When I first started college, I thought volunteering was mainly something I would do to gain veterinary experience. Since becoming a veterinarian has always been one of my biggest goals, I saw volunteering as a way to strengthen my résumé while learning more about the field. Although I genuinely wanted to help, my mindset was focused more on what I could gain from the experience than on the impact I could have on others. That perspective completely changed after one of my friends convinced me to join Students Helping Honduras during my freshman year. Being a part of Students Helping Honduras introduced me to a different meaning of service. Instead of volunteering simply to check off hours or build experience, I learned that serving others is about creating opportunities for people who need them and building meaningful relationships within the community. The organization's mission inspired me because every project was centered on improving the lives of others through education, health, and community support. Seeing how much even a small act of kindness could mean to someone made me realize that volunteering is about far more than personal achievement. When I started shadowing for a position in that club, I had no idea what to pick but when they showed me to do concessions. I made that my biggest mission to keep doing it. Because it was the main and large source of money that we fundraise and send in for the kids back in Honduras to get a better education and life. Through Students Helping Honduras, I also participated in volunteer activities that directly gave back to the community. Whether we were raising money, spreading awareness, selling quesadillas when everyone else was going out, or supporting service projects, I realized that volunteering is not always about one large gesture. Sometimes it is about consistently showing up, encouraging others to get involved even when I was shy about it, and being willing to give your time to something bigger than yourself. Every event strengthened my appreciation for the power of community and reminded me that service is built on compassion, commitment, and a genuine desire to help others succeed. Serving as an officer also taught me valuable lessons about leadership. Before taking on a leadership role, I thought leadership meant being the person in charge or making the important decisions. Instead, I learned that leadership through service means putting others first and helping your team succeed. It meant listening to different ideas, supporting members when they needed help, and leading by example. I discovered that people are more inspired by someone who works alongside them than by someone who simply tells them what to do. Leadership through service has become one of the most important lessons I have learned in college. It has shown me that true leaders are willing to serve before they expect others to follow. My experiences with Students Helping Honduras have changed the way I view volunteering, leadership, and even my future career. As a future veterinarian, I know my responsibility will extend beyond caring for animals. I will also have the opportunity to educate pet owners, support families, and give back to the communities I serve. Joining Students Helping Honduras transformed volunteering from something I once viewed as a steppingstone into something I now see as a lifelong commitment. It taught me I can help my people miles away while still serving love, dedication and priority, the positive impact I can leave on the lives of those around me. As the slogan goes; "Do it for the kids" https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1oW3ZawhHwCySViVWjRHTej2HUe7ILEEq

I’m passionate about an education in STEM because it allows me to explore the intersection of logic, curiosity, and compassion. As someone who dreams of becoming a veterinary surgeon, I’ve always been fascinated by the science behind how the body works—how systems function, how diseases spread, and how healing happens not just physically, but emotionally too. STEM gives me the tools to not only understand life, but to protect and care for it. Growing up as a first-generation student, I didn’t have access to advanced science resources at home, but I was always eager to learn more. I turned to books, asked a lot of questions, and found comfort in how science gave structure to what sometimes felt like a chaotic world. I loved how biology explained the mystery behind life, how chemistry gave me a better understanding of change, and how math taught me patience and precision. A huge turning point for me was joining HOSA my freshman year. By sophomore year, I had the opportunity to compete at the state level. I remember feeling nervous and unsure, but through their workshops, I learned so much. I was introduced to machinery and programs that simulate surgeries and teach medical skills—even to high school students like me. I also learned that medicine isn’t just about being a doctor or nurse; there are so many paths in healthcare and science where you can make a difference. It made me feel like I belonged. Even being at my school where I was in the health and sciences academy I took heavy math courses and sciences just to learn medicine and while it was difficult I still continued because I never let go of my ambition and passion. What excites me most about STEM is that it’s not just about memorizing facts—it’s about solving real problems and helping people (and animals) in the process. Whether it’s diagnosing a sick pet, finding new treatment options, or providing accessible care to underserved communities, STEM gives me the ability to create change that matters. As a young Latina woman, entering a field where people like me are often underrepresented feels both powerful and personal. I want to show others—especially girls from backgrounds like mine—that we belong in science, in operating rooms, in labs, and in leadership. For me, a STEM education isn’t just about earning a degree. It’s about becoming the person my younger self needed and giving back to the communities that raised me. It’s about using science to heal, uplift, and inspire.

In Charli XCX’s raw and vulnerable track “Girl, So Confusing” from her 2024 album BRAT, the pop star confronts the blurred lines between admiration, rivalry, and identity within the music industry. Though never naming the subject directly, the lyrics seem to reflect her complicated relationship with fellow pop artist Lorde, as Charli voices the uncertainty and emotional friction that can arise when women in the same field are constantly compared. Charli opens the song with lines like, “People say we’re alike / They say we got the same hair,” immediately establishing the sense of comparison that has followed her throughout her career. Rather than embracing sisterhood, the song explores the discomfort that comes with being measured against someone who should feel like a peer, not a competitor. The lyrics are delivered in a talk-sing style, stripped of glamour, which enhances the sense of honesty and confusion. “You’re all about writing poems / But I’m about throwing parties,” Charli says, highlighting not just artistic differences, but perhaps an internalized insecurity—questioning whether her own work is seen as less serious or meaningful. What’s most powerful about “Girl, So Confusing” is its emotional ambiguity. Charli doesn’t claim to hate the girl she’s addressing—if anything, she admits to wanting her approval. “You liked my picture on the internet / You didn’t like my video,” she sings, capturing the pettiness and fragility that often accompanies relationships strained by unspoken expectations and social media cues. As social media arises girls supporting girls sometimes fades into the shadows often putting girls against one another each time. However, Charli shows that she doesn’t want to be against her, she wants to be her. The song took on an even deeper meaning when Lorde joined Charli on the remix, responding in verse and offering her own vulnerable truth. She confesses that she too was “trapped in the hatred,” and reveals that her distance stemmed from jealousy and self-doubt, not malice. The remix transforms the original track from a one-sided vent into a beautiful reconciliation, showing how misunderstood feelings can fester without communication. It’s not a diss track—it’s a song about growth, confusion, and the courage it takes to be honest with yourself and others. Ultimately, “Girl, So Confusing” is more than just a pop song. It’s a rare look into the inner world of women navigating fame, identity, and friendship in a highly competitive space. Charli reminds us that even idols are human, and sometimes, the bravest thing a girl can do is admit that she’s confused.

language barriers—I learned early on that healing goes beyond medicine. It’s about connection, trust, and being a source of strength when others feel powerless. Healthcare, to me, is one of the most direct and meaningful ways to make a difference in someone’s life. Whether it’s a family struggling to afford treatment for a sick pet or a child seeing a veterinarian save their best friend, I want to be part of those moments that bring relief and hope. I’m especially passionate about serving underserved communities, where access to both human and animal healthcare is often limited. I want to be a provider who understands those barriers firsthand and works to break them. I chose to be a veterinarian because of that and hopefully to specifically specialize in surgery because of my curiosity and keen interest in it ever since I watched VetRanch on YouTube. I also want to do research during my undergraduate and get good grades, study abroad at least one time. I want to do so much and I feel like with the financial burden I have I won’t be able to. I won’t be able to experience the college life I wanted to live. Because I am an underestimated and underrepresented minority in this field I still want to be a translator and be a safe haven for my people. Someone they can count on. Someone they can trust and understand because they’re too afraid to speak or attempt if it was in front of an American. I want to be someone they can rely on while also be a reliance to Americans and anyone people of color. A sign of unity. As a woman wanting to be in the healthcare field—particularly in veterinary surgery, where the field is still male-dominated—I hope to lead with empathy, resilience, and confidence. I want to prove that women can take up space in operating rooms, labs, and leadership roles without having to compromise who we are. I want to mentor other young women who feel unseen or underestimated, especially those from first-generation or Hispanic backgrounds like mine. Being a minority woman in healthcare isn’t just about representation—it’s about reimagining how we care for others by bringing a more inclusive, compassionate, and community-centered approach to medicine. That’s the legacy I hope to leave behind. Which is another long term goal I want to achieve throughout these difficult times. I want to unite and make us whole again.

Hello, my name is Beverly Zapata. I’m a proud student from the Health and Sciences Academy at Bayside High School, and I’ll be attending Virginia Tech this upcoming fall. I’m on the path to becoming a Veterinary Surgeon my goal that combines my passion for medicine, my fascination with surgical procedures, and my deep love and empathy for animals. Since I was young, I’ve always found comfort in the presence of animals. Whether it was caring for a family pet or watching a veterinarian work with gentle precision, I knew I wanted to be part of that world. What truly excites me about veterinary surgery is the idea that I’ll one day be able to use my hands and knowledge to save lives—especially those that cannot speak for themselves. I love how medicine blends science with compassion, and how surgery requires both technical skill and emotional strength. The fact that I can study something I’m passionate about and make a meaningful difference at the same time is what drives me every day. My dream is not just to become a veterinary surgeon but to be an advocate for animals and their families, especially in underserved communities. I want to offer access to affordable, high-quality care and open doors for others like me—first-generation students and young people from diverse backgrounds—who dream of going into medical fields. I chose this path because I want to be a voice for the voiceless, a healer, and a helper. In my future career, I hope to not only mend broken bones and save lives but to also build trust, offer comfort, and give hope—both to the animals I treat and the people who love them. As for women’s empowerment, I was vice president of my schools female radiance club where we raised awareness about women empowerment and did menstrual supply drives for women in shelters or domestic violence shelters. We also made a presentation for the STEM girls weekend for middle schools to help the girls navigate highschool and helping their parents how to handle their teenage daughters when they’re in this new environment and new development. Because of this we were published by our cities public schools blog with my name mentioned. Because of the many accomplishments I had from female radiance club I hope to continue my women’s support empowerment. I hope one day I can partake in cancer research or exploring diagnoses of women’s health and why it occurs such as endometriosis or POTS, which is rather outrageous why there isn’t enough women’s research with the amount of pain and inequality this gender gains. Which I hope my college will be funded someway and somehow so I can continue making an effort or a difference. Big and small I can’t give up on what I think is right and what I think should be cared for and talked about.

Growing up as a first-generation student, I have always known what it feels like to navigate the world with limited resources and unlimited determination. My parents, despite their own hardships, made countless sacrifices to give me the opportunity to dream. From using their last savings on unexpected medical bills to showing up for me in every way they could, their selflessness became my inspiration. It taught me that while struggle can be isolating, it can also be a call to action. That call has shaped my passion for advocacy and my desire to change the world by serving the underserved. My path toward making a difference began with a love for animals and a growing interest in veterinary medicine. During my time shadowing at a local animal hospital, I witnessed not only the science of healing but the human side of care—families who couldn’t afford treatments for their beloved pets bills, and elderly pet owners without access to transportation or affordable services. These experiences opened my eyes to the gaps in care that exist not just for people, but for the animals they love. I realized that my future in veterinary medicine would not be complete without a commitment to equity. Beyond the clinic, I have seen the many ways underserved communities are overlooked—whether through language barriers, income inequality, or lack of access to education and healthcare. That’s why I’ve made it my mission to represent these voices, especially those who may not know how to advocate for themselves. Through my studies, community work, and cultural curiosity. I’ve become more aware of how interconnected we are. True advocacy, I’ve learned, requires understanding, listening, and the courage to challenge the systems that leave people behind and break the systems that one seemed unbreakable. I want to change the world by building bridges—between medical science and empathy, between education and opportunity, and between communities that often feel invisible. I envision creating outreach programs that bring veterinary and public health services to low-income areas, developing culturally sensitive care practices, and mentoring young students from backgrounds like mine who dream of going into medicine. My goal is to not only provide care but to create systems that uplift and empower. I plan to have enough money one day and have invest beforehand, to open my. Own outreach facility for the underserved and educate the working class the options they really do have. While I do want to make veterinary medicine available, affordable, and accessible I also want to help the younger ones by allowing them to volunteer at my clinic or program to allow them to have an opportunity to expierience the hardships and help their own community. Because I’ve witnessed cycles and have broken my own cycle so the younger generations can learn to break their own and help their own. To change the world does not always mean standing on a stage or making headlines. Sometimes, it means being the person who sits with someone, listens to their story, and offers hope where there was once silence. That’s the kind of change I want to create—one community, one voice, one act of compassion at a time.

Selected Passage – Plato’s The Republic, Book VII (The Allegory of the Cave): "And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than what is now being shown to him?" This passage from the allegory of the cave—perhaps the most famous metaphor in Western philosophy—depicts a prisoner who, having lived chained in darkness his entire life, is suddenly exposed to the light of the outside world. At first, the experience is painful and disorienting. He does not welcome the truth; he recoils from it. The objects in the cave (shadows cast on a wall) once seemed real and familiar, and the light of the outside world seems hostile, even threatening. Here, Plato confronts a profound psychological truth: human beings often prefer comfort over truth. It’s not that truth is inaccessible, but that it is unwelcoming. The pain in the prisoner’s eyes symbolizes the challenge of confronting new realities—realities that contradict everything one has previously believed. When Plato writes, “he will conceive (the shadows) to be in reality clearer than what is now being shown to him,” he captures the essential force of resistance. We tend to cling to illusions, not because they are rational, but because they are familiar. Enlightening this kind of rupture with what we once took to be reality. Philosophically, this passage explores the nature of perception and knowledge. In Plato’s theory of Forms, what we see in the physical world (the cave) are mere representations—imperfect copies of ideal, eternal truths (the world outside). Most people, Plato believes, live their lives in the cave, mistaking opinion for truth, surface for depth, shadow for substance. Education, then, is not simply filling the mind with facts, but a radical reorientation of the soul. It is turning away from the shadows and toward the source of light—ultimately, toward the Form of the Good, which represents the highest knowledge and the foundation of all moral truth. But what is most important in this passage is Plato’s recognition that this process is painful. He does not romanticize enlightenment as instant or easy. He insists that truth-seeking is hard—that it requires struggle, disillusionment, and a willingness to be uncomfortable. In this way, Plato’s message reaches far beyond ancient Athens. It applies today, in a society where comfort and convenience often take precedence over critical thought. We avoid difficult conversations about politics, race, inequality, climate, or history because, like the prisoner, we find it painful to look too closely at what’s real. Moreover, this passage speaks to the relationship between education and the self. True learning, according to Plato, involves more than memorizing facts or performing well academically. It requires transforming the soul—training the mind to question assumptions, endure uncertainty, and re-evaluate deeply held beliefs. This vision of education is increasingly rare. In many modern contexts, education is seen as a means to an end—career, income, or status. But Plato demands something more radical: that education be a path toward inner freedom and moral clarity, no matter the cost. Another striking feature of the allegory—and this passage in particular—is the idea that truth can be frightening. The light of the sun, representing truth and knowledge, is not initially welcome. It causes pain. This challenges the romantic idea that people naturally seek truth. Plato suggests the opposite: we are naturally resistant to it. The truth disrupts our habits. It demands responsibility. And it often isolates us from others who remain in the cave. This is why, later in the allegory, the enlightened prisoner who returns to the cave is mocked—and even threatened—by those who are still chained. Plato is not only describing the individual journey of the philosopher, but also the social cost of questioning established norms. The moral and psychological implications of this are profound. Most people, Plato argues, live comfortably within illusions, not because they are unintelligent, but because the truth requires a kind of courage that is rare. To embrace truth is to risk losing certainty, community, and even a sense of self. It means letting go of the false securities that shadow-thinking offers. That’s why the philosopher—the one who seeks truth—is so often misunderstood or rejected by society. They do not return to the cave for praise or power, but from duty: to help others see what is real, even if it hurts. In contemporary life, we encounter similar dynamics. Social media platforms are designed to show us only the shadows we want to see—reinforcing our biases, comforting us with illusion. News and entertainment blur the line between truth and performance. Algorithms shape our reality more than facts do. In such a world, to seek truth—to deliberately expose oneself to opposing views, complex arguments, or harsh realities—is to go against the grain. It is to feel the “pain in the eyes” Plato described. It is to be, in a sense, philosophically exiled from the cave of consensus. And yet, the reward for enduring this pain is profound. The prisoner who finally adjusts to the light comes to see the world as it truly is—full of beauty, order, and deeper meaning. He understands the difference between appearance and reality. He is free. Not politically or economically, perhaps, but spiritually and intellectually. And that, for Plato, is the true goal of human life. In conclusion, Plato’s passage about the pain of looking at the light captures a timeless truth: enlightenment is not easy. It demands the courage to suffer discomfort, question the familiar, and detach from illusion. We live, in many ways, in our own modern caves—places of comfort and consensus that discourage genuine inquiry. But Plato insists that real freedom begins when we dare to look away from the shadows and face the light, even when it hurts. The world may not welcome this clarity, but the individual who seeks it walks the only path toward a life of meaning, virtue, and truth.

My name is Beverly Zapata I am seventeen years old and just graduated from Bayside High school on June 10th 2025. I plan on attending Virginia Tech expected to graduate in 2029. As a first-generation student, I have held most dearly onto two things: my family and my education. Growing up, my parents sacrificed everything—every dollar, every hour, every ounce of energy—for me and my siblings to have a better future. From paying for unexpected medical bills to buying me a Barbie castle just to see me smile, they gave even when they had nothing extra to spare. As I got older, I began to understand just how heavy the cost of those sacrifices had been. My mother’s health started to decline due to a series of medical issues, and the bills began piling up from hundreds to thousands of dollars at a time. Yet, despite the pain in her body and the visible varicose veins throbbing in her legs, she kept working, cleaning houses entirely on her own. She endured it all so that my brothers could continue their education in Honduras and I could stay in school and have transportation there, as well as having clothes to wear, and never feel as if we were missing anything. My father, strong and hardworking, rarely had health problems until he fell off a construction machine. Even with a surgery scheduled months away, he still used his arms and continued working—guiding machinery, leading teams, and teaching me what it meant to be resilient and a leader. He always came home with a smile on his face, concrete on his arms, and the groceries from the list my mom had made, no matter how tired he was. They sacrificed day and night to make sure I had food in my stomach, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. Even if it was leftovers for dinner, secondhand clothes instead of the latest trends, or a trailer instead of a two-story home, I never felt deprived. I learned to style what I had, decorate my room with creativity, and turn whatever ingredients we had into a full meal. They even bought me an expensive calculator so I could do well in math because the cheaper ones were out of date for the math I was taking—even though I still struggled with it—and never missed a track meet or soccer game. Their love, effort, and strength have taught me the true meaning of perseverance, humility, and gratitude. Their sacrifices are not just part of my story—they are the reason I keep going. They are the reason why I am here today. Which is why I did sports to strengthen my mentality and time management skills. Doing all four years of soccer and three years of cross country and varsity swim. I always wanted to give back to the community which is why I first volunteered at the animal shelter, this made me find my passion in the vet field so I worked my way up in dual enrollment and became an approved vet assistant while volunteering at an animal hospital. There, I was helping by speaking Spanish and being useful. As the way I see it, we must never forget our roots while we pursue higher education and instead embrace our roots with open arms, and love. Which is why I believe this scholarship will greatly help me relieve some of the future debt that is unfortunately foreseeable in my future as I do not want to burden my family for what they’ve done for me.

As a first-generation student, I have held most dearly onto two things: my family and my education. Growing up, my parents sacrificed everything—every dollar, every hour, every ounce of energy—for me and my siblings to have a better future. From paying for unexpected medical bills to buying me a Barbie castle just to see me smile, they gave even when they had nothing extra to spare. As I got older, I began to understand just how heavy the cost of those sacrifices had been. My mother’s health started to decline due to a series of medical issues, and the bills began piling up from hundreds to thousands of dollars at a time. Yet, despite the pain in her body and the visible varicose veins throbbing in her legs, she kept working, cleaning houses entirely on her own. She endured it all so that my brothers could continue their education in Honduras and I could stay in school and have transportation there, as well as having clothes to wear, and never feel as if we were missing anything. My father, strong and hardworking, rarely had health problems until he fell off a construction machine. Even with a surgery scheduled months away, he still used his arms and continued working—guiding machinery, leading teams, and teaching me what it meant to be resilient and a leader. He always came home with a smile on his face, concrete on his arms, and the groceries from the list my mom had made, no matter how tired he was. They sacrificed day and night to make sure I had food in my stomach, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. Even if it was leftovers for dinner, secondhand clothes instead of the latest trends, or a trailer instead of a two-story home, I never felt deprived. I learned to style what I had, decorate my room with creativity, and turn whatever ingredients we had into a full meal. They even bought me an expensive calculator so I could do well in math because the cheaper ones were out of date for the math I was taking—even though I still struggled with it—and never missed a track meet or soccer game. Their love, effort, and strength have taught me the true meaning of perseverance, humility, and gratitude. Their sacrifices are not just part of my story—they are the reason I keep going. They are the reason why I am here today. Which is why the legacy I want to leave behind one day is a legacy of nurture, humble, and to never forget the roots where we come from and why we pursue education today.

At dinner, my parents tell me to speak English, though they speak Spanish—both knowing I understand. I feel like an outsider, despite being half Honduran and Mexican. Silence fills my mouth at this table, unlike the lively Spanish conversations at my Tía’s, where my cousins freely express themselves. After dinner, I clean in silence—my mother and father say it’s a woman’s duty. Then I care for our pets and finish my homework late at night. At school, I regain the ability to speak—this time in English. My friends gather around my Chocoflan at potlucks, embracing my culture without judgment. My parents kept me away from Hispanic peers to Americanize me, fearing our culture hindered academic success. This separation made me feel out of place. Only when alone with my mother do I speak Spanish again. She vents about cleaning houses for little pay. Guilt churns in my stomach, and I understand why my parents value education so much. They hope American identity will protect me and open doors. While they may be right, this belief splits me in two. Over time, I’ve realized I don’t have to choose. My identity is a blend—I am American Latina. My heritage gives me resilience; my American side gives me voice. Both shape how I see the world and my place in it. I no longer hide my duality. I embrace it—living proof that identity doesn’t have to be either-or. It can be both, and beautifully so.

At dinner, my mother and dad tell me to speak English even though they didn’t. Both knowing I understood everything they said as they talk in Spanish. I felt like an outsider, despite being half Honduran and Mexican, by my own family. Silence fills my mouth at this table, juxtaposing the vibrant and loud conversations held only in Spanish that occur at my Tia’s home where my cousins’ opinions are always made known. When the three of us are finished, I clear the table and silently wash dishes with my mother. According to my father, and, ironically, my mother, it’s the womanly duty to tend such things. Afterward, I sweep the living room, feed my pets, empty the litter boxes, and tend to the foster kittens that rotate through my home. All done silently. Then, my father sends me to my room, although I would go on my own, to do my homework late at night. After school, when my mother picks me up, I switch to Spanish because she allows it when it’s just the two of us. She complains about work— cleaning houses for little pay. Guilt churns in my stomach. I feel sorry for her and understand why my parents emphasize education so strongly. It’s uncommon for Latina women, especially in my family, to get an education. They believe identifying as American will protect me from discrimination and open doors. In many ways, they’re right, but this mindset tears me in two, putting myself at debate. Throughout my life, I felt like I have two worlds— at school, I speak strictly English, and at home, I only use Spanish when it’s just my mother and I. However, my father's enforcement of Americanizing me, often leaves me feeling split, like two different people. As I’ve grown older, my worlds feel distinct and diverse, and my existence and individuality depend on both because taking either would take me away as a whole. I realized my parents weren’t entirely wrong about fitting in, yet I also felt the need to preserve my culture. Speaking Spanish with my family is a way to hold onto the heritage that shapes me. I’ve come to see that my identity isn’t defined by language alone; maintaining both parts of my identity is easy— I am more than just American or Latina; I am American Latina— a blend that bridges two distinct but interconnected parts of my life, creating me and the pride and love I’ve come to embrace. My experiences have taught me that my culture and identity are complex, layered, and rooted in both worlds I keep walking on, because I no longer want to hide my dual identity. In American culture, people are encouraged to embrace individuality and pride in their unique backgrounds, lifting each other to celebrate diversity, no matter where people are from. Hispanic culture is more intimate, granting me resilience, teaching me the importance of dedication and hard work passed down through generations, and the ability to adapt to unfamiliar spaces. Being American Latina means drawing strength from both worlds. Together, they shape a unique identity that I no longer need to separate. Instead, I embrace the richness of both, knowing they make me who I am: a blend of two sides that coexist within me. I want to one day become a veterinarian surgeon and help my community by building sanctuaries or animal hospitals that are low-cost and effective. Because in this world, we cannot be alone. Especially with today's state of the world, we have to be one, in unity para Mi Gente Latina.

My name is Beverly Zapata-Hernandez, and I am a senior in high school with a dream to become a veterinarian. Growing up in a Hispanic family, I have always been surrounded by a strong sense of community and a love for animals. My mother taught me compassion and beauty in animals while my dad taught me the value of hard work and perseverance in order to gain that dream, and these lessons have shaped who I am today. I have always been fascinated by animals and their well-being, which inspired me to pursue a career in veterinary medicine. Throughout high school, I have worked diligently to maintain a 3.7 weighted GPA while balancing extracurricular activities and club in and outside of school. My passion for animals led me to volunteer at local animal shelters, where I gained hands-on experience in caring for different species. These experiences reinforced my desire to become a veterinarian, as I witnessed firsthand the impact that proper care and treatment can have on animals' lives. I am committed to making a difference in the world by ensuring that animals receive the care and attention they deserve. After committing into the tidewater community college dual enrollment veterinary assistance program it allowed me be more hands-on and eventually gave me the privilege to be able to shadow at a veterinary hospital. I am applying to several universities, including Pennsylvania State University, Virginia Tech, North Carolina State University, Purdue University, and Cornell University, all of which have strong veterinary programs. Attending one of these institutions would provide me with the education and training necessary to achieve my career goals. However, the financial burden of college tuition is a significant concern for my family. As a Hispanic woman, I understand the importance of representation in the field of veterinary medicine, and I am determined to overcome any obstacles in my path. Receiving the Concrete Rose Scholarship Award would have a profound impact on my journey to becoming a veterinarian. This scholarship would alleviate some of the financial stress associated with attending college, allowing me to focus more on my studies and less on the financial burden. It would also enable me to take advantage of opportunities such as internships and research projects, which are crucial for gaining the experience and skills needed to succeed in the veterinary field. Moreover, this scholarship would serve as a testament to the hard work and dedication I have put into my education thus far. It would be a reminder that my dreams are within reach and that there are people who believe in my potential to make a difference. With the support of the Concrete Rose Scholarship, I am confident that I can achieve my goal of becoming a veterinarian and contribute positively to the community by providing compassionate care to animals in need. In conclusion, my story is one of determination and passion for animal welfare. The Concrete Rose Scholarship Award would play a vital role in helping me achieve my career goals by reducing the financial barriers to higher education. I am eager to continue my journey and make a meaningful impact in the field of veterinary medicine, and this scholarship would be an invaluable part of that journey.

February of 2019, I didn't know what was worse. Already knowing I had depression or finally getting diagnosed with it. No one told me that getting diagnosed officially would hit harder than getting thrown in the pool, leaving a big red mark on your back. My relationships with my parents were less tense for the next two weeks. Taking me to fun places, buying me stuff, being nice to me. It was weird, till I realized that they thought depression is something they can get rid of easily. After a couple of weeks, I got a therapist. However, COVID hit and we had to do virtual which failed because I forget about the Google meets and therefore I didn't have a therapist anymore. I was still prescribed antidepressants and weeks after that I went to my pediatrician who referred me to an intensive-home therapist. I didn't realize my depression got so bad that I was on and off with medications. Not being able to brush my teeth anymore or take care of myself and my surroundings. My new therapist came to my house almost every day and I got better. My relationships with my parents were strained but my relationships with my friends got better. She stuck with me for eight months before I started doing a sport freshmen year of high school. I've learned a lot from my old therapist and I got off my medications because it wasn't positively affecting me. I got more productive with school and I finally got into a better relationship with both my parents. Although my mom is a bit bipolar I know how to cope and deal with it. While dealing with everything I think I want to be a vet specializing in surgery. I can't give credit to all humans. I think the ones in the background were my pets. Whenever I was crying or felt weak they were always there making sure that I knew that I had to take care of them as well and love them. They gave me a reason to be productive and most of them were once strays probably scared and alone. Now I typically get seasonal depression so fall to winter is when my depression hits hard. Even when my mental health got better it made others think I was naive. When I thought I was better with my health and not crying over breakups... I was wrong. On September 14th, 2022, 3 days before my quinceañera. My Uncle passed away from heart failure, crying for hours I had to keep my act clean and cope with grief at a different time because of my quinceañera coming up. It felt like nobody was there for me and it was just my mom getting affected by this because she helped the most with buying him medication for him even if it was expensive. My family in Honduras was also affected by his death, but it all seemed like I was forgotten. Especially the same day my Uncle passed all my mom said about me to my family was, "Oh yeah she's better now." I kept acting up forgetting how to grieve and I think that's where I spiraled down. I acted unfairly towards my boyfriend at the time and my other friendships. It wasn't just the death of my uncle affecting me, but it was also my dog who was hospitalized for four days because of an acute kidney disease. Spending thousands of dollars in the ER and hundreds on each appointment. Eventually, I had to pay out of pocket for his appointments. He is now seven and is a happy dog. All that stress caused me to be unfair to everyone when October and November hit. My mood swings were uncontrollable. I became hysterical and unable to control my emotions when my boyfriend finally broke up with me. It wasn't the fact that he broke up with me it was the fact that my best friend was behind all of this and backstabbed me. My mental mindedness thought that nobody can be forgiven. But in reality, they can it just takes time and effort to rebuild it again. My emotions spiraled down and I felt my depressive thoughts kicking in for the rest of that remaining year. I had and still have trust issues. My mental health likes to control my brain a lot more than how I think logically. But I also think that it also caused me to believe in god more. I don't know why but I think I'd like to believe in something. Believing in hope and love. Depression feels like a shadow grabbing you back into a deep hole where it thinks you belong. It took me years to fight it off. It can always come back during your most vulnerable times. Mental health matters.