It's a hot day in Arizona. "It never used to get this hot" I hear a woman say. "I've lived here for 40 years and have never seen it hit 95 degrees". The clouds are starting to build to the south of the Coconino County Public Works Yard where people from across the state are frantically working. The burn scars left by wildfires in recent years have led to flash flooding in Flagstaff. There is a constant swish of sand being drained from the hoppers as the teams of firefighters, volunteers, and the national guard swiftly fill, tie, stack, and wrap the pallets of sandbags. We've been tracking the incoming monsoon all day, trying to squeeze out as much time as possible before the storm shuts us down. A loud, low boom shakes the ground below us. Everyone starts to work double-time. The more sandbags we can fill today, the more sandbags people have by the next storm tomorrow. With this storm approaching we have little time left until our operation becomes unsafe. The air starts to cool and the forklifts are beginning to find it hard to keep up with the immense pace of our work. 30lbs sandbags are being thrown around like crumpled-up paper balls. Climate change has led to even more powerful downpours from the late-summer monsoons and the dry first half of the summer is catastrophic for our wildfire susceptibility. The air starts to smell of rain. Everyone is counting the time between the flashes of lightning and the crack of thunder. "We could get shut down any minute now" I mutter to myself. Out of breath, I heave bag after bag to the top of the pallet. Three bags on each side, two in the middle, alternating orientations every time we complete one layer. I think of my friends and their houses. Close to the burn scar, close to a drainage area, at the bottom of a hill, all places you don't want to be right now. The rain starts to sprinkle and they call it. The storm has gotten within the two-mile limit. Quickly, we break down the tents we were using for shade from the sun and return the materials to their storage spaces. By the time everyone has gotten in their cars and left the Public Works Yard, it is a downpour. Dripping from rain and sweat, covered in dust, and sore, I am happy. Helping my friends and community members stay safe from the immediate effects of climate change is the most important thing I can do to combat it. I vote for the most climate-friendly politicians, but that is the bare minimum we should be doing. Large-scale change is the only way for our climate to be saved and as a young person, not in a position of power, there is little I can do to accomplish that. So I move to the next best thing. Through volunteering, I have been able to help my community recover from disasters brought on by climate change. The importance of directly helping our community members suffering from our changinng climate cannot be stressed enough. It is important to recognize who is to blame for this disaster, but it is equally important to recognize that we all have a responsibility to do something to stop it.

Ash hangs heavy in the air on a bright, sunny day in the middle of July. After many weeks of being undisturbed, it is being shoveled up into an industrial-sized dumpster about thirty feet away. A group of volunteers shovel, wheelbarrow, and work together to safely dispose of the remnants of a house burned down in the Tunnel Fire that ripped through Northern Arizona throughout April and May of 2022. The horror of over 25,000 acres of forest burned to the ground in a mere month and a half has taken a toll on the community. Burn scars on the San Francisco Peaks lead to immense flash floods, bringing trees, boulders, and mud down into neighborhoods, coating roads, yards, and anything else that's in its way in a thick layer of sludge. With the community still reeling from the fire, they now have to worry about protecting themselves and their homes from flash floods. Working with a volunteer organization, I decided to sign up to help remove debris from one of the thirty houses that burned down. I had no prior knowledge or experience. No clue what to expect. I just wanted to be there for my community in a time of need. I greatly value my ability to break out of my comfort zone, particularly when I can help others while doing so. This quality is one that must be learned, it is not something people are born with, and there's a reason for that. Breaking out of your comfort zone can be one of the most difficult, scary things to do. I have been teaching myself to break out of my comfort zone for the past eight years. I remember the first time I actively decided to embrace the discomfort of trying something new. I was eleven years old. I had just started middle school and was learning how to play the ukulele. Our house was mostly empty during that time because we had recently moved across the country. I was sitting in the living room, on the floor, playing and singing a song on my prized new ukulele. It was then when my mom came home. I had never sung in front of her. I stopped as soon as I heard the door, but there was a little voice in the back of my head that said "what's the worst thing that would happen if you kept singing"? I started playing again and there, in my empty house, I started something that has altered the course of my life. I have taken this knowledge and have continued to gently push the boundaries of my comfort zone. I can thank this quality for leading me to college in Maine, a new place far from anywhere I've considered home and for taking classes I never thought I'd take, such as Building Science & Energy Audit and Introduction to Sexual Health. Pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone has made me a more educated person, excited to help the world through many avenues. As my life continues, I will continue my effort to try new things and expand my comfort zone and I fully expect it to lead me somewhere amazing.

I lost my grandmother a week ago. She was the closest extended family member I had and it came rather suddenly. She fought to stay alive for much longer than the doctors expected, but due to an abdominal tear there was nothing more the doctors could do than to put her on painkillers and make her as comfortable as possible until she passed. My grandmother was a breast cancer survivor, a talented artist, and a loving woman. She inspired me to embrace my artistic enjoyment and was a big supporter of the continuation of my education. After graduating high school, she married young and didn't attend college. I recall her telling me multiple times how much she wished she went to college. In her family, and in her time, it wasn't typical for women to go to college and it was one of her biggest regrets in life. Throughout the past week, I've been thinking about her a lot. I've been appreciating having the ability to be in college, in a place I've dreamt of living, studying things that I am passionate about (my art being one of those things). I have lost people in my past and I will lose people in my future, but my grandmother's influence on me is unlike any other's and I don't want her passing to go unnoticed. I can't think of the words I would say if I were able to secure a scholarship in her honor. I'm working two jobs and am on the market looking for a third while being a full-time student. If awarded this scholarship, I wouldn't have to work as much to afford food and housing and would instead be able to focus more fully on my classes just like my grandmother wanted.

I have too much to say on this topic to fit it in 300 words, as nearly everything I do revolves around this. As president of my school's environmental coalition, I try my best to set a good example. I do this by walking to school nearly every day, putting my own money into funding the coalition's events, working with school administration to implement a climate action plan, and purchasing used items when possible. Taking economics during my sophomore year of high school opened my eyes to how banks invest the money you put in them into whatever is profitable. Many of these "profitable projects" involve oil. This means by banking with a big bank like Wells Fargo or Chase, you're directly funding pipelines, oil exploration, and drilling. While this is horrible, it is something that can be stopped simply by enough people taking their money out of these banks. I have convinced multiple people of this and hope to convince many more. That being said, the most necessary climate action needs to come in the form of governmental laws, taxes, subsidies, limits, and offsets. Every year, our environmental coalition goes to Phoenix for Environmental Day at the Capital, where we meet with representatives (who quite often avoid us), give speeches, and discuss potential solutions and issues with other groups throughout the state. Additionally, the coalition was able to help Flagstaff to adopt a Climate Action and Adaptation Plan and declare a climate emergency by collaborating with groups in the area to get signatures on a petition. I believe that the combination of individual action, as well as governmental action is key to stopping, or at least mitigating climate change, and I hope to be a strong voice advocating for this in the near future.