If pain can be inherited, can compassion change what we pass on? Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights left me wrestling with that question. Heathcliff inflicts the cruelty he experienced on the next generation. Cathy and Hareton, however, choose a different path. Through reading, they move from hostility toward understanding. Their relationship taught me that compassion begins with seeing people for who they are, not defining them by their circumstances. I thought about that lesson while tutoring Maya at Agape Youth and Family Center. Math frustrated her to the point of tears. Instead of repeating an explanation that wasn't working, I broke the problems into smaller steps. We worked through them together, one at a time. A few weeks later, I watched Maya jump up to solve problems on the board. The girl who had once cried in frustration was now eager to show what she knew. Her confidence reminded me that my responsibility wasn't to make her learn my way. It was to find an approach that worked for her. I carried that understanding into my internship at the Helene S. Mills Senior Multipurpose Facility, where I met Melba, a woman living with dementia. Her face would light up when I arrived. We danced, exchanged jokes, and laughed together. Watching her smile and engage with me showed me how much our time together meant to her. I couldn't change her diagnosis, but I could brighten her day through fun cognitive exercises, companionship, and moments of joy. Maya needed an approach that supported her learning. Melba found joy in our connection. Both relationships brought me back to Cathy and Hareton. Their bond developed when they began to understand one another, and my experiences taught me to do the same. Compassion requires looking beyond someone's challenges and discovering what matters to them. That lesson has shaped my career goals. I am studying psychology with a concentration in neuroscience at Spelman College. I plan to pursue an MD/PhD, focusing my doctoral research on neuroscience before completing psychiatry training. As a physician-scientist, I want to investigate how trauma affects the developing brain and advance early interventions in adolescent mental healthcare. I hope to develop approaches that recognize each young person's experiences, needs, and strengths. Literature will remain an important part of my life, especially as I pursue the demands of medical training. Reading is also self-care: I can step away from my worries and enter another person's world. I love that even a story filled with cruelty, like Wuthering Heights, can leave me thinking about hope. Cathy and Hareton's relationship reminds me why books matter so much to me. They can change how we see someone else and open our minds to possibilities we had not considered. Barbara Cain devoted her career to sharing that experience with young readers. I admire that she turned something she loved into a way of making a difference in other people's lives. Her legacy reminds me that the influence of a book does not end when a reader closes it. The lessons can shape how we treat others and the futures we choose to pursue. Receiving the Barbara Cain Literary Scholarship would help me remain focused on my studies at Spelman and pursue neuroscience research as I prepare for an MD/PhD. I hope to honor that investment by applying the compassion literature has taught me to research and patient care. My goal is to help young people receive individualized mental healthcare earlier, so their circumstances do not limit the futures they can build.

From “Help!” to Hope By Blake Davis “Help!” The cry was soft, but it told me more than anything on Maya’s worksheet. I heard it as I entered the classroom at Agape Youth and Family Center, where I volunteer as a certified math and literacy coach. That one word made it clear: Maya needed more than a solution; she needed patience. I knelt beside her, and we broke the math problems into smaller steps. By the end of the week, she was confidently solving problems on the board in front of her class. That moment showed me how quickly frustration can become self-doubt. It also taught me that what looks like an academic struggle is often tied to something deeper: self-esteem, belonging, and emotional well-being. Mental health advocacy matters to me because it shapes how students learn, ask for help, respond to setbacks, and understand their own worth. At Agape, I saw many students bring more than assignments into the classroom. They were navigating social-emotional challenges, neurodiverse learning profiles, academic gaps, and the pressure of learning in a second language. When support systems are not patient or inclusive, students’ struggles can be mislabeled as disinterest. That is why I work to meet students with patience, encouragement, and dignity. I have also seen how often pressure hides behind achievement. Students who appear capable often struggle silently when stress, perfectionism, or fear of judgment makes asking for help feel unsafe. Those moments taught me that mental health advocacy begins with noticing what others miss and making it feel safe for young people to accept a helping hand. To turn that belief into action, I founded Teen Service Connect. The nonprofit has partnered with 17 community organizations, mobilized 150+ teen volunteers, and directed 1,000+ service hours toward meaningful service. Through our partnership with 7 Bridges, teen volunteers organize meals and basic-needs packs for people experiencing homelessness in Atlanta, including individuals facing mental health challenges alongside housing insecurity. That work has deepened my understanding that advocacy is not only conversation; it is also consistency. It is reducing stigma, meeting immediate needs, and reminding people they have not been forgotten. I am grateful that Agape taught me that patience restores confidence, and Teen Service Connect taught me that compassion can become community care. Together, those experiences taught me that mental health advocacy begins when a student feels seen and supported and grows through systems that make care easier to access before a crisis takes hold. As I transition at Spelman, I am deepening this work through psychology, research, service, and mentorship while preparing for medical school and an M.D./Ph.D. path in adolescent psychiatry. I am studying mental health in depth and helping young people to access care early, speak openly, and seek guidance without shame. In this new chapter, the Learner Mental Health Empowerment Scholarship would mean more than an investment in my future. It would affirm the work and purpose that have shaped me as I focus on serving young people with both scientific rigor and compassionate care, so more students feel equipped before crisis becomes their only option. Just as Maya walked to the board believing she could solve the next problem, I will spend my career creating encouraging pathways that give more learners the clarity to recognize their strength, self-advocate, and thrive in environments anchored in compassion, dignity, and mental health empowerment.

When Purpose Becomes Access It was New Year’s Day, and our extended family was gathering for dinner when my mother’s urgent cry shattered our laughter. In seconds, stability vanished. My hands trembled as I knelt beside Nana, my great-grandmother, realizing how quickly life changes. That moment marked the beginning of my vision: to apply service, education, and, eventually, medicine to ensure that young people receive support before fear turns into helplessness. Nana’s passing left me with grief I did not know how to carry, but it also left me with a question: How can pain become purpose? I began answering it through service. At Agape Youth & Family Center, I served as a certified math and literacy tutor to underserved students, including neurodiverse learners, students with varied learning needs, and English-language learners. Some arrived frustrated before they even began. Their struggles did not reflect limited ability; they revealed gaps in the support young people receive. With patience and individualized strategies, I watched confidence return before mastery. That experience shaped the kind of impact I am committed to building. I saw teenagers eager to give back and nonprofits needing support, but no consistent pathway connecting them. I founded Teen Service Connect to break down barriers between youth and community engagement by recruiting peers and building nonprofit partnerships. At one project at A.G. Rhodes, I saw that mission in real time. A volunteer hesitated before approaching residents, so I encouraged him to teach one resident how to play Heads Up. By the end of the visit, he moved from table to table, led the game, and connected confidently with each group. That moment showed me how quickly confidence can grow when young people are trusted with meaningful roles. Since its founding in 2024, Teen Service Connect has mobilized more than 150 youth volunteers, coordinated more than 1,000 service hours, built partnerships with 17 nonprofit and community organizations, and supported initiatives reaching more than 18,000 Metro Atlanta residents. Agape showed me direct support; Teen Service Connect showed me access at scale. Together, they taught me that impact is not only what I do in one moment, but what I build so more people can be reached. Similarly, Nana taught me that love becomes most powerful when carried into action: showing up, creating access, and ensuring others feel supported before they have to ask. My mother and grandmother have shown me that resilience, kindness, self-belief, and education are tools I can implement to give back. That is why the Sloane Stephens Doc & Glo Scholarship resonates with me. It honors impact, education, underserved youth, and the belief that young people deserve safe spaces to learn, grow, and thrive. At Spelman College, I am majoring in Psychology with a concentration in Neuroscience on the pre-medicine track. I will leverage my education to study how young people learn, cope, and heal, especially when their needs are misunderstood or overlooked. As I prepare to become a physician-scientist, I am determined to shape a better future by improving early identification, expanding access to adolescent mental health care, and creating systems that help young people receive support before their struggles reach a crisis point. I will continue expanding Teen Service Connect, mentoring emerging teen leaders, and building the academic and service foundation for a career in adolescent mental health, neurodiverse learning, and equitable care. The Sloane Stephens Doc & Glo Scholarship would support the next stage of that vision: honoring family legacy through action, using education to give back, and preparing for a future in medicine where young people are seen earlier and supported more fully.

Heard Before Crisis “Help.” The word was quiet, but it said more than she could explain. Sitting beside Maya, a student at Agape Youth & Family Center, I saw her frustration before she said anything else. Her pencil had stopped moving. Her eyes were lowered. She was not only asking for help with math. She was asking whether someone believed she could solve it. I pulled the paper closer, broke the problem into smaller steps, and asked her to try the first one. When she hesitated, I reminded her that being stuck didn't mean she wasn't smart. Slowly, she picked up her pencil again. By the end, she was not just solving the problem; she was sitting taller. In that moment, I saw how quickly support could interrupt self-doubt. That lesson changed how I understand impact. Real support does more than answer the question in front of someone. It helps a young person leave with confidence, courage, and a clearer sense of her own ability. For BIPOC women and girls, that is also a social justice issue: too many are overlooked until their struggles become crises. I will help build systems that recognize their needs earlier, respond with dignity, and make care easier to reach. This purpose is personal. I was raised by a single mother who carried invisible responsibilities while navigating racism, judgment, and pressure. I didn't always understand the cost of what she carried, but I knew she never let me feel unprotected by it. Her sacrifices taught me that when someone fights to create access, I have a responsibility to widen that path for others. I carried that responsibility into Teen Service Connect, the youth-led nonprofit I founded to expand access to meaningful service. Teenagers were eager to serve. Nonprofits needed support. No consistent pathway connected them. Since its launch, Teen Service Connect has mobilized more than 150 youth volunteers, coordinated more than 1,000 service hours, built partnerships with 17 nonprofit and community organizations, and supported initiatives reaching more than 18,000 Metro Atlanta residents. Behind those numbers are students connected to purpose, nonprofits strengthened by youth leadership, and communities supported through senior care, literacy, food security, health awareness, and civic engagement. Through this work, I learned that impact is organized action that turns concern into access. I am a first-year student at Spelman College majoring in Psychology on the pre-medicine track. I will leverage my degree to address systemic disparities in mental healthcare, education, and community support. At Spelman, I will continue this work through service, research, mentorship, and advocacy connected to adolescent mental health, youth development, health equity, and community wellness. I am also expanding Teen Service Connect by mentoring emerging teen leaders and helping more students move from intention to impact. As I prepare for a career in medicine, the Rosa A. Wilson Scholarship would support the next stage of work I have already begun: turning service into measurable impact and carrying that impact into college, research, and a future helping profession. Its mission aligns directly with my commitment to justice, equity, and community care. I began with one student quietly asking for help, but what I really heard was the fear of being unseen. My vision is a future where BIPOC women and girls do not have to whisper, struggle, or prove their pain before someone responds. I will ensure my education, service, and future medical career help build systems where we are believed earlier, cared for more fully, and given the room to thrive.

I first understood the value of STEM not in a classroom, but in my own body. Throughout high school, I navigated narcolepsy while carrying a full course load, athletics, leadership, and entrepreneurship. Doctors could explain the neuroscience behind what was happening to me, but the biology only went so far; what I needed was care built around how a real person lives, not just a diagnosis on a chart. That gap between scientific knowledge and lived experience is what pulled me toward STEM. I am drawn to neuropsychology because the brain sits at the intersection of biology and identity. It explains how people think, and why they struggle, adapt, and sometimes go unseen by the systems meant to help them. I plan to study neuropsychology at Spelman College this fall, with a path toward the MD PhD program at Morehouse School of Medicine, because I want to be both a scientist who understands the brain and a physician who treats the person attached to it. My interest in STEM has never been abstract. It has been shaped by direct contact with young people who are often misread. As a certified math and literacy tutor at the Agape Youth and Family Center, I worked with bilingual and neurodiverse students who needed more than content review. One student rarely participated and flinched at his own mistakes. He needed to trust that being wrong would not cost him anything. After weeks of consistent support, he became confident enough to volunteer answers he once kept to himself. That taught me that scientific skill is only useful when paired with the patience to actually see the person in front of you, a model I plan to scale throughout my STEM career. That belief led me to found Teen Service Connect, a youth led nonprofit that makes service more accessible to teenagers. Since launching it, I have mobilized more than 150 student volunteers, coordinated over 1,000 service hours, partnered with nonprofits across Metro Atlanta, and reached more than 18,000 people. Leading that organization showed me that uplift happens through deliberate infrastructure: recruiting volunteers, building partnerships, and creating consistent access points for people who would otherwise be left out. I intend to apply that same approach to STEM education itself, building mentorship pipelines that connect younger students, particularly bilingual and neurodiverse students like the ones I tutored at Agape, to coursework, research exposure, and college application support. Representation in STEM does not happen by accident; it requires people already inside the field deliberately opening the door behind them. My degree will also serve a more direct purpose: strengthening mental healthcare for adolescents in communities where emotional and neurological struggles are often misunderstood or caught too late. Black adolescents are frequently underdiagnosed or misdiagnosed, often because physicians lack the cultural fluency or trust needed to recognize what they are seeing. I plan to combine clinical care with neuroscience research, working alongside physicians to build screening tools and treatment approaches that reflect the populations they serve. STEM gave me language for my own narcolepsy. Tutoring and nonprofit work taught me that knowledge uplifts a community only when delivered through real infrastructure: mentorship, access, and trust. A STEM career, used deliberately, is not just personal achievement; it is a set of tools capable of reaching back into the communities that produced me, closing gaps in education and healthcare, and ensuring the next overlooked student is found sooner than I was.

Understanding Changes Everything By Blake Davis While tutoring at Agape Youth & Family Center, I sat beside an elementary student who pushed her math worksheet away, convinced she could not solve the next problem. Rather than giving her the answer, I guided her until she trusted her own thinking. Minutes later, she walked to the whiteboard and solved the problem in front of her classmates. The answer wasn't what stayed with me. It was the transformation that happened before it. Her confidence returned before her grades did. Watching her believe in herself made me wonder how often growth begins before it becomes visible. That moment sparked a question that has shaped every meaningful experience since: How do cognition, neurological development, emotional well-being, and environment shape mental health outcomes long before challenges become visible? I didn’t expect to begin living that question myself. Living with narcolepsy transformed that question from intellectual curiosity into a personal pursuit. Before I understood what was happening, I questioned myself. Nothing appeared wrong, making it easy for others—and even me—to misunderstand what I was experiencing. Receiving a diagnosis gave me more than an explanation. It replaced uncertainty with understanding. For the first time, I wasn’t asking, “What’s wrong with me?” I was asking, “What if more young people had the chance to understand themselves sooner?” I began wondering how many adolescents struggle because they lack both understanding and early support. Answering that question became the focus of my education and service. Selected as a Global Online Academy Capstone Honoree, one of only 54 students recognized among more than 1,300 global submissions, I explored the neuropsychology of music, memory, and neurodiversity in learning. I became convinced science matters most when it helps people better understand themselves. This summer, I am interning at the Helene S. Mills Senior Multipurpose Facility, supporting individuals living with Alzheimer’s disease and dementia through cognitive engagement and therapeutic activities. One program participant lights up every time we dance together or laugh over a familiar joke. Those moments remind me that even when memory fades, dignity remains. They have shown me that mental healthcare begins with understanding the whole person, not just the diagnosis. That same conviction inspired me to found Teen Service Connect, a youth-led nonprofit connecting teenagers with meaningful volunteer opportunities. Watching hesitant volunteers become confident leaders reinforced what I first learned at Agape: when young people are understood and encouraged, they flourish. Today, Teen Service Connect has mobilized more than 150 youth volunteers through 17 nonprofit partnerships, coordinated more than 1,000 service hours, and reached more than 18,000 individuals throughout Metro Atlanta. I realized that belonging and purpose are essential to mental well-being. At Spelman College, I will study psychology and neuroscience because neither discipline alone fully answers the questions that inspire me. Psychology explains behavior, resilience, and emotional development. Neuroscience reveals the biological systems underlying those experiences. Together, they will prepare me to pursue Spelman’s pathway to Morehouse School of Medicine and become a physician-scientist advancing adolescent mental healthcare through research, earlier intervention, patient advocacy, and equitable access to care. Understanding changes everything. It shaped the questions I ask, the way I serve, and the physician-scientist I am becoming. The Ernest Lee McLean Jr. World Life Memorial Scholarship invests in future mental health leaders committed to expanding compassionate care. This scholarship support would help close my college-funding gap and strengthen my preparation at Spelman as I pursue a career devoted to helping more young people understand themselves, recognize their potential, and receive the care they deserve before challenges define what they believe is possible.

Love, on purpose By Blake Davis I remember sitting at our kitchen table, excited to tell my mother about an A I earned on an essay. She smiled, congratulated me, and then asked, “What did you learn from it?” I wished she would stay in that moment with me a little longer. Instead, she was already thinking about what came next and how I could continue growing. She expected excellence, commitment, and accountability. I often experienced those expectations as pressure. It was not until my senior year that I understood they were expressions of love from a single mother determined to prepare me for life. Growing up in a single-parent household built my resilience as I watched my mother carry responsibilities most people never saw. There were months when she navigated financial strain and the countless responsibilities alone. I would wash dinner dishes while she sat at the table sorting bills and stretching every dollar. Somehow, she still made my opportunities possible. While I focused on reaching the next milestone, she figured out how to help me get there. Her example became my model of perseverance when the road was tough. During my senior year, I took greater initiative over my future. I balanced academics, scholarship applications, college preparation, and leading my nonprofit, rather than expecting my mother to carry me every step of the way. In one of the most demanding seasons of my life, I began seeing her differently. Raised by a single mother herself, she understood what it meant to build a future despite uncertainty. My grandmother poured everything she could into raising her daughter, and my mother continued that legacy with me. What I once experienced as pressure, I now recognize as preparation. Watching my mother create opportunities for me inspired me to create them for others. I launched Teen Service Connect. While contributing more than 460 service hours throughout high school, I wanted other teenagers to find meaningful pathways to serve. Today, the youth-led nonprofit has mobilized 150+ volunteers through 17 nonprofit partners, coordinated 1,000+ service hours, and reached 18,000+ individuals. Building it taught me that service-minded leadership is measured by the opportunities we create for others. My mother also taught me that love sometimes sounds like advocacy. She used her voice on my behalf, giving me the courage to use mine to benefit others. This year, I published “Teenagers Are Ready to Serve. Atlanta Should Make It Easier” in Rough Draft Atlanta, advocating for fewer barriers to youth service through systems-level change. I learned from her that meaningful change often begins when someone is willing to speak. This fall, I will follow in my mother’s footsteps to Spelman College while charting my own path studying Psychology and Neuroscience. I plan to pursue the Morehouse School of Medicine M.D./Ph.D. pathway and become a physician-scientist advancing adolescent mental healthcare through evidence-based research, earlier intervention, patient advocacy, and equitable access to care. It took me 10 years to answer my mother’s question. She was teaching me to look beyond accomplishments, find purpose in opportunities, and through stewardship, help others move forward. The greatest way I can honor my mother and grandmother is by extending the path they began. The Sola Family Scholarship would honor my mother’s strength and perseverance by easing my family’s burden as I pursue that purpose at Spelman. Love, on purpose is no longer just how I describe the way I was raised. It is how I will live, by creating opportunities, advocating for others, and helping to build healthcare systems where young people are seen, supported, and able to thrive.

Willingness was never the problem. Access was. While my peers looked for ways to give back, and local nonprofits struggled to fill volunteer shifts, the bridge between them did not exist. So I decided to build it to make a positive impact on the world. Two years ago, I founded Teen Service Connect, a youth-led initiative that expands access to service through structured, consistent engagement. I built partnerships with 17 nonprofit organizations, including Atlanta BeltLine Partnership, A.G. Rhodes, and HOPE Atlanta, and designed a framework that handles the identification, communication, and execution of service opportunities. That structure makes it easier for students to participate and ensures nonprofits receive volunteers they can actually depend on. I recruited and led a team of student volunteers, coordinated logistics, and aligned each project with a real, identified community need. Through this work, Teen Service Connect has engaged more than 150 youth volunteers, coordinated over 1,000 hours of service, and reached more than 18,000 individuals across Metro Atlanta, supporting public spaces, senior communities, and organizations addressing housing stability. More importantly, I built the organization as a replicable framework, not a one-time project, so it can expand into communities beyond my own. But impact is not only measured by scale. I remain directly involved in service myself, including more than 85 hours as a certified math and literacy tutor at the Agape Youth and Family Center, where I support students whose academic progress is closely tied to their confidence and access to resources. One student, after weeks of reading support, looked up at me one day and said, "I didn't know I was smart." That single sentence reframed how I think about impact. Scale tells you how far something reaches. Moments like that one tell you whether it actually landed. Leading Teen Service Connect has shaped how I think about responsibility. I am accountable not just for outcomes, but for the people carrying them out: the volunteers who show up, the nonprofits depending on them, and the communities counting on both. I have learned to make decisions under pressure, communicate clearly when plans change, and stay committed even when progress is slow and invisible. Leadership, I have come to understand, requires consistency far more than it requires recognition. At Spelman College, I will study psychology and pursue the Morehouse School of Medicine pathway. I plan to keep expanding Teen Service Connect, strengthening existing partnerships and extending the model into additional communities so that more students have the access I once had to build from scratch. I am inspired by the legacy of Tiffany Parker Porter, who used her own leadership to expand access and create opportunity for others, and I intend to carry that same commitment forward, both through my organization and eventually through medicine. I do not just participate in service. I build access. And when access exists, impact follows. That is how I plan to make a positive impact on the world: not as a single gesture, but as a system, built once and built to outlast me.

I first understood the value of STEM not in a classroom, but in my own body. Throughout high school, I navigated narcolepsy while carrying a full course load, athletics, leadership, and entrepreneurship. Doctors could explain the neuroscience behind what was happening to me, but the biology only went so far; what I needed was care built around how a real person lives, not just a diagnosis on a chart. That gap between scientific knowledge and lived experience is what pulled me toward STEM. I am drawn to neuropsychology because the brain sits at the intersection of biology and identity. It explains how people think, and why they struggle, adapt, and sometimes go unseen by the systems meant to help them. I plan to study neuropsychology at Spelman College this fall, with a path toward the MD PhD program at Morehouse School of Medicine, because I want to be both a scientist who understands the brain and a physician who treats the person attached to it. My interest in STEM has never been abstract. It has been shaped by direct contact with young people who are often misread. As a certified math and literacy tutor at the Agape Youth and Family Center, I worked with bilingual and neurodiverse students who needed more than content review. One student rarely participated and flinched at his own mistakes. He needed to trust that being wrong would not cost him anything. After weeks of consistent support, he became confident enough to volunteer answers he once kept to himself. That taught me that scientific skill is only useful when paired with the patience to actually see the person in front of you, a model I plan to scale throughout my STEM career. That belief led me to found Teen Service Connect, a youth led nonprofit that makes service more accessible to teenagers. Since launching it, I have mobilized more than 150 student volunteers, coordinated over 1,000 service hours, partnered with nonprofits across Metro Atlanta, and reached more than 18,000 people. Leading that organization showed me that uplift happens through deliberate infrastructure: recruiting volunteers, building partnerships, and creating consistent access points for people who would otherwise be left out. I intend to apply that same approach to STEM education itself, building mentorship pipelines that connect younger students, particularly bilingual and neurodiverse students like the ones I tutored at Agape, to coursework, research exposure, and college application support. Representation in STEM does not happen by accident; it requires people already inside the field deliberately opening the door behind them. My degree will also serve a more direct purpose: strengthening mental healthcare for adolescents in communities where emotional and neurological struggles are often misunderstood or caught too late. Black adolescents are frequently underdiagnosed or misdiagnosed, often because physicians lack the cultural fluency or trust needed to recognize what they are seeing. I plan to combine clinical care with neuroscience research, working alongside physicians to build screening tools and treatment approaches that reflect the populations they serve. STEM gave me language for my own narcolepsy. Tutoring and nonprofit work taught me that knowledge uplifts a community only when delivered through real infrastructure: mentorship, access, and trust. A STEM career, used deliberately, is not just personal achievement; it is a set of tools capable of reaching back into the communities that produced me, closing gaps in education and healthcare, and ensuring the next overlooked student is found sooner than I was.

I first met a doctor at the age of five on a cartoon, Doc McStuffins. It was more than just a thrill to see a little girl in a white coat who looked like me. I did not know the word yet, but I felt seen. Soon after, I received a toy doctor’s kit, and I still remember the feeling of holding a stethoscope to my parents’ chests and listening to their heartbeats. That sound made caregiving feel tangible. It planted a seed in me that has only grown stronger over time: to protect, to heal, and to serve my community with both competence and care. This flame from childhood has been purpose-fueled by experience. I am a trained literacy tutor and mentor at the Agape Youth and Family Center, working with students who learn differently, and I have seen what it means when young people lack the resources, accommodations, and consistency in their support systems. I have also seen what it means when they do. Confidence can be restored in a flash when a student feels seen and capable. That is why policy decisions that decrease special education capacity or cut rehabilitative services affected me so deeply, because I can picture the students who will feel those impacts first and worst. My commitment to mental health and education is also personal. I fell in love with psychology as a way to understand myself. As someone who lives with narcolepsy and is neurodivergent, I have spent years learning how my brain works and how it processes stress, relationships, and expectations. Support and self-study have helped me build practical strategies, especially using Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Dialectical Behavior Therapy. Those tools did not simply give me vocabulary for my emotions. They taught me resilience, self-advocacy, and the power of recognizing patterns and rewriting them. That experience has shaped the professional I aspire to be: one who is grounded in science but driven by empathy. I plan to study psychology with a concentration on cognitive development and mental health. My goal is to become a Pediatric Psychiatrist, with a focus on working with children and adolescents, because it is in those years where identity, trauma, environment, and learning differences often intersect, and where the right support can alter the entire course of a life. I do not want to treat only individual patients, but also to reinforce the systems that inform their outcomes. I aim to uplift the voices of students, families, and educators and help to increase access to trauma-informed care, early intervention, and school-based mental health support. In college, I hope to balance research with hands-on service by studying the most promising approaches to anxiety, learning differences, and identity development while remaining grounded in the community spaces where the most support is needed. I want to be the kind of clinician and advocate who listens closely, who treats with precision, and who leads with compassion: someone who not only understands the mind but also honors lived experience and builds pathways for young people to feel safe, supported, and seen. The heartbeat I listened to at five years old has stayed with me ever since. I now know that caring for people means more than just listening. It means showing up with knowledge, it means advocating when systems break, and it means helping to create the support that allows young people not just to survive, but to truly thrive. Through empathy, I found direction. And through direction, I found a future devoted to uncovering the profound beauty of the human mind and the quiet promise that even in our deepest pain, there is room for growth, for creation, and for hope.

Seen, Heard, and Understood By Blake Davis Some of the most meaningful changes in a young person’s life begin when they feel genuinely understood. That belief has shaped my goals in medicine, research, and community leadership, and it continues guiding my commitment to psychiatry and neuroscience. This fall, I will attend Spelman College to study neuropsychology while pursuing the Morehouse School of Medicine MD-PhD pathway toward becoming an adolescent psychiatrist and physician scientist. My long-term goal is to strengthen systems of mental healthcare for young people, particularly in communities where emotional and neurological challenges are often misunderstood or recognized too late. I hope to combine clinical care, neuroscience research, and advocacy to improve how adolescents are supported both within and beyond healthcare settings. My work will focus on helping young people feel understood before they begin questioning their own potential. My interest in this path is deeply connected to both personal experience and community service. Navigating narcolepsy throughout high school while balancing rigorous academics, leadership, athletics, entrepreneurship, nonprofit leadership, and service commitments required discipline, adaptability, endurance, and strategic time management. Balancing those responsibilities sharpened my ability to lead under pressure and reinforced the consistency and resilience needed for a demanding medical and research career. I learned early that high achievement does not prevent people from struggling quietly. Those experiences deepened my understanding of how profoundly support, patience, and early intervention shape confidence, healing, and long-term opportunity. That understanding became even more meaningful through my community work. Over the past four years, I have contributed hundreds of service hours through tutoring, mentoring, leadership initiatives, and nonprofit service. As a certified math and literacy tutor at the Agape Youth and Family Center, I worked closely with bilingual and neurodiverse students who often needed more than academic instruction. Many needed structure, encouragement, consistency, and someone willing to believe in them before they fully believed in themselves. One student I worked with rarely participated and often seemed discouraged by mistakes. After weeks of individualized support and encouragement, I watched that same student begin volunteering answers confidently and engaging more fully in class. The academic improvement mattered, but what stayed with me most was the visible shift in confidence. That experience reinforced something I continue to see in both leadership and service: many young people begin changing the moment they feel genuinely seen, heard, and understood. That realization inspired me to found Teen Service Connect, a youth-led nonprofit organization focused on making service more accessible and meaningful for teenagers. Since launching the organization, I have mobilized more than 150 student volunteers, coordinated over 1,000 service hours, and reached more than 18,000 individuals through youth-led impact initiatives. More importantly, the organization reinforced my belief that leadership is most meaningful when it creates opportunities for others to feel valued, supported, and capable of contributing to something larger than themselves. What motivates me most is not only the opportunity to become a physician-scientist but also the ability to help pioneer clinical frameworks in which young people are recognized earlier, supported more compassionately, and encouraged to fully realize their potential before they begin to question it themselves. The values reflected in Abigail Adewunmi’s life, perseverance, faith, curiosity, compassion, and service, deeply resonate with the systemic changes I hope to help establish throughout my career. Like Abby, I believe education carries both opportunity and responsibility. I hope to use mine to create meaningful impact in the lives of others while continuing to lead with purpose, humility, grace, and care.

Scaling Access to Service By Blake Davis ​ I watched students ready to serve get turned away because there was no system to support them. In my community, I saw a disconnect between students wanting to serve and organizations needing support. Many peers were eager to give back, but without transportation, connections, or adult coordination, opportunities felt out of reach. At the same time, nonprofits struggled to find reliable volunteers. The issue was not a lack of care, just a lack of structure. I was motivated to address this while volunteering at the Agape Youth and Family Center, where I saw how consistent support changes outcomes. As a certified math and literacy tutor, I work with students whose progress is tied to their confidence. After weeks, one student looked up and said, “I didn’t know I was smart.” That moment stayed with me. It made clear that access to support does not just change outcomes. It changes how someone sees themselves. That experience pushed me to think beyond my role and consider how more students could access opportunities like this. In 2024, I founded Teen Service Connect, a youth-led non-profit designed to make service more accessible and consistent. I built partnerships with more than 17 nonprofit organizations, including the Atlanta Beltline Partnership, A.G. Rhodes, and HOPE Atlanta, and developed a framework to organize opportunities. This allows students to take ownership while ensuring nonprofits receive dependable support. Since launching, Teen Service Connect has engaged more than 150 student volunteers, coordinated over 1,000 hours of service, and reached more than 18,000 individuals. As a result, I was invited to serve as a youth advisor to Hands On Atlanta, guiding youth engagement. Looking ahead, I plan to expand Teen Service Connect into a replicable model for schools and communities nationwide. Support like the Chi Changemaker Scholarship would accelerate growth, allowing me to strengthen infrastructure, build partnerships, and equip student leaders to launch chapters. At Spelman College, I will continue developing tools that ensure access to service is not dependent on circumstance but built into the student experience, shaping my path in psychology and medicine. Addressing this gap has shown me that meaningful change does not always require new ideas. It requires building systems that make opportunity accessible and expected. That is the work I will continue to build and scale until access to service is no longer a barrier, but a standard.

Showing Up So Others Can By Blake Davis ​ Kindness means choosing to show up, even when you cannot control the outcome. I have played soccer since I was a little girl, and this year, I stepped onto a softball field for the first time as a senior. It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but I chose to try anyway. That same mindset shapes how I show up for others. Living with narcolepsy has taught me that showing up is not always predictable, but it is always something I work toward. It has made me more aware of how much presence matters, and how powerful it is when someone chooses to be there for you. As a certified math and literacy tutor at the Agape Youth and Family Center, I worked with a student who struggled not only with reading but also with confidence. He hesitated, avoided eye contact, and questioned himself before even beginning. Instead of focusing only on progress, I focused on consistency. I showed up each week, creating a space where mistakes were part of learning, not something to fear. After weeks of working together, he looked up and said, “I didn’t know I was smart.” That moment was important because it was not about reading. It was about how he saw himself. I realized that kindness is not just encouragement. It is the decision to stay present long enough for someone to recognize their own potential. Kindness is not about grand gestures. It is about showing up again and again, in whatever ways you can, until someone else begins to see themselves differently. ----------------- Where Belonging Begins By Blake Davis Connection does not begin when people come together. It begins when someone feels safe enough to belong. When I began volunteering at the Agape Youth and Family Center, I saw how easily people feel disconnected, even in spaces designed to support them. Some students were hesitant to speak, unsure of where they fit or whether they belonged at all. I realized that creating connection was not just about being present. It was about making space for others to feel seen. That understanding led me to think more intentionally about how connection is built. As a tutor, I focused on consistency, creating an environment where students felt comfortable enough to participate, ask questions, and take risks without fear of judgment. Over time, that consistency built trust and, with it, a sense of belonging. That work showed me that connection begins with one person, but it cannot end there. I carried that same approach into founding Teen Service Connect. I saw that many students wanted to serve their communities but did not know how to get started, especially without adult guidance, while organizations needed reliable volunteers. I created Teen Service Connect to bridge that gap and build a system that sustains connection. It is a space where students are not only connected to opportunities, but to each other. Through this work, students take ownership, collaborate, and begin to see themselves as part of something larger. They are not just volunteering. They are building relationships, contributing to their communities, and creating environments where others feel included. Connection, I have learned, is not built when people simply come together. It is built when people feel safe enough to truly belong.

One Opportunity at a Time By Blake Davis Willingness was never the problem. Access was. Service, for me, is built through consistency, intention, and the belief that opportunity should be within reach. That belief was not abstract. It was shaped by a defining moment. My great-grandmother, Nana, passed suddenly during a family gathering, in my presence, shifting everything. She was intentional, present, and deeply committed to her community. The way she showed up stayed with me. In the time that followed, as I processed my grief, I leaned more deeply into community, becoming even more engaged in service than before. Through my work at the Agape Youth and Family Center, I began to notice a structural gap: students wanted to serve, and nonprofits needed support, yet there was no clear, accessible system for young people to find and navigate meaningful opportunities independently. I founded Teen Service Connect to build that bridge. Since launching the organization in 2024, I have built partnerships with more than 17 nonprofit organizations, including the Atlanta Beltline Partnership, A.G. Rhodes, HOPE Atlanta, and the Agape Youth and Family Center. I designed a structured, youth-led framework that organizes how service opportunities are identified, communicated, and executed, making participation more accessible while ensuring nonprofits receive consistent support. Through this work, Teen Service Connect has engaged more than 150 youth volunteers, coordinated over 1,000 hours of service, and reached more than 18,000 individuals across Metro Atlanta. The model is intentionally designed to be replicable, built to expand into schools and communities nationwide. I remain directly involved in service. I have contributed more than 390 hours of community service, including over 85 hours as a certified math and literacy tutor at Agape. After weeks of reading together, one student told me, “I didn’t know I was smart.” That moment reinforced the idea that impact is measured not only by scale but also by how we help individuals recognize their own potential. At Spelman College, I plan to study psychology with a concentration in neuroscience and pursue a career as a physician-researcher. My goal is to strengthen how communities are supported by connecting research, care, and real-world impact, particularly for individuals whose challenges are not always visible. To improve my community for future generations, I will continue expanding Teen Service Connect, strengthening partnerships, and extending this framework to additional communities so more students can move from willingness to meaningful action. The legacy my great-grandmother, Nana, modeled was not about recognition. It was about showing up with intention and purpose. What began as a defining moment is now work I carry forward, strengthening my community one pathway at a time.