With gymnasts, pain is the normal. However, my practices became increasingly more painful, along my spine. After a trip to the doctor, I was diagnosed with an untreatable condition in my spine. The persistent pain forced my retirement from gymnastics. When I look back at the difficult challenges I have faced in life, I realize that “normal” would have never cut it—I had to become “extraordinary” to conquer them and be able to go on to pursue my dreams and goals. Having these different life experiences has taught me how to adapt to any difficult situation and to find a way to persevere, and work towards my goals. One goal, forged and developed through my difficult experiences, is a strong interest in pursuing a career in STEM and the biomedical field. I have taken the first steps with a 90-hour veterinary internship and research in multiple medical fields. Helping others that have gone through similar situations as I have is an important priority to me. Having been there, I understand the difficult challenges that these kids have faced and in this way I can help serve my community.

From very early in my life, I recall my mother talking with me about money. My mother believes I should be knowledgeable and responsible for my own finances. Also, she thinks I should understand how money, investments, dollar cost averaging works, to make my money work for me. I remember when she took me to the bank to open a saving account and how it felt when I deposited my birthday money. She explained how we have to pay ourselves first. Whenever I receive money as a gift, I deposit a percentage of the money in to my savings account first. At first I did not like the idea of hiding my money from myself when there was things I wanted to buy. A couple of times each year, she would take me to make the deposit. Now, I make the trip by myself. As I prepare to go off to college, I realize how expensive college is; tuition, housing, books and food. Now I am happy she made me pay myself first.

My least favorite word in the English language consists of six simple letters, out of the 171,476 words present in the Oxford English Dictionary, only one has the ability to change my expression in a mere second, the word normal. “Normal” is a word that has plagued me since I was little. I was told that having two houses and the word step in front of parents was not a thing that most children had experienced. My family composition was different from others and did not compose your average Christmas card. I was once again told how my life did not fit the definition of normalcy when as a nine-year-old I had to refer to my father in the past tense. However, cancer does not fit the definition of normal and neither does a daughter having to say goodbye to her father. Most kids' conversations with their parents consist of “How was your day?” or “What was exciting at school?” When I came home, I was sat down and told what to do if my dad began having a seizure. For two years, it was ingrained in my brain the exact steps I needed to take if he became unresponsive or experienced a bad reaction to his medicine, as I watched the cancer slowly eat away at him. Normal was once again not used to describe me as ICU doctors explained to me that I no longer had a functioning pancreas and was a Type 1 Diabetic. I now was responsible for daily blood sugar test, insulin shots, and carb ratios; not your average responsibilities for a thirteen-year-old. Another area where I was not ordinary, was the sport of gymnastics. As I grew up, I watched my friends go to parties, dances, and football games, having their “normal” childhood experiences. While they were out having fun, I was at the gym, diligently working to obtain new skills; constantly challenging my body both physically and mentally. For over 10 years gymnastics was a defining point of my life which caused family dinners, vacations, and other typical events to be a rarity. When I look back at the difficult challenges I have faced in life, I realize that “normal” would have never cut it—I had to become “extraordinary” to conquer them and be able to go on to pursue my dreams and goals. Having these different life experiences has taught me how to adapt to any difficult situation and to find a way to persevere, and work towards my goals. One goal, forged and developed through my difficult experiences, is a strong interest in pursuing a career in STEM and the biomedical field. I have taken the first steps with a 90-hour veterinary internship and research in multiple medical fields. Helping others that have gone through similar situations as I have is an important priority to me. Having been there, I understand the difficult challenges that these kids have faced and in this way I can help serve my community. In society today, people are taught to blend in and not be seen, to be part of the consensus, to be “normal.” This helps us define our community values at large. But I believe that it is our differences that define us at the individual level and allow us to become who we choose to be. And I choose to be extraordinary.

Loss is a funny word; four letters can encompass not being able to find your keys to never seeing a loved one again. When most people hear the word loss, they think of misplacing a valued item. However, to me those simple four letters invoke the memories of the beeping of machines in the hospital and the smell of insulin in its vial. I first experienced loss at the age of nine. While most kids' biggest worries were who they were going to sit by at lunch, I came home every day wondering if that morning was the last time I would see my father alive. My dad was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was seven. He fought hard and went through five brain surgeries, but a week and a half after my ninth birthday he passed away. It was at this time that I learned how impermanent the world is and it taught me to never take the experiences and time that I have with the people for granted. For two years, I watched my father lose his health as the cancer slowly ate away; it took him with it. When I look back at my childhood, I realize that I could never have conquered the difficult challenges I have faced in life or pursued my dreams and goals if I was normal. Having different life experiences has taught me how to adapt to any situation and find a way to persevere, and work toward my goals. It is these experiences that developed my interest in STEM. Understanding the challenges kids face created a desire to help others that have gone through similar situations. People are taught to blend in and not be seen, but it is people's differences that define them and who they choose to be.

Loss is a funny word; four letters can encompass not being able to find your keys to never seeing a loved one again. When most people hear the word loss, they think of misplacing a valued item. However, to me those simple four letters invoke the memories of the beeping of machines in the hospital and the smell of insulin in its vial. I first experienced loss at the age of nine. While most kids' biggest worries were who they were going to sit by at lunch, I came home every day wondering if that morning was the last time I would see my father alive. My dad who was a Secret Service Agent, was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was seven. He fought hard and went through five brain surgeries, but a week and a half after my ninth birthday he passed away. It was at this time that I learned how impermanent the world is and it taught me to never take the experiences and time that I have with the people for granted. For two years, I watched my father lose his health as the cancer slowly ate away; it took him with it. A few years later, in eighth grade, I soon was in a similar position as my body began to turn on me. I was a young healthy kid that suddenly had no energy, could barely stay awake, and was quickly losing weight. A trip to the emergency room and a four-day ICU stay would reveal that I was a Type One Diabetic and in diabetic ketoacidosis. I now had a new perspective on the world. I was no longer a 13-year-old girl trying to figure out school and gymnastics, I was now in charge of my own health and responsible for every insulin injection, finger stick, and blood sugar reading. I held my life in my hands and had to step up for myself and those around me. At a young age, I watched my entire family grieve my father’s death and saw the toll it took on everybody I loved. When I received the news of being diabetic, I knew that I had to take responsibility for my health so that my actions would never lead to my family to have to deal with that type of loss again. As a family, we often participated in community service events. We by collected food, feed the homeless, provided supplies for homeless teens and to animal rescues. One Christmas my dad had a special protection detail. He was assigned to protect Santa Claus. This was for a special visit at Child Haven. As a kid, I remember being proud of my dad because he was protecting Santa. Also, it was explained to me that as Santa gave each of the kids one gift, this was the only gift those kids would receive. I remember thinking about how full our tree was with gifts. These life experiences have taught me resilience, discipline, and how to value things in the world. I diligently work at everything I do because I have seen first-hand how quickly anything can be ripped away. As a seventeen-year-old who has endured these challenges, I have learned how to persevere and adapt to any obstacle life throws at me. This has led me to explore new outlets in my life such as a focus in STEM and the biomedical field. I have done internships and research in multiple fields to see how I can best use my knowledge and experiences in life to help those in need throughout the world.

My interest in sciences began early in my life. While most kids' biggest worries were who they were going to sit by at lunch, I came home every day wondering if that morning was the last time I would see my father alive. My dad was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was seven. He fought hard and went through five brain surgeries, but a week and a half after my ninth birthday he passed away. A few years later, in eighth grade, I soon was in a similar position as my body began to turn on me. I was a young healthy kid that suddenly had no energy, could barely stay awake, and was quickly losing weight. A trip to the emergency room and a four-day ICU stay would reveal that I was a Type One Diabetic and in diabetic ketoacidosis. I now had a new perspective on the world. I was no longer a 13-year-old girl trying to figure out school and gymnastics, I was now in charge of my own health and responsible for every insulin injection, finger stick, and blood sugar reading. I held my life in my hands and had to step up for myself and those around me. I became interested in the sciences, focusing on veterinary medicine. After persistent requests, the local veterinary clinic allowed me to spend a day volunteering. There, I was referred to the specialty clinic to volunteer in the Oncology Department. Watching the doctors gently treating the animals and the organization of the office made an impact on me. Last summer, between Junior and Senior years, I completed an internship with a third veterinary office. It was an in-person internship during COVID which was not easy to obtain! This was a busy office that treated common pets as well as exotic animals. Some of my responsibilities were to measure and administer medicine, assist in restraining animals, observe the animals after procedures, and feeding animals. One goal, forged and developed through my difficult experiences, is a strong interest in pursuing a career in STEM and the biomedical field. I have taken the first steps with a 90-hour veterinary internship and research in multiple medical fields to see how I can best use my knowledge and experiences in life to help those in need throughout the world. Helping others that have gone through similar situations as I have is an important priority to me. Having been there, I understand the difficult challenges that these kids have faced and in this way I can help serve my community.

My interest in medicine and sciences began early in my life. Most kids' conversations with their parents consist of “How was your day?” or “What was exciting at school?” When I came home, I was sat down and told what to do if my dad began having a seizure. For two years, it was ingrained in my brain the exact steps I needed to take if he became unresponsive or experienced a bad reaction to his medicine, as I watched the cancer slowly eat away at him. Then grew after my own health issues were diagnosed. During my high school career, I became interested in the sciences, focusing on veterinary medicine. After persistent requests, the local veterinary clinic allowed me to spend a day volunteering. There, I was referred to the specialty clinic to volunteer in the Oncology Department. Watching the doctors gently treating the animals and the organization of the office made an impact on me. Last summer, between Junior and Senior years, I completed an internship with a third veterinary office. It was an in-person internship during COVID which was not easy to obtain! This was a busy office that treated common pets as well as exotic animals. Some of my responsibilities were to measure and administer medicine, assist in restraining animals, observe the animals after procedures, and feeding animals. The bond between an animal and their owner is truly special and I want to help save people’s furry best friends. The best way I can do this is by learning as much as I can in college and continuing onto vet school. By receiving this scholarship, I will have the opportunity to explore new programs in college where I can explore my interest and grow my love of veterinary medicine.

While most kids' biggest worries were who they were going to sit by at lunch, I came home every day wondering if I would see my father alive. My dad was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was seven. He fought hard and went through five brain surgeries, but a week and a half after my ninth birthday he passed away. I learned how impermanent the world is and to never take experiences and time with the people for granted. I was a young healthy kid that suddenly had no energy, and was quickly losing weight. A trip to the emergency room and a four-day ICU stay would reveal that I was a Type One Diabetic and in diabetic ketoacidosis. I was no longer a young girl trying to figure out school and gymnastics, I was now in charge of my own health and responsible for every insulin injection, finger stick, and blood sugar reading. I held my life in my hands and had to step up for myself and those around me. At a young age, I watched my entire family grieve my father’s death and saw the toll it took on everybody I loved. When I received the news of being diabetic, I knew that I had to take responsibility for my health so that my actions would never lead to my family to have to deal with that type of loss again. These life experiences have taught me resilience, discipline, and how to value things in the world. I learned how to persevere and adapt to any obstacle life throws at me. This has led me the STEM Academy. I have done internships and research in multiple fields to see how I can best use my knowledge and experiences in life to help those in need.

Loss is a funny word; four letters can encompass not being able to find your keys to never seeing a loved one again. When most people hear the word loss, they think of misplacing a valued item. However, to me those simple four letters invoke the memories of the beeping of machines in the hospital and the smell of insulin in its vial. I first experienced loss at the age of nine. While most kids' biggest worries were who they were going to sit by at lunch, I came home every day wondering if that morning was the last time I would see my father alive. My dad was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was seven. He fought hard and went through five brain surgeries, but a week and a half after my ninth birthday he passed away. It was at this time that I learned how impermanent the world is and it taught me to never take the experiences and time that I have with the people for granted. For two years, I watched my father lose his health as the cancer slowly ate away; it took him with it. A few years later, in eighth grade, I soon was in a similar position as my body began to turn on me. I was a young healthy kid that suddenly had no energy, could barely stay awake, and was quickly losing weight. A trip to the emergency room and a four-day ICU stay would reveal that I was a Type One Diabetic and in diabetic ketoacidosis. I now had a new perspective on the world. I was no longer a 13-year-old girl trying to figure out school and gymnastics, I was now in charge of my own health and responsible for every insulin injection, finger stick, and blood sugar reading. I held my life in my hands and had to step up for myself and those around me. At a young age, I watched my entire family grieve my father’s death and saw the toll it took on everybody I loved. When I received the news of being diabetic, I knew that I had to take responsibility for my health so that my actions would never lead to my family to have to deal with that type of loss again. As a member of the STEM Academy, in April 2022, I will be presenting, alongside my team members at UC Berkeley's BioEngineering High School Competition. My team created an artificial liver from a leaf. These life experiences have taught me resilience, discipline, and how to value things in the world. I diligently work at everything I do because I have seen first-hand how quickly anything can be ripped away. As a seventeen-year-old who has endured these challenges, I have learned how to persevere and adapt to any obstacle life throws at me. This has led me to explore new outlets in my life such as a focus in STEM and the biomedical field. As a Type 1 Diabetic, I have an interest in helping the world by creating an artificial pancreas. I have done internships and research in multiple fields to see how I can best use my knowledge and experiences in life to help those in need throughout the world.