When people think of hospice care, they often think of doctors, nurses, and medicine. I never planned to pursue a career in healthcare, yet I found myself drawn to volunteer at Mission Hospice for a different reason. As I learned more about end-of-life care, I realized that one of the greatest challenges many patients face is not only illness, but loneliness. I could not cure disease or change a diagnosis, but I could offer something just as meaningful: my time and my presence. At Mission Hospice, I learned that selflessness is often quiet. I remember sitting with a patient who had no family visiting that week, just holding a conversation about nothing in particular, her childhood, the weather, whatever came to mind, because what she needed most was someone willing to stay. Hospice taught me that while many people think helping someone requires solving a problem, sometimes the greatest gift you can give is simply letting someone know they are not alone. Those experiences changed the way I define service. It is not about recognition or dramatic acts of kindness; it is about choosing to be present for others, even when there is nothing tangible to gain in return. That lesson has shaped every other way I serve my community. Through my college's Basic Needs Center, I helped distribute groceries and connect students with essential resources, recognizing that asking for help can be difficult. I also organized an SELPA Prom for students with disabilities, where I learned how thoughtful planning can create welcoming, accessible spaces for people of all abilities. Outside of school, I built Thoughtful Tea Garden with my best friend, a community project centered on sharing tea as a way to encourage conversation and connection. Although each experience looks different, they are all driven by the same belief: people thrive when they feel included, valued, and connected to those around them. This belief has also shaped my future. I am pursuing a degree in real estate development because I want to create more than buildings; I want to create places that bring people together. My volunteer experiences have shown me how much our environments influence our sense of belonging. Whether it is a community gathering space, a neighborhood plaza, or a tea house where strangers become friends, I hope to design places that encourage relationships and strengthen communities long after they are built. Reading about Michael Rudometkin's life, I was struck by the idea that life is not defined by grades alone, but by the relationships we build, the passions we pursue, and the people we choose to help along the way. That belief echoes deep within me because it reflects the values that have guided my own service. Selflessness is not measured by grand gestures or recognition, but by consistently making time for others and choosing compassion, even through small acts that may go unnoticed. As I continue my education and eventually my career, I hope to carry that same legacy forward, creating communities where people feel connected, supported, and seen. If my work can help even a few people feel less alone, then I will know I have honored the spirit of service this scholarship celebrates.

One of the most meaningful volunteer events I helped organize was our school's SELPA Prom, a districtwide special education prom for students with disabilities. As Dance Chair, I was the head of event planning. I contacted other schools to coordinate decorations, designed and made the posters that transformed our gym for the night, arranged catering, and booked entertainment, including hula dancers, to make the evening feel like a real celebration rather than just another school event. The role took weeks of preparation, research, and constant communication across schools, but the most rewarding part was seeing students arrive excited to dance, laugh, and enjoy an evening designed entirely for them. During the event, I helped welcome guests, encouraged students to join activities, and ensured everyone felt comfortable participating. Many students were shy at first, but after talking with them, dancing alongside them, and cheering them on, they opened up and became more confident as the night went on. I remember one student who would not leave the wall for the first half hour and, by the end of the night, was leading a whole group into a konga line. Watching families smile as they saw their children fully enjoying the evening reminded me that service is often about creating moments where people feel seen. That experience shaped how I approach leadership. To me, leadership is not about being the person in charge; but about the lasting impact on others. Coordinating with other schools, managing a budget, and pulling together decorations, catering, and entertainment required planning, communication, and flexibility, but those skills only mattered because they enabled us to create an experience that put others first. Since then, I have continued serving my community in different ways. I volunteer at my college's Basic Needs Center, helping distribute food and connect students with essential resources. I also volunteer in hospice care, spending time supporting patients and their families, and I serve on my church's hospitality team. Alongside my best friend, I built Thoughtful Tea Garden, where we host community tea gatherings that encourage conversation, cultural appreciation, and meaningful connection. Each of these experiences has reinforced the same lesson: service creates community. Whether I am organizing a dance, helping a student access food, sitting with a hospice patient, or sharing tea with strangers, my goal is always to make people feel that they belong. This belief has also shaped my future career. This fall, I will attend the University of Southern California to study Real Estate Development. I hope to develop spaces centered on community that encourage connection and accessibility, because I have seen firsthand how thoughtfully designed environments and thoughtfully designed evenings can bring people together. Leadership through service matters because lasting change begins when we choose to invest our time, energy, and talents into improving the lives of others. My volunteer experiences have shown me that even small acts of service can leave a lasting impact, and I plan to carry that mindset into every stage of my career.

I didn’t grow up with a blueprint for success. I grew up watching my grandparents work tirelessly to hold our family together, and it was in their home that I learned what it meant to show up for the people you love. My parents immigrated to the United States to escape war in Vietnam, but it was my grandparents who raised me day to day. They were my first teachers, not in the academic sense, but in the ways that matter most. They taught me the value of education, the dignity of hard work, and the importance of caring for your community. Caregiving was not something I observed from a distance in our household. It was simply how we lived. That upbringing shaped everything I am working toward today. I am currently completing my studies at East Los Angeles College, where I serve as Vice President of Public Relations for the Associated Student Union, and I will be transferring to the University of Southern California to pursue degrees in Real Estate Development and Business Administration. My goal is to develop third spaces, the kind of places where people can gather, breathe, and belong. This vision grew out of years of watching what happens when communities lack the spaces and resources they need to thrive. It grew out of volunteering at the ELAC Basic Needs Center, where I distributed food to students who came to school hungry. It grew out of sitting with hospice patients through Mission Hospice, learning that presence alone can be a form of care. And it grew out of a project I co-created with my best friend called Thoughtful Tea Garden, a community gathering space inspired by global tea traditions and the simple but powerful idea that everyone deserves a place to feel welcomed. Real estate development is often framed around profit and square footage. I want to reframe it around people. I want to build the kinds of spaces that my grandparents' community never had, places where residents can connect, where families can gather, and where belonging is not an afterthought but the entire point. This scholarship would bring me closer to that vision. The financial support would ease the weight of tuition as I transition to USC, allowing me to stay focused on my studies and the community work I care deeply about. More than that, it would affirm that a girl raised by her grandparents in East Los Angeles, shaped by caregiving and community, belongs in rooms where the future is being built. I am a concrete rose. I have grown through difficulty, through financial pressure, through the quiet weight of wanting to honor the sacrifices made for me. I am not just reaching for my own success. I am reaching back.

Growing up, my "awkward" thing was the way I spoke. As a child, I had a speech impediment that made it difficult for me to pronounce certain sounds correctly, particularly my R's. My voice was also naturally deeper than most girls my age. These things may seem small, but they felt enormous when I was young. Children in my class made sure my awkward voice was known, and I was teased often for the way I talked. I was a naturally chatty girl, but eventually I became so self-conscious that I stopped raising my hand in class, avoided making new friends, and did everything I could to avoid drawing attention to myself. Many of my teachers told my dad that I was terribly shy or that I struggled to communicate. In reality, I was a bubbly kid who wanted to socialize and share her opinions but couldn’t. I loved making my family laugh and had endless thoughts and ideas, but I was afraid people would focus on how I sounded rather than what I had to say. To improve my speech, I attended speech therapy for several years. Progress was slow, but little by little my pronunciation improved. More importantly, I began learning that confidence is not something that appears overnight. It is built through small acts of courage. One of those acts came in middle school when I decided to audition for choir. I was terrified. Singing in front of others felt like the last thing someone insecure about her voice should do. I was not the strongest singer, but joining choir helped me become more comfortable being heard. It taught me that people were far less focused on my imperfections than I had imagined. That experience gave me the confidence to keep trying new things. In high school, I auditioned for my school's dance team. Dance quickly became one of my greatest passions. Unlike speaking, dancing allowed me to express emotions and ideas in ways words could not explain. I went on to compete in national competitions with the Mark Keppel High School Dance Team and formed friendships and memories I still carry with me today. Even now, I occasionally feel self-conscious about my voice. My pronunciation has improved enormously, and it no longer stands out the way it once did, but the insecurity has never completely disappeared. I have just stopped letting it control me. Looking back, I am grateful for the challenge that once made me feel different. My speech impediment came with horrendous teasing and insecurity, but beyond that it gave me resilience and empathy. It pushed me to step outside my comfort zone, rewarded me with new passions, and helped me understand that being different is not something to hide. I went from a girl who stayed silent in class to someone who sang in front of an auditorium and competed on a national stage. In high school, I was elected Senior Class President and delivered a speech to my entire graduating class, the same girl who had once refused to raise her hand. Today I advocate for my school community as Vice President of Public Relations at East Los Angeles College. What I once thought was my biggest weakness turned out to be one of the reasons I have grown the most.

What I love most about math is that it helps me understand the world beyond my feelings and opinions. We live in a world filled with assumptions and emotions. While those things have their place, math provides something different which is evidence. Math allows us to analyze information objectively, identify patterns, and make decisions based on facts rather than feelings. Whether we are evaluating a business, interpreting economic trends, or planning for the future, math helps us understand what is actually happening beneath the surface. This is one reason I am drawn to studying real estate development. Behind every successful investment or development project is a foundation of mathematics. Numbers tell stories. They reveal which communities are growing, where resources are needed, and how opportunities can be created. Math transforms uncertainty into informed decision making. I also love math because of what it made possible in my own life. Growing up in a low income household, I learned early that financial stability is not simply about earning money. It is about understanding how money works. The more I learned about budgeting, compound interest, and financial planning, the more I realized that math is one of the most powerful tools a person can have. It does not just help you understand the world. It helps you change your position in it. That is what I mean when I say math is empowering. It gives people the ability to evaluate risks, set goals, and build toward futures that once felt out of reach. Mathematical literacy helped me see my circumstances not as a ceiling but as a starting point. Ultimately I love math because it combines logic with possibility. It shows us the world as it is while giving us the tools to shape what it can become. Whether I am analyzing a development opportunity or managing my own finances, math provides the clarity and confidence to turn goals into reality.

I am a fan of Sabrina Carpenter because of what she represents: resilience. While many people know and love Sabrina for her catchy songs like “Espresso” and “Please Please Please”, the moment that impacted me most was seeing how she handled the intense public backlash she faced several years ago. Millions of people online criticized and judged her because of rumors and assumptions about her personal life. Even though much of the public conversation was beyond her control, she became the target of an overwhelming amount of hate. What inspired me was not just that she endured it, but how she responded. Instead of allowing the negativity to define her, she transformed her experiences into art. Her song "because i liked a boy" gave listeners a glimpse into what it felt like to be judged by strangers and blamed for circumstances they did not fully understand. The honesty and vulnerability in that song showed me that strength is not about pretending something does not hurt. Sometimes strength is being honest about your pain and continuing to move forward anyway. Sabrina's career reminds me that criticism does not have to determine your future. Despite the backlash, she continued creating music, improving her craft, and pursuing her goals. Rather than becoming known for a difficult chapter in her life, she went on to release music that millions of people around the world now love. She proved that setbacks do not have to be permanent and that other people's opinions do not have to define your worth. As a student, I find that message incredibly motivating. There will always be people who doubt your abilities, criticize your choices, or underestimate your potential. Sabrina's journey has taught me that success is not about avoiding challenges. It is about continuing to grow despite them. I admire Sabrina Carpenter not only as an artist but as someone who showed me what it looks like to be knocked down publicly and get back up anyway. Her story is a reminder that your reputation is not your ceiling. What you do next is.

Mental health shapes every part of a student's life, from how they perform academically to how they show up in their relationships, their confidence, and their sense of self. As someone deeply interested in psychology and a future community leader, I have come to understand that capability and ambition are not enough on their own. Students can work incredibly hard and still struggle when they lack emotional support or face challenges that go unaddressed. That is why I believe mental health deserves the same attention and care as physical health. Growing up, I helped care for my grandparents and learned early that compassion, patience, and making people feel valued are not small things. They are the foundation of well-being. Those years taught me that mental health is often strengthened not through programs or interventions alone, but through genuine human connection. When people feel seen, supported, and included, they can reach their full potential. That belief has shaped how I show up for others. In high school, I served as Dance Chair for a SELPA sponsored prom, a special education program that coordinates support and services for students with disabilities. My goal was not simply to plan an event. It was to create a space where every student felt welcomed and celebrated. Watching students dance, socialize, and enjoy an experience designed with their needs in mind showed me how meaningful inclusion can be for a person's confidence and emotional well-being. In college, I kept advocating for student well-being through leadership and service. As Vice President of Public Relations for the Associated Student Union at East Los Angeles College, I worked to connect students to campus resources through social media campaigns and outreach events. I also joined my school's psychology club, which deepened my understanding of mental health and gave me a community of people who take these conversations seriously. Through the Basic Needs Center, I also distributed food and supplies to students facing financial hardship. Basic needs and mental health are not separate issues. When students are stressed about where their next meal is coming from, that weight affects everything else in their lives. Getting to help lighten that load felt like direct mental health work. I also volunteered in hospice care, sitting with patients and their families during some of the hardest moments of their lives. That experience taught me that advocacy is not always about having answers or offering advice. Sometimes it is simply about being present, listening without judgment, and making someone feel less alone. That kind of quiet support can be just as powerful as any resource or program. As I prepare to study Real Estate Development and Buisness Administration at the University of Southern California, I want to carry this commitment forward. I believe the spaces we build shape how people feel about themselves and their communities. My goal is to develop environments where people are not just housed or served, but truly supported. Mental health is important to me because it determines whether a person can access their own potential, and I believe everyone deserves to live in a community that makes that possible.

The value that guides nearly everything I do is community. I learned this from my grandmother. My grandmother doesn't drive anymore, so every weekday we host mahjong at our house. Watching her laugh, fight, and treasure her friends showed me that a good community doesn't just support people; it lets them stay themselves. I believe that people shine the brightest when they feel connected and supported by those around them. This belief has shaped the way I spend my time, the opportunities I pursue, and ultimately my decision to study business and real estate development. Throughout my life, I have been drawn to roles that allow me to serve others. Growing up, I spent a great deal of time with my grandparents and extended family. In Chinese culture, community is often centered around family, and I learned early on that caring for others is not simply a responsibility but a way of showing gratitude and respect. As my grandparents grew older, I helped them with errands, appointments, and activities that allowed them to remain active and connected to their friends. Watching the importance of these relationships taught me that a strong community can greatly improve a person’s quality of life. This value continued to influence me as I became involved in volunteer work. At my church, I served on the hospitality team, where my role was to welcome attendees and help first-time visitors feel comfortable and included. While it may seem like a small task, I learned that something as simple as greeting someone warmly or helping them find a seat can make a meaningful difference. Many people walk into a new environment feeling nervous or alone. I wanted every person who entered to feel that they belonged. My desire to strengthen community also led me to volunteer at East Los Angeles College’s Basic Needs Center and Mission Hospice. At the Basic Needs Center, I helped distribute food and essential resources to students who were experiencing hardship. At Mission hospice, I learned how to provide companionship to those experiencing the lonlienst moments of their lives. These experiences together have reinforced my belief that communities are strongest when people look out for one another, especially during times of need. As Vice President of Public Relations for the Associated Student Union, I worked to increase awareness of campus resources and encourage student involvement. Community college students often juggle work, family responsibilities, and financial challenges while pursuing their education. I wanted students to know that they were not alone and that support was available. Whether through social media outreach, giving out physical flyers, or being the one to speak up, my goal was to help create a campus where students felt connected and supported. These experiences have influenced how I view business. While many people associate business with profit, I see it as a powerful tool for serving communities. My goal is to become a real estate developer because I want to help create places that bring people together. The spaces we build influence how people interact, form relationships, and experience their neighborhoods. I am especially interested in creating gathering spaces that encourage connection and strengthen local communities. No matter where my career takes me, my commitment to community will remain the same. I hope to use my education and future career to create opportunities, foster connection, and improve the lives of those around me. To me, success is not measured solely by personal achievement, but by the positive impact I have on the communities I serve.

Growing up, I learned that the most meaningful changes in a community come from people willing to create opportunities for others. That belief came from watching it happen in real time. A few years ago, my best friend and I spread a blanket in a local park, set out some tea, and invited anyone passing by to sit down. We called it The Thoughtful Tea Garden. What started as a small, quiet idea grew into something we never expected. Students, artists, travelers, and neighbors showed up. Strangers became friends. People who had nowhere to belong, even for an afternoon, found somewhere to land. Watching that unfold taught me something I haven't been able to let go of: a thoughtfully created space can change the way people feel about themselves and each other. That lesson is the foundation of everything I want to build. I am transferring to the University of Southern California to study Real Estate Development. My motivations for this major stretch far beyond a want to construct buildings; it’s because I want to shape environments where people can learn, rest, connect, and grow. The neighborhoods we live in, the parks we walk through, and the community centers we gather in these spaces have a direct impact on quality of life, and too many communities are being built without asking the people inside them what they actually need. My vision of this work came from the people I've been privileged to serve. Volunteering at my college's Basic Needs Center, I saw how financial hardship quietly erodes a student's ability to show up fully. In my classes, I sat next to a single mother who showed me what true resilience was. Through Mission Hospice, I sat with people at the end of their lives and witnessed how much human connection matters, sometimes more than anything else. These experiences didn't just shape my values. They made clear to me that success means nothing if it isn't shared. I think often about the people who made me who I am: mentors, neighbors, the strangers who sat down for tea and stayed for an hour. I carry them with me into every goal I set. The Sloane Stephens Foundation's work resonates deeply with me because it is rooted in the same belief: that access to safe, supportive spaces changes what is possible for a young person. That is exactly the change I am determined to create at scale. My long-term goal is to develop mixed-use spaces, public gathering areas, and affordable housing that balance financial sustainability with genuine community impact. I want to be in rooms where those decisions are made, and I want to make sure the people most affected by those decisions have a voice in them. Education is how I get there. USC will give me the educational foundation, the mentors, and the network to move from small gatherings in a park to projects that reshape neighborhoods. But the why behind all of it stays the same: I want more people to have somewhere they feel like they belong.

The story of Thomas Griffin Wilson made me think carefully about the relationships that have shaped who I am and who I hope to become. My first real understanding of what it means to serve others came in high school, when I served as the SELPA Dance Chair and helped organize a prom for students with disabilities across California. Watching students arrive dressed in sparkly dresses and suits, excited to celebrate with their friends, was the moment I realized that creating a sense of belonging can have a profound impact on someone's life. That experience planted a seed in me that would fully take root when I arrived at East Los Angeles College. Before I attended ELAC, I didn't anticipate how deeply the people around me would reshape my understanding of community. ELAC serves one of the most diverse student populations in California. Many students are first-generation college students, working adults, and parents balancing family alongside their education. Through student leadership and campus activities, I met some of the most resilient people whose stories expanded my sense of what perseverance truly looks like. Students working late-night shifts to pay for school. Students facing homelessness. Single mothers attending class while raising children and building a better future for their families. Working and advocating for these students through student government taught me not to take educational opportunities for granted and challenged me to be worthy of the chance I had been given. As Vice President of Public Relations at my community college, I worked to increase student engagement, advocate for greater campus resources and support, and volunteered at our basic needs center, distributing groceries to students in need every month. Being in that space, handing food to classmates who were quietly struggling, made the weight of food insecurity real to me in a way that statistics never could. Along with the relationships I built at ELAC, these experiences deepened my commitment to service and made it clear that I want to spend my career creating opportunities that help people thrive. That conviction continues to drive my professional goals. I plan to pursue a career in real estate development because I believe the places we build can strengthen communities and improve quality of life. I am particularly drawn to developing spaces that prioritize connection, accessibility, and opportunity for people from all backgrounds. Pursuing that vision requires not only passion, but also education and experiences. Recently I was admitted to my dream school, the University of Southern California, and with that acceptance came the overwhelming reality of how to fund it. This scholarship could be the difference between fully chasing my goals or pulling back entirely. My goal is not only to build successful projects, but to build environments that foster connection and create the same sense of community that has shaped my own life. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial relief, it would also mean having the honor to carry on Thomas's values.