Title:The Small Things That Add Up A wristband taught me something I probably should have learned much earlier: sometimes the healthiest thing an athlete can do is sleep. As a dual NCAA athlete in hockey and lacrosse, I was used to thinking about wellness in terms of effort. Train harder. Get stronger. Push through fatigue. Then I started wearing a WHOOP and paying attention to my sleep, strain, and recovery. I began noticing patterns I had previously ignored. On nights when I slept poorly, I was not just more tired at practice. I had trouble concentrating in class, felt less patient, and recovered more slowly. Nothing dramatic had happened. I had simply slept a little less. That realization changed the way I think about health, and it is one reason Dr. Steve Aldana's belief in small, sustainable habits resonates with me. The biggest improvements in our health do not always begin with major transformations. Sometimes they begin with going to bed earlier, taking a walk, moving your body consistently, asking for help, or making one healthier choice often enough that it eventually becomes normal. I am studying Health Science with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. Through my education, athletics, physical therapy shadowing, and my own experience as a patient after a hockey injury, I have become fascinated by the relationship between movement and long-term health. I want to use that education not only to help people recover after something goes wrong, but also to help prevent problems before recovery becomes necessary. Someday, I hope to create an integrated health and wellness practice where physical therapy works alongside mental health, nutrition, and preventative care. I envision a place where wellness feels achievable rather than overwhelming. For an older adult, meaningful change might begin with five minutes of balance exercises each day that eventually reduce fall risk and help preserve independence. For someone working at a desk, it might mean standing more often or learning a few movements that prevent discomfort from becoming chronic pain. For a young athlete, it might mean learning that sleep and recovery are part of training, not evidence that they are not working hard enough. I have learned that lesson personally in another way. After beginning therapy for my own anxiety and depression, I discovered that mental wellness also grows through small practices. Asking for help once made it easier to ask again. Creating structure made overwhelming days more manageable. Paying attention to sleep helped both my mind and body. None of these choices transformed my life overnight. Together, they changed it. That is the philosophy I want to bring to my future patients and community. I do not want someone to leave my care with an impossible list of everything they need to change. I want to help them identify the next realistic thing they can do and understand why it matters. Then we can build from there. Dr. Aldana devoted his career to showing that healthier lives can be created through practical, evidence-based changes people can actually sustain. I hope to continue that mission by combining science with empathy and making wellness feel less like an intimidating destination and more like something people can practice every day. Because sometimes changing a life does not begin with changing everything. It begins with changing one thing, and doing it again tomorrow.

Title: More Than a Degree When I was twelve, I sat in the stands at a UMass Boston women’s hockey game and imagined what it would feel like to be one of the athletes on the ice. Today, I am. But the dream has grown far beyond hockey. I am now a Health Science student at UMass Boston and a dual NCAA athlete in ice hockey and lacrosse. My educational goal is to earn my bachelor’s degree, continue building clinical experience through physical therapy shadowing, and ultimately earn my Doctor of Physical Therapy degree. Someday, I hope to create an integrated healthcare practice where physical therapy works alongside mental health, nutrition, and preventative care. That goal is deeply personal. My late grandmother battled lupus while also living with significant mental health challenges. I watched illness affect her mobility, independence, and confidence. She saw numerous specialists and carried folders of medical information from appointment to appointment, almost as if keeping everyone connected had become another responsibility of being sick. Years later, healthcare became personal in a different way. After a hockey injury left me with a slipped disc and pinched nerve, physical therapy helped me return to the sport I loved. I experienced what it feels like when someone helps you regain something your body temporarily took away. Then, at seventeen, I called 911 during my best friend’s mental health crisis. That night eventually led me to therapy myself, where I confronted my own anxiety and depression. Together, those experiences shaped my educational goal. I do not simply want to treat an injured shoulder or knee. I want to become the healthcare provider who notices the person before the diagnosis. Getting there, however, comes with a significant financial reality. Midway through my freshman year, my mother unexpectedly lost the position she had spent sixteen years building. Her income represented the majority of our household income. My father has worked in highway construction for more than thirty years, but his work is seasonal and includes annual winter layoffs. With two younger siblings still at home, my family’s financial situation changed almost overnight. I have continued working while balancing academics and two NCAA sports, and I pursue scholarships because I want to borrow only what is necessary for my education. Scholarship assistance would do something incredibly valuable for me: it would give me time. It would mean fewer hours spent working to cover educational expenses and more hours available for studying and physical therapy shadowing. Those clinical hours are especially important as I prepare for competitive DPT programs because they allow me to learn what no textbook can teach: how providers communicate with frightened patients, adjust when recovery does not follow the expected timeline, and build trust. My education is not something I take for granted. Every class, clinical observation, practice, work shift, and scholarship application is part of building a future I have imagined for years. At twelve, I looked through the glass at UMass Boston and dreamed about getting onto that ice. At nineteen, I understand that reaching one dream often gives you a clearer view of the next one. This scholarship would not simply help me pay for college. It would give me more time to prepare for a career devoted to giving other people something back: their movement, their confidence, their independence, and, hopefully, a little more of the life they love.

When I was younger, I thought the greatest gift someone could give was something they could hold. A birthday present. A card. Flowers. My grandmother taught me otherwise. She spent years battling lupus, a disease that slowly took a toll on her body. Throughout her illness, she relied on blood transfusions from people she would never meet. Those anonymous donors didn't know her favorite color, the stories she loved to tell, or how excited she became every Christmas when her grandchildren walked through the front door. Yet because of their generosity, my family was given something priceless. More time. More birthdays. More holidays. More ordinary afternoons that became extraordinary simply because we were together. After my grandmother passed away, I realized I wanted to honor her in a way that reflected the compassion of those strangers who had unknowingly become part of our family's story. I organized a community blood drive in her memory and have continued donating blood whenever I am eligible. Every time I sit in the donation chair, I think about the person on the other end of that donation. I don't know their name, their age, or their story. I simply know that somewhere, another family may be hoping for just one more birthday, one more holiday, or one more chance to say, "I love you." That thought has completely changed how I define community. Community is not just the people we know. It is the people whose lives quietly intersect with our own through acts of kindness. Organizing the blood drive also taught me that meaningful service is rarely about one person. It required working with volunteers, encouraging people to participate, answering questions, and helping others understand why donating blood matters. I watched neighbors, classmates, and community members come together for a cause much larger than themselves. It reminded me that positive change often begins when one person decides to act, but it grows because many people choose to care. That lesson continues to shape the future I hope to build. Today, I am a Health Science student at the University of Massachusetts Boston and a dual NCAA athlete competing in both hockey and lacrosse. Outside the classroom, I coach young hockey players and shadow licensed physical therapists as I prepare for a career in healthcare. One day, I hope to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy and open an integrated wellness practice where physical therapists, physicians, nutritionists, and mental health professionals work together to care for the whole person. I want my patients to feel seen, heard, and supported, just as my grandmother deserved to feel throughout her healthcare journey. While I may spend my career helping people regain strength after injury or illness, I also hope to continue serving my community beyond the walls of a clinic. Whether that means organizing future blood drives, mentoring young athletes, volunteering at community health events, or educating families about preventative care, I want service to remain a lifelong commitment rather than an occasional act. Looking back, I realize the blood drive I organized was never really about blood. It was about hope. It was about gratitude. Most of all, it was about continuing a chain of kindness that began long before I was born. Someone I will never know gave my grandmother more time. Today, I have the opportunity to do the same for someone else's grandmother, father, child, or best friend. If my community remembers me for anything, I hope it is this: That I spent my life giving others the greatest gift I was ever given. Time.

Title: Building a Future Where Healing Means More Than Recovery My late grandmother taught me one of the most important lessons of my life without ever intending to. She battled lupus for years, along with chronic pain, anxiety, depression, and the challenges that came with opioid dependence after years of treatment. As a child, I did not understand the complexity of her illnesses. I simply knew that someone I loved was suffering. I watched how her physical health affected her emotional well-being, and how her emotional struggles affected every aspect of her life. Years later, one of my closest friends experienced a severe mental health crisis and struggled with addiction. One night, I found myself calling 911 and staying with him until help arrived. It was one of the most frightening experiences of my life, but it also changed the way I viewed healthcare, recovery, and service. Those two people shaped the impact I hope to make in the world. Today, I am a Health Science student at the University of Massachusetts Boston and a dual NCAA athlete competing in ice hockey and lacrosse. My long-term goal is to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy, but my vision extends beyond helping people recover from injuries. I want to help change the way we think about healing. Too often, healthcare treats physical health and mental health as separate issues. My experiences have shown me that they are deeply connected. Chronic pain can affect mental well-being. Mental health challenges can influence physical recovery. Addiction can emerge from both. Yet many people are forced to navigate these struggles through fragmented systems that fail to see the whole person. I hope to create a practice that integrates physical rehabilitation with mental health support, allowing patients to receive more comprehensive and compassionate care. Whether someone is recovering from a sports injury, managing chronic pain, or rebuilding their life after a difficult setback, I want them to feel understood rather than defined by a diagnosis. Beyond healthcare, I hope to continue investing in my community through mentorship and service. As a collegiate athlete, I have had the opportunity to mentor younger hockey players, particularly girls pursuing opportunities in a sport where female representation has historically been limited. I still remember attending a University of Massachusetts Boston women's hockey game as a seventh grader and realizing that my dream of playing college hockey might actually be possible. Representation matters. Someone else's example helped me believe in my future. I hope to provide that same encouragement to the next generation. I also volunteer at blood drives and donate blood whenever I am eligible in honor of my grandmother, whose life was extended through countless blood transfusions. Complete strangers gave my family more time with someone we loved. Every donation is my way of paying that gift forward. The impact I hope to make is not measured by titles or recognition. It is measured by people. The patient who regains confidence after an injury. The young athlete who discovers she belongs. The family that receives more time with a loved one. The person who realizes they are not alone in their struggle. Education is giving me the tools to make those moments possible. This scholarship would help me continue pursuing that mission while reducing the financial burden of higher education. My grandmother and my friend taught me that healing is about more than medicine. It is about hope, dignity, support, and human connection. Through my education and future career, I hope to build a world where every person receives all four.

# Recovery Beyond the Individual When people hear the word recovery, they often think about a single person overcoming addiction. What I have learned is that recovery affects entire families, communities, and generations. Although I have never struggled with addiction personally, addiction and recovery have played a significant role in shaping my life through people I love. My late grandmother battled lupus for much of her life. Along with chronic pain, she experienced anxiety, depression, and bipolar disorder. As her illness progressed, she became dependent on opioid pain medication prescribed to help manage her symptoms. What began as treatment eventually became another challenge she had to navigate. As a child, I did not fully understand addiction or dependency. What I understood was that someone I loved was suffering. I watched how chronic illness affected not only her physical health but also her emotional well-being, relationships, and quality of life. Her experience taught me that health challenges rarely exist in isolation. Physical pain, mental health, and substance use often become deeply intertwined. Although my grandmother ultimately passed away when I was younger, the lessons from her life have stayed with me. Years later, those lessons became even more personal. During my senior year of high school, one of my closest friends experienced a severe mental health crisis. He had also been struggling with addiction. One night, I found myself calling 911 and staying with him until help arrived. It was one of the most frightening experiences of my life. I remember feeling helpless, knowing I could not solve the problem myself. Yet I also learned something important that night: sometimes helping someone means simply refusing to leave them alone during their darkest moment. That experience changed me. In the weeks that followed, I began reflecting on my own mental health and eventually sought treatment for anxiety and depression. For the first time, I saw how many people struggle silently and how often addiction, mental health challenges, and physical health concerns overlap. Both my grandmother's experience and my friend's crisis taught me that recovery is rarely difficult and never looks like same. There are setbacks. There are difficult days. There are moments when progress feels invisible. Yet recovery is also built on support, compassion, and people who continue showing up even when the path forward is uncertain. These experiences ultimately shaped my educational and career goals. I am currently pursuing a degree in Health Science at the University of Massachusetts Boston with plans to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy. While physical therapy focuses on helping people recover from injury and illness, I believe healthcare should address the whole person rather than a single diagnosis. Too often, physical health and mental health are treated as separate issues. My experiences have shown me that they are deeply connected. Chronic pain can affect mental health. Mental health challenges can influence physical recovery. Addiction can emerge from both. My long-term goal is to create a healthcare environment that recognizes those connections and helps patients heal physically and emotionally. Recovery has taught me that people are more than their struggles. My grandmother was more than her illness. My friend was more than his addiction. And every patient I hope to serve one day will be more than a diagnosis. That belief continues to guide my education, my career aspirations, and the way I hope to make a difference in the lives of others.

# Turning Setbacks Into Strength When people ask me who I am, I usually start with the obvious facts: I am a Health Science student at the University of Massachusetts Boston, a dual NCAA athlete in ice hockey and lacrosse, and an aspiring Doctor of Physical Therapy. But those titles only tell part of the story. The experiences that have shaped me most happened away from the classroom and the playing field. Growing up in Upstate New York, I learned the value of hard work early. I spent countless hours traveling to practices and games, often several hours each way, to pursue opportunities in girls' hockey that were not available close to home. Those long drives taught me discipline, commitment, and perseverance long before I fully understood those words. My desire to pursue healthcare was inspired by both personal hardship and personal healing. My late grandmother battled lupus, chronic pain, anxiety, and depression throughout her life. Watching her navigate those challenges taught me how deeply illness can affect not only a person's body, but also their emotional well-being and quality of life. Years later, a hockey injury left me with a slipped disc and pinched nerve. During my recovery, physical therapists helped me regain far more than strength and mobility. They restored my confidence and reminded me that recovery is possible even when progress feels slow. Another pivotal moment came during my senior year of high school when one of my closest friends experienced a severe mental health crisis and I had to call 911. That experience led me to seek help for my own anxiety and depression and changed the way I think about healthcare. I realized that physical and mental health are deeply connected, yet too often they are treated separately. That realization shaped my vision for the future. My goal is not simply to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy. I hope to create a practice that integrates physical rehabilitation with mental health support, helping patients heal as whole people rather than treating symptoms in isolation. Whether someone is recovering from an injury, managing chronic pain, or struggling with the emotional challenges that often accompany physical setbacks, I want them to feel seen, supported, and understood. I also hope to continue making an impact through mentorship and community service. As a collegiate athlete, I have worked with younger hockey players and witnessed firsthand how powerful representation can be. When I attended a UMass Boston women's hockey game as a seventh grader, I saw athletes who made my dream feel possible. Today, I hope to provide that same encouragement to the next generation. Ultimately, the impact I hope to make is simple: I want to help people move forward. Whether that means helping a patient walk again after an injury, supporting someone through a difficult chapter in their life, or encouraging a young athlete to believe in herself, I want my career to be rooted in compassion, advocacy, and service. The world does not always change through grand gestures. Sometimes it changes one person at a time. Through healthcare, mentorship, and community involvement, that is the difference I hope to make.

When I was in seventh grade, I attended a University of Massachusetts Boston women's hockey game. Sitting in the stands, I watched the players take the ice and imagined what it would feel like to wear that jersey someday. At the time, it felt like a distant dream. Today, I am a Health Science student at UMass Boston and a dual NCAA athlete competing in both ice hockey and lacrosse. The journey between those two moments taught me that dreams are rarely achieved in a straight line. My desire to pursue healthcare was shaped by personal experiences. My late grandmother battled lupus, chronic pain, anxiety, and depression throughout her life. Later, a hockey injury left me with a slipped disc and pinched nerve, introducing me to physical therapy firsthand. The therapists who helped me recover restored more than my physical strength; they restored my confidence. Those experiences inspired my goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. Then came my freshman year of college. Like many students, I expected challenges. I did not expect them all at once. Early in the year, my dorm flooded, forcing me to live on a friend's couch for nearly a month while balancing classes, practices, and the transition to college life. Later, an active shooter scare shook our campus community. Being more than five hours from home, I was learning how to navigate adulthood independently when my family faced another unexpected obstacle. My mother lost her job after sixteen years with the same company. As the primary earner in our household, her job loss created immediate financial uncertainty. Suddenly, the dream I had worked toward for years felt fragile. While adjusting to college academics and NCAA athletics, I was also worrying about how my education would be financed. Those experiences taught me that perseverance is not about avoiding obstacles. It is about continuing forward despite them. Rather than allowing setbacks to discourage me, they strengthened my commitment to my education and future goals. I began paying on my student loans while still in school because I understood the importance of minimizing debt and investing in my future. What motivates me to keep going is purpose. I want to become the healthcare professional who helps others navigate injuries, setbacks, and difficult moments in their lives. I hope to create a practice that recognizes the connection between physical and mental health because I have seen firsthand how deeply intertwined they can be. This scholarship would help reduce the financial burden of higher education and allow me to focus more fully on my studies, clinical experiences, and preparation for graduate school. More importantly, it would be an investment in someone who plans to dedicate her career to helping others regain confidence, independence, and hope. The dream that began in the stands of a hockey rink has grown into something much bigger than myself. With hard work, perseverance, and support from opportunities like this scholarship, I am determined to turn that dream into a lifetime of service.

When people ask why I want to become a physical therapist, they often assume the answer begins with sports. Hockey and lacrosse have certainly shaped my life, but the truth is that my journey toward healthcare has been influenced by much more than athletics. It has been shaped by witnessing illness, navigating adversity, supporting others through crisis, and learning firsthand how powerful compassionate is. Growing up, I watched my grandmother battle lupus, chronic pain, and mental health challenges. Although I was young when she passed away, her experience left a lasting impression on me. Years later, I experienced my own significant setback when a hockey injury resulted in a slipped disc and pinched nerve. Physical therapy became a turning point in my recovery. What stood out was not only the physical rehabilitation, but also the encouragement, confidence, and hope my therapist provided throughout the process. For the first time, I understood that healing is not just physical, it is emotional as well. That lesson became even more meaningful when a close friend experienced a severe mental health crisis. I was the person who called 911 and stayed with him until help arrived. In the weeks and months that followed, I began my own journey through therapy and learned how interconnected physical and mental health truly are. Those experiences inspired my vision for the future: to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy and eventually create a practice that integrates physical rehabilitation with mental health support, ensuring patients feel seen, supported, and empowered throughout their entire recovery. I am pursuing a degree in Health Science at the University of Massachusetts Boston while competing as a dual-sport NCAA athlete in hockey and lacrosse. My freshman year tested me in ways I never anticipated. Alongside the challenges of adjusting to college academics and collegiate athletics, I experienced a dorm flooding situation that displaced me for nearly a month, forcing me to rely on the support of friends while navigating an already demanding transition. At the same time, my family faced significant financial uncertainty after my mother's position of more than sixteen years was eliminated. Balancing these challenges while maintaining my academic responsibilities and athletic commitments taught me resilience, adaptability, and the importance of focusing on what I could control. More importantly, it reinforced my commitment to helping others overcome obstacles and achieve goals they once believed were out of reach. My desire to make a positive impact extends beyond my future profession. I currently volunteer at blood drives in honor of my grandmother, whose life was extended through multiple blood transfusions. I also mentor younger hockey players, particularly girls, helping them find their voice in a sport where female representation has historically been limited. Through these experiences, I have learned that meaningful change often begins with small acts of service and support. In the future, I hope to expand that impact by creating a healthcare environment that prioritizes both physical and emotional well-being. I want to advocate for accessible care, reduce stigma surrounding mental health, and help individuals regain confidence in themselves during some of the most difficult moments of their lives. Whether I am working with an injured athlete, an older adult recovering from surgery, or someone struggling to navigate both physical and emotional challenges, my goal remains the same: to help people move forward with strength, dignity, and hope. My journey has taught me that adversity can become purpose with pairing compassion and action. Through healthcare, service, and mentorship, I hope to create a ripple effect that extends far beyond individual patients and contributes to healthier, stronger communities for years to come.

I do not believe I deserve this scholarship because my life has been easy. I believe I deserve it because difficult experiences have shaped me into someone who knows how to keep moving forward when life becomes uncertain. Most people see accomplishments first. They see the Platinum Honor Roll recognition, the NCAA athletics, the leadership positions, or the awards. What they do not see are the years underneath those accomplishments: the sacrifices, setbacks, long drives, financial stress, emotional struggles, and moments where continuing forward required far more resilience than anyone else could fully see. That resilience is what gives me an advantage. Since eighth grade, elite travel hockey required hours of commuting on weekdays and weekends because I eventually outgrew opportunities available locally. During my senior year of high school, my “home” hockey team was located nearly 2.5 hours away. Homework was often completed late at night in the car while most people were already asleep. At times, balancing athletics, academics, work, and community service felt overwhelming, but I continued pushing myself because I understood how much those opportunities mattered to me. Despite those demands, I earned Platinum Honor Roll all four years of high school, was inducted into both National Honor Society and National Art Honor Society, and received the United States Marine Corps Distinguished Athlete Award. Those accomplishments matter to me, but not simply because of the recognition itself. They matter because they represent consistency. Anyone can work hard temporarily when motivation feels easy. What separates people long term is the ability to continue showing up during difficult moments, exhausting schedules, setbacks, and uncertainty. Athletics taught me discipline, but they also taught me endurance. That endurance became even more important midway through my freshman year of college when my mother’s role was unexpectedly eliminated after sixteen years with the same company. Her income had been the primary source of stability for our family, and almost overnight, my financial reality changed completely. Suddenly, I was balancing academics, NCAA athletics, work, and the pressure of self-funding my education while my younger siblings remained at home. There were moments where everything felt overwhelming. But I never considered giving up on my education. Instead, the experience strengthened my determination to build a future where I could eventually help others through difficult moments the same way people once helped my own family. That desire is deeply connected to why I am pursuing healthcare. Growing up, I watched my late grandmother battle lupus for years. Throughout her illness, she relied on multiple lifesaving blood transfusions. Watching strangers donate blood gave my family more holidays, more birthdays, and more time with someone we loved deeply. Those experiences completely changed how I view compassion and service. They showed me how powerful ordinary people can become simply by choosing to help others consistently. That is why I volunteer and donate at blood drives now. Another experience that profoundly shaped me was a mental health crisis involving one of my closest friends. One night, I realized something was seriously wrong and made the difficult decision to call 911 despite fearing how it might affect our friendship. That experience eventually led me to confront my own anxiety and depression through therapy. For the first time, I understood how many people silently struggle while still trying to appear fine externally. That experience gave me another advantage that cannot be measured through grades or awards alone: empathy. I understand hardship personally. I understand pressure, emotional exhaustion, uncertainty, and what it feels like to quietly carry responsibilities while still trying to succeed. Because of that, I believe I connect with people differently. I notice when others are struggling. I understand the importance of support systems, encouragement, and feeling heard during difficult moments. That empathy has shaped the way I lead as well. Today, I coach younger hockey players, especially girls in a male-dominated sport. I understand how important encouragement and representation can be because I once needed those role models myself. Some of the most meaningful moments happen quietly after practice ends, when younger athletes ask questions about confidence, college sports, or whether they truly belong in competitive spaces. I always tell them yes because I know how much those words matter. Leadership, to me, is not about being the loudest person in the room. It is about consistency. It is about continuing to show up for others even when life feels difficult personally. I believe what truly gives me an advantage over others is not that I have avoided hardship, but that I have learned how to grow through it. Every challenge I have faced has deepened my resilience, strengthened my work ethic, and clarified my sense of purpose. I am currently studying Health Science at the University of Massachusetts Boston with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy because I want to help people through some of the most physically and emotionally difficult moments of their lives. Through athletics, healthcare experiences, and personal struggles, I have seen how deeply physical and mental health are connected. Long term, I hope to help create healthcare environments where patients feel supported emotionally as well as physically during recovery. More than anything, though, I believe I deserve this scholarship because I will maximize the opportunity it provides. I know how valuable education is because I understand how quickly stability can disappear. I understand sacrifice because I have lived it for years. I understand resilience because life required me to develop it early. Most importantly, I understand that success means very little unless you eventually use it to help others. That is exactly what I intend to do.

Most people only see athletes in the moments that look impressive. The goals. The wins. The captaincies. The college commitments. What they usually do not see are the long drives home, the sacrifices made quietly over years, or the moments where continuing forward requires far more mental strength than physical ability. That is what being a “You Got It Girl” means to me. It means continuing to believe in your future even during moments where life becomes uncertain, exhausting, or overwhelming. It means showing up for your goals anyway. I currently compete as a dual NCAA athlete in women’s hockey and lacrosse at the University of Massachusetts Boston while pursuing a degree in Health Science. Athletics have shaped almost every part of who I am. Since eighth grade, elite travel hockey required hours of commuting on weekdays and weekends because I eventually outgrew opportunities available locally. During my senior year of high school, my “home” hockey team was located nearly 2.5 hours away. Homework was often completed late at night in the car while most people were already asleep. Those years built the resilience I rely on every day. Despite balancing athletics, academics, work, and community involvement, I earned Platinum Honor Roll all four years of high school, was inducted into both National Honor Society and National Art Honor Society, and received the United States Marine Corps Distinguished Athlete Award. One accomplishment I remain especially proud of was joining a hockey team where I initially felt like the outsider because I was the new player commuting from hours away. By the end of the season, my teammates voted me captain. That experience taught me something important about leadership: people trust leaders because they consistently show up for others. One of the biggest challenges I have faced came midway through my freshman year of college when my mother’s role was unexpectedly eliminated after sixteen years with the same company. Her income had been the primary source of stability for our household, and almost overnight, my financial reality changed completely. Suddenly, I was balancing NCAA athletics, academics, work, and the pressure of self-funding my education while my younger siblings remained at home. There were moments where everything felt overwhelming. But resilience had already been modeled for me long before that moment. One of the people I admire most is my mother. When I was two years old, she graduated from college while raising me at home. Growing up, I never fully understood how extraordinary that was until I became older myself. I now understand the exhaustion, sacrifice, and determination it must have required to pursue an education while caring for a child at the same time. Years later, after unexpectedly losing the career she spent sixteen years building, I watched her show that same resilience again. Even during uncertainty, she continues showing up for our family every single day. Another experience that deeply shaped me was a mental health crisis involving one of my closest friends. One night, I realized something was seriously wrong and made the difficult decision to call 911 despite fearing how it might affect our friendship. That experience eventually led me to confront my own anxiety and depression through therapy. Since then, I have become deeply passionate about mental health awareness, especially within athletics where many people feel pressure to appear mentally strong at all times. That experience also reinforced why I want to pursue healthcare. I am currently studying Health Science with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy because I want to help people through some of the most physically and emotionally difficult moments of their lives. Through athletics, healthcare experiences, and personal struggles, I have seen how deeply physical and mental health are connected. Long term, I hope to help create healthcare environments where patients feel supported emotionally as well as physically during recovery. This scholarship would make an extraordinary difference in my life. Because I compete at the NCAA Division III level, I do not receive athletic scholarship funding. I am currently balancing school expenses, travel costs, athletic equipment, and everyday financial responsibilities while self-funding my education during one of the most uncertain periods my family has faced. For years, hockey taught me how to keep going physically when I was exhausted. Life eventually taught me how to keep going emotionally too. That is what “You Got It Girl” means to me now. Not perfection. Not never struggling. It means continuing to show up for your goals, your future, and yourself even during uncertain moments. And no matter how difficult life becomes, continuing to believe: You got it, girl.

Selflessness is not something I learned from a definition. It is something I have been forced to understand through moments where someone else needed me to act, even when it was uncomfortable or uncertain. The clearest example of this came one night with my best friend. What started as a normal conversation quickly turned into something much more serious. I could hear the shift in his voice. There was fear, confusion, and a sense that he was losing control. In that moment, I did not have time to overthink. I had to decide whether to step in or stay silent. Calling 911 was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made. I knew it could change our relationship. I worried he would feel betrayed or that I would make the situation worse. But I also knew that doing nothing was not an option. Selflessness, in that moment, meant choosing his safety over my own fear of losing him. I made the call because he needed help, even if it meant risking everything else. That experience stayed with me long after that night. It changed how I understand what it means to show up for someone. Sometimes helping someone does not look like having the right words or the perfect solution. Sometimes it means stepping into a difficult situation and doing what is necessary, even when it is not easy. Selflessness has also shaped the way I give back in quieter, more consistent ways. I regularly volunteer and donate at blood drives in honor of my late grandmother, who relied on blood transfusions throughout her life. Those donations gave her more time with our family, time that meant everything to us. Being part of that process now allows me to give that same opportunity to someone else. At blood drives, I help check in donors, support first time participants, and donate myself. It may seem like a small act, but I have seen how those small acts add up. Someone I will never meet may receive that blood at a moment when they need it most. That is what makes it meaningful. It is not about recognition. It is about impact. I also embody selflessness through mentoring younger ice hockey players, especially girls. Growing up in a sport where female representation can be limited, I understand how important it is to have someone who believes in you. When I step onto the ice with them, my focus is not on my own performance. It is on helping them build confidence, learn resilience, and feel like they belong. That same mindset has shaped how I approach my own life. As a freshman in college, I am currently navigating a sudden financial unknown after my mother’s role was eliminated following sixteen years in her position. Stability quickly became uncertain. Despite this, I have remained committed to continuing my education, working, and finding every possible way to contribute to my own financial responsibilities. Selflessness, for me, now also means pushing forward not just for myself, but for my family and the future we are all working to rebuild. Through these experiences, I have learned that selflessness is not one single action. It is a mindset. It is choosing to put someone else’s needs before your own comfort. It is showing up consistently, whether in a critical moment or in everyday situations that often go unnoticed. Selflessness is not always easy, and it is not always recognized. But it is in those moments, when you choose to act for someone else, that you have the ability to make a real difference.

The moment your future feels uncertain is the moment your purpose becomes clear. Midway through my freshman year, my family experienced a sudden financial shift when my mother’s role was eliminated after 16 years. As the primary source of income for our household, her job provided stability we had relied on for years. In a matter of weeks, that stability changed, and I was forced to confront a question many students face: how do I continue pursuing my education while navigating financial uncertainty? For me, higher education is not just a path forward. It is the foundation for the impact I hope to make. Healthcare is deeply personal to me. My late grandmother battled lupus, a condition that slowly took more from her than most people could see. There were days when even simple movements felt like a challenge, when fatigue weighed on her in ways that could not be explained, and when the emotional toll of her illness was just as present as the physical pain. I remember watching her push through those moments with quiet strength, but I also remember the difference the right care made. The providers who treated her with patience, who took the time to listen, helped restore something beyond physical function. They gave her dignity, confidence, and a sense of control when so much felt uncertain. Seeing that shaped how I understand what healthcare can and should be. I am pursuing a degree in Health Science with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. Higher education is essential to this path. It will provide me with the clinical training, scientific foundation, and hands-on experience needed to treat patients effectively and ethically. Without this education, I would not have the ability to turn my experiences into meaningful, professional care. As an athlete, I understand the physical side of recovery. Through my grandmother’s experience, I saw how deeply health is connected to identity, independence, and mental well-being. College allows me to build the knowledge and experience necessary to support others in that same way. Outside the classroom, I have committed myself to making a positive impact in my community. As a dual-sport NCAA athlete, I mentor younger players, especially girls in hockey, helping them build confidence in a space where representation can be limited. I also volunteer and donate at blood drives, understanding how critical those donations are for individuals like my grandmother, who relied on them throughout her life. One of the most defining moments in my life came when I supported a close friend through a mental health crisis. In that moment, I had to make a difficult decision to seek help, even though it felt uncertain. That experience changed how I understand responsibility and reinforced my commitment to supporting others during their most challenging moments. My long-term goal is to open a practice where both physical rehabilitation and mental health are addressed together. I want to create a space where individuals, especially those from underserved backgrounds, can access care that treats both physical injury and mental well-being, something that is often overlooked in traditional healthcare settings. I want patients to feel seen not just for their condition, but for everything that affects their ability to heal. Coming from a family currently navigating financial uncertainty has strengthened my determination to continue my education. I understand the weight of choosing between immediate financial stability and long-term opportunity. For me, higher education is not just an investment in my future, but in the communities I hope to serve. The moment your future feels uncertain is not the end of your path. It is where your purpose begins to take shape.

I have spent most of my life answering to the wrong name. When people first read my name, they almost always say “Candice.” It happens in classrooms, at tournaments, during attendance, and even in emails. I have learned to anticipate it, to pause for a second before correcting them. My actual name is Cadence, and while it is not complicated, it somehow still gets lost in translation. At this point, it has happened so often that “Candice” has almost become a second identity, one that my parents especially dislike, considering they specifically agreed that they did not like that name when choosing mine. There was even a moment where they debated adding a “Y” to my name, hoping it would make the pronunciation clearer. They decided against it, thinking Cadence was straightforward enough on its own. They underestimated how often people rely on what they expect to see rather than what is actually written. Over time, the mistake stopped feeling like a one time mix up and started to feel like something that followed me everywhere. What makes it even more ironic is how much technology has reinforced it. Autocorrect changes my name without asking. Email systems suggest “Candice” before I even finish typing. Forms, accounts, and databases seem determined to override what is actually written, as if the correct version simply does not exist. I have opened messages addressed to “Candice” more times than I can count, even when my name is clearly spelled out right in front of them. At some point, it stopped being just a human error and started to feel like it had been programmed into the system itself. At first, it bothered me more than I would admit. A name is one of the first things people learn about you, and having it constantly misread made me feel like I was being misunderstood before I even had the chance to introduce myself. It felt small, but it happened often enough that it started to matter. I found myself correcting people quickly, sometimes awkwardly, wanting to make sure I was seen as who I actually was. Eventually, though, something shifted. The repetition of the mistake turned into something almost ironic. Friends started joking about it, sometimes calling me “Candice” on purpose, knowing how often it happened. What used to be frustrating became something I could laugh at. It became less about the mistake itself and more about how I chose to respond to it. In a way, it taught me something unexpected. Being called the wrong name over and over forced me to speak up for myself, even in small ways. It made me more aware of how easily people make assumptions based on what they think they see. It also reminded me how important it is to pay attention to details, especially when it comes to other people. A name may seem like a small thing, but it carries identity, intention, and meaning. Now, when someone says “Candice,” I still correct them, but I do it differently. There is less frustration and more confidence. I know who I am, regardless of how it is read the first time. If anything, it has made me more comfortable standing out. My name is not the most common, and it is not always read correctly, but it is mine. So if you read my name and thought it was Candice, you are not alone. It happens all the time. Just know it is Cadence, and at this point, I have accepted that I come with a built in correction. Consider this your official notice.

Most people see the results of hard work. They do not see what it takes to sustain it. As a freshman in college, I am a dual sport NCAA athlete while also working part time, balancing a schedule that demands discipline every day. My academic achievements, including maintaining a strong GPA, are not separate from those commitments. They exist because of them. There are nights when practice runs late, assignments are still waiting, and work shifts fill the remaining hours. In those moments, success is not about motivation or convenience. It is about showing up anyway, even when it would be easier not to. That mindset was built long before college. In high school, I maintained Platinum Honor Roll while traveling hours away multiple nights a week and on weekends for Tier 1 ice hockey. The lack of opportunity locally forced me to go out of the area to compete, which meant long drives, late nights, and early mornings. I often completed assignments in the car or studied between practices, learning how to manage my time in ways that required both focus and accountability. There was no room to fall behind. Those years taught me how to stay consistent, even when the structure around me was limited. Spending so much time on the road also taught me something less obvious. It taught me how to be comfortable in discomfort. Long drives, constant movement, and the pressure to perform created an environment where there was no perfect balance. Instead, I had to learn how to adjust, how to prioritize, and how to stay grounded even when everything around me felt fast paced. That ability to adapt has carried into every part of my life. Beyond my own goals, I have always believed that success should extend beyond the individual. I mentor and coach younger hockey players, especially girls, because I understand how important it is to feel supported in environments where representation can be limited. When I step onto the ice with them, I am not focused on my own performance. I am focused on helping them build confidence, develop resilience, and recognize their own potential. Those moments are not always visible, but they are meaningful. They create an environment where others feel capable of pushing beyond their own expectations. I also volunteer and donate at blood drives in honor of my late grandmother, who relied on blood transfusions throughout her life. Those donations gave her more time with our family, time that cannot be measured. Being part of that process now allows me to give someone else that same opportunity. It is a reminder that even small, consistent actions can have a direct and lasting impact on someone else’s life. The most significant challenge I have faced came midway through my freshman year. My mother lost her senior executive role due to a company wide position elimination. She had been the primary source of income for our family, and in a matter of weeks, everything changed. The stability I had relied on disappeared, and I was forced to confront a reality I had not anticipated. I found myself questioning how I would continue my education while managing the financial strain placed on my family. There was no clear solution, and no immediate path forward. What I did have was the ability to respond. I increased my work hours where possible, became more intentional with how I managed my time, and began actively seeking opportunities that would allow me to continue my education. It required me to shift my mindset from planning ahead to adapting in real time. Every decision carried more weight, and every hour had to be used with purpose. That experience changed how I understand resilience. It is not something that develops after a challenge has passed. It is built while you are still in the middle of it, when there is no guarantee of the outcome. It forced me to rely on the habits I had developed over time and apply them in a situation that demanded more than I had expected. I am pursuing a degree in Health Science with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. My interest in this field is deeply personal. I watched my late grandmother navigate lupus and mental health challenges, and I saw how much the right care could restore not just physical ability, but dignity and confidence. I have also experienced physical therapy myself as an athlete, and I understand how important it is to have someone who supports your progress, especially when it feels slow. You should consider me for this scholarship not only because of what I have accomplished, but because of how I have sustained it. My experiences reflect consistency, adaptability, and a commitment to continuing forward even when circumstances change. I am not defined by a single moment or achievement, but by my ability to show up, contribute, and keep moving toward something greater than myself.

“Remember that you are an actor in a play, the character of which is determined by the playwright. If it be short, then short; if long, then long. If he wishes you to play a poor man, see that you act it naturally; and if a cripple, or a ruler, or a private citizen, do the same. For this is your business, to act well the given part; but to choose it belongs to another.” Essay: Epictetus argues that fulfillment is not found in controlling one’s circumstances, but in mastering one’s response to them. His central idea is that individuals do not choose the roles they are given in life, but they are fully responsible for how they perform within those roles. The deeper meaning of this passage is that purpose and excellence are defined not by position, but by intention and execution. At first glance, this passage may seem to suggest passivity, as if people should simply accept whatever circumstances they are given. However, a closer reading reveals that Epictetus is not promoting resignation, but discipline. By comparing life to a play, he separates two distinct elements: assignment and performance. The assignment, or role, is outside of one’s control. The performance, however, is entirely within it. This distinction shifts responsibility inward. Instead of focusing on what should be different, the individual is challenged to focus on how well they can fulfill what is already in front of them. This idea becomes especially relevant when applied to sports. Athletes rarely control the circumstances they face. A player may be assigned a role they did not expect, lose playing time, or face setbacks such as injury or defeat. These situations can feel limiting, particularly in a competitive environment where recognition and success are often tied to visible performance. Epictetus challenges that perspective by suggesting that the value of an athlete is not determined by the role itself, but by the quality of effort and intention brought to it. The underlying meaning here is that frustration often arises from resistance. When individuals focus on the role they wish they had rather than the one they are given, they lose the opportunity to perform at their highest level. In contrast, fully embracing one’s role, regardless of its visibility or status, creates a different kind of excellence. The athlete who commits to their role, whether leading or supporting, develops discipline that is not dependent on recognition. This discipline becomes a source of stability in an environment that is otherwise unpredictable. Epictetus also challenges the assumption that certain roles carry more inherent value than others. By placing equal emphasis on acting well in any role, he suggests that excellence is not hierarchical. In the context of sports, this means that contribution is not limited to scoring points or receiving recognition. The teammate who maintains energy during practice, supports others, or remains composed during difficult moments is also fulfilling their role with intention. This perspective broadens the definition of success, making it less dependent on external outcomes and more connected to internal consistency. Beyond sports, this passage offers a broader framework for approaching uncertainty. Life, like a play, is shaped by factors outside of individual control. Circumstances change, opportunities shift, and outcomes are never guaranteed. Epictetus does not deny these realities. Instead, he reframes them. By focusing on performance rather than assignment, individuals can maintain a sense of purpose regardless of external conditions. This creates a form of resilience that is not easily disrupted. The most significant implication of this passage is that it places responsibility entirely on the individual. If success is defined by how well one performs their role, then there is no reliance on circumstance for validation. This is both empowering and demanding. It removes excuses, but it also provides clarity. The individual always has control over effort, focus, and intention. Ultimately, Epictetus is not limiting human potential. He is refining it. By removing the need to control external outcomes, he directs attention toward what can be controlled. This shift transforms how success is understood. It is no longer about achieving a specific role, but about fulfilling whatever role is given with discipline and purpose. In this way, the passage challenges the reader to reconsider where value is found. Not in status, not in recognition, but in the ability to act well, regardless of the role.

Service, to me, is not something separate from my life. It is something that shows up in the way I respond to people, the choices I make, and the responsibility I take for others when it matters most. One of the clearest moments that shaped my understanding of service happened in a single night. My best friend was experiencing a mental health crisis, and what began as a conversation quickly became something much more serious. I could hear it in his voice, the fear, the confusion, the sense that he was losing control. In that moment, I had to decide whether to stay silent or step in. Calling 911 was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made. I knew it could change our relationship, but I also knew his safety mattered more than my fear of losing his trust. That experience taught me that service is not always comfortable or recognized. Sometimes it means making difficult decisions for someone else’s well being. That same mindset carries into the quieter ways I give back. I regularly volunteer and donate at blood drives in honor of my late grandmother, who relied on blood transfusions throughout her life. Those donations gave her more time with our family, time that meant everything to us. Now, being part of that process allows me to give someone else that same chance. Whether I am checking in donors or donating myself, I understand that even small actions can have a direct and meaningful impact on someone’s life. Service has also shaped how I lead and connect with others. As a mentor and coach for younger hockey players, especially girls, I try to create the kind of environment I wish every athlete had access to. Growing up in a sport where female representation can be limited, I know how important it is to feel supported and seen. Coaching is not just about developing skill. It is about building confidence, teaching resilience, and helping someone believe in their own ability. Those moments, when a player starts to trust themselves or push past doubt, are what make the experience meaningful. These experiences are not separate from my future. They are the reason behind it. I am pursuing a degree in Health Science with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. My interest in this field comes from both personal and lived experience. I watched my late grandmother navigate lupus and mental health challenges, and I saw how much the right care could restore not just physical ability, but dignity and confidence. I have also experienced physical therapy myself as an athlete, and I understand how important it is to have someone who believes in your progress, even when it feels slow. Through my education, I plan to continue living out a life of service by helping individuals regain strength, independence, and confidence after injury or illness. I hope to open my own practice one day, where care goes beyond physical recovery and also addresses mental well being. I want to create a space where patients feel supported, understood, and motivated to keep moving forward. Service is not defined by one moment or one role. It is built through consistency, through showing up for others, and through using what you have learned to make a difference. My experiences have shown me that even in difficult or uncertain situations, there is always an opportunity to help someone else. That is the kind of life I am committed to living.

Some of the most meaningful lessons in my life did not happen in a classroom. They happened in waiting rooms, on training tables, and in quiet moments where I saw how much the right kind of care can change someone’s life. I am currently a freshman pursuing a degree in Health Science, with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. My decision developed over time through experiences that consistently showed me the real impact of healthcare. My late grandmother lived with lupus and mental health challenges, and I watched those conditions slowly take pieces of her independence. There were days when even simple movements became difficult, and days when the weight of everything she was facing felt overwhelming. What stayed with me most was not just what she went through, but how she was treated. The physical therapists she worked with gave her something that went beyond recovery. They gave her a sense of control. They helped her rebuild confidence in her own body, even when it felt like it was working against her. I remember watching her leave those appointments standing a little taller, holding onto progress that felt small to others but meant everything to her. At the same time, my own experience as an athlete gave me a different perspective on the same field. Competing in ice hockey at a high level meant dealing with the physical toll that comes with it. Recovery was never optional. It was necessary. I have spent time in physical therapy not just as a patient, but as someone trying to understand how and why the body responds the way it does. I learned that progress is rarely immediate, it is built through repetition, patience, and trust in the process. The people guiding that process matter more than most realize. Those experiences are what drew me to physical therapy. It is not just about treating injuries. It is about helping people regain something they thought they had lost. Strength, mobility, confidence, independence. It is about meeting someone where they are and helping them move forward from there. I am also interested in how healthcare is evolving, especially through the integration of technology. I want to be part of a future where recovery is more personalized and more engaging. Wearable technology, motion tracking, and data driven treatment plans have the potential to change how physical therapy is delivered. Patients could see their progress in real time, not just feel it. Therapy could extend beyond the clinic into everyday life in a way that is both accessible and effective. I want to be part of shaping that shift, not just following it. Beyond my career, I plan to continue coaching and mentoring young hockey players, especially girls. Growing up in a space where female representation can be limited showed me how important it is to have someone who understands your experience. Coaching is not just about developing skill. It is about building confidence and showing others what they are capable of. That same mindset carries into healthcare. People perform better when they believe in themselves, and sometimes they need someone else to help them see that first. Everything I have experienced has pointed me in this direction. Not because it is easy, but because it matters. I am not choosing a career in healthcare for the title or the outcome. I am choosing it because I have seen what it looks like when someone is given the chance to feel like themselves again, and I want to be part of making that possible.

Most days, my schedule does not leave much room to slow down. Between early classes, practices, and work shifts, I have learned how to move from one responsibility to the next with focus and intention. That routine has not only shaped my work ethic, but it has shown me what it means to stay committed to something even when it is difficult. As a freshman and a dual-sport NCAA athlete working part time, I have learned quickly that growth is not something that happens all at once. It is built through consistency, discipline, and showing up every day. Midway through my freshman year, that mindset was tested in a way I did not expect. My mother lost her senior executive role due to a company-wide position elimination. She had been the primary source of income for our family, and suddenly, the financial stability I had relied on became uncertain. As someone already balancing academics, athletics, and work, I now found myself questioning how I would sustain my education. It forced me to confront the reality that pursuing my goals would require even greater resilience and adaptability than I had anticipated. My decision to pursue healthcare is very personal. I watched my late grandmother live with lupus and mental health challenges, and I saw how much those conditions affected her daily life. There were moments when her strength stood out, but there were also moments when even simple tasks became difficult. What I remember most clearly is the difference that the right care made. The physical therapists she worked with did more than guide her through exercises. They gave her a sense of control, helped her rebuild confidence, and reminded her that she was more than what she was going through. Watching that left a lasting impression on me. My own experience as an athlete has strengthened that interest. Training, competing, and recovering from the physical demands of sports has given me a firsthand understanding of how important proper care is. Physical therapy is not just about getting someone back to where they were. It is about helping them move forward, stronger and more confident than before. That is the kind of role I want to take on in the future. I am currently pursuing a degree in Health Science with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. I plan to continue my education through a DPT program and eventually open my own practice. What I envision is a space where physical rehabilitation and mental well being are treated together. Recovery is not just physical, and I want to create an environment where patients feel supported in every aspect of their progress. Outside of my academic and career goals, I plan to continue coaching and mentoring young hockey players, especially girls. Growing up in a sport where female representation can be limited, I understand how important it is to have someone to look up to. Mentoring allows me to give back in a way that goes beyond the game. It is about building confidence, encouraging resilience, and helping others believe in their own potential. Everything I have experienced so far has shaped how I define success. It is not about a single achievement. It is about staying committed even when circumstances change. Balancing athletics, academics, work, and now financial uncertainty has strengthened my ability to adapt and continue moving forward. I am not simply working toward a career in healthcare. I am working toward becoming someone who can continue forward despite uncertainty and show up for others in meaningful ways, especially in moments when they need it most.

Title: The Night That Made Me Listen Some relationships change your life slowly. Others do it in a single night. Mine changed on a beach, with my phone in my hand and a decision I did not want to make. My best friend was in the middle of a mental health crisis. What started as a conversation quickly became something much more serious. I could hear it in his voice. The fear, the uncertainty, the weight of everything he was carrying. In that moment, I was not thinking about the future or the consequences. I was thinking about keeping him safe. Calling 911 was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made. It felt like crossing a line I could not take back. I was afraid he would feel betrayed, that I would lose his trust, or that I would make things worse. But I also knew that doing nothing was not an option. I chose to act, even though I was unsure of what would come next. That night stayed with me. For a long time, I focused on what I had done for him. I told myself I had handled the situation, that I had done what was necessary. But as time passed, I began to reflect more honestly. Being there for someone else forced me to look at myself in a way I had avoided. I realized that while I had stepped in to help him, I had been ignoring my own mental health for years. I had learned to manage anxiety and push through difficult days without ever fully addressing them. The weight of balancing academics, athletics, employment, and service continued to build quietly, even when I convinced myself I could handle it all. I told myself it was normal, that pushing through was enough. But carrying everything is not the same as handling it. That night made it impossible to keep thinking that way. I saw how serious mental health struggles can become when they are left unspoken or untreated. Eventually, I made the decision to seek help for myself. Starting therapy was not easy. It required me to be honest about things I had spent years minimizing. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression, something that once might have felt overwhelming to admit. But instead of feeling defined by that diagnosis, I felt a sense of clarity. I finally had a way to understand what I was experiencing and tools to manage it in a healthier way. That experience changed how I approach relationships. I am more aware now of what people may be carrying beneath the surface. I listen more carefully, not just to what is said, but to what is not. I understand that being present for someone is not always about having the right words. Sometimes it is about creating a space where they feel safe enough to be honest. People are not always asking to be fixed. Sometimes they are asking to be understood. It also changed how I show up for myself. I have learned that taking care of my own mental health is not separate from being there for others. It is what allows me to do so in a meaningful and sustainable way. My relationship with my best friend did not end that night. If anything, it became stronger. It is built on honesty, trust, and the understanding that difficult decisions can come from a place of care. That experience showed me that real connection is not always easy or comfortable. It requires courage, vulnerability, and sometimes making choices that are hard in the moment but necessary in the long term. If that night had not happened, my path would look very different. I might have continued to ignore my own struggles, believing I could handle everything on my own. Instead, I found a way to grow, both in how I care for myself and how I support others. Some relationships shape you through shared experiences. Others shape you by forcing you to see things you were not ready to face. This one did both.

Title: The Moments That Matter Most The moments that have defined my leadership are the ones no one applauded. One of the most impactful ways I have given back to my community is through organizing holiday donations for children in a local hospital. Each Christmas, I collect donated gifts for young patients who are spending the holiday in hospital rooms instead of their homes. Some of these gifts will be opened beside hospital beds rather than Christmas trees. Being part of that process has shown me how small acts can bring comfort during difficult moments. It is not just about the gifts themselves, but about reminding families that they are not alone. I also volunteer at local blood drives and donate blood whenever I am able. This commitment is especially meaningful to me because my late grandmother relied on lifesaving blood transfusions multiple times. Seeing how something as simple as a donation can directly save a life changed how I view service. At blood drives, I help create an environment where donors feel comfortable and supported, while also contributing in a direct way myself. It is a reminder that even quiet actions can have life changing impact. Leadership through service is something I carry onto the ice as well. As a mentor and coach for young ice hockey players, I focus on more than just developing skills. I work to build confidence, resilience, and a sense of belonging. Hockey is still a male dominated sport, and representation matters. For young athletes, especially girls, seeing someone who has faced similar challenges can shape how they view their own potential. I make it a priority to create an environment where every player feels seen, supported, and capable. Through these experiences, I have learned that leadership is not defined by titles or recognition. It is defined by action. It is about showing up, identifying where support is needed, and choosing to contribute. Whether I am organizing donations, volunteering at blood drives, or mentoring athletes, each effort is rooted in the same goal of helping others feel supported. Service based leadership creates a ripple effect. When people are supported, they are more likely to support others in return. It builds stronger communities and encourages connection. It also shows that leadership is not reserved for a select few. It belongs to anyone willing to step forward and make a difference. Leadership is not about being followed. It is about making sure no one feels left behind. Because the strongest leaders are not the ones who stand above others, but the ones who choose to stand with them.

Where Healing Is Not Divided I do not just want to build a physical therapy practice. I want to build a place where healing is not divided. Too often, recovery is treated as a purely physical process. A patient comes in with an injury, follows a set of exercises, and measures progress by strength or mobility. But through my experiences, I have learned that recovery is rarely that simple. Pain is not just physical. Frustration, fear, and loss of confidence often shape a patient’s ability to heal just as much as the injury itself. My goal is to build a physical therapy practice that integrates both physical rehabilitation and mental health support. In this space, patients would not only work toward regaining strength, but also be supported in rebuilding confidence, motivation, and resilience. Licensed therapists and mental health professionals would work together, creating a model of care that treats the whole person rather than just the condition. This vision grew out of moments that showed me how deeply physical and mental health are connected. Watching my late grandmother navigate both lupus and bipolar disorder showed me how challenging it can be to manage physical illness alongside mental health struggles. Her care was strongest when both were addressed, yet those systems were often separated. That disconnect stayed with me and shaped how I view care today. As a student-athlete, I have also experienced this gap. Injuries are not just physical setbacks. They affect confidence, identity, and mindset. The difference between returning stronger or struggling to recover often comes down to mental resilience, yet mental support is rarely built into the recovery process. By building a practice that integrates both, I hope to change that. The impact of this approach extends beyond individual patients. It creates a ripple effect within the community. When people are supported fully, they recover more effectively, return to their daily lives with greater confidence, and are better equipped to handle future challenges. It also helps normalize conversations around mental health, reducing stigma and making care more accessible. This is not just about building a business. It is about building a new standard of care. A space where patients feel seen, supported, and understood in every aspect of their recovery. Education is what will allow me to bring this vision to life. Through my studies in Health Science and my pursuit of a Doctor of Physical Therapy degree, I am gaining the knowledge and experience necessary to create something meaningful and sustainable. This scholarship would not only support my education, but also help me move closer to building something that can have a lasting impact. Too many people are told they are healed when their body is ready, even when their mind is not. I want to build more than a practice. I want to build a place where people do not have to choose between healing their body and healing their mind.

I am drawn to the nonprofit sector because it represents something deeper than a career. It represents purpose. At its core, nonprofit work is about people, about meeting needs that are often overlooked and creating access where barriers exist. My own life experiences have shown me how critical that kind of work is and have shaped my desire to be part of something that directly improves the well-being of others. My commitment to serving others began through volunteering at blood drives and donating whenever I can. This is deeply personal to me. My late grandmother battled Lupus and relied on lifesaving blood transfusions. Seeing how something as simple as a donation could sustain a life changed my perspective. It taught me that impact does not always come from large gestures, but from consistent acts of care. That understanding is what draws me to the nonprofit sector, where those acts are organized into meaningful systems that support entire communities. Another major influence has been my role as a coach and mentor to young ice hockey players. Working with younger athletes, especially girls, has shown me how important access and representation are. Ice hockey is often seen as a male-dominated sport, and many girls hesitate to participate because they do not see themselves reflected in it. By mentoring them, I aim to create a space where they feel confident, capable, and supported. This experience has reinforced my belief that nonprofit work is not just about providing services, but about building confidence and opportunity. My desire to pursue this path has also been shaped by more difficult experiences. One night, my best friend experienced a severe mental health crisis, and I made the decision to call 911. That moment forced me to confront the importance of accessible mental health support. It also led me to reflect on my own mental health and seek help. I realized how many individuals do not have access to the resources they need due to cost, stigma, or lack of awareness. This realization strengthened my commitment to being part of systems that prioritize care and accessibility. As I pursue a degree in Health Science with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy, I see my future intersecting with the nonprofit sector in meaningful ways. Physical therapy is not only about recovery, but about restoring independence and quality of life. I want to work in environments where care is not limited by financial barriers and where individuals from underserved communities can receive the support they need. I am especially interested in recognizing the connection between physical and mental health and ensuring both are addressed in treatment. My goal is to contribute to initiatives that focus on accessible healthcare and community outreach. I want to help create programs that reach individuals who might otherwise go without care, whether through clinics, partnerships, or education on injury prevention and mental well-being. The nonprofit sector allows compassion to become action. I do not just want a career where I succeed personally. I want a career where success is measured by the lives I help improve and the communities I help strengthen.

Adversity does not always arrive with warning. Sometimes, it appears in a single moment that changes everything. For me, that moment came one night when my best friend experienced a severe mental health crisis. I was with him when it became clear that the situation was beyond what I could handle alone. In that moment, I had to make a decision that felt overwhelming. I called 911. At the time, I did not see myself as strong. I felt scared, uncertain, and completely unprepared. I questioned whether I was doing the right thing, even though deep down I knew I was. That night forced me to step into a role I had never imagined, one where I had to prioritize someone else’s safety over my fear of making the wrong choice. It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, but it was also one of the most important. In the immediate aftermath, I viewed the experience as something heavy and difficult to process. I felt emotionally drained and struggled to make sense of everything that had happened. What stayed with me most was not just the fear of that night, but the realization that I had been carrying my own mental health struggles for years without addressing them. I had always focused on being there for others, but I had neglected myself in the process. My plan of action did not come all at once. It began with a simple but significant step. I decided to seek help. I started seeing a therapist, something I had avoided for a long time. At first, it felt uncomfortable to open up about my own experiences, but over time, I began to understand the importance of acknowledging what I was feeling instead of pushing it aside. I also worked on building small, consistent habits that helped me regain a sense of control in my daily life. These steps were not dramatic, but they were meaningful. They allowed me to begin moving forward instead of staying stuck in that moment. As I reflected on the experience, my perception of adversity began to change. I no longer saw it as something purely negative or something to avoid at all costs. Instead, I began to understand it as an opportunity for growth, even when it did not feel like one at the time. That night taught me that strength is not about having all the answers or remaining unaffected by difficult situations. It is about taking action when it matters, even when you are afraid. I became more aware of the importance of mental health and the impact it has on every aspect of a person’s life. It reinforced the value of being present for others, but it also taught me that caring for myself is just as important. I now realize that asking for help is a step toward healing and growth. Ultimately, that night changed the direction of my life. It influenced my decision to pursue a career in healthcare, where I hope to support others in both physical and mental recovery. More importantly, it changed how I approach challenges. I now face adversity with a greater sense of awareness, resilience, and willingness to act. Adversity will always be a part of life, but it does not have to define us in a negative way. It can shape us, strengthen us, and guide us toward becoming more empathetic and capable individuals. That night, I faced one of the most difficult moments of my life. Looking back, it is also the moment that taught me what it truly means to be strong.

Growing up, I watched my parents take very different paths when it came to education. My father, despite working tirelessly for over thirty years in highway construction, never had the opportunity to attend college. My mother, on the other hand, was the first in her family to earn a bachelor’s degree, starting as a temporary employee and eventually rising to a senior leadership position over sixteen years. Their stories have shaped my understanding of the power of education and the opportunities it can provide. Seeing my mother’s perseverance and growth inspired me to aim high and pursue my own academic and professional goals. I am currently a dual NCAA athlete at UMass Boston, balancing rigorous academic coursework with the demands of competitive athletics. Being a student-athlete has taught me time management, discipline, and resilience, but it also limits the time I can spend working outside of school. Because of this, I rely heavily on scholarships to support my education, which allows me to focus on both my studies and athletic commitments without compromising either. Academically, I am pursuing a degree in Health Science with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. My ambition stems from personal experience. I have relied on physical therapy for my athletic injuries and have seen firsthand how proper care can restore mobility, confidence, and overall well-being. Beyond my own experiences, I have been inspired by my late grandmother, who battled Lupus, requiring extensive medical care and support. These experiences have motivated me to dedicate my career to helping others recover, prevent injury, and achieve their physical and mental potential. Alongside my academic and professional goals, I am committed to giving back to my community. I mentor and coach young ice hockey players, particularly girls. Representation matters in a male-dominated sport, and I hope to inspire confidence, skill development, and perseverance in these young athletes. I also use my experience as a collegiate athlete to teach teamwork, accountability, and resilience, qualities that transfer to life outside of sports. Professionally, I aim to open a physical therapy practice that emphasizes the mind-body connection and integrates mental health awareness into rehabilitation and care. I want to create a space where patients feel supported both physically and emotionally. My goal is to help individuals regain strength, confidence, and independence, especially those who may not have consistent access to quality healthcare. By combining my education, personal experience, and passion for mentorship, I hope to make a meaningful impact in both healthcare and my community. In many ways, my journey reflects the values my parents instilled in me: perseverance, dedication, and a commitment to growth. My father’s hard work and my mother’s achievements have shown me the importance of striving for opportunities, even when obstacles exist. Scholarships provide the support I need to continue on this path, allowing me to focus on my studies, athletics, and community involvement. With this support, I am confident I will be able to achieve my goals, mentor the next generation of athletes, and give back to my community through both healthcare and education.

Challenges have a way of shaping who we are and clarifying the paths we want to take. For me, one of the most defining challenges came unexpectedly one night when my best friend experienced a severe mental health crisis. I was with him when it was apparent he needed help, and I made the decision to call 911. I stayed with him until help arrived, watching over him through a situation that was frightening and emotionally exhausting. That night forced me to confront the fragility of life, the urgency of mental health support, and the limits of my own preparedness. While traumatic, the experience made me realize that I had been neglecting my own mental health for years. Following that night, I sought long-needed help for my own anxiety and depression. I learned that mental health is deeply connected to physical health, and that healing requires addressing both. This personal experience gave me a new perspective on healthcare. I understood that effective treatment must consider the whole person, the mind as well as the body. It was this realization, combined with years of relying on physical therapy for athletic injuries as a dual NCAA athlete, that shaped my aspiration to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy. My late grandmother’s battle with Lupus also influenced my commitment to healthcare and public service. I watched her endure chronic pain and frequent hospital visits, and I saw how much of a difference compassionate, knowledgeable care made in her quality of life. These experiences taught me that access to skilled healthcare is not always equal, and that underserved communities often face the greatest barriers to treatment. They showed me that healthcare is not just a career but a responsibility—to use knowledge and skills to improve the lives of others. Overcoming personal challenges and witnessing the struggles of those I care about have instilled in me a strong sense of purpose. I want to give back to communities that are underserved, where access to physical and mental healthcare is limited. My goal is to open a physical therapy practice that prioritizes the mind-body connection, integrating mental health support into rehabilitation and wellness programs. I want patients to feel supported, understood, and empowered to achieve both physical recovery and mental resilience. These experiences have taught me that public service is about more than volunteering; it is about dedicating oneself to the well-being of others and creating meaningful, lasting impact. Whether it is responding to a friend in crisis, supporting athletes through injuries, or helping patients recover from chronic illness, my goal is to serve with compassion, integrity, and commitment. By combining my personal experiences with professional training in physical therapy, I aim to make healthcare more accessible, holistic, and impactful. The challenges I have faced have strengthened my determination and clarified my goals. They have taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of taking action in moments of need. I pursue healthcare and public service not because it is easy, but because I have seen the difference thoughtful, compassionate care can make in people’s lives. By becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy, I hope to create a practice that heals bodies, supports minds, and gives back to the communities that need it most.

I have always been drawn to healthcare because of the ways it has touched my life personally, and because I have seen its power to help people reclaim their strength, independence, and confidence. As a dual NCAA athlete, I have spent countless hours relying on physical therapy to recover from injuries, improve performance, and push my body to its limits safely. That constant need for therapy has given me firsthand insight into the dedication, knowledge, and empathy that healthcare professionals bring to their work. Through these experiences, I realized that healthcare is not just about treating the body, it is about understanding the whole person and supporting both their physical and mental well-being. My interest in health science also comes from personal family experiences. My late grandmother battled Lupus for many years, a disease that took an immense toll on her body and required frequent medical care. Watching her navigate pain, treatment, and the uncertainty of a chronic illness showed me the importance of compassionate, skilled care. I witnessed the difference it made when healthcare providers approached her treatment with empathy, patience, and encouragement. Her experience inspired me to pursue a career that combines scientific knowledge with human connection, a career where I can make a meaningful difference in the lives of others. Another pivotal moment that shaped my choice was a night when my best friend experienced a severe mental health crisis. I had to call 911 and stay with him until help arrived. That night reminded me of the fragility of mental health and how crucial it is to recognize and respond to it with urgency and care. In the days that followed, I realized that I had been neglecting my own mental health as well. I sought professional help and began to understand the profound connection between the mind and the body. Physical well-being cannot be fully achieved without considering emotional and psychological health, and vice versa. This understanding is central to why I want to specialize in mental health advocacy within physical therapy. I aim to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy who approaches care holistically. My goal is to help patients recover from injuries, manage chronic conditions, and improve their quality of life, while also supporting mental wellness. I want to create a space where patients feel safe to discuss the emotional challenges that accompany physical struggles and where treatment addresses both the physical and mental aspects of healing. By integrating mental health awareness into physical therapy, I hope to help patients regain confidence, resilience, and motivation in all areas of their lives. Ultimately, I want to make a difference by combining my passion for healthcare with my personal experiences and empathy. I have seen the value of skilled, compassionate care through my own therapy, my grandmother’s health journey, and my best friend’s crisis. These experiences have shown me that true healing extends beyond the body. By pursuing health science and specializing in physical therapy, I hope to empower patients to achieve both physical strength and mental wellness, making a meaningful impact in their lives and in my community.

Sports have shaped who I am, not only as a dual NCAA athlete, but as a leader, mentor, and future healthcare professional. Every practice, every game, and every challenge has taught me discipline, resilience, and the value of teamwork. What inspires me most about pursuing a career in sports is not just the competition, but the opportunity to impact others through the lessons, guidance, and support that sports provide. As an ice hockey player, I have experienced both the physical and mental demands of athletics. I know what it feels like to push through injuries, rely on teammates, and work toward goals bigger than myself. These experiences fueled my passion for helping others navigate their athletic journeys. That passion is why I coach and mentor young hockey players. Working with younger athletes has shown me the importance of guidance, encouragement, and confidence building. In particular, mentoring young girls in ice hockey is incredibly meaningful. Representation matters in a male-dominated sport, and I strive to show them that they belong on the ice and that their goals are achievable. Beyond coaching, I also want to actively increase awareness and participation in girls’ hockey programs. By supporting signups, running clinics, and creating inclusive environments, I hope to grow the sport while providing opportunities that were not as widely available when I was younger. Being a role model and advocate for girls in hockey allows me to combine my love for the sport with my commitment to fostering leadership, teamwork, and confidence. My aspiration to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy, specializing in exercise and sports science, is a natural extension of my athletic experience. I want to work with athletes not only to recover from injuries, but also to prevent them and to improve both their physical and mental performance. I have seen how injuries can affect more than just the body—they can affect confidence, identity, and motivation. As a future physical therapist, I aim to approach care holistically, supporting athletes as complete individuals, not just focusing on the injury itself. Through my career, I hope to make a difference by bridging the gap between performance and recovery. I want athletes to return to their sports stronger, more confident, and better prepared for the demands ahead. Whether in a clinic, on the sidelines, or on the ice, my goal is to create a positive and lasting impact. Coaching and mentoring will remain a key part of my journey, allowing me to directly influence young athletes and inspire the next generation. Sports have given me so much. They have taught me perseverance, leadership, and the value of hard work. They have also shown me the importance of community, mentorship, and representation. This scholarship would support my journey as I work to combine my passion for athletics with my commitment to helping others succeed. By fostering participation in girls’ hockey, providing mentorship, and pursuing a career in sports-focused physical therapy, I hope to make a meaningful difference in the lives of athletes and the future of the sport I love.

My decision to pursue healthcare is rooted in moments that challenged me, shaped me, and ultimately gave me a sense of purpose. As a dual NCAA athlete, I have spent years pushing my body to its limits, relying on physical therapy to recover, rebuild, and return stronger. Through those experiences, I saw firsthand how healthcare professionals can restore not only physical strength but also confidence and hope. However, it was experiences off the field that truly solidified my path. One night, I found myself calling 911 for my best friend during a mental health crisis. Sitting with him until help arrived was one of the most difficult and eye-opening moments of my life. In the days that followed, I realized I had been neglecting my own mental health. That experience pushed me to finally seek help for myself, something I had put off for far too long. Through that process, I began to understand the deep connection between physical and mental well-being. Healing is not just about the body, but about the mind as well. This realization is what drives my goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy who incorporates mental health into treatment. I want to make a difference by approaching healthcare in a more holistic way. Too often, physical injuries are treated in isolation, without addressing the emotional and mental challenges that come with them. As an athlete, I know that injuries can be just as mentally exhausting as they are physically limiting. Fear, frustration, and loss of identity can all play a role in recovery. I want to create an environment where patients feel fully supported, where their mental health is valued just as much as their physical progress. By doing so, I believe I can help individuals heal more completely and return to their lives with greater confidence. As a woman in healthcare, I also recognize the importance of representation and leadership. In many areas of sports and rehabilitation, women are still underrepresented, especially in leadership roles. I have experienced this firsthand through ice hockey, a male dominated sport where representation matters. As a coach and mentor to young female players, I strive to show them that they belong, that their goals are valid, and that they can pursue any path they choose. I plan to carry this same mindset into my healthcare career, creating spaces where women feel empowered, heard, and supported. In addition to my professional goals, giving back to my community has always been important to me. I regularly volunteer at blood drives and donate whenever I can, in honor of my late grandmother who relied on lifesaving blood donations throughout her life. Witnessing the impact of those donations showed me how powerful healthcare can be at its core. It is about people helping people in moments that truly matter. That same belief is what motivates me to pursue a career dedicated to service. Ultimately, I have chosen healthcare because it allows me to combine my passion for helping others with my personal experiences and values. I want to be more than just a provider. I want to be someone who listens, understands, and makes a meaningful difference in people’s lives. As a woman in this field, I hope to challenge traditional approaches, advocate for more comprehensive care, and inspire others to do the same. My goal is not only to heal injuries, but to empower individuals to move forward stronger, both physically and mentally.

Although I never had the chance to meet my great grandfather, Alzheimer’s disease has still had a lasting impact on my life through the stories my family has shared. My understanding of him comes largely from my mother, who lost her grandfather to Alzheimer’s when she was just seventeen years old. Through her memories, I have come to know not only the effects of the disease, but also the remarkable man he was before it took hold. My great grandfather lived in Corning, New York, where he owned a butcher shop in a small, close-knit community. His work was more than a job. It was his passion. My mother described him as someone who truly loved what he did, but even more than that, he loved the people he served. He greeted everyone by name and often spent extra time talking with customers, asking about their families and their lives. He made people feel seen and valued in a way that left a lasting impression. Physically, he had a strong presence. He was very tall, and my mother always mentions his unforgettable smile, one where you could see nearly every tooth. It was warm, genuine, and welcoming, and it reflected the kind of person he was. As Alzheimer’s began to take hold, my family watched a gradual and painful change. The disease slowly affected his memory and ability to connect in the ways he once had. For my mother, losing him at such a young age was incredibly difficult, especially as she witnessed pieces of his personality begin to fade. However, she also remembers moments where his true self would still shine through. There were brief flashes of recognition and warmth that reminded everyone that the disease had not completely taken away who he was. Those moments became incredibly meaningful to my family. Even though I never met him, his story has had a powerful impact on me. It has shaped how I think about memory, identity, and what it means to truly know a person. I have learned that a person is not defined solely by what they can remember, but by the way they treat others and the impact they leave behind. My great grandfather’s legacy lives on through the stories my mother tells and through my grandfather, who shares many of his traits, including his height and his signature smile. In a way, I feel like I can still see him through the people he influenced. This experience has also taught me the importance of appreciating time with loved ones. Alzheimer’s is a reminder that moments are not guaranteed, and that relationships should never be taken for granted. It has encouraged me to be more present, to listen more closely, and to value even the smallest interactions with the people I care about. The impact of Alzheimer’s on my family is not just one of loss, but also one of resilience and remembrance. While the disease took away parts of my great grandfather, it could not erase the kindness, warmth, and connection that defined his life. Through his story, I have learned that the way we treat others is what truly lasts, and that even in the face of a devastating illness, a person’s legacy can continue to shape future generations.

Service has never been a requirement in my life. It has been a responsibility I choose, one that feels woven into who I am. I grew up watching how small acts of care can change a person’s day, a family’s direction, or even a community’s outlook. Because of that, giving back is not something I do occasionally. It is something I practice consistently in many areas of my life. One of the most meaningful ways I serve is through coaching and mentoring younger hockey players, especially girls. I grew up playing on boys’ teams because there were no girls’ programs available, and I remember wishing I had someone who looked like me to look up to. Now I get to fill that gap for others. I help run practices, teach skills, encourage girls to take up space on the ice, and show them that confidence in a male-dominated sport is possible. Watching them grow, succeed, and discover their own strength has been one of my most rewarding forms of service. I also volunteer regularly in my local school district. Whether I am assisting at elementary school activity nights, organizing stations at open houses, running hydration tables at community races, or helping prepare graduation materials, I enjoy pitching in wherever hands are needed. These experiences taught me that community service is not always glamorous. Sometimes it is stacking chairs, wiping down tables, calming overwhelmed children, or staying late to clean up. Yet these small efforts add up to a school environment where families feel supported and connected. Another service closest to my heart is my involvement with the American Red Cross. I donate blood and volunteer at blood drives in honor of my late grandmother, who needed lifesaving blood transfusions multiple times during her battle with lupus. Each time I donate or help check in other donors, I feel connected to her legacy. Blood donation is one of the purest forms of giving because it directly saves lives. Being part of that mission has shaped my understanding of compassion and the power of community-driven care. Looking ahead, I plan to continue expanding the ways I serve others by becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. My goal is to help patients regain mobility, independence, and confidence after injury, illness, or chronic conditions. I want to treat the whole person, not just the physical symptoms. My own experiences supporting loved ones through mental and physical hardship have shown me that recovery is never only about the body. It is emotional, psychological, and deeply personal. I hope to work in underserved communities where access to quality rehabilitation is limited. I want to advocate for patients who feel unheard, create treatment spaces that are welcoming and inclusive, and mentor the next generation of young athletes and patients navigating both physical and mental challenges. Service has shaped my past, guides my present, and inspires my future. I plan to spend my career helping people rebuild their strength and their belief in what they can overcome, one patient and one moment at a time.

Dr. Steve Aldana’s dedication to wellness has left a lasting impact on communities, workplaces, and individuals across the country. His approach emphasized that meaningful health improvements do not require drastic measures, but rather small, consistent habits that, over time, transform lives. His work inspires me to pursue a path in health science with a focus on physical therapy and holistic wellness. I want to continue his mission by helping individuals create sustainable changes that improve both their physical and mental health. My passion for wellness stems from personal experiences and community involvement. Growing up, I witnessed my late grandmother manage the challenges of Lupus, relying on proper care, nutrition, and physical activity to maintain her quality of life. Her resilience motivated me to explore healthcare and wellness, and ultimately inspired my goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. I aim to help patients recover strength, regain mobility, and adopt healthy routines that enhance their independence. Small changes in daily exercise, posture, and movement can dramatically improve outcomes, echoing Dr. Aldana’s philosophy that consistent effort leads to long-term success. Beyond my family, I have dedicated time to promoting health and wellness in my community. Volunteering with the American Red Cross at blood drives taught me the importance of proactive care and giving back. I also mentor young hockey players, emphasizing teamwork, resilience, and the importance of physical activity. These experiences have shown me that wellness extends beyond individual health; it is also about inspiring and empowering others to make better choices and build stronger habits. As I continue my education in health science and pursue my career in physical therapy, I plan to integrate Dr. Aldana’s principles into my professional practice. I hope to develop programs that focus on achievable, incremental improvements in patients’ daily routines, emphasizing both physical recovery and mental wellbeing. I also want to bring creativity and energy to community initiatives, encouraging participation in outdoor activities, group fitness, and accessible health education programs. Dr. Aldana believed that integrity, empathy, and education are essential to lasting impact. I strive to embody these values in every interaction, whether with patients, colleagues, or community members. By fostering understanding, motivation, and consistent effort, I hope to help individuals take small steps that lead to big improvements in their health. Through my education and passion for wellness, I am committed to continuing his mission of creating meaningful, sustainable changes that enhance the lives of those around me.

From a young age, I have been drawn to healthcare because of the profound impact compassionate care can have on both the body and the spirit. Watching my late grandmother live with Lupus, a chronic and unpredictable illness, opened my eyes to the daily challenges faced by individuals with rare or complex conditions. Her resilience, coupled with the critical support she received from healthcare providers, inspired me to pursue a career where I could make a similar difference in others’ lives. I plan to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy, a field that allows me to work closely with patients to restore strength, mobility, and confidence. For individuals with lung disease or rare medical conditions, physical therapy can be a vital component of care, improving quality of life and independence. By tailoring rehabilitation plans to each patient’s specific needs, I hope to empower them to manage symptoms, enhance daily functioning, and participate in activities they enjoy. My goal is to combine evidence-based techniques with compassion and individualized attention, ensuring that patients feel heard, supported, and motivated throughout their recovery. My dedication to helping others is also shaped by experiences beyond my family. I have volunteered extensively with the American Red Cross, particularly at blood drives, inspired by my grandmother’s need for lifesaving transfusions. These opportunities allowed me to witness firsthand how accessible, thoughtful care can sustain life and build hope. Additionally, I have supported friends during mental health crises, learning the importance of empathy, active listening, and swift action in times of need. These experiences have taught me that healthcare is not only about treating symptoms but about addressing the whole person—physically, mentally, and emotionally. For patients with lung disease or rare conditions, the challenges are often compounded by limited resources, complex treatment plans, and the emotional toll of long-term illness. I aim to be a healthcare provider who offers both expert guidance and human connection. I envision developing programs that integrate physical rehabilitation, respiratory support, and mental health resources, ensuring that patients receive comprehensive, coordinated care. By collaborating with interdisciplinary teams, advocating for patient-centered policies, and educating patients and families about disease management, I hope to reduce barriers to care and improve outcomes. Ultimately, my mission is to honor the legacy of those who inspired me by dedicating my education and career to serving others with rare and complex medical needs. I hope to be a source of comfort, guidance, and empowerment for patients navigating the challenges of lung disease or uncommon conditions, helping them reclaim control over their lives and achieve their fullest potential.

Adversity has been a constant, though often unspoken, companion throughout my life. From a young age, I faced an unexplained illness that caused daily body pain and fatigue. Specialists after specialists were unable to diagnose the issue, yet I refused to let it define my potential. Balancing academics, athletics, and community involvement while managing this ongoing challenge required discipline, determination, and creativity. Long commutes to ice hockey practices and games, often two and a half hours from home, meant completing homework in the car and learning how to prioritize every minute of my day. I developed resilience and an unwavering work ethic that continue to shape my approach to both my education and my career aspirations. My experiences extended beyond personal health challenges. Watching my late grandmother live with Lupus inspired a deep respect for medical professionals and the role they play in restoring hope and strength. Her reliance on therapy and supportive care showed me how impactful compassionate, patient-centered medicine can be. It motivated me to pursue a career as a Doctor of Physical Therapy, where I can combine rehabilitation with holistic support to improve both physical and mental well-being. Another defining moment came when my best friend experienced a mental health crisis. I was the first person they turned to, and I had to act quickly to ensure their safety, calling emergency services while providing support and reassurance. This experience reinforced the importance of empathy, effective communication, and mental health awareness. It also strengthened my commitment to advocating for the whole person, not just their physical needs. To overcome these challenges and continue pursuing my goals, I have relied on structure, perseverance, and the support of my community. I have maintained academic excellence, earning a 3.75 GPA and Platinum Honor Roll recognition, while also competing at the highest levels in ice hockey and lacrosse. These experiences have taught me time management, leadership, and the ability to stay focused under pressure. Volunteering with the American Red Cross, particularly at blood drives in honor of my grandmother, has reinforced my desire to give back and support others facing their own challenges. Ultimately, confronting adversity has not only strengthened my character but clarified my purpose. I approach obstacles as opportunities to grow, adapt, and refine my skills. Each challenge I have faced has reinforced my commitment to pursuing a career in healthcare and has prepared me to provide empathetic, effective care to those who need it most. I hope to use my experiences to inspire and support others while building a career that positively impacts the lives of my patients and my community.

Life has a way of shaping us through experiences that test our resilience, empathy, and determination. For me, those experiences began with personal health challenges and deepened through the lives of those closest to me. From a young age, I faced an unexplained illness that caused daily body pain and fatigue. Specialists after specialists were unable to diagnose the source, yet I continued to push myself academically and athletically. Managing long commutes to high-level ice hockey practices and games, often two and a half hours from home, I learned discipline, perseverance, and how to advocate for myself in the face of uncertainty. Watching my late grandmother live with Lupus further reinforced my understanding of the importance of compassionate healthcare. She required ongoing therapy and medical support, and observing the dedication of her care team inspired me to pursue a career where I could provide that same level of care and encouragement. My grandmother’s resilience taught me empathy and patience, qualities that are as critical as technical knowledge in medicine. Another pivotal moment that shaped my path occurred when my best friend faced a mental health crisis. I was the first person they turned to, and I had to remain calm while calling for emergency help. This experience underscored the importance of effective communication, mental health awareness, and immediate intervention. It also solidified my commitment to holistic care, where mental and physical well-being are treated as equally important. These personal challenges have influenced my decision to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy. I aim to combine hands-on rehabilitation with a focus on mental health support, ensuring that patients feel empowered, understood, and cared for throughout their recovery. My experiences have given me resilience, empathy, and the ability to connect with people on a personal level, qualities that will allow me to make a positive impact in healthcare. Beyond patient care, I am committed to giving back to my community through volunteering and mentorship. My work with the American Red Cross, particularly organizing and donating at blood drives in honor of my grandmother, has shown me the power of community involvement in promoting health and wellness. By integrating my education, personal experience, and dedication to service, I hope to improve patient outcomes, advocate for comprehensive care, and inspire others to approach healthcare with empathy and compassion. Through my journey, I have learned that challenges do not define limitations, they shape perspective, cultivate resilience, and motivate meaningful action. My personal experiences have not only prepared me for the rigors of a medical career but also instilled in me a commitment to create a positive, lasting impact on the lives of others.

I am Cadence Kelly, a high school senior with a passion for health sciences, athletics, and community service. Growing up in a close-knit family (oldest of three), I learned early the importance of hard work, dedication, and compassion. My family has always been supportive of my pursuits, from long hours of commuting to travel ice hockey and lacrosse practices to volunteering in our local community. My late grandmother, who lived with Lupus, inspired much of my dedication to healthcare. Seeing her rely on therapy and medical care to regain strength and independence planted the seeds of my interest in becoming a healthcare professional. Her perseverance taught me resilience, empathy, and the value of helping others during their most challenging moments. School has always been a central part of my life, and I have strived to maintain academic excellence while managing a rigorous athletic schedule. Balancing travel sports with my studies often meant long hours in the car, completing homework between practices and games, and learning to manage time efficiently. Despite these challenges, I have maintained a 3.75 GPA, earned National Honor Society recognition, and made the Platinum Honor Roll all four years of high school. These achievements reflect my commitment to discipline, perseverance, and the importance of education in achieving long-term goals. Athletics have shaped not only my work ethic but also my leadership skills. As a student-athlete competing at the highest level in both ice hockey and lacrosse, I have traveled hours from home for practices and competitions. Initially, joining a new team away from familiar faces was intimidating, but over time I gained confidence and was honored to be named captain. Leading a team taught me the importance of communication, motivation, and supporting others both on and off the field. These experiences have strengthened my ability to lead with empathy and resilience, qualities that I plan to carry into my future career. Looking forward, I plan to pursue a degree in health sciences with the goal of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. I am passionate about helping people regain their strength, mobility, and confidence after injury or illness, and I hope to integrate mental health support into my practice to ensure holistic care. My experiences volunteering at blood drives through the American Red Cross, mentoring younger athletes, and participating in community service events have reinforced my commitment to giving back. I aim to use my education not only to provide exceptional patient care but also to improve access to health resources in my community and inspire others to prioritize wellness. Ultimately, I hope to combine my passion for healthcare, leadership skills, and community engagement to make a meaningful impact. I am motivated by the idea that dedication, empathy, and hard work can transform both individual lives and communities, and I am excited to continue building a future where I can contribute to health, healing, and positive change.

My inspiration to pursue a career in the medical field began with watching my grandmother battle Lupus. She was one of the strongest people I knew, yet I saw how her illness slowly took away the things she loved most: her independence, her mobility, and eventually, her life. What stayed with me most was how much therapy helped her regain a sense of hope, even in the hardest moments. Physical therapists became her lifeline, helping her rebuild strength and dignity when her body felt like it was failing her. Seeing that kind of impact firsthand made me realize I wanted to spend my life helping others in the same way. That experience planted the seed, but my passion for health and healing has only grown through my own experiences as an athlete. Competing in ice hockey and lacrosse has taught me how the human body works, how it can be pushed to its limits, and how important recovery and resilience are. I have also faced my share of unexplained health challenges, which has given me empathy for those who struggle to feel like themselves again. These experiences showed me that medicine is not only about treating injuries or illnesses; it is about restoring confidence, purpose, and quality of life. I began shadowing physical therapists to learn more about the profession. Watching patients walk again after surgery, regain mobility after an accident, or simply smile after completing a difficult session made me realize the power of this work. I want to be part of that process and help people heal not just physically but emotionally as well. Physical therapy allows me to combine my love for science, fitness, and human connection in a way that directly improves lives. Beyond one-on-one care, I want to make a broader difference in the medical field by improving access to rehabilitation services. Many people, especially in rural or underserved communities, do not have easy access to physical therapy or preventative care. I hope to change that by advocating for more community-based therapy programs and educational outreach that promote injury prevention and overall wellness. I believe everyone deserves access to care that helps them live fully and independently. My long-term goal is to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy and open a practice that focuses on both physical and mental wellness. I want to create an environment where patients feel seen, supported, and motivated, a place where healing feels personal. I plan to specialize in sports and rehabilitation therapy so I can work with both injured athletes and those recovering from chronic illnesses. What inspires me most about a career in the medical field is the ability to give people hope when they feel like giving up. Whether I am helping a child regain strength after an injury or encouraging an elderly patient to keep pushing through therapy, I want to be a source of strength and positivity in their journey. My grandmother’s experience taught me that healing is about more than medicine; it is about compassion, understanding, and belief in a person’s ability to overcome. That is the kind of difference I hope to make every day in my career.

When I first started playing hockey, I was one of the only girls on a boys’ team. I learned quickly that earning respect would take hard work, determination, and resilience. I did not have older girls to look up to, so I had to become the player and leader I wished I had beside me. That experience taught me more than just how to skate faster or shoot harder. It showed me the value of confidence, perseverance, and standing strong in the face of doubt. Those lessons now drive me to make a difference in my community through youth sports. Being a female athlete in a male-dominated sport was not always easy. There were moments of isolation and times I felt underestimated. But those challenges fueled my motivation to break barriers, not only for myself but for the girls coming after me. I learned that part of leadership is showing others that they belong, that they are capable, and that they can compete with anyone when they believe in themselves. Now, as I prepare to play NCAA women’s hockey and lacrosse, I see how my journey has positioned me to be a mentor and advocate for younger athletes. I volunteer at youth girls' hockey clinics and community events where I get to help kids find joy in the game, regardless of their background or skill level. Teaching them to push through challenges and to support their teammates reminds me of how far I have come, and how powerful encouragement can be. Community involvement has always been an important part of who I am. Whether helping run local sports events, setting up hydration stations for charity races, or volunteering through school, I have seen how teamwork extends beyond the rink or field. It is about showing up for others, lending your energy to something meaningful, and understanding that one small act can have a lasting impact. My education in Health Science will allow me to deepen that impact. As a future physical therapist, I hope to help athletes of all ages recover from injuries and regain the confidence to return to the sports they love. I understand how deeply connected physical and mental health are, especially for athletes facing setbacks. My goal is to support their recovery not just physically, but emotionally, by reminding them that resilience is built through every challenge. In the future, I hope to organize community sports programs and mentorship opportunities for young female athletes. I want to create the role models I never had—leaders who show that girls belong in every arena and can achieve anything with passion and persistence. Sports have shaped my character, strengthened my work ethic, and taught me the importance of giving back. I plan to continue that legacy by inspiring others through youth athletics, just as the game has inspired me. That is how I hope to honor Jimmie “DC” Sullivan’s legacy - by using my love for sports to strengthen my community and empower the next generation.

Despite living in an era of unprecedented opportunity, mental health challenges continue to affect millions of people, often silently. For me, this reality became personal nearly fifty years ago when my mother, Ethel Hayes, took her own life. She was a kind and courageous woman, yet she struggled to cope with the difficult realities of her inner and outer world. Losing her left a profound impact on my life, shaping the way I view human resilience, empathy, and the importance of mental health awareness. In the years following her passing, I faced my own mental health challenges. Growing up, I noticed that mental health was rarely discussed openly, especially in my community, and I internalized my grief and anxiety. I suppressed my feelings, believing that strength meant carrying pain alone. This approach created difficulties in my personal life, affecting my relationships and my ability to cope with stress. Over time, however, I began to recognize that acknowledging my emotions and seeking support were not signs of weakness but steps toward healing. A pivotal moment in my understanding of mental health occurred when a close friend experienced a crisis. That night, I was with him as he struggled with thoughts of suicide. Listening to his pain firsthand, I felt the gravity of the situation and the urgency of providing support and calling 911 for help. I stayed with him, offering reassurance. Being physically present allowed me to ensure his immediate safety and show him that he was not alone. Supporting him through that night taught me the power of presence, empathy, and active advocacy in mental health. At the same time, it prompted me to reflect on my own mental health and recognize that I, too, needed to seek support. These experiences have profoundly shaped my worldview. I have learned that mental health is not a solitary journey but a communal responsibility. Supporting others while acknowledging my own needs has taught me that compassion, understanding, and open dialogue are essential for fostering resilience and connection. I am committed to promoting mental health awareness in my community, whether through peer support, mentorship, or encouraging open conversations about mental health struggles. My journey has also influenced my goals. I am pursuing a career in healthcare as a Doctor of Physical Therapy because I want to empower individuals to overcome challenges and reclaim their independence. I hope to integrate mental health awareness into my practice, recognizing that physical and emotional well-being are intertwined. By combining professional expertise with empathy and advocacy, I aim to create a supportive environment where patients feel seen, understood, and encouraged to seek help when needed. Ultimately, my experiences have taught me that darkness can be brought into the light through courage, compassion, and community. In honoring my mother’s legacy, I am committed to contributing to a culture where mental health is openly discussed, stigma is reduced, and individuals feel supported in their struggles. Through my work, relationships, and advocacy, I hope to make a meaningful impact on the lives of others and help create a world where mental health is valued, understood, and nurtured.

“911, what’s your emergency?” That phrase replayed in my mind as I held the phone, listening to my friend struggle to speak. He was in crisis, overwhelmed by emotions he could not manage alone. At that moment, I realized how fragile mental health can be and how important it is to have someone to turn to. Supporting him through that time opened my eyes not only to the importance of mental health awareness but also to the fact that I needed to seek help for myself. When my friend first reached out, I did not have all the answers. What I could do was listen, stay calm, and make sure he felt heard. I encouraged him to talk to a trusted adult and helped him connect with a counselor. Walking alongside him through that process was challenging, but it also showed me the power of empathy and the difference that support can make. Seeing him take steps to get help reminded me that asking for support is a sign of strength, not weakness. Helping my friend prompted me to reflect on my own mental health. Between balancing academics, athletics, and personal responsibilities, I often felt anxious and exhausted, but I pushed those feelings aside. Witnessing my friend reach out for help gave me the courage to do the same. I realized that true strength is not about enduring everything alone but about recognizing when you need support and taking action. That realization has been transformative in how I approach both school and life. Since then, advocating for mental health has become a priority for me. On my sports teams, I work to create an environment where teammates feel safe discussing more than just athletics. I check in with peers, especially when I notice signs of struggle, and I remind them that reaching out is a sign of courage. I have also participated in school wellness discussions and encouraged students to access available mental health resources. To me, mental health advocacy is not about grand gestures but about consistent, compassionate actions that normalize support and open dialogue. Even small conversations can make a lasting difference and remind someone they are not alone. I know firsthand how much it mattered when my friend opened up to me, and how much it mattered when I sought help for myself. As I continue my education, I aim to foster spaces where mental health is prioritized alongside academic and athletic achievement. I hope to use my experiences to encourage understanding, reduce stigma, and build a supportive community that empowers students to reach their potential. Mental health is a cornerstone of overall well-being, and by advocating for it, I strive to make a meaningful impact in the lives of others while continuing to grow and strengthen myself. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

My journey toward a career in healthcare has been shaped by both passion and challenge. For as long as I can remember, I have dreamed of pursuing a path where I could combine resilience, empathy, and service to others. Sports, academics, and volunteering have given me purpose, but it is the daily reality of living with a chronic medical condition that has inspired me to dedicate my future to helping others heal. Some days, simply showing up was an act of strength. There were practices where my body ached, exams where exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, and moments when I wondered if I could keep going. Yet I refused to let pain or uncertainty define me. Instead, I chose persistence. I continued to compete as a dual-sport athlete in ice hockey and lacrosse, excel in the classroom, and serve my community through volunteer work. These experiences built my resilience and taught me that true strength comes not from being unbreakable, but from refusing to give up when life tests you. The sacrifices required to pursue my goals were significant. For much of my athletic career, I traveled hours just to practice with my teams. Most recently, this meant driving two and a half hours several days a week. While many of my peers enjoyed free time after school, I was on the road chasing my dreams. Balancing this with academics and leadership roles was not easy, yet I maintained platinum honor roll all four years of high school, served as team captain, and earned the United States Marine Corps Distinguished Athlete Award. These milestones proved to me that determination can overcome difficulty. Through perseverance, I was recruited to play both NCAA women’s ice hockey and lacrosse at the University of Massachusetts Boston. Balancing two collegiate sports with a healthcare degree will not be easy, but it reflects my commitment to hard work and my refusal to let obstacles dictate my future. I know the path to becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy will be long and challenging, yet I am prepared to meet it with the same persistence that has guided me so far. My late grandmother, who battled illness with grace and strength, continues to inspire me. She taught me that while the body may struggle, the spirit can remain undefeated. Her example motivates me to face challenges with courage and to support others in doing the same. My own physical therapists also showed me the power of compassion in healthcare. They reminded me that progress is often measured in small steps, not giant leaps. Their encouragement is one of the reasons I want to become a physical therapist: to help others move forward when they feel limited by pain or hardship. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home I hope to use my career not only to restore mobility but also to restore hope. By dedicating myself to healthcare, I aim to empower others to see their challenges as sources of strength, just as mine have shaped me.

For as long as I can remember, I have dreamed big. I have poured my heart into sports, academics, and service. Yet behind those successes has been a challenge that shaped me in ways I never expected. Living with a chronic medical condition taught me that strength does not always come from lifting the heaviest weight or skating the fastest lap. Sometimes strength is simply showing up, even when it hurts, and refusing to let pain or uncertainty define who you are. This experience has changed how I view the world and my role within it. Some days were difficult, when I wondered why doing what I loved suddenly felt so hard. But I kept showing up to practices, excelling in school, and pushing myself in ways that built resilience and empathy. These lessons shaped me into a leader on my ice hockey and lacrosse teams, into a student who earned platinum honor roll despite long practices and late nights, and into a young woman proud to receive the United States Marine Corps Distinguished Athlete Award. Each milestone proved that my condition could influence my journey, but it would never control my destination. For much of my athletic career, I played on teams hours from home. Most recently, I traveled two and a half hours just to attend practice. It required sacrifice, time management, and grit. Yet I still maintained platinum honor roll, volunteered regularly, and led my teams as captain. It was not easy, but it showed me that when you truly want something, you can find a way. Through this perseverance, I have been recruited to play both NCAA women’s ice hockey and lacrosse at the University of Massachusetts Boston. Balancing two collegiate sports with academics is not something I take lightly. It reflects years of resilience and a refusal to let obstacles stop me from pursuing what I love. That opportunity represents not only dedication but also the power of perseverance in the face of difficulty. I am also inspired by my late grandmother, who battled illness but never lost her radiant smile. Watching her face adversity with grace taught me that even when the body struggles, the spirit can remain undefeated. I carry that lesson into every challenge, whether on the ice, in the classroom, or in my personal life. These experiences have shaped my vision for the future. I am pursuing a career in healthcare as a Doctor of Physical Therapy because I know how much it matters to have someone believe in you when you are fighting your hardest battles. My own physical therapists encouraged me when I felt like giving up, reminding me that progress is often measured in steady steps forward. I want to be that same source of strength for others. Beyond healthcare, I hope to empower young athletes who may feel invisible when facing health challenges. By coaching and mentoring girls in ice hockey, a sport often male dominated, I have already encouraged others to believe in themselves. My goal is to expand that work by combining my love for athletics with my career in healthcare, showing others that challenges can become sources of strength. The chronic condition I live with has taken much from me, but it has also given me perspective. It has taught me perseverance, empathy, and the power of hope. By supporting me, this scholarship will help me continue my education and allow me to dedicate my career to helping others rise above their challenges, just as my grandmother inspired me and my physical therapists supported me. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

1. Growing up, hockey and lacrosse were never just sports to me, they were classrooms for life. For half my athletic career, I played for out-of-town teams, most recently traveling two and a half hours each way to play for the Rochester Jr. Americans. That meant countless dinners eaten in the car and homework done under the dim glow of headlights. These sacrifices taught me grit, discipline, and time management, but more importantly, they showed me the power of community. Every practice, every game, I was surrounded by teammates who trusted each other and worked toward a common goal. At the same time, I faced my own health challenges with unexplained chronic pain. Specialist after specialist could not provide answers, but my physical therapist gave me hope. She listened, supported me, and helped me keep competing. Her empathy inspired me to pursue a career as a Doctor of Physical Therapy. I believe human health and wellness extend beyond physical strength. They require compassion, understanding, and the willingness to support people through difficult times. My values of perseverance, empathy, and service, which have been shaped by sports, volunteering, and personal challenges, drive my passion to help others reclaim their health and confidence. 2. To me, empathy means more than simply feeling sorry for someone. It means listening, understanding, and walking beside them in their struggle. Empathy is about seeing people as more than their pain, their diagnosis, or their limitations. It is about recognizing their humanity first and treating them with dignity and compassion. My personal health challenges have shown me the power of empathy firsthand. For years, I struggled with unexplained chronic pain that often left me sidelined in the sports I loved most: hockey and lacrosse. I visited specialist after specialist, only to leave with no answers. It was discouraging and isolating. Then I met my physical therapist. She did not dismiss my pain or treat me like just another case. She listened closely, celebrated even my smallest wins, and helped me find ways to keep moving forward. Her empathy gave me the hope and resilience I needed to continue chasing my dreams, even when the road was difficult. This experience is what inspired me to pursue a career as a Doctor of Physical Therapy. In this role, empathy is essential. Patients often come to physical therapy not only with physical injuries but with emotional weight such as fear, frustration, or the feeling that their body has betrayed them. As a future healthcare professional, I want to create a space where patients feel seen, heard, and supported, because true healing involves both body and mind. Practicing through a human-centered lens means prioritizing the individual above all else. It means recognizing that every patient has a unique story, background, and set of goals. Some may dream of returning to competitive sports, while others may simply want to walk without pain or play with their grandchildren. By listening to those personal goals, I can create treatment plans that reflect their lives, not just their symptoms. As an athlete, I have learned the importance of teamwork, perseverance, and encouragement. As a future physical therapist, I will carry those lessons into every interaction, ensuring my patients feel like they have a teammate in their corner. My approach will be rooted in empathy and guided by the belief that every person deserves the chance to reclaim their health, their independence, and their confidence. Empathy matters because it transforms healthcare from a transaction into a relationship. It is the difference between treating a condition and caring for a person. That is the type of care I want to give, because I know from experience how life-changing it can be. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

The last time I saw my great-grandfather, he no longer remembered my name. Alzheimer’s had slowly taken pieces of him away until he was only a shadow of the man who once told me stories, laughed at family dinners, and called me his little star. Watching the disease claim someone I loved so deeply showed me how devastating Alzheimer’s can be, not just for patients but for families who grieve even while their loved one is still alive. That is why I hold such deep admiration for Sandy Dykshoorn’s advocacy for Alzheimer’s patients and their families. Her compassion and dedication reflect the kind of caregiver I aspire to become. My name is Cadence Kelly, and I am a senior at Chenango Forks High School in New York. In the fall of 2025, I will begin studying Health Science at the University of Massachusetts Boston, where I will pursue my dream of becoming a Doctor of Physical Therapy. I am also a recruited NCAA athlete for both women’s ice hockey and lacrosse. Sports have shaped much of who I am, but my true purpose comes from my passion for helping others, especially those facing physical or emotional pain. That passion began with my own journey. In my early teens, I started experiencing unexplained body pain. Sometimes it was so severe I could not finish practice, while other days I felt completely fine. Specialist after specialist gave me no answers, and I often felt invisible in waiting rooms filled with uncertainty. What changed everything was meeting my physical therapist. From the first session, she listened. She believed me. She worked with me patiently, giving me the tools to manage my symptoms and continue playing the sports I loved. Her support went beyond treatment plans. She celebrated small victories with me, like completing a full practice, and reminded me that my condition did not define me. That experience inspired me to pursue physical therapy as my career. I want to provide that same encouragement and care for others, whether they are athletes striving to return to competition or older adults fighting to regain independence. My late grandmother was another source of inspiration. She battled Lupus and other health challenges for years, but what I remember most is her radiant smile. She lived with constant pain, yet she never allowed it to stop her from showing joy and love. Her courage and positivity taught me resilience, lessons that carried me through my own struggles. She also required multiple blood transfusions during her illness, which is why my involvement in local blood drives is so meaningful. I not only volunteer to organize them but also donate blood myself, knowing firsthand how lifesaving it can be. Sports have also taught me about leadership and service. As captain of both my hockey and lacrosse teams, I have mentored younger players, especially girls in ice hockey, a sport still dominated by men. I want them to see that they belong and to know that hard work and perseverance matter. I am honored to have received the United States Marine Corps Distinguished Athlete Award, which recognizes athletic ability as well as leadership, poise, and strength of character. For me, it was not only recognition of what I do on the ice and field, but also of the way I strive to uplift others. What inspires me most about Sandy Dykshoorn’s legacy is the way she combined skill with selflessness, serving not only as a nurse but also as an advocate for patients and families affected by Alzheimer’s. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

I was spending time with my best friend, just like any normal night. At first, everything seemed okay. But slowly, something shifted. His jokes stopped landing. His eyes looked empty. The silence between us started to stretch, and when he finally spoke, it was clear something was deeply wrong. He began saying things like, “I don’t see the point anymore,” and “I’m just tired of feeling like this.” At first, I didn’t fully understand the weight of his words, until he started saying goodbye, in a way that felt far too final. I tried everything I could think of to calm him down - listening, talking, even trying to distract him. But his pain had clearly been building for far longer than I knew. The situation quickly escalated, and I realized I was in over my head. His body language shifted. His tone was detached. It wasn’t just sadness, it was dangerous. That’s when I had to make the call. With shaking hands and a racing heart, I called 911. That call was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I was terrified of what might happen if I didn’t call, of how he might feel about it afterward, and of whether I was doing the right thing. But something inside me knew that keeping him safe mattered more than anything else in that moment. What happened next changed the trajectory of my own life, too. In the days that followed, I couldn’t stop replaying that night. I carried so much fear, guilt, and anxiety. I started feeling like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t sleep. That’s when I realized I wasn’t okay either, or hadn’t been for a while. I was so focused on being strong, holding everything together, and taking care of others that I had ignored my own mental health. Eventually, I found the courage to ask for help. I started seeing a therapist for my anxiety and depression. And for the first time, I began learning how to actually take care of myself. Therapy taught me that strength isn’t about holding everything in, it’s about being honest with yourself. It gave me the tools to cope, to manage overwhelming thoughts, and to understand that mental health struggles don’t make you weak, they make you human. That night didn’t just open my eyes to how fast mental health can spiral; it gave me purpose. I want to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy, not just to help people physically recover, but to show them the importance of full body wellness, including the emotional and mental battles that often go unnoticed. I’ve seen how deeply the mind and body are connected—from my own experiences, to watching my best friend fight his way back from that dark place, watching my later grandmother battle Lupus. I understand the imperative need to work on both body and mind. Today, I still prioritize my mental health, with a therapist. I check in with myself. I rest when I need to. And I speak up when I’m struggling. I’ve learned that taking care of your mental and emotional health isn’t something you do once, it’s something you commit to for life. The night I called 911 was one of the most difficult moments I’ve ever faced. But it taught me to listen more carefully, to act with compassion, and to take my own well-being seriously. It gave me the drive to turn pain into purpose and that’s exactly what I intend to carry into my future. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

Serving Through Strength: My Commitment to Health, Healing, and Community Growing up, I always knew I wanted to help people, but I never imagined how deeply personal that calling would become. As a competitive athlete and future healthcare professional, my passion for service was shaped not only by experiences on the ice or in the classroom, but also by the unseen battles I have fought and the people who stood by me through them. Today, I am committed to a future of public service through physical therapy, with a focus on both physical and mental wellness. My goal is to bring strength, healing, and dignity to every person I serve. Since the age of four, I have been immersed in the world of competitive ice hockey. Over time, I added lacrosse to my athletic journey and eventually earned recruitment to play both sports at the National Collegiate Athletic Association level for the University of Massachusetts Boston. What many do not see behind the medals and team jerseys is the effort it took to get there. For years, I played on travel teams located hours from home, most recently commuting two and a half hours just for practice. I often ate dinner in the car and completed homework under the light of my phone. Despite the long days, I maintained Platinum Honor Roll status and was honored with the 2025 United States Marine Corps Distinguished Athlete Award for both athletic excellence and character. These experiences taught me the value of structure, accountability, and showing up fully for others even when the path is not easy. My desire to pursue a career in healthcare began with my own health struggles. In my early teen years, I started experiencing widespread, unexplained body pain. Specialist after specialist could not provide clear answers. I went through years of physical discomfort, uncertainty, and frustration, but it was through recurring physical therapy that I began to find relief, and more importantly, hope. That care and compassion sparked something in me. It showed me that healing is not just about treating the body, but also about restoring confidence, trust, and quality of life. A turning point came when my best friend experienced a mental health crisis. I was the one who made the call to 911. That moment shook me, but it also shaped me. I realized that being calm, present, and compassionate in a crisis can quite literally save a life. It confirmed that I wanted to dedicate my life to helping others in moments like that, not only through healthcare, but through human connection. I have since become passionate about integrating mental health into physical therapy, recognizing that true care requires treating the whole person. Throughout high school, I made service a consistent part of my life, volunteering for local events like blood drives, community cleanups, and youth fairs. I especially found meaning in supporting blood drives because my late grandmother, who suffered from lupus, relied on transfusions to stay alive. Donating blood and helping others do the same has been a personal way to honor her legacy. These experiences have taught me that community involvement is not something you do once. It is something you live by. As I pursue my degree in health science and eventually become a Doctor of Physical Therapy, I plan to continue serving vulnerable populations, including underserved youth, those recovering from trauma, and individuals battling chronic illness. I want to be the kind of provider who listens closely, acts with integrity, and makes people feel seen, supported, and stronger than when they arrived. My goal is not just to restore movement, but to restore hope. Public service means putting others first, not out of obligation, but out of a genuine desire to lift others up. Whether it is on the field, in a clinic, or during a moment of crisis, I believe we all have the power to make someone feel safe, valued, and capable. That is the kind of impact I want to have. The Gregory A. DeCanio Memorial Scholarship represents the kind of servant leadership I strive to live out. If chosen, I would be honored to carry Gregory’s legacy forward not only by pursuing my education, but by continuing to serve with compassion, courage, and a commitment to the well-being of others. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

I believe that learning and personal growth can help you overcome even the most difficult circumstances. That belief became deeply personal through two experiences that shaped how I see the world and what I want to do with my life. Watching my late grandmother suffer from Lupus showed me the importance of compassionate care and the strength required to live with chronic illness. Later, supporting my best friend through a mental health crisis taught me how critical it is to recognize and respond to emotional pain. These moments made me realize that I want to spend my life helping others heal, both physically and emotionally. That is why I am pursuing a career in physical therapy, with a focus on mental health. My grandmother lived with Lupus for many years, and her courage left a lasting impression on me. Even on her most painful days, she tried to smile and show kindness to others. But I also saw how hard it was for her to complete basic tasks, how limited her mobility became, and how often her pain went unnoticed by those who did not understand what she was going through. That experience opened my eyes to the challenges many patients face every day. I learned that real healing requires not only physical strength but also emotional support. I want to be the kind of healthcare provider who listens closely, responds with empathy, and understands that behind every injury or diagnosis is a human being who matters. A few years later, I faced another situation that changed me. My best friend was experiencing a mental health crisis, and I was the one who had to call 911 and stay by their side while help arrived. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but it also taught me how powerful it can be to simply be there for someone in their most vulnerable moment. That experience made me realize that many people suffer in silence and that health is not just about the body. Mental and emotional health are equally important, and I want to build a career that honors both. After graduation, I plan to study health science and then earn a Doctor of Physical Therapy degree. I also want to receive specialized training that will allow me to better understand and address mental health concerns in my future patients. I hope to work in communities where access to care is limited and where people need providers who treat the whole person, not just their physical condition. This scholarship would allow me to focus more fully on my education. It would reduce the financial burden of textbooks, training costs, and other school expenses, while also giving me more time to gain real-world experience through shadowing and volunteering. Thank you for honoring Robert Stockwell’s legacy and for supporting students like me who believe in the power of learning to change lives.

Playing sports while balancing school and life has shaped me into a stronger, more determined young woman - one who is confident leading in spaces where women are still outnumbered or underestimated. For the first half of my ice hockey career, I played on boys' teams. I was often the only girl in the locker room, and I quickly learned that I would have to work twice as hard to prove I belonged. There were no shortcuts. To earn respect, I had to show up earlier, train harder, and compete fiercely every time I stepped on the ice. When I transitioned to girls' hockey, I carried with me the toughness, discipline, and grit that playing with the boys had taught me. Girls' hockey is severely underrepresented in my area, and my closest home team was two and a half hours away. On weeknights, I often found myself doing homework and eating dinner in the car between school and practices, sometimes getting home long after most of my classmates were already asleep. It was exhausting at times, but it taught me that chasing your goals requires sacrifice, resilience, and the ability to stay focused even when the path demands more from you than it does from others. Later in high school, I returned to playing with many of the same boys I had grown up with, while continuing to play girls' hockey as well. Balancing two teams, schoolwork, leadership roles, and community service taught me to manage competing demands with discipline and determination. Despite these challenges, I maintained strong academics, earning Platinum honors and holding a spot on the honor roll for all four years of high school. I was inducted into two national honor societies and recognized as a United States Marine Corps Distinguished Athlete. I also made time to volunteer in my community, because leadership is not just about personal success. It is about helping others rise, too. Managing the demands of sports, academics, and service forced me to grow up quickly. I learned to manage time, stay mentally tough, and prioritize long term goals over short-term comfort. Excellence, I have learned, is built through persistence, not perfect conditions. My commitment to both athletics and academics has opened incredible opportunities. I have been offered two NCAA athletic positions in ice hockey and lacrosse. Scholarships like this one will determine whether I can pursue those dreams fully, or whether I will need to work throughout college to self-fund my education. I am fully responsible for my college costs, and support like this would allow me to focus on excelling both in the classroom and on the field. Sports have taught me that being a strong woman in a male-dominated space means letting your work ethic and leadership speak louder than stereotypes. It means staying focused, standing up for yourself, and lifting others along the way. As a team captain, I have led by example, showing that real leadership is built on consistency, encouragement, and character. Living and competing in male-dominated spaces helped me develop thick skin without losing compassion. I learned that strength does not mean hardening your heart. It means refusing to let challenges change your purpose. Today, I am not intimidated by being the only woman in the room. I am motivated by it. Being an athlete, a student, and a leader has taught me that success is not given. It is earned day by day, practice by practice, challenge by challenge. Those lessons will stay with me long after the final whistle blows. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

Losing my grandmother to lupus was one of the hardest moments of my life. I didn’t fully understand at the time how an illness could change someone you love so deeply. I watched her body grow weaker, but I also watched her spirit fade as she battled daily pain and frustration. Looking back, I now see how much her mental health was affected by her physical illness. Her strength and love for our family inspire me to this day, and she is one of the biggest reasons I want to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy. As I grew older, I faced my own injuries and physical struggles as an athlete. Physical therapy wasn’t just about getting back on the ice or field. It was about finding hope when I felt like I would never be strong again. It was about having people believe in me, even on the days I didn’t believe in myself. Physical Therapy showed me how deeply physical health connects with mental health. When your body hurts, your mind hurts too, and having someone to guide you through recovery can change everything. That truth became even clearer the night I had to call 911 for my best friend during a mental health crisis. It started as a normal night until I realized something was deeply wrong. My friend’s words shifted from quiet frustration to saying goodbye, and I saw how much pain was inside. I was terrified and unsure, but I knew I couldn’t let him go. Calling 911 was the hardest thing I have ever done, but it saved his life, and it changed mine. After that night, I saw how quickly mental health struggles can spiral and how crucial it is to have people who care and know how to help. I also realized I needed help myself. Starting therapy for my anxiety and depression was life changing. It taught me that asking for help is strength, not weakness, and it showed me how vital mental health is in every part of life. These experiences have shaped my career goals in a way that is deeply personal. I want to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy, but I don’t just want to help people walk again. I want to help them live again. I want to be the kind of provider who sees the whole person, not just their injury or condition. I want to support their mental health while guiding their physical recovery, just like others have done for me. I want to create a space where patients feel seen, heard, and reminded that they are not alone. Suicide prevention is not only about moments of crisis, even though those moments matter deeply. It is also about daily encouragement, the reminder that life can get better and having people who walk beside you during your hardest days. I want to be one of those people. Whether I am helping a patient take their first steps after surgery or reminding them of their worth, I believe healthcare can play a powerful role in preventing suicide and supporting mental health. This scholarship will help me continue working toward this mission. I want to honor my grandmother, my friend, and everyone who struggles in silence by dedicating my future to a field where I can bring hope and healing to both body and mind. I believe by showing up, listening, and caring, I can make a difference in mental health and suicide prevention, one patient at a time. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

When people talk about changing the world, it often sounds huge and distant. Like something only politicians, inventors, or celebrities can do. But I believe positive change happens one person at a time. It starts with listening, caring, and doing your part. That is exactly what I plan to do through my future career as a Doctor of Physical Therapy. My dream is to create a clinic that does more than just offer rehabilitation. I want it to be a place where physical therapy meets mental health care. I believe healing should be a full-body experience, because people are not just muscles and joints. They are emotions, stress, and untold stories too. Far too often, people go through treatment plans that fix the physical pain while completely ignoring the emotional impact of injuries, trauma, or chronic conditions. I want to help fill that gap. My interest in this field started early. I have been an athlete all my life, involved in competitive ice hockey and lacrosse. I have had injuries, setbacks, and long hours in physical therapy. I know what it feels like to be sidelined, unsure if your body will cooperate again. But more than that, I have watched others struggle in silence, dealing with anxiety, fear of re-injury, and self-doubt that no one seemed to acknowledge. I have also supported a close friend through a mental health crisis, calling 911 when help was needed and staying present through the hardest moments. These experiences shaped me deeply. They taught me that recovery is not only about strength and mobility. It is also about confidence, mindset, and emotional support. I plan to pursue a degree in Health Science and follow it with a doctorate in physical therapy. During my studies, I want to focus not only on anatomy and movement, but also psychology, counseling, and patient care. I want to understand how to serve people holistically and with empathy. Eventually, I will open a clinic designed around this vision, where patients will receive physical therapy services alongside access to mental health support. Whether it is athletes returning to play or individuals recovering from life-changing injuries, they will be seen as complete people, not just cases. In creating this clinic, I also want to build a space that actively empowers women. As a young woman in sports, I have often been one of the few girls in the room. I have seen how confidence grows when someone feels supported, encouraged, and believed in. My future practice will work to ensure young girls and women receive that kind of care, where they feel strong, valued, and capable. Outside of my career goals, I plan to continue mentoring and supporting girls through sports and academics. Leadership is something I take seriously. Whether it is cheering on a younger teammate, checking in with a friend who is struggling, or leading by example in the classroom, I do my best to lift others as I climb. I know that making a positive difference in the world does not require fame or fortune. It requires commitment, consistency, and care. Through physical therapy, I will help people rebuild not just their strength, but also their confidence and sense of self. Through mental health support, I will help others feel seen and heard in a system that sometimes overlooks them. That is the kind of difference I want to make. It might not change the entire world overnight, but it will change someone’s world. And that is where all real change begins.

Showing Up, Even When It's Hard It was a regular Saturday night until it wasn’t. My best friend was in crisis, spiraling fast, and I was the only one there. I remember my hands shaking as I dialed 911, my voice barely holding together, and the terrifying silence in the moments that followed. That night changed me. It taught me that selflessness isn’t about grand gestures or waiting for the perfect moment. Sometimes, it is simply doing what needs to be done, even when every part of you feels afraid. That experience did not make me a hero. It made me more aware. I realized how invisible pain can be, how fragile people sometimes feel, and how important it is to be someone others can count on. Since that night, I have approached the idea of helping differently. It is not just about organized service hours or projects, though those matter. It is about how we show up every day, in small and real ways. Being selfless means choosing to care, even when it is uncomfortable or inconvenient. I live by that in the classroom, on the field, and in the locker room. As a multi-sport athlete in hockey and lacrosse, I have often been the new girl on unfamiliar teams. Rather than keep to myself, I make it a point to connect with others, especially those who seem unsure. I encourage younger teammates, check in on them after hard games, and create space for honest conversations. Being named team captain was not just an honor. It reflected a deeper value - leading through support and empathy. I plan to carry that same spirit into my future career as a Doctor of Physical Therapy. My goal is not only to treat physical injuries, but to recognize and respond to the mental and emotional struggles that often come with them. I want to create a space where patients feel fully seen and understood, where healing is not only physical but holistic. Part of my inspiration comes from my late grandmother, who battled Lupus and other illnesses with incredible strength. I watched her go through treatments that often helped her body but drained her spirit. It showed me how vital it is for healthcare to treat the whole person, not just the symptoms. I want to be that kind of provider - one who listens, supports, and truly helps people rebuild. Selflessness, to me, is a lifestyle. It shows up in the small details. Finishing schoolwork during long car rides to practice. Helping a teammate long after the whistle blows. Balancing academics, sports, and responsibilities without letting anyone down. I have never claimed to be perfect, but I always try to be present. Michael Rudometkin’s legacy resonates deeply with me. His life was not defined by achievement alone, but by the way he gave to others. He proved that fulfillment comes from lifting people up and being part of something bigger than yourself. That is how I want to live. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial help. It would be a powerful reminder that living with intention, compassion, and persistence matters. I do not just want a career - I want to make a difference. And it starts with showing up, especially when it is hard. https://sites.google.com/view/cadence-kelly/home

From Skates to Science: My Plan to Empower and Heal My name is Cadence Kelly, and I’m a high school senior currently living somewhere between late-night homework, weekend tournaments, and dreaming really big. I’ve spent most of my life juggling academics and Tier 1 travel sports. Here’s the big dream: I want to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy. Not the kind who just walks patients through exercises and sends them on their way, but someone who listens, really listens, to what’s going on - physically, mentally, all of it. I’ve seen firsthand how those two are tied together in ways we often ignore. Injuries aren't just bruises and breaks. They're frustration, fear, and sometimes identity crises. I’ve been that athlete icing her knee while wondering if she’s falling behind in every other area of life. I’ve also been the friend dialing 911 when someone I love was hurting in a way I couldn’t fix myself. That’s where this dream started - not from textbooks or a classroom lecture, but from lived experience. From watching my late grandmother, a woman who battled Lupus with more strength than most could imagine, and from standing in the gap for a friend when things got real, fast. I don’t just want to be in healthcare. I want to change how it feels for the people inside it. I see myself opening a clinic that combines physical therapy with mental health support. A place where young athletes - especially girls - can rehab their bodies and talk through the emotional weight that comes with injury, competition, and growing up in a world that too often tells us to "just tough it out." Nah. We deserve better than that. Empowering women isn’t some side mission for me. It’s in everything I do. I’ve been the only girl on the ice, the one speaking up when it’s uncomfortable, the one pulling aside the new kid on the team to say, “You belong here.” Whether I’m leading a stretch circle or helping a teammate shake off a tough game, I try to be the kind of person I needed when I was younger - confident, kind, and unafraid to take up space. I know what it’s like to be underestimated. I also know what it’s like to rise anyway. This scholarship would mean more than financial help. It would be someone else saying, “Yes, we believe in what you’re building.” I’ve never just wanted to succeed; I want to lift others up while I’m climbing. So that’s me: a future physical therapist with a lot of heart, a little attitude, and an unshakable belief that when women are supported, they change the world. Let’s build something powerful.

I’ve chosen to pursue a degree in healthcare because I’ve seen firsthand the power of healing, not just physically, but emotionally. As an athlete who has faced injuries, I’ve gone through the recovery process and worked closely with physical therapists who helped me regain both my strength and my confidence. Those experiences opened my eyes to how personal and life changing quality care can be. It made me realize I want to be on the other side of that relationship - supporting, guiding, and empowering others through their toughest moments. Since the age of four, I’ve played both boys' and girls' ice hockey. Being one of the only girls on the ice for much of my life taught me how to lead with resilience, determination, and humility. It also made me deeply aware of how important representation is. I’ve had to prove myself in spaces where women are underrepresented, and that experience motivates me to be a strong, visible presence for others who need someone to look up to. My decision to enter the healthcare field is also deeply personal because of my grandmother. She battled multiple chronic illnesses, including lupus, and I watched how her health struggles shaped nearly every aspect of her life. Some days were better than others, but on the hard days, what made the difference were the people who treated her with compassion, respect, and dignity. Seeing how much comfort and hope a dedicated healthcare provider could offer someone like my grandmother made a lasting impression on me. It taught me that healthcare isn't just about treatment - it's about presence, about showing up when someone needs you the most. I plan to study Exercise and Health Sciences at UMass Boston and become a licensed physical therapist. I want to help people return to doing what they love - whether that’s playing sports, working, or simply moving through daily life with less pain and more freedom. I’ve also seen how physical health challenges can impact mental well-being. One of the most life changing moments in my life came when I helped my best friend through a mental health crisis. Being there, recognizing the signs, and calling 911 for help taught me just how vital emotional support is in healing. It showed me that what someone is carrying on the inside is just as important as what we see on the outside. Those experiences, along with my own long journey through physical therapy, has shaped the way I see care. It isn’t just about addressing injuries or illness. It’s about seeing the whole person, listening, and showing up when it matters most. I want to bring that mindset into my work as a physical therapist and create a space where patients feel safe, respected, and truly heard. As a woman in healthcare, I aim to bring strength, empathy, and leadership to a field that needs all three. I hope to inspire other young women to lead with confidence and to challenge the idea that there’s only one way to succeed in this profession. I want my patients, especially girls and young women, to feel empowered when they walk into a room with me. By showing up fully as myself - athletic, artistic, nurturing, and driven - I want to redefine what a healthcare professional can look like. One of my long-term goals is to open an integrated wellness center that combines both physical therapy and mental health services. My goal is to help people heal, grow, and believe in themselves again. I want to do it with heart, purpose, and compassion.

I’ve always been the kind of person who shows up - on the ice, in the classroom, and especially for the people I love. Whether it was staying late at practice, helping teammates through tough days, or supporting my family, I’ve learned that being steady in hard moments is its own kind of strength. That instinct is what led me toward the medical field. My grandmother was diagnosed with Lupus before I was born, but her illness shaped my life in ways I didn’t fully understand until I got older. She was vibrant, loving, and generous - but she was also often in pain, in treatment, or missing from family events because she didn’t feel well enough to attend. Over time, she became dependent on medication just to manage day-to-day life. Watching someone so full of life fade in and out of herself left an impression on me. It helped me understand that healing is complex, and real recovery requires more than physical care - it takes emotional and personal support too. Later, during my senior year, I faced another moment that changed everything. My best friend was in the middle of a mental health crisis - one of those moments where everything else falls away. I was the one who stayed calm, who called 911, who kept talking to him, letting him know he wasn’t alone. That night showed me just how important it is to have someone who can be the steady voice in the middle of fear and chaos. That kind of presence can literally save a life. What made it even harder was that the next morning, I was supposed to tour my dream college, UMass Boston. I had been looking forward to it for months, but that night, none of that mattered more than making sure he was safe. That experience reminded me exactly why I want to go into healthcare: to be there for others when they need someone the most. But my decision to go into healthcare doesn’t just come from watching others suffer, it also comes from what I’ve experienced myself. I’ve lived with chronic, unexplained body pain for years. I’ve spent a lot of time in physical therapy, trying to find relief and regain strength so I could keep doing what I love - playing hockey, mentoring younger athletes, and leading in my community. Physical Therapy didn’t give me all the answers, but it gave me hope. The therapists I worked with treated me like a whole person, not just a diagnosis. They listened. They encouraged. They helped me believe I could get stronger, even when progress felt slow. That changed me. I realized that I want to be that person for others. I want to be the one who shows up, listens closely, and helps others come back stronger - physically and mentally. I’ve seen what it looks like when someone feels broken, scared, or alone. I’ve also seen how much of a difference it makes to have someone in your corner, someone who refuses to give up on you. That’s what healthcare is about for me. Not just healing muscles or bones, but helping people find their strength again. I plan to major in Exercise and Health Sciences and become a physical therapist. My goal is to eventually open a community-centered clinic that combines physical therapy with mental health support. Because real healing doesn’t happen in isolation, it happens when someone cares enough to show up and stay.

Calculus is one of the most important tools in the STEM field because it gives us a way to understand and predict the world around us. Without calculus, many of the advances we take for granted today in medicine, engineering, physics, and technology would not exist. It is not just about solving problems on paper. It is about developing a way of thinking that allows you to model real-world systems, understand complex change, and create solutions that push science forward. In STEM, almost everything involves change. Whether it is how fast medicine spreads through the body, how bridges carry weight, how rockets launch into space, or how populations grow, calculus is the language we use to describe and predict that change. Without it, we would be stuck guessing or relying on rough estimates. With it, we can create precise models that lead to breakthroughs. As a student planning to enter the healthcare field, calculus feels especially important. Physical therapy, for example, might seem like a hands-on field, but behind every successful rehabilitation plan is a deep understanding of forces, motion, and rates of change. Calculus helps explain how muscles grow, how joints move, and how the body recovers over time. It provides the foundation for creating better treatments, better prosthetics, and better outcomes for patients. Calculus also teaches problem-solving skills that go beyond STEM. It trains your mind to break down big challenges into smaller pieces, to think carefully through each step, and to understand how different variables affect each other. These skills are essential not just in science and medicine but in any area where critical thinking matters. Another reason calculus is so important is that it connects different fields together. It is the bridge between algebra, geometry, physics, engineering, biology, and even economics. In a world where technology and science are constantly blending disciplines, calculus provides a common foundation. Someone designing a new medical device needs to understand calculus. Someone programming artificial intelligence for healthcare needs to understand calculus. It is not just for mathematicians. It is for anyone who wants to be part of the next generation of innovation. Calculus is also a reminder that the best solutions in STEM come from asking deeper questions. It is not enough to know that something works. STEM demands that we understand why it works, how it works over time, and what could make it work better. Calculus gives us the tools to dig deeper, to see patterns others might miss, and to create systems that improve lives. Learning calculus is challenging, but that is part of why it matters so much. It pushes you to think differently, to be patient, and to keep working even when the answers are not immediately clear. That mindset is exactly what the STEM field needs to keep advancing - people who are not afraid of hard problems but are trained to solve them. Calculus matters because change is everywhere, and STEM fields exist to understand and shape that change. Without calculus, we would not just lose a subject. We would lose the ability to reach farther, to discover more, and to build a better future.

The future of healthcare will not be built in textbooks alone. It will be built by students who step forward early, seek out real-world experience, and prepare themselves to serve with both skill and heart. If selected for the KC MedBridge Scholarship, I would use the award to continue investing in my future in healthcare. I am already gaining experience by job shadowing physical therapists, and this hands-on exposure has confirmed my passion for patient-centered care. The scholarship would help expand these opportunities by funding additional clinical shadowing, healthcare workshops, and early certifications like CPR and First Aid. Recently, I was offered two NCAA athletic opportunities, and scholarships like this would help make it possible for me to accept them while pursuing a rigorous academic path. Otherwise, I would likely need to balance college coursework with significant work hours. Support like this would allow me to focus fully on excelling in both academics and athletics - building the discipline and leadership I will need in my future healthcare career. My long-term goal is to become a physical therapist and open a community-centered clinic that combines physical rehabilitation and mental health support. I believe that early professional development will help bridge the gap between classroom learning and patient-centered practice. This scholarship would be an investment in my future - and in the patients and communities I am committed to serving with skill, compassion, and purpose.

I’ve had a lot of defining moments in my life. Some happened on the ice. Some in classrooms. And one happened with a Tupperware container, a poorly timed turn, and an entire serving of spaghetti. It was a typical Thursday. We had a late hockey practice two hours away, and I was doing what all high-functioning student-athletes do: living out of the car. My mom handed me dinner in a plastic container as she drove, and I balanced it on my lap while trying to finish an assignment on my laptop. The smell of marinara sauce mixed with the distinct scent of hockey gloves in the backseat. Delicious. Suddenly, Mom hit a pothole the size of a small crater - NY, always love it. My spaghetti launched. I went full slow-motion trying to save it, but gravity was not on my side. The Tupperware flipped, ricocheted off the seat belt buckle, and exploded—sauce, noodles, and Parmesan raining down like a tragic pasta confetti. It hit everything. My notes. My laptop. My hoodie. My last ounce of patience. “Are you kidding me?” I yelled, dramatically holding up a limp spaghetti noodle. My mom just laughed. She laughed so hard I thought she might have to pull over. “You wanted carbs,” she said through tears of laughter. We spent the next five minutes doing a half-hearted clean-up with a single napkin and a hockey sock. I wish I was joking. Later that night, at practice, I skated like someone who had marinara in her soul. Fueled by mild embarrassment and processed carbohydrates, I had one of my best shifts all week. My coach even complimented my hustle. If only he knew it was powered by a carbohydrate crisis and emotional damage. By the time I got home, I had finished my homework, scrubbed red sauce out of my favorite hoodie, and officially added “traveling spaghetti incident” to my ever-growing list of athlete problems no one warns you about. But here’s the thing: I wouldn’t trade it. Not the mess, not the chaos, certainly not the carbs and definitely not the laughs. Because somewhere between the spaghetti and the skate drills, I realized this is exactly what my life looks like. A little chaotic. Slightly stained. But full of grit, heart, and a whole lot of humor. There will always be late nights, weird meals in the passenger seat, and those unexpected moments where life veers wildly off script. And when it does, you can either cry over spilled spaghetti - or laugh, wipe it off your homework, and keep going. Spoiler: I did laugh. And yes, the hoodie survived.

“The chaplain will be right in with you all,” I remember hearing a nurse say as she ushered us into a private room. I was only seven, and my spunky, red-headed grandmother was in the hospital, battling sepsis. At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what was going on, but I knew from the adults’ faces that things were serious. That sentence, delivered quietly but clearly, told me more than any explanation could. We were preparing for goodbye. My name is Cadence Kelly. I’m 17 years old, a student-athlete, future health science major, and someone who’s seen up close just how fast and devastating sepsis can be. My grandmother had already survived so much—Lupus, bipolar disorder, and a few other brushes with near-death, but this one was different. It started with pneumonia. Then, what seemed like overnight, turned into full-blown sepsis. Her organs were shutting down. The doctors placed her on life support. The chaplain was on standby. And then, just as suddenly, she woke up. I’ll never forget the moment the doctor called with an update none of us were expecting. He said, “She pulled the breathing tube out herself.” Just like that. Classic Grandma. She was stubborn, fiercely independent, and full of fight, even when her body was barely hanging on. That moment became legend in our family. The medical team called it a miracle. We just called it another Tuesday with Grandma. She passed a couple years later, but that experience stayed with me. Not just the miracle, but the whole thing—the fear, the quiet waiting rooms, the strength it took to just sit with not knowing. It opened my eyes to how quickly life can turn and how important quality care, awareness, and timing are when it comes to treating something like sepsis. More importantly, it showed me the kind of person I wanted to be. I’m planning to pursue a degree in Exercise and Health Sciences to become a physical therapist. I want to work with patients who are recovering not just from injury, but from life-changing events like sepsis, surgeries, or long hospital stays. I’ve seen how healing is more than just physical, it’s mental and emotional, too. I’ve been the worried family member, the confused kid, and the teenager who grew up knowing healthcare isn’t just about treatment. It’s about trust, empathy, and being present in the hardest moments. I’ve also been offered the chance to continue my athletic career at UMass Boston on both the NCAA women’s hockey and lacrosse teams. Though Division III doesn’t come with athletic scholarships, these opportunities represent years of hard work and determination - something my grandmother would’ve absolutely appreciated. They’ll allow me to keep playing the sports I love while working toward a career grounded in compassion, discipline, and care. I was every bit on track for Division I, however in recent years have realized my life is better with balance. I want to go to school for Health Science, not to play a sport full time on scholarship. Sepsis changed my life, even though I wasn’t the one in the hospital bed. It made me aware of how fragile and precious life is. And my grandmother, my superhero, showed me that even in the face of something terrifying, strength comes in many forms. I carry her story with me. I wish she were here, but I know she's proud. I hope to carry her same strength into every room I walk into, as a future healthcare professional, and as someone who knows exactly how much it means to have someone fighting for you. https://sites.google.com/d/1IMP_18MTwF4Rnj1HBHLpeCfA46Ee-JT7/p/1KYKMnf_9sKPPzC2EUO3mfzO4WGMtih20/edit?pli=1

Books have always been more than just stories or advice to me—they’ve been tools for survival, reflection, and growth. I tend to read in two categories: hockey fiction and self-help or mental health books. At first glance, those might seem like very different genres, but for me, they’ve been two sides of the same coin. They’ve both helped shape how I view the world, how I understand myself, and where I want to go in life. Hockey fiction has always had a special place in my heart. It’s not just about the sport, although I love that part too. It’s about the people behind the jerseys, their friendships, rivalries, losses, wins, and the love stories that sneak up when they least expect it. These books have brought me comfort in ways I didn’t even realize I needed. During tough seasons on the ice, when the pressure was high or when I doubted myself, these stories reminded me why I love the sport. But more unexpectedly, they helped me through the emotional rollercoaster of being a teenager. Like most people my age, I’ve had my share of heartbreak and confusion. Reading hockey books with love stories mixed into the action made me feel seen. They reminded me that love is messy, real, and often worth the pain that comes with it. During times when I was going through breakups or struggling with self-worth, these books helped me feel less alone. They gave me hope and the reassurance that even the toughest characters have soft sides, and that vulnerability can be a strength, not a weakness. On the other hand, self-help and mental health books have offered me something just as important: tools. After helping a close friend through a mental health crisis and later being diagnosed with anxiety and depression myself, I turned to these books to understand what was happening inside me. They’ve taught me how to check in with myself, how to regulate emotions, and how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. These books gave me the language I didn’t have before, the ability to talk about what I was feeling, and more importantly, to help others feel safe doing the same. Together, these two genres have helped shape my future goals. I plan to become a licensed physical therapist specializing in sports therapy, with a focus on mental health. I want to help athletes recover from injuries, yes, but I also want to be someone who understands the mental weight they carry. I want to help people rebuild not just their strength, but their confidence and self-worth. Reading has helped me through heartbreak, high-pressure games, personal doubt, and emotional healing. It’s taught me empathy, patience, and resilience. And it’s given me a vision for the kind of person I want to be - both on the ice and in the world.

My name is Cadence Kelly, and I’m a 17-year-old student-athlete with a passion for service, sports, and supporting others in both body and mind. I’ve grown up surrounded by hockey rinks and lacrosse fields, where I’ve learned what it means to be part of a team, to lead with humility, and to push myself beyond what I thought possible. The experiences that have shaped me most are not just about wins or championships. They are about people, perseverance, and purpose. For most of my hockey career, I played on out-of-town teams. That meant hours in the car every week, eating dinner on the road, and finishing homework in the passenger seat. I would get home late, exhausted, only to wake up and do it all again. It wasn’t always easy, but it taught me how to manage my time, stay committed, and work toward long-term goals. I learned that success often comes from doing the hard things when no one is watching. Despite the demanding athletic schedule, I’ve stayed fully committed to my academics. I’ve earned honor or high honor every semester and was proud to be inducted into two national honor societies in recognition of academic achievement, leadership, and character. Balancing school, travel, and training has taught me how to stay focused under pressure and give one hundred percent in every area of my life. I’ve also been the person holding the phone during a mental health emergency, calling 911 for someone I care deeply about. That moment, the night before I was supposed to visit my dream school, UMass Boston, changed my life. It taught me what it means to truly show up for someone and how fragile and powerful life can be. Since then, mental health has become something I advocate for proudly, especially in sports where athletes are often expected to stay silent and “push through it.” My experiences have pointed me toward one career path: becoming a licensed physical therapist, specializing in sports therapy. I want to help athletes recover from injuries and recognize the emotional and mental toll recovery can take. Too often, athletes are treated like machines, expected to perform regardless of how they feel. I want to help shift that mindset and support people as whole individuals. As someone who has personally dealt with anxiety and depression, I know how powerful it is to have someone ask, “Are you okay?” My goal is to be that person, not just as a therapist, but also as a mentor and advocate. In addition to my career plans, I want to give back by launching girls’ hockey clinics in my community. These clinics will offer more than skills training. They will focus on injury prevention, body awareness, and mental wellness. I want young girls to feel seen, supported, and confident as both athletes and people. I’ve already made an impact through service. I’ve volunteered at the CFE Country Fair, the Pumpkin Run, and Community Clean-Up Day. I’ve helped with graduation programs, blood drives, after-hours childcare at school events, Santa letters, and family bingo night. These experiences have taught me how meaningful it is to give back without expecting anything in return. I’ve been offered NCAA Division III spots on both the women’s hockey and lacrosse teams at UMass Boston. Attending an out-of-state school comes with financial challenges, especially as I’m self-funding my education while my two younger siblings follow in my hockey footsteps. Scholarships like this one would help make my goals possible—and help me use them to lift others along the way.

I love math because it shows up in everything—even when you don’t realize it. It’s in the recipe you’re trying not to mess up, the playlist you’re timing for a workout, the angles in your favorite sport, and the money you’re saving for something big. Those teachers who said, “You’ll use math every day”? Yeah, turns out they were right. I can't be the only one that stops and thinks "wow I just used math in some way, for that". I also love math because there’s a right and a wrong. It’s black and white, and that’s honestly kind of comforting. With everything else in life being so unpredictable, it’s nice to sit down with a problem and know that if you do the work, you’ll find the answer. It doesn’t judge you; it just makes sense. Even when it’s hard (and trust me, it definitely is sometimes), math has taught me patience and how to work through challenges without giving up. It’s made me a better problem-solver, not just on paper but in everyday life. Math also gives me confidence. That feeling when you check your answer and it’s actually right? It’s like winning a mental trophy. It reminds me that I can figure things out, even when they look impossible at first. I constantly remind myself that nobody is born with a natural talent in ANYTHING... keep going. The more I pay attention, the more I realize how much math is part of everything around me. I can't begin to imagine the use out there in the "real world". Math isn't just numbers on a page—it’s a way of thinking, and I’m glad it’s how my brain works.

It’s 5:12 a.m. The sky is still navy blue, and the only sound in the world is the sharp scrape of skate blades on fresh ice. I’m alone in the rink, except for my coach, his breath fogging up the glass, stopwatch in hand. My legs are already burning from drills, but I push harder. This isn’t just a sport to me, it’s who I am. The years, the travel, the sacrifices—it all led to this. Flash to: the highway. I’m in the passenger seat, textbooks on my lap, laptop and hockey bag crammed in the back. My mom is driving, again. Two and a half hours, each way, so I can play Tier 1 girls’ hockey. It’s been that way for four years. I’ve studied in the dark, eaten in the car, and learned to balance everything with little room to breathe. But I never once questioned the grind. I was chasing something bigger. Then the call. The night before visiting my dream college, I found myself on the phone with 911. My best friend, the person who made everyone laugh, the one who never seemed to struggle, was trying to take his own life. I was frozen with fear, unsure if I’d called in time, unsure of everything. That moment shattered me. It also cracked something open. I had always seen mental health as important, but from a distance. That night brought it front and center. It made me realize that success means nothing if we don’t care for ourselves and for each other. That pain can live quietly beneath smiles. And that even the strongest people might be one silent struggle away from breaking. Then another call. In the weeks after that night, I received offers to play both NCAA hockey and lacrosse. It was everything I’d worked for, and yet I was seeing it differently now. I realized I wanted more than just a roster spot. I wanted a life where I could show up as my full self, and help others do the same. But as with most Division III programs, the offers didn’t come with scholarships. Without financial support, I may not be able to accept either, despite the years of dedication that brought me to this point. And while I’ve been pushing myself physically for over a decade, I’ve also fought hard to take care of my mental health since that night. I started talking to a therapist. I started being honest. I started healing in ways I didn’t know I needed to. And through it all, I kept thinking of my late grandmother, who suffered from Lupus and a long, painful dependency on medications that were supposed to help her. She, too, struggled silently. Her mental health, like mine, was so often left in the background. I understand her now more than I ever did when she was alive. That’s why I want to become a physical therapist. Not just to help people recover from injury, but to help them recover themselves. I want to work with young athletes and underserved communities. I want to treat people with empathy, with patience, and with a commitment to healing the whole person, body, mind, and spirit. This is my opening scene. A student-athlete. A big sister. A survivor of quiet storms. A future healer. And I plan to write the rest of my story with heart, hope, and the courage to keep showing up. Well, and a little bit of hockey.

From a young age, I’ve been drawn to helping others heal, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally, too. As an athlete, I’ve experienced the ups and downs of injury and recovery. But more importantly, I’ve seen how powerful the connection is between the body, the mind, and the spirit. That’s why I’ve chosen to pursue a career in physical therapy, with a focus on holistic healing, because true wellness goes beyond treating symptoms. It’s about caring for the whole person. This scholarship would help me take meaningful steps toward that vision. Funding my education will allow me to pursue a degree in Exercise and Health Sciences and later become a licensed physical therapist. I hope to specialize in working with youth and athletes, combining traditional therapy techniques with more integrative practices like movement-based mindfulness, breathwork, and education around stress, recovery, and self-awareness. My passion for holistic care also comes from watching my late grandmother suffer from Lupus, a disease that consumed her entire life. Over time, I watched her grow increasingly dependent on medications that were meant to help her but often left her feeling worse. Her chemical dependency, fueled by a pharmaceutical system that too often treats symptoms rather than root causes, left a lasting impression on me. I realized then how important it is to see people as more than a diagnosis and how damaging it can be when care lacks balance, compassion, and a long-term vision for true wellness. I’ve also been fortunate to receive two offers to play NCAA sports, ice hockey and lacrosse, at the Division III level. For years, I’ve poured everything into training, competing, and dreaming of playing collegiate athletics. But Division III programs don’t offer athletic scholarships, and without additional financial support, I may have to turn down both offers, something I never imagined after a decade of dedication to my sports. This scholarship could be the key to keeping my academic and athletic dreams alive, side by side. Through supporting loved ones through mental health crises, managing my own stress as a student-athlete, and witnessing the long-term effects of imbalance in healthcare, I’ve come to understand that healing is never just physical. It’s mental, emotional, and deeply personal. That’s the kind of practitioner I hope to become: one who sees beyond the injury and into the person. I also want to be a resource for those who feel overlooked in traditional healthcare, especially young people who are under pressure, facing burnout, or recovering from setbacks they didn’t see coming. I want to provide support rooted in empathy, education, and whole-person care. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to carry forward the spirit of Jim Coots, a legacy grounded in service, compassion, and unwavering dedication to others. I hope to honor that legacy through every patient I support, every story I listen to, and every person I help reclaim their strength, inside and out.

When people think of Team USA athletes, they might picture a track star or a snowboarder flying through the air. But for me, it’s Hilary Knight, an absolute force in women’s hockey and one of the most influential athletes in the sport’s history. With 14 medals, the most ever in IIHF Women’s World Championship history, Hilary isn’t just a record-holder, she’s a trailblazer, a leader, and a constant reminder that girls in hockey can dream just as big as anyone else. What makes Hilary Knight so inspiring isn’t just her stats, though they’re incredible. It’s the journey she’s taken to get there, one that mirrors so many of our own as female hockey players. Her path started just like mine: playing on boys' teams, traveling across state lines every weekend, waking up before sunrise for games, and learning to fight for respect on the ice. When you’re a girl in youth hockey, you don’t always see players who look like you at the highest level. That’s what makes Hilary so important. Watching her dominate while staying true to who she is gave me permission to take up space, to shoot harder, to skate faster, and to know that I belong. Like Hilary, I started my hockey journey playing on boys’ teams, not because it was bad a$&, but because it was the only real option - my father was a semi-pro player. I still had to earn every shift, take every hit, and prove I deserved to be out there. Then, like many girls, I transitioned into Tier 1 girls’ hockey, where the competition was elite and the expectations even higher. That transition was tough but exciting, it was the first time I got to play with other girls who were just as passionate and competitive as me. And it made me realize that I was part of something bigger: the future of women’s hockey. Hilary Knight showed me that future. She’s played at the highest level, represented Team USA with pride, and helped put women’s hockey on the map. But she hasn’t stopped there. Off the ice, she’s pushed for equal pay, better support for female athletes, and more visibility for the women’s game. She’s used her voice not just to celebrate her own achievements, but to make sure the next generation has even more opportunities. And I am that next generation. Every time I lace up my skates, every time I get back up after a hard hit, and every time I choose to keep pushing through challenges, I think of what she’s paved the way for. Hilary Knight represents what’s possible when skill, passion, and determination come together, and when someone refuses to let the world tell them “no.” When I cheer for Team USA, I cheer loudest for Hilary. Because she’s not just playing for herself, she’s playing for all of us who’ve followed the same path, who’ve fought for a locker room spot, who’ve traveled miles for a game, and who dream of playing at the highest level. She’s the reason I believe in the power of women’s hockey. And she’s the reason I believe in myself.

As a student, athlete, and friend, I’ve learned that mental health isn’t just important, it’s everything. You can be doing well in school, performing on the field or the ice, and still feel like something’s not right. I’ve seen what happens when people keep things bottled up, trying to be strong for everyone else while they’re falling apart inside. That’s why mental health matters to me. It’s not just something we should talk about, it’s something we have to talk about. I play both varsity lacrosse and competitive ice hockey, and not just at school. I commute two and a half hours several times a week to play for a high-level hockey team. That commitment has pushed me physically, mentally, and emotionally more than anything else. Balancing that kind of schedule with school, homework, and trying to be a good sibling, friend, and student isn’t easy. There are days when I leave early in the morning, sit through school, drive for hours, skate my heart out at practice, get home late, and still have to finish assignments and get up in the morning. It’s exhausting—and if I didn’t prioritize my mental health, I know I would’ve burned out a long time ago. Sports have taught me a lot about toughness, grinding through injuries, pushing through fatigue, and performing under pressure. But I’ve learned that real strength is knowing when to slow down and take care of yourself. You can’t give 100% on the ice, in class, or to the people around you if your mind is completely drained. That’s something I’ve had to learn the hard way. A while ago, someone close to me, my best friend, was dealing with something really heavy - it culminated to a night I've since tried to forget about. He was the kind of person who made everyone laugh, always smiling and joking, but inside he was hurting. What happened to him changed everything for me. It showed me that mental health struggles aren’t always visible. That moment made me realize how important it is to check in with people, it shook me, and it taught me how serious it is to take care of your own mind and spirit, too. When I’m struggling mentally, it doesn’t just affect my mood, it affects how I learn, how I compete, and how I connect with others. I’ve had days when my brain felt so clouded with stress that I couldn’t focus in class, and that stress followed me into practice. I wasn’t myself. Now, I know I need to make space for mental health the same way I do for training. For me, that means carving out quiet time when I can. Sometimes that’s sketching, journaling, going to the gym, or just vegging out in my bed. It means being honest with my parents and coaches about when I need a breather. It also means being the kind of teammate and sibling who checks in and says, “How are you really doing?” Mental health affects everything, how we perform, how we think, how we show up. I’ve seen what can happen when it’s ignored, and I’ve felt the difference when it’s prioritized. That’s why I make it a part of my routine and why I’ll always speak up about it. Because staying silent isn’t strength, taking care of yourself is.

As a student, athlete, and friend, I’ve learned that mental health isn’t just important, t’s everything. You can be doing well in school, performing on the field or the ice, and still feel like something’s not right. I’ve seen what happens when people keep things bottled up, when they try to be strong for everyone else but don’t feel it inside. That’s why mental health matters to me. It’s not just something we should talk about—it’s something we have to talk about. Playing both hockey and lacrosse has taught me a lot about toughness—pushing through pain, staying focused under pressure, and giving your all for your team. But the kind of toughness that really matters, I’ve learned, is the kind you don’t always see. It’s showing up when everything in you wants to quit. It’s having the courage to say, “I’m not okay,” and knowing that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you real. While in high school I watched someone really close to me—my best friend—go through something incredibly hard - culminating to a night I've since been trying to forget. He was the person who always made everyone else laugh, the one who never seemed to have a bad day. But behind all of that, he was struggling more than any of us knew. It was one of the hardest times of my life, and it changed how I see everything. Since then, I’ve made it a priority to check in with the people around me. I’ve had teammates who were quiet or distant, and instead of just assuming they were tired, I’ve started asking, “How are you really doing?” Not just the surface-level stuff, but the real kind. In the locker room, at school, or over texts—I try to be someone people feel safe opening up to. At school, I speak up in conversations when teachers or counselors bring up mental health. I don’t pretend it’s not part of being a student, because it absolutely is. The pressure to get good grades, to succeed in sports, to be everything to everyone—it adds up. I’ve learned that talking about it doesn’t make it worse. Hiding it does. I have a passion for art and destigmatizing mental health... I was lucky enough to be featured by my school: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsft8QiYEaY Even at home, I’ve made it a point to be open with my family—especially my younger siblings. I want them to grow up knowing it’s okay to feel overwhelmed, to ask for help, and to not have it all figured out. I didn’t always feel like I could do that, and I want them to know they can, even if they are two rough boys. Mental health is important to me because I’ve seen what silence can do. I’ve seen how strong someone can be on the outside while breaking on the inside. I don’t ever want anyone I care about to feel like they’re alone in that. As a hockey and lacrosse player, I’ll always value physical strength—but the mental and emotional side of life? That's not something hockey players are known for but it's definitely where real strength lives. Being a good teammate, friend, and student means being there for people beyond just practices and classes. It means being someone who listens, someone who notices, and someone who speaks up when it matters most. Mental health isn’t just part of life—it’s the foundation for everything else. And I’ll keep showing up for it, because I know how much it matters.

I’ve always been a dreamer, but not the kind who just sits and imagines. I’m the kind who dreams with action behind it. Whether it's earning strong grades, competing in two sports, or being a steady presence for my younger siblings, I’ve worked hard to build a future I can be proud of. I know my goals won’t come easy, but I also know I’m worth the dreams I aspire to achieve because I’ve proven, over and over, that I have the resilience, responsibility, and determination to chase them, even in the face of adversity. Academically, I’ve stayed focused and consistent throughout high school. I take pride in my performance in the classroom, not because I need to be perfect, but because I believe education is a privilege and a pathway. I’ve challenged myself in difficult courses, developed strong study habits, and held myself accountable. Even when life has felt overwhelming, I’ve used school as a place to push forward, stay grounded, and keep growing. My commitment to academics reflects my mindset: no matter what, I show up and give it my best. Sports have also played a huge role in shaping who I am. I’ve had the opportunity to compete in both ice hockey and lacrosse at a high level, and I’ve received offers to play both at the NCAA Division III level (without scholarship). I’ve spent years training, recovering from injuries, and learning what it truly means to be part of a team. Being an athlete has taught me discipline, time management, and how to push through when things get tough. I’ve learned to lead by example, to keep going when no one’s watching, and to take setbacks in stride. Those are the same traits I’ll carry into everything I do—on and off the ice. At home, being the oldest of three siblings has come with its own kind of responsibility. I’ve had to grow up a little faster, be a steady presence, and lead with patience. I try to set a good example, offer help when it’s needed, and be someone my younger siblings can count on. Being the oldest has taught me about quiet leadership, sacrifice, and how much impact consistency can have on the people around you. One of the most personal parts of my story is my journey through mental health adversity. Like many teens, I’ve faced moments of anxiety, emotional burnout, and feeling overwhelmed by everything I was balancing. I’ve also supported others close to me through their own struggles. Those experiences have shaped my empathy and emotional strength. They’ve taught me that success isn’t about having an easy path, it’s about continuing to move forward, even when it’s hard. I’ve developed coping strategies, asked for help when I needed it, and learned how to keep going without losing sight of who I am. The dreams I have, earning my degree, becoming a physical therapist, making a difference in people’s lives, aren’t just hopes. They’re goals I’ve laid the foundation for with years of hard work, growth, and perseverance. I’ve already proven to myself that I can balance academics, sports, leadership, and emotional challenges. I know I have what it takes to keep going, and more importantly, to give back. I’m not perfect, but I’m prepared. I’m not fearless, but I’m courageous. And I am absolutely worth the dreams I work for, because I’ve already started becoming the person I need to be to achieve them.

Out of all the movies I’ve watched, Miracle is the one that has left the deepest impact on my life. It’s more than just a sports movie—it’s a story about heart, determination, and the power of belief. As a student-athlete who plays both ice hockey and lacrosse, I didn’t just watch Miracle—I felt it. The movie tells the true story of the 1980 U.S. Olympic men’s hockey team, made up of underdogs who came together to do something no one thought was possible: defeat the seemingly unbeatable Soviet team. But what’s most powerful about Miracle isn’t just the win, it’s the journey, the relentless training, the personal sacrifices, and the belief their coach, Herb Brooks, had in them before they even had it in themselves. As someone who’s spent countless hours at the rink, I connected deeply with the team’s struggles, the exhausting practices, the injuries, the internal doubts. I’ve had those moments of pushing myself to my limit, questioning if I was good enough, and learning that the true strength of an athlete comes from what you do when no one’s watching. Watching Miracle reminded me that greatness isn’t about talent alone, it’s about grit. One of the lines that has stayed with me is when Coach Brooks says, “Great moments are born from great opportunity.” That quote completely reframed the way I look at challenge. I stopped seeing pressure as something to fear, and started seeing it as a moment to rise. Whether it's a tough game, an academic deadline, or a personal setback, I’ve learned to approach challenges with a mindset that says, “This is your opportunity. Go take it.” The movie also reinforced something I’ve come to value deeply: the team is always bigger than the individual. In Miracle, players put aside personal pride for the greater good. That’s something I try to carry with me on and off the ice. Being part of a team means being accountable, showing up not just for yourself, but for the person beside you. It means giving your best, even when no one’s keeping score. Miracle has even influenced my career path. Watching the physical and emotional toll the sport takes on players, and seeing the support systems around them, helped inspire my interest in physical therapy. I want to be someone who helps athletes and everyday people recover, rebuild, and return stronger. I know what it’s like to fight for a comeback, and I want to support others through theirs. Most of all, Miracle taught me that believing in yourself, and in something bigger than yourself, is one of the most powerful tools you can have. It’s the kind of movie that doesn’t just stick with you; it shapes you. Whenever I’m facing something difficult, I go back to that story, that moment on the ice, and remind myself that anything is possible when you refuse to give up.

High school can feel like a whirlwind—homework, sports, social pressures, and everything in between. For me, it’s also been a time of growth, challenges, and self-discovery. While many teachers have guided me academically, it was my high school art teacher who changed the way I approach not just school, but life itself. Her influence helped me find a sense of calm, confidence, and clarity that I never expected to discover in a classroom. Art has always been in my life, but it wasn’t until high school that it became something more than a hobby. Freshman year, I was balancing a full course load, competitive athletics, and the quiet weight of stress that never seemed to go away. I didn’t always have the words for what I was feeling, but I knew I needed an outlet, something that wasn’t about achievement or performance. That’s when I found myself in the art room. My teacher immediately created an environment that felt different from anywhere else in the school. It was quiet, safe, and somehow peaceful, even on the busiest days. She never treated art like just another subject. She treated it like a form of expression, a way of processing life, and most importantly, for students like me, a space to breathe. She didn’t just teach technique; she taught reflection. She encouraged us to create without pressure, to make things that felt honest rather than perfect. When I struggled with stress or felt overwhelmed, she reminded me that creativity wasn’t about meeting expectations—it was about letting go. Her gentle support helped me realize that art didn’t need to be confined to a sketchbook or canvas. It could be a daily practice in patience, mindfulness, and emotional release. There were days when I’d walk into her classroom feeling completely drained, and somehow, even without saying much, she’d help me reset. A soft reminder to pick up a brush or a pencil. A quiet "You don’t have to explain—just paint." Those small moments created a huge shift in how I handled my emotions and how I saw myself. I began to understand that caring for my mental health didn’t have to be dramatic or loud—it could be as simple as carving out time to create, reflect, and breathe. That shift carried into every area of my life. I became more centered as a student, more grounded as an athlete, and more present with friends and family. I learned how to handle pressure by returning to my creative roots, even outside the classroom. Art became a tool I use regularly, and her influence helped me develop a lifelong habit of turning to creativity in moments of stress, uncertainty, or growth. I feel I learned empathy through her and through art. Because of her I'm never afraid to ask someone "how are you doing?". Her impact goes beyond what she taught me about drawing or painting. She reminded me that who we are is just as important as what we do—and that making space for creativity is one of the most powerful things we can do for our mental health. I’ll carry her lessons with me always—not just in my art, but in how I treat others, how I treat myself, and how I move through the world.

My name is Cadence Kelly, and I’m a student-athlete with a passion for pushing limits, supporting others, and turning challenges into purpose. I’ve been a competitive ice hockey and lacrosse player for most of my life, and I’ve been fortunate enough to receive offers to play both sports at the NCAA Division III level (without scholarship). Sports have been a huge part of my identity, but they’ve also helped me discover something even bigger: my calling to help others heal. Over the years, being an athlete has taught me the importance of hard work, resilience, and teamwork. But it was through the injuries, the moments when I couldn’t compete, that I found unexpected clarity. Physical therapy became a part of my life during recovery, and through those experiences, I saw how powerful it is to have someone in your corner, helping you rebuild piece by piece. I realized that I didn’t just want to get better, I wanted to become the person helping others do the same. That’s why I plan to study Exercise and Health Sciences at UMass Boston and become a licensed physical therapist. My goal is to make a positive impact by helping people regain not only their strength and mobility, but also their confidence and independence. I know what it feels like to be sidelined, to feel unsure if you’ll ever return to doing what you love. As a physical therapist, I want to guide people through those moments, whether they’re athletes, recovering patients, or individuals learning to adapt after injury or surgery. My approach to making a difference isn’t just about treating injuries, it’s about seeing the whole person. I believe in the power of connection, trust, and empathy. Whether I’m encouraging a patient through a tough day or celebrating a small win in their recovery, I want to be someone who brings both knowledge and heart into every session. Outside of academics and athletics, I care deeply about mentorship and service. I’ve volunteered at youth sports clinics, helped younger players build their skills and confidence, and supported my younger siblings as a role model at home. I’ve seen how one encouraging word or a little extra time can make a lasting impact. These experiences have shown me that service doesn’t always look grand, often the small, consistent actions that matter most. As I move forward, I hope to combine everything I’ve learned—discipline from sports, compassion from personal experience, and a strong foundation from education—to create a meaningful career that improves lives. Physical therapy is more than a profession to me; it’s a way to empower others to move forward—literally and emotionally. That’s how I plan to make a positive impact on the world: one step, one stretch, one recovery at a time.

My name is Cadence Kelly, and I’m a student-athlete who’s learned that sports are about far more than wins and stats, they're about grit, growth, and figuring out who you are under pressure. I’ve spent most of my life playing competitive ice hockey and lacrosse, and I’ve had the honor of being offered the opportunity to play both sports at the NCAA Division III level. It’s an achievement I’m proud of, not just because of the years of training and competition, but because of the person those experiences have helped me become. Being an athlete has shaped nearly every part of my life. It’s taught me how to manage my time, how to stay focused under pressure, and how to get back up when things don’t go as planned. I've played through injuries, lost close games, and had moments where I questioned my own abilities, but every challenge taught me something valuable. Over time, I’ve developed not just physical strength, but mental toughness and leadership. I know how to push myself, how to support others, and how to stay disciplined even when no one’s watching. These are lessons I’ll carry with me far beyond the rink or the field. One of the biggest ways sports have shaped my future goals is by showing me the importance of recovery and support, especially during the times I’ve struggled physically. Being an athlete means you learn a lot about your own body, and when I had to step away from competing due to injury, I was introduced to the world of physical therapy. Watching therapists help me, and others, regain strength, mobility, and confidence was inspiring. That’s when I realized: I want to do this for others. I plan to study Exercise and Health Sciences at UMass Boston, with the goal of becoming a licensed physical therapist. I want to work with athletes and non-athletes alike, helping people recover, rebuild, and return to doing what they love. I know how meaningful that process is, and I want to be part of it, not as the one being treated, but as the one helping someone else get back on their feet. Outside of sports and academics, I have a range of interests that help me stay balanced and grounded. I enjoy working with kids and have volunteered at youth sports clinics, helping younger athletes develop their skills and confidence. I’ve also grown to love journaling and creative writing, it’s been a great outlet for me to process challenges and reflect on everything happening in my life. When I have free time, you’ll usually find me listening to music, at the gym, or spending time with my siblings (I’m the oldest of three). My family means a lot to me, and I take pride in being a role model both at home and on the field. In short, sports have shaped me—but they don’t define me completely. They’ve taught me lessons that I’ll carry into my future as a student, a physical therapist, and a leader. I’m excited for what’s ahead, and I’m committed to continuing to grow, both inside and outside the game.

Throughout high school, I’ve maintained strong academic performance—even while balancing the demands of being a two-sport varsity athlete. What I’ve come to realize is that success isn’t just about test scores or GPA—it’s about consistency, resilience, and the ability to stay focused on your goals, even when things get hard. That mindset has shaped who I am and inspired the future I’m working toward. Since freshman year, I’ve challenged myself in the classroom and stayed organized, responsible, and self-motivated. At the same time, I’ve dedicated myself to athletics, playing both ice hockey and lacrosse at a competitive level. I’ve now been offered the opportunity to play both sports at the NCAA Division III level, which is an honor that reflects years of discipline, sacrifice, and determination. Like many athletes, I’ve faced physical setbacks and injuries that forced me to step away from the game. Watching from the sidelines is tough, but it taught me something valuable. During recovery, I was introduced to the world of physical therapy, and it completely shifted my perspective. I saw how meaningful it is to help someone rebuild their strength and confidence. I realized I didn’t just want to be the one getting stronger, I wanted to help others do the same. That’s why I plan to study Exercise and Health Sciences at UMass Boston and become a licensed physical therapist. It’s a field that combines everything I care about: health, movement, perseverance, and helping others move forward. Whether it’s an athlete returning to competition or someone recovering from surgery, I want to be a part of that healing process. I’ve always believed that showing up for others matters. As the oldest of three siblings, I’ve taken on a leadership role in my family—helping out where I can, staying grounded, and setting an example. On the field and the ice, I lead by example, too. I’m the teammate who encourages others during hard practices and steps up when something needs to get done. Through all of these experiences, I’ve realized that public service doesn’t always mean something formal—it means being someone others can rely on, and that’s exactly the kind of physical therapist I hope to be. In terms of financial need, college will be a challenge. My family has always supported my academic and athletic goals, but covering tuition, books, and living expenses—especially as a Division III student-athlete without athletic scholarships—is a major concern. Ultimately my parents prepared me to go division I (semi-paid for) and in recent years I've realized I won't sustain and I want to go to college for college. I’m working part-time and applying for every scholarship I can. Receiving this support would allow me to focus more on my studies and training, and less on the financial stress of how to make it all work. I’m proud of the person I’ve become through hard work, setbacks, and perseverance. I’ve built a strong foundation through school and sports—and now, I’m ready to build a career that helps others find their strength, too.

For me, living a life of service hasn’t been about one grand gesture—it’s been about showing up, again and again, in both small and meaningful ways. Whether it’s for my family, my community, or my teammates, I’ve learned that service is about consistency, selflessness, and doing the right thing even when no one’s watching. At home, I’ve always tried to support my family however I can. As the oldest of three, I’ve naturally taken on more responsibility—helping with my younger siblings, managing household tasks, and being someone my parents can count on. When things have been stressful or uncertain, I’ve stepped up where I could—whether that meant staying on top of schoolwork, working part-time, or simply setting a good example. It’s not always easy, but it’s taught me that leadership starts at home. On the ice and on the field, I’ve carried that same mindset into my role as a student-athlete. I play both ice hockey and lacrosse and have competed at an elite and competitive level in both sports. In hockey, I’ve had the opportunity to skate with girls who have gone on to represent Team USA—something that has pushed me to grow, both as an athlete and a person. Competing at that level demands commitment, discipline, and mental toughness. But more than anything, it’s taught me that being a great teammate is just as important as being a great player. I’ve learned to lead by example—showing up early, staying late, encouraging teammates, and never taking a shift off. I know what it feels like to be the younger player looking up to someone, so I’ve made it my mission to be approachable, supportive, and inclusive. Whether it’s helping a teammate improve their skills or just checking in after a tough day, I’ve learned that leadership through service creates a stronger team and a better experience for everyone. Outside of sports, I bring that same energy to my school and community. I’ve volunteered at dozens of school events for the younger kids, shared what I’ve learned with younger players, and always made time to support others—whether peer mentoring, or just being someone people can rely on. I’ve found that service doesn’t always need to be formal. Sometimes it’s just being present, listening, or showing up when it matters most. What I’ve come to realize is that living a life of service isn’t about how much recognition you get—it’s about the impact you leave behind. Whether I’m helping my siblings, pushing myself in the rink, or lifting up a teammate or peer, I try to do it with humility, heart, and purpose. As I look ahead to college and beyond, I know that mindset will stay with me. Service isn’t a phase—it’s a part of who I am. And I’ll carry it into every locker room, classroom, and community I become a part of.

Greetings, My name is Cadence Kelly, and I am delighted to be considered for this scholarship. As a student-athlete at Chenango Forks High School, I have developed a strong foundation in both community involvement and leadership. This has shaped my character and guided me toward my personal and academic goals. I take great pride in active participation in my community involvement, Which includes volunteering in the National Honor Society and the National Art Honor Society, where I work with classmates and contribute to various service projects. In addition to these leadership roles, I help mentor young children, teaching them the basics of ice skating. I also have put myself out there by advertising to watch local kids and involving myself in community services. Through these experiences, I have learned patience and commitment. My role in the community also extends to ensuring the safety and well-being of children and others. I prioritize being vigilant, watching for lost children or situations that may be concerning. I also contribute to the “stop cyberbullying” movement by encouraging others to be kind to other people online. I encourage others to pause and consider the impact of their posts, reminding them that if they do not want to be treated in that manner, they should refrain from treating others the same way. I also pride myself on being a compassionate and respectful person. By demonstrating these qualities along with strong leadership, I am honored to be chosen for the captaincy of both my club ice hockey and varsity lacrosse teams. I take this responsibility seriously and work hard to lead by example, promoting teamwork, respect, and dedication on and off the field. In terms of financials, my family is in a stable financial position. Ice hockey, being a costly sport, has required significant investment. Thankfully I have made a career out of it, which has made the expenses worthwhile. However, we continue to face considerable costs for essentials such as food, gas, and hotel accommodations. College expenses will be a lot to handle though. I plan to attend the University of Massachusetts Boston, and the tuition will be over $30,000 a year, even after accounting for merit scholarships. To manage these costs, I have carefully planned my major and career path to ensure I can handle my student loans. Given this, I would be deeply honored and extremely grateful to be considered for this scholarship opportunity.

This scholarship could be one step towards answering the age old question, "how am I going to pay for college?". My entire life has centered around travel hockey, reaching the top for my age level. I have skated with girls on the Olympic team and girls whose 24/7 passion was ice hockey. For years this was my story – my goal. With this lifestyle came sacrifices, both socially and financially. Until recent years Division I was my goal. With Division 1 came scholarship money and security, or so I thought. The last few years have taught me boundaries, self-care and the importance of mental health. As depression and anxiety caught up with the years of pressure, I truly learned about myself, my passion and my limits. In my sophomore year after thoughts of walking away from hockey all together, I realized that wasn't the only alternative. Division III Women's Hockey was always there, right under my nose. I soon realized I had yet to see past the glitz and college money behind Division I. Division III brought me hope - remain in hockey, which I love, but it doesn't have to be life. I am beyond excited to say I will be playing for Umass Boston Women's Hockey AND lacrosse teams. I reached my goal of playing athletics collegiately while being able to focus on my education, however now the question remains, "how am I paying for this?". The morale of my own life story thus far can be summed up in one cliché word: moderation. I know – one of those cringy, eye-rolling pieces of advice we often hear preached, actually is an age-old lesson that changed my story for the better. The less I played, the less I thought about hockey, the less pressure I put on myself… the more I loved hockey. Most of the girls I have played with over the years could never imagine that revelation. It took me a couple tough years to find balance, happiness and a path forward (that included hockey and an education). It took me quite some time to articulate to those important to me. After all these years of playing, after all these years of smiles on the outside, I have to say out loud that I’m changing my path. I am changing my path purely based on my own self happiness and for that I am proud. As high school years went on I started to focus on my education, art and volunteering. I am extremely thankful to have realized such an important life lesson during some pretty difficult years. Life is about balance and I now realize that sometimes less really is more.

Arts and sports are my world, what keeps me sane. I have been very active in destigmatizing mental health challenges... so much that my school recorded this. I felt extremely vulnerable, but the message is important; find what gets you through the tough days. For me, that is art and ice hockey. I have played for 13 years, an an elite level... practicing over an hour away multiple days a week, and on the road every weekend. While I always knew I wanted to play women's college hockey, I decided early on that I didn't have interest in D1. The unicorn. Everyone asks why? My answer? "I care about my mental health and I want a better college experience". I live eat and breath hockey and this has been no easy decision. The older I've gotten, the more I see myself struggling with depression and anxiety. I've become aware that only I can drive my happiness. Recently the AAA team I was on folded and I was met with a ton of uncertainty. I had a tough decision to make, very quickly before tryouts; stay super competitive, skate with most of my previous teammates and risk my mental health... or play but BE HAPPY doing it. I look forward to the day I can say my happiness isn't being able to say I was scouted for D1 hockey. I'll be able to say I made two of my first adult decisions completely centered around mental health and I hope others can see the forest through the trees like I did <3