The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. As we entered the bathroom of the manufacturing plant, I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with his mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay on the floor beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag, regained my composure, and ran to the ambulance. Having joined the rescue squad on my first day of eligibility (my 16th birthday), this was just my second 911 call. Although the man was clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate him en route to the hospital. His supervisor explained he had been in a traffic accident a year earlier and had been prescribed oxycontin for his pain. By the time his prescription ran out, he was heavily addicted. Black market oxy is expensive so he turned to a cheaper alternative - heroin. As I looked at the man’s face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. But the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. Besides, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. After numerous hours-long conversations with my supervisor and mentor, I’ve now logged over 600 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine since I live in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses, suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave evacuations). There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I’ve learned how to work through them. After adjusting to the emotional difficulties of the position, I seriously considered a career in emergency medicine. But I’ve had a number of other opportunities to explore the medical field. For example, for each of the past four years, I’ve applied to over 40 healthcare-related summer programs/internships (yes, I’m tenacious!) and was selected and completed several, including ones at Wake Forest School of Medicine, Emory University Winship Cancer Center, Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, and Marshall University School of Pharmacy. The experiences helped me refine my interests considerably. After shadowing at an orthopedics clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist, practicing at a university-based hospital where I can be involved in both research and patient care. I hope to practice in a rural area (similar to where I now live) where the need for quality healthcare is greatest. And I hope to specialize in geriatric physical therapy, working primarily with the elderly with whom I seem to make a special connection. And I will unquestionably remain a volunteer EMT for life.

Since childhood, I’ve been interested in the physiology of the human body and began formally exploring the field of healthcare in middle school. After a variety of courses, summer programs, and internships, I had all-but-decided to work in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the topic of my NIH internship). But my continued involvement with my local rescue squad convinced me I thrive on a closer relationship with patients. So I explored avenues to combine my interest in exercise physiology and patient care. After shadowing at an orthopedics clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist. I hope to practice my profession at a university-based hospital where I can remain involved in research as well as patient care. After a B.S. in kinesiology and a doctorate in Physical Therapy, I plan to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I seem to make a particularly tight connection), restore function, relieve pain, and prevent disability following injury. Although my parents saved for my brother and me to attend college, the pandemic upended those plans. They provide occupational safety services to industry, which requires them to be on-site at their client’s facilities. Because of COVID restrictions, they had practically NO billable work for two full years, and their business is slow to recover. Although I’ve worked part-time throughout high school, I fear the time available during college may be limited because I have ‘moderately severe’ ADHD. ADHD is often dismissed as a debilitating condition because the symptoms are usually managed (in large part) by medication. However, I’m unable to tolerate currently available drug treatments due to other health issues. Therefore, I rely solely on behavioral strategies and often have to work longer and harder than others for the same outcome. My college major will require clinical internships which are time-consuming but generally unpaid. Therefore, time remaining for employment may be limited. I plan to supplement my and my parents’ contributions with student loans. While most kids grew up to tunes such as “The Wheels on the Bus” and "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes", the music I remember from my early days was heavy metal – my Dad was a fan of Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, and Metallica (As you may have guessed, my parents are in their early 60’s!) As I grew older, I explored the preferred genres of my friends - pop, hip-hop, EDM, etc. But I quickly returned to my roots. I’m captivated by the intricate instrumentation and complex song structures of heavy metal. The technical skill and musicianship required to create and perform heavy metal music are awe-inspiring. Probably like most fans, I find the high-energy level and heavy instrumentation of heavy metal to be cathartic; it helps me release whatever pent-up feeling I might have. I can become lost in the music and forget about my problems for a while. But heavy metal music also serves as a powerful tool to manage my ADHD symptoms (a condition shared, perhaps not coincidentally, by several heavy metal heavy hitters including Corey Taylor of Slipknot, Bruce Dickinson of Iron Maiden, D. Randall Blythe of Lamb of God, and the legend himself Ozzy Osbourne). For me, ADHD makes me feel like my mind is constantly racing and I can’t stop it to focus, which often leaves me feeling overwhelmed. The intense nature of heavy metal provides a sense of stimulation that helps to regulate my otherwise scattered thoughts. The fast-paced rhythms and distorted guitar riffs help to boost my mood, increase my motivation, and provide a sense of encouragement and optimism. It took a bit of convincing, but I finally persuaded my parents that heavy metal music is a better study accompaniment than classical music – for me, anyway! I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life but also the complications of unmedicated ADHD. But armed with my carefully crafted playlist, I eagerly await what lies ahead!

Since childhood, I’ve been interested in the physiology of the human body and began formally exploring the field of healthcare in middle school. After a variety of courses, summer programs, and internships, I had all-but-decided to work in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the topic of the NIH internship I performed). But my involvement with our local volunteer rescue squad convinced me I thrive on a closer relationship with patients. So I explored avenues to combine my interest in exercise physiology and patient care. After shadowing at an orthopedics clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist. My journey has been complicated because I have severe ADHD. After years spent mentally wandering the classroom, distracted by the most minute details as my neurotypical peers attentively focused on the teachers’ presentations, I was diagnosed. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit, which is harder to recognize. And because I had a speech impediment as a child, my teachers were kind and never directly engaged me, but rather allowed me to sit quietly. So I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but they wouldn’t know. Then in sixth grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I was actually relieved… I had assumed I just wasn’t as smart as the other kids (averaging a “C” at best, with the more-than-occasional “D” and “F”). ADHD is often dismissed as a debilitating condition because the symptoms are usually managed (in large part) by medication. However, I’m unable to tolerate currently available drug treatments due to other health issues. So my challenge is to manage the condition solely by employing behavioral strategies. I’m now a master at organizational and time management strategies. I use apps on my phone for appointment reminders and prioritized to-do lists. I break large projects into smaller chunks and assign myself intermediate deadlines. I’ve “5S’ed” my study space (a methodology from manufacturing to make a workplace that is clean, uncluttered, and well-organized to help optimize efficiency). I keep a notepad and pen with me at all times. I never know when I might have an “aha” moment for one task while I’m in the middle of another. I carefully manage my diet and my exercise regime. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my friends for the same outcome, or when I don’t have time remaining after homework to go to a movie or sporting event with them. As a result, I struggle somewhat with anxiety and depression, but I’m learning behavioral strategies for that too. I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of unmedicated ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route (I think they were hoping for the latter.) But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology program as a prerequisite to a doctoral PT program. My challenges in the past have taught me to not underestimate myself. I’m stronger than I originally thought. I eagerly await what lies ahead!

After years spent mentally wandering the classroom, distracted by the most minute details as my neurotypical peers attentively focused on the teachers’ presentations, I was diagnosed with severe ADHD. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit, which is harder to recognize. And because I had a speech impediment as a child, my teachers were kind and never directly engaged me, but rather allowed me to sit quietly. So I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but they wouldn’t know. Then finally in sixth grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I was actually relieved… I had assumed I just wasn’t as smart as the other kids (averaging a “C” at best, with the more-than-occasional “D” and “F”). ADHD is often dismissed as a debilitating condition because the symptoms are usually managed (at least in large part) by medication. However, I am unable to tolerate currently available drug treatments due to other health issues. So my challenge has been to learn to live with this condition. Without the assistance of medication, I have to rely solely on behavioral strategies. I use apps on my phone for appointment reminders and prioritized to-do lists. I break large projects into smaller chunks and assign myself intermediate deadlines. I’ve “5S’ed” my bedroom and study space (a methodology from manufacturing to make a workplace that is clean, uncluttered and well-organized to help reduce waste and optimize efficiency). And I keep a notepad and pen with me at all times. I never know when I might have an “aha” moment for one task while I’m in the middle of another. I carefully manage my diet and my exercise regime. Six years later, I’m still working with my physician as new drugs become available, hoping to find a medication and dosing regimen that helps the ADHD symptoms without significant side effects. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my friends for the same outcome, or when I don’t have time remaining after homework to go to a movie or sporting event like them, and struggle a bit with anxiety and depression as a result. But I’ve learned behavioral strategies for those as well. Although I am very proud of my accomplishments, I often wonder how well I might have done if I didn’t have ADHD. For example, my GPA and test scores are good, (4.35 and 1470, respectively), yet I was deferred from my top two college choices (schools with the top-rated kinesiology programs). Although my scores are good, I guess they’re not quite good enough. Might I have performed better if I didn’t have ADHD? No worries… I’m set to enter either the University of Virginia or the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill next fall (still deciding!). I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of unmedicated ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route (I think they were hoping for the latter.) But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology program as a prerequisite to a doctoral PT program. My challenges have taught me to not underestimate myself. I’m stronger than I originally thought, and I’m the definition of tenacious! But then, I need to be - this will be a life long challenge. I eagerly await what lies ahead!

After years spent mentally wandering the classroom, distracted by the most minute details as my neurotypical peers attentively focused on the teachers’ presentations, I was diagnosed with severe ADHD. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit, which is harder to recognize. And because I had a speech impediment as a child, my teachers were kind and never directly engaged me, but rather allowed me to sit quietly. So I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but they wouldn’t know. Then finally in sixth grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I wasn’t upset with the diagnosis, rather I was enormously relieved… I had assumed I just wasn’t as smart as the other kids (averaging a “C” at best, with the more-than-occasional “D” and “F”). ADHD is often dismissed as a debilitating condition because the symptoms can be managed (at least in large part) by medication. However, I am unable to tolerate currently available drug treatments due to other health issues. So my challenge has been to learn to live with this condition. Without the assistance of medication, I needed to learn to rely solely on behavioral strategies to cope. My mom helped me with organizational and time management skills, and my teacher helped with classroom and test-taking skills. I now use apps on my phone for appointment reminders and prioritized to-do lists. I break large projects into smaller chunks and assign myself intermediate deadlines. I’ve “5S’ed” my bedroom and study space (a methodology from manufacturing to make a workplace that is clean, uncluttered, and well-organized to optimize efficiency). And I keep a notepad and pen with me at all times. I never know when I might have an “aha” moment for one task while I’m in the middle of another. I carefully manage my diet and my exercise regime. Over time, I’ve been able to catch up academically and actually excel. I’m now a straight-A student taking all AP courses. I work part-time as a housekeeper and lawn maintenance tech, am a volunteer first responder with our local rescue squad, and have completed several extremely competitive and rigorous internships/programs over the past few years. I would never have been able to accomplish this had my ADHD not been diagnosed and had I not had the support of my family and teachers to learn to manage the condition. Six years later, I’m still working with my physician as new drugs become available, hoping to find a medication and dosing regimen that helps the ADHD symptoms without significant side effects. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my friends for the same outcome, or when I don’t have time remaining after homework to go to a movie or sporting event with them, and struggle a bit with anxiety and depression as a result. And although I am very proud of my accomplishments, I often wonder how well I might have done if I didn’t have ADHD. For example, my GPA and test scores are good, (4.35 and 1470, respectively), yet I was deferred from my top two college choices (schools with the top-rated kinesiology programs). Although my scores are good, I guess they’re not quite good enough. Might I have performed better if I didn’t have ADHD? No worries… I’ll likely enter either the University of Virginia or the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill next fall (still waiting on the deferral decisions) to major in kinesiology. Since childhood, I’ve been interested in the physiology of the human body and began formally exploring the field of healthcare in middle school. After a variety of courses, summer programs, and internships, I had all-but-decided to work in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the topic of the NIH internship I performed). But my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I thrive on a closer relationship with patients. So I explored avenues to combine my interest in exercise physiology and patient care. After shadowing at an orthopedics clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist. I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I seem to make a particularly close connection), restore function, relieve pain, and prevent disability following an injury so they can live a satisfying life. I hope to practice my profession at a university-based hospital where I can remain involved in research as well as patient care. Ideally, I’ll do so in a rural community – likely Southwest Virginia (where I’m from). The desperate need for improved healthcare in rural areas is well documented. According to the American Physical Therapy Association, the need is as, if not more, severe in the area of physical therapy as in other areas of medicine. Patients must travel extreme distances or simply forgo much-needed therapy. So I have no doubt I can work in a career that I thoroughly enjoy while living in a community I love. I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of unmedicated ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route (I think they were hoping for the latter.) But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology program as a prerequisite to a doctoral PT program. My challenges in the past have taught me to not underestimate myself. If I stay focused on the goal (ha! A little inside ADHD joke!) and remain willing to put in the time and extra effort, I can accomplish whatever I choose. Pure tenacity! I eagerly await what lies ahead!

As a student, managing your finances is essential for a number of reasons. First and foremost, it allows you to live within your means and avoid unnecessary debt. Furthermore, good financial management skills can help you prepare for your future and achieve your long-term goals. There are several reasons why financial management is important for students. For one, most students have limited financial resources, meaning they must make every penny count. Managing your finances effectively can help you stretch your budget further, allowing you to cover your basic needs such as food, accommodation, and transportation. Another reason why financial management is crucial for students is that it can help you avoid unnecessary debt. Many students rely on loans and credit cards to finance their education and lifestyle, but without proper budgeting and planning, it's easy to accumulate debt that can take years to pay off. By learning to manage your finances effectively, you can avoid this kind of financial burden and reduce your stress levels. Finally, good financial management skills can help you achieve your long-term goals. Whether you want to save for a down payment on a house or start your own business after graduation, being financially savvy can help you get there faster. By living within your means, avoiding unnecessary debt, and investing in your future, you can achieve financial stability and build a strong foundation for your future. So, what can you do to manage your finances well as a student? Create a budget: The first step in managing your finances effectively is to create a budget. This should include all of your income and expenses, including tuition fees, rent, food, transportation, and entertainment. Prioritize your spending: Once you have a budget in place, it's important to prioritize your spending. This means identifying your essential expenses (like rent and food) and allocating your money accordingly. If you have any money left over, you can use it for discretionary expenses like going out with friends or buying new clothes. Look for ways to save money: There are many ways to save money as a student, from buying used textbooks to cooking your own meals instead of eating out. Look for ways to cut costs wherever possible, without sacrificing your quality of life. Avoid unnecessary debt: While it may be tempting to take out a loan or use a credit card to finance your lifestyle, it's important to avoid unnecessary debt wherever possible. Only borrow what you need and make sure you have a plan in place to pay it back. Invest in your future: Finally, it's important to invest in your future by saving and investing your money wisely. This could mean putting money into a savings account or investing in the stock market, depending on your goals and risk tolerance. In conclusion, managing your finances as a student is essential for living within your means, avoiding unnecessary debt, and achieving your long-term goals. By creating a budget, prioritizing your spending, looking for ways to save money, avoiding unnecessary debt, and investing in your future, you can set yourself up for financial success both now and in the years to come..

I have been interested in the physiology of the human body for as long as I can remember. In fact, I vividly remember the plastic mannequin with removable organs in my 3rd-grade science room. I even asked to take the spleen home one weekend. (Why the spleen, you may ask? I have no idea. I was a rather strange kid. And if you’re wondering, my teacher said ‘No’.) I began formally exploring the field of healthcare in middle school. Initially, I participated in several local programs (nearby community college, our local hospital, and an osteopathic medical school nearby). I then cast a broader net and applied to over 30 summer internships across the country (requiring a total of 57 essays – I’m nothing if not tenacious!). I was fortunate to be selected for an Army-sponsored program and was paired with a mentor from the Marshall University School of Pharmacy. For six weeks, I lived alone in an efficiency apartment, cooked and cleaned for myself, and walked to and from the lab (I was too young to have a driver’s license!). I completed an independent research project which I’ve presented at five professional events. My mentor invited me to continue working with her during my Junior year of high school on a second project, so I commuted to Marshall’s campus, 3 hours from home, during school breaks (fortunately my mom was willing to drive!). This past summer, I again applied to dozens of programs and was offered a few positions, including my top choice – an NIH-sponsored internship coordinated through Wake Forest University Medical School. I again completed an independent study as the only high school student in the lab. This mentor also offered me the opportunity to continue my work, which I'm currently doing. Along the way, I was able to participate in several other programs. What I’m most proud of, however, is my work with our local volunteer rescue squad. I joined on my 16th birthday - my first day of eligibility. I’ve now logged nearly 500 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses, teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. Just my 2nd call, for example, involved a heroin-induced heart attack. Though clinically dead, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. And a recent call involved evacuating a boy slightly younger than me to a waiting Life Flight helicopter after a horrific mountain bike crash several miles deep in the woods. Though I initially joined as a way to learn about the healthcare field, I continue because of the incredible gift I’m able to give others. I am tremendously gratified knowing I've helped dozens of community members when they’re at their most vulnerable. I expect to remain a volunteer EMT for life. These opportunities helped me refine my interests within the healthcare field considerably. I had all-but-decided to work in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the topic of the NIH internship). But my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I thrive on a closer relationship with patients. So I explored avenues to combine my interest in exercise physiology and patient care. After shadowing at an orthopedics clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I seem to make a particularly close connection), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can live a satisfying life.

What Being Tall Means to Me Dear Mr Greenberg, As the coach of the Virginia Tech men’s basketball team, I am hoping you can help me with a problem I am having. I can’t seem to find the Adidas Tiro 3-stripe athletic pants in a size long enough to fit me. Can you share where your team purchases theirs? Thank you, Carson Gilmore – Soon-to-be Freshman, Blacksburg High School Entering high school for the first time, I just wanted to ‘fit in’, which, of course, includes dressing like everyone else. I was frustrated to discover I was unable to find the ‘cool’ pants in my size. At 14, I was already 6’2” and topped the scales at a mere 130 pounds. After contacting Adidas directly and receiving a robotic reply referring me to their “Big and Tall” shop (And yes, it’s aptly named. They apparently assume “Big” and “Tall” go hand-in-hand), I reached out to the men’s basketball coach at nearby Virginia Tech. I never heard back. What I didn’t realize at the time is that wearing ‘cool’ pants would not be enough. Not only did I stand a head length above my peers, I was pencil-thin and had a head of near-fluorescent blonde hair. The combination resembled an old fashioned lamp post shining in the Victorian night sky. Being somewhat shy, I simply wanted to be inconspicuous. A lamp post is not inconspicuous. Needless to say, I didn’t particularly like being tall. Despite my height, I wasn’t particularly good at sports. When I say “not particularly good”, what I really mean is I was average. But at my height, being average is not enough. Although I enjoyed basketball, I resigned to play only rec ball because people always seemed disappointed I wasn’t better. I did play soccer throughout high school but again, I was average. I wasn’t able to chase down the fastest player on the opposing team like people seemed to expect given the length of my stride. And I wasn’t able to stop every goal like people seemed to expect given my wingspan. No, I didn’t particularly like being tall. I also found that not only did people expect me to be an athletic star, they tended to have unfounded expectations of my personality. Tall people are leaders; they are self-assured and confident. I’m sure people expected this of me partly because tall kids are assumed to be older. But in our culture, mere tallness conveys strength and power. As a young teenager, I had neither of those things. (In my defense, what teen does?). So again, I routinely felt that I was disappointing those around me when they discovered who I really was. Nope, I really didn’t like being tall. That was three years ago. I’m now finding that I just may like being tall after all. Because people have always had high expectations of me, I have worked harder to live up to those expectations. I didn't always meet them, but I always bettered myself as I tried. I have become far more poised and self-assured, and I’ve become a leader within my school community. But with that advantage comes a responsibility. My height may help with first impressions, but my attitudes, values, and actions will determine whether I live up to those expectations. I understand now how my height will offer me a small advantage as I try to make a difference in the world … so long as my pants fit properly.

Since childhood, I’ve been interested in the physiology of the human body. In fact, I vividly remember the plastic mannequin with removable organs in my 3rd-grade science room. I even asked to take the spleen home one weekend. (Why the spleen? I have no idea. I was a strange kid). So I don’t recall a specific instance of deciding on a career in medicine – it seems it was always just a ‘given’. I do remember, however, the day I vowed to focus my efforts on underserved populations. I was 12 years old. Although I’d visited my dentist’s office many times, it wasn’t until that particular day I paid attention to the photographs on the wall. Each of the thirty or so pictures showed Dr. Dan alongside a smiling young face. He described his participation in a program that provides dental care to families in need. I remember the face of a girl he introduced as Angela, a young girl from Guatemala. In the picture, she wasn’t looking at the camera. She was looking up into the face of Dr. Dan as if he were her hero. It was then I decided that as a healthcare professional, I wanted to help the people of Guatemala. (At the age of 12, I naively thought the people of Guatemala were somehow unique in their lack of access to healthcare and to be perfectly honest, I think Angela may have just been my first crush!) Over the past several years, I’ve had the opportunity to intern in medical labs through programs with the NIH (National Institutes of Health) and at Marshall University’s School of Pharmacy. These opportunities have solidified my interest in medicine but ignited my fascination with research. My commitment to helping underserved populations, however, remains unchanged. I hope to one day help better understand the role of exercise in disease prevention, particularly Type 2 diabetes and breast cancer, both of which disproportionately affect minority populations. Following an undergraduate degree in biomedical science, I plan to earn a M.D./Ph.D In preparation, I joined our local volunteer rescue squad which has been the most rewarding experience imaginable. I’ve logged over 500 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, and alcohol poisoning (which are sadly ‘routine’ given that I live in a college town), as well as ‘exceptional’ ones including domestic violence, heart attacks, and drug overdoses. My most recent call involved the evacuation of a boy slightly younger than me to a waiting Life Flight helicopter after a horrific mountain bike crash deep in the woods. [I am delighted to report that after a 12-hour surgery, he unexpectedly survived and will likely fully recover.] I expect to remain a volunteer EMT for life. I owe much to the quiet guidance of my childhood dentist, Dr. Dan. Through his model, I became committed to focusing my interests in medical research on helping underserved populations. I am beyond excited to begin my journey to turn my love of biomedical sciences into a career of service to those neglected by our own healthcare system and other disadvantaged populations throughout the world.

After years spent mentally wandering the classroom, distracted by the most minute details as my neurotypical peers attentively focused on the teachers’ presentations (Well, except for Cody Barrister. He was busy throwing paper clips at the girls. But that’s a different story for a different day), I was diagnosed with ADHD. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit, which I gather is harder to recognize. And because I had a speech impediment as a child, my teachers were kind and never directly engaged me, but rather allowed me to sit quietly. So I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but they wouldn’t know. Then finally in seventh grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I was enormously relieved… I had assumed I just wasn’t as smart as the other kids. I tried medication, but was unable to tolerate it because of other medical conditions. So, I began working on behavioral strategies. My mom helped me with organizational and time management skills, and my teacher discretely helped with classroom and test-taking skills. Over time, I was able to catch up academically and then actually began to excel. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my peers for the same outcome or when I don’t have time remaining to go to a movie or sporting event. And although I am very proud of my accomplishments, I often wonder how well I might have done if I didn’t have ADHD. For example, my GPA and test scores are quite good, (4.35 and 1470, respectively), yet I was deferred from my top two college choices. Although my scores are good, I guess they’re just not quite good enough. Might I have performed better if I didn’t have ADHD? Regardless, I believe ADHD actually gives me a few superpowers. The so-called hyper-fixations allow me to concentrate for hours at a time when engrossed in a topic I enjoy. For example, I have a keen interest in exercise science. I’m an avid powerlifter and I plan to become a physical therapist. I regularly explore the science behind training guidelines I come across. It's not uncommon for me to head down a rabbit hole and not emerge for hours. Why is a combination of isometric (e.g., planks) and isotonic (e.g., squats) exercises recommended? How do these different forms of exercise impact muscle fibers differently? Do partial range of motion reps have a different impact on a muscle than full range of motion reps? So many questions! ADHD is also associated with creativity. I’ve been told I’m great at “thinking outside the box”, which is usually said as a compliment (at least I think!). Because of these traits, I believe I’ll be overall even more successful in the future than I would be without ADHD; not to mention a far more interesting person. (Too bad Rice U and UMich won’t get a chance to see! :) I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route. But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology/exercise science program as a prerequisite to a doctoral PT program, so... (deep breath)… that’s what I’ll do. I eagerly await the challenge!

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. As we entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility, I gasped at what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay on the floor. I was paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I regained my composure, dropped the oxygen bag, and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. But helping to save a life - literally, not figuratively - was the most gratifying experience I could imagine. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), as well as ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave evacuations). As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the year, allowing me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I will remain a volunteer EMT for life. For a while, I thought emergency medicine might be my calling. But then I attended Governor’s School – a full-time, four-week, summer program. There were three courses to select from in the healthcare track: anatomy, genetics, and exercise physiology. I took a chance and chose the class I knew least about: “The Science of Strength”. I was enthralled. Subsequently, I toyed with the idea of a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the topic of the NIH internship I was completing at the time). But I knew I wanted a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist. I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly, restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life.

For several years, I've helped my eldery neighbor dispose of her weekly trash. We live in a rural area and don't have town-sponsored trash collection. And because our neighborhood is rural and mountainous, private firms (e.g., Waste Management) either find it difficult or not profitable to provide service. So once a week, I take her trash in the back of my SUV (no worries - it's pretty trashed itself!) to our local waste collection bins. But I've wondered how many other people face this problem. So I've come up with a plan to start a small business, employing students to pick up the trash of their neighbors. The executive summary of the business plan follows: Students Removing Waste, Inc. Students Removing Waste, Inc. (SRW) will offer a trash and recycling pick-up service to residents of rural neighborhoods which do not have the benefit of town-sponsored trash collection services. SRW will utilize an employment model similar in nature to that used for newspaper delivery. Employees will be recruited from within a given neighborhood to provide trash collection services within that neighborhood. They will work 1 to 1.5 hours each morning before normal school/work hours. Industry SRW, Inc. will join the residential waste removal industry, dominated by big players such as Waste Management Inc., Republic Services, Inc., and Stericycle. These larger organizations, which use ‘garbage trucks’ and 2-3 person crews, tend to operate in densely populated neighborhoods. SRW, on the other hand, will focus on relatively small, somewhat rural, yet relatively affluent neighborhoods. The use of small pick-up trucks as collection vehicles will allow house-side pick-up in addition to the traditional curb-side pick-up. Objectives Students Removing Waste, Inc. will offer a trash/recycling pick-up service to residents of rural neighborhoods without town-sponsored trash collection services. Target Clients Transporting trash is burdensome for many. The target audience includes: • residents with limited physical strength and/or mobility (e.g., elderly), • those who don’t want to run the risk of fouling their personal vehicles by transporting waste, • busy individuals who find it inconvenient to transport their waste to the local dump. The project will be piloted in a neighborhood outside Blacksburg, Virginia with 72 homes. There are 17 similar neighborhoods without town-supplied trash collection services on the outskirts of this town alone. Employment Model Our employment model is similar to that once used for newspaper delivery. Students will be recruited from within a neighborhood to provide services to that neighborhood. The operators therefore will be a familiar face – a neighbor, in fact. Schedule. Operators will spend approximately 1 hour each morning, 5 days per week, servicing a neighborhood of approximately 72 homes. Communicating with Clients SRW will send a ‘trash day’ reminder text the evening before and again 30 minutes before scheduled pick-ups. Monthly invoices will be emailed. Information about high priority issues (e.g., cancelled pick-up due to inclement weather) will be sent via text. Less urgent issues (e.g., holiday schedules) will be sent by email and be posted on our website. Clients can contact SRW via text, email, or phone as needed. Service Offerings SRW will offer two tiers of service: Curb-side pick-up and House-side pick-up. The latter is attractive because many houses in the region have long, steep driveways which may prove difficult to navigate for many residents while carrying/dragging trash bags or wheeling trash bins. More frequent and on-demand pick-ups will be available as well. Pricing Strategy Monthly subscriptions rates are as follows: - weekly curbside pickup: $25/month - weekly house-side pickup: $45/month

After years spent mentally wandering the classroom, distracted by the most minute details as my neurotypical peers attentively focused on the teachers’ presentations (Well, except for Cody Barrister. He was busy throwing paper clips at the girls. But that’s a different story for a different day), I was diagnosed with ADHD. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit, which I gather is harder to recognize. And because I had a speech impediment as a child, my teachers were kind and never directly engaged me, but rather allowed me to sit quietly. So I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but they wouldn’t know. Then finally in seventh grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I was enormously relieved… I had assumed I just wasn’t as smart as the other kids. I tried medication, but the impact on my sleep was intolerable. I was just as inattentive from sleep deprivation as I had been from the condition itself! So, I began working on behavioral strategies. My mom helped me with organizational and time management skills, and my teacher helped with classroom and test-taking skills. Over time, I was able to catch up academically and then actually began to excel. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my peers for the same outcome or when I don’t have time remaining to go to a movie or sporting event. And although I am very proud of my accomplishments, I often wonder how well I might have done if I didn’t have ADHD. For example, my GPA and test scores are quite good, (4.35 and 1470, respectively), yet I was deferred from my top two college choices. Although my scores are good, I guess they’re just not quite good enough. Might I have performed better if I didn’t have ADHD? Regardless, I believe ADHD actually gives me a few superpowers. The so-called hyper-fixations allow me to concentrate for hours at a time when engrossed in a topic I enjoy. For example, I have a keen interest in exercise science. I’m an avid powerlifter and I plan to become a physical therapist. I regularly explore the science behind training guidelines I come across. It's not uncommon for me to head down a rabbit hole and not emerge for hours. Why is a combination of isometric (e.g., planks) and isotonic (e.g., squats) exercises recommended? How do these different forms of exercise impact muscle fibers differently? Do partial range of motion reps have a different impact on a muscle than full range of motion reps? So many questions! ADHD is also associated with creativity. I’ve been told I’m great at “thinking outside the box”, which is usually said as a compliment (at least I think!). Because of these traits, I believe I’ll be overall even more successful in the future than I would be without ADHD; not to mention a far more interesting person. (Too bad Rice U and UMich won’t get a chance to see! :) I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route. But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology/exercise science program as a prerequisite to a doctoral PT program, so... (deep breath)… that’s what I’ll do. I eagerly await the challenge!

After years spent mentally wandering the classroom, distracted by the most minute details as my neurotypical peers attentively focused on the teachers’ presentations (Well, except for Cody Barrister. He was busy throwing paper clips at the girls. But that’s a different story for a different day), I was diagnosed with ADHD. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit, which I gather is harder to recognize. And because I had a speech impediment as a child, my teachers were kind and never directly engaged me, but rather allowed me to sit quietly. So I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but they wouldn’t know. Then finally in sixth grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I was enormously relieved… I had assumed I just wasn’t as smart as the other kids. I tried medication, but the impact on my sleep was intolerable. I was just as inattentive from sleep deprivation as I had been from the condition itself! So, I began working on behavioral strategies. My mom helped me with organizational and time management skills, and my teacher helped with classroom and test-taking skills. Over time, I was able to catch up academically and then actually began to excel. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my peers for the same outcome or when I don’t have time remaining to go to a movie or sporting event with friends.. And although I'm very proud of my accomplishments, I often wonder how well I might have done if I didn’t have ADHD. For example, my GPA and test scores are quite good, (4.35 and 1470, respectively), yet I was deferred from my top two college choices. I guess my scores aren't quite good enough. Might I have performed better if I didn’t have ADHD? No worries, I'm set to attend either UVA or UNC (still deciding). Regardless, I believe ADHD actually gives me a few superpowers. The so-called hyper-fixations allow me to concentrate for hours at a time when engrossed in a topic I enjoy. For example, I have a keen interest in exercise science. I’m an avid powerlifter and I plan to become a physical therapist. I regularly explore the science behind training guidelines I come across. It's not uncommon for me to head down a rabbit hole and not emerge for hours. Why is a combination of isometric (e.g., planks) and isotonic (e.g., squats) exercises recommended? How do these different forms of exercise impact muscle fibers differently? Do partial range of motion reps have a different impact on a muscle than full range of motion reps? So many questions! ADHD is also associated with creativity. I’ve been told I’m great at “thinking outside the box”, which is usually said as a compliment (at least I think!). Because of these traits, I believe I’ll be overall even more successful in the future than I would be without ADHD; not to mention a far more interesting person. (Too bad Rice U and UMich won’t get a chance to see! :) I know college will be challenging and I may have to give up some extracurricular activities. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route. But because I want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology program as a prerequisite to a doctoral PT program, so... (deep breath)… that’s what I’ll do. I eagerly await the challenge!

“Cut the lights? How do you cut lights?” That was the reply I blurted out in response to my kindergarten teacher’s request as she readied our classroom for a movie (lights are ‘turned off’ as far as I was concerned). It was nearing the end of the school year and those were the first words I'd spoken aloud the entire year. I, of course, don’t remember the day, but my mom recounts the event just as Ms. Stone had excitedly relayed it to her when she picked me up from school that afternoon. Carson had spoken! I had a significant speech impediment as a child and my classmates weren’t always kind, hence I lived my early years hardly uttering a word. My older brother frequently communicated on my behalf, and my best friend took his place at school, so I was rarely in the uncomfortable position of having to speak for myself. I attended therapy for several years and my articulation improved greatly but navigating life with few words became ingrained. To this day, I’m perfectly content sitting on the sidelines of conversations. Many of my courses require class discussion, which is always rather stressful. And although my friend group (whom I’ve known since pre-school) is perfectly accepting of the silent version of me, I know that making and maintaining new relationships in college will require communication. So I’ve begun making a purposeful effort to interject during conversations. The dialog doesn’t come naturally for me as it does for the others, as I’m sure is obvious to anyone listening. But I’m making progress. Throughout my early years, my teachers were very accommodating of my speech issues as well; rarely calling on me in class. I suspect that contributed to my second challenge, ADHD, not being diagnosed until middle school. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit. I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but my teacher would never know. Then finally in sixth grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I tried medication, but the impact on my sleep was intolerable. I was just as inattentive from sleep deprivation as I had been from the condition! So, I began working on behavioral strategies. My mom helped me with organizational and time management skills, while my teacher helped with classroom and test-taking skills. Over time, I was able to not only catch up academically but began to excel. I’m still working with my physician to find a medication and dosing regimen that helps the ADHD symptoms without significant side effects. But I have learned to manage the challenges of the disorder without medication well enough to succeed in and out of the classroom. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my friends for the same outcome or when I don’t have time remaining to go to a movie or sporting event. But I also realize I'm extraordinarily fortunate in many other ways. I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of my speech issues and ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route. But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology/exercise science program to increase my chances of being accepted into a doctoral PT program, so... (deep breath)… that’s what I’ll do. I eagerly await the challenge!

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. As we entered the bathroom of the manufacturing plant, I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with his mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay on the floor beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag, regained my composure, and ran to the ambulance. Having joined the rescue squad on my first day of eligibility (my 16th birthday), this was just my second 911 call. Although the man was clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate him en route to the hospital. His supervisor explained he had been in a traffic accident a year earlier and had been prescribed oxycontin for his pain. By the time his prescription ran out, he was heavily addicted. Black market oxy is expensive so he turned to a cheaper alternative - heroin. As I looked at the man’s face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. But helping to save a life – literally, save a life - was the most gratifying experience I could imagine ever having. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. After numerous hours-long conversations with my supervisor, I’ve now logged nearly 500 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses, suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave evacuations). There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I’ve learned how to work through them. As a student member of the rescue squad, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my full EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I originally joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member because of the priceless gift it allows me to give to others. I will unquestionably remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses, teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. I'll do so for life. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. This scholarship will support those financially-taxing dreams.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses (usually heroin), teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. And of course, I'll remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses (usually heroin), teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. And of course, I'll remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses (usually heroin), teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. And of course, I'll remain a volunteer EMT for life.

I could hardly believe my luck! I was tossing a ball with my grandpa when I ducked under the low-hanging branches of a massive pine to retrieve a stray when I saw it. Solid black except the four wheels which had the Batman emblem embossed in gold. I had a collection of Superhero action figures, but not a Batmobile. “Wow, that's quite the ride!” my grandpa exclaimed. “But does it belong to you?” My heart sank. “But the owner obviously didn’t like it very much or they wouldn’t have left it behind!”, I suggested. My lame attempts at persuasion continued a bit longer, but ultimately Grandpa won. But as I passed the Batmobile to the desk attendant of the nearby community center, I felt an unexpected sense of peace. The pride I felt instantly replaced my disappointment. That moment has become like a mantra for me. When I am tempted to compromise my values, I picture my nine-year-old self handing over the Batmobile and I know what to do. When I was loading groceries into my car and discovered a 12-pack of Coke on the bottom shelf of the cart which I’d forgotten to remove and pass through the check-out scanner, I knew what to do. I returned to the store and paid for the unintentionally pilfered item. When I hastily pulled into a parking space at the movie theatre, misjudged the turn radius, and lightly scraped the fender of the car beside me, I knew what to do. Sure, it would have been easy to pull away and find a spot in another area of the lot. But instead, I left a note with my name and number. The ethical challenges I have faced to date are trivial to those I will encounter as I move through life - in the workplace and as a husband, father, community member, and friend. But I feel confident I have developed a solid foundation of integrity. I hope to be known as a person who has the courage to do the right thing, even when the right thing is hard to do.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses (usually heroin), teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. And of course, I'll remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses (usually heroin), teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. And of course, I'll remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses (usually heroin), teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. And of course, I'll remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses (usually heroin), teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. And of course, I'll remain a volunteer EMT for life.

“Cut the lights? How do you cut lights?” That was the reply I blurted out in response to my kindergarten teacher’s request as she readied our classroom for a movie (lights are ‘turned off’ as far as I was concerned). It was nearing the end of the school year and those were the first words I'd spoken aloud the entire year. I, of course, don’t remember the day, but my mom recounts the event just as Ms. Stone had excitedly relayed it to her when she picked me up from school that afternoon. Carson had spoken! I had a significant speech impediment as a child and my classmates weren’t always kind, hence I lived my early years hardly uttering a word. My older brother frequently communicated on my behalf, and my best friend took his place at school, so I was rarely in the uncomfortable position of having to speak for myself. I attended therapy for several years and my articulation improved greatly but navigating life with few words became ingrained. To this day, I’m perfectly content sitting on the sidelines of conversations. Many of my courses require class discussion, which is always rather stressful. And allthough my friend group (whom I’ve known since pre-school) is perfectly accepting of the silent version of me, I know that making and maintaining new relationships in college will require communication. So I’ve begun making a purposeful effort to interject during conversations. The dialog doesn’t come naturally for me as it does for the others, as I’m sure is obvious to anyone listening. But I’m making progress. Throughout my early years, my teachers were very accommodating of my speech issues as well; rarely calling on me in class. I suspect that contributed to my second challenge, ADHD, not being diagnosed until middle school. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit. I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but my teacher would never know. Then finally in sixth grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I tried medication, but the impact on my sleep was intolerable. I was just as inattentive from sleep deprivation as I had been from the condition! So, I began working on behavioral strategies. My mom helped me with organizational and time management skills, while my teacher helped with classroom and test-taking skills. Over time, I was able to not only catch up academically but began to excel. I’m still working with my physician to find a medication and dosing regimen that helps the ADHD symptoms without significant side effects. But I have learned to manage the challenges of the disorder without medication well enough to succeed in and out of the classroom. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my friends for the same outcome or when I don’t have time remaining to go to a movie or sporting event. But I also realize I'm extraordinarily fortunate in many other ways. I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of my speech issues and ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route. But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology/exercise science program to increase my chances of being accepted into a doctoral PT program, so... (deep breath)… that’s what I’ll do. I eagerly await the challenge!

“Cut the lights? How do you cut lights?” That was the reply I blurted out in response to my kindergarten teacher’s request as she readied our classroom for a movie (lights are ‘turned off’ as far as I was concerned). It was nearing the end of the school year and those were the first words I'd spoken aloud the entire year. I, of course, don’t remember the day, but my mom recounts the event just as Ms. Stone had excitedly relayed it to her when she picked me up from school that afternoon. Carson had spoken! I had a significant speech impediment as a child and my classmates weren’t always kind, hence I lived my early years hardly uttering a word. My older brother frequently communicated on my behalf, and my best friend took his place at school, so I was rarely in the uncomfortable position of having to speak for myself. I attended therapy for several years and my articulation improved greatly but navigating life with few words became ingrained. To this day, I’m perfectly content sitting on the sidelines of conversations. Many of my courses require class discussion, which is always rather stressful. And allthough my friend group (whom I’ve known since pre-school) is perfectly accepting of the silent version of me, I know that making and maintaining new relationships in college will require communication. So I’ve begun making a purposeful effort to interject during conversations. The dialog doesn’t come naturally for me as it does for the others, as I’m sure is obvious to anyone listening. But I’m making progress. Throughout my early years, my teachers were very accommodating of my speech issues as well; rarely calling on me in class. I suspect that contributed to my second challenge, ADHD, not being diagnosed until middle school. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit. I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but my teacher would never know. Then finally in sixth grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I tried medication, but the impact on my sleep was intolerable. I was just as inattentive from sleep deprivation as I had been from the condition! So, I began working on behavioral strategies. My mom helped me with organizational and time management skills, while my teacher helped with classroom and test-taking skills. Over time, I was able to not only catch up academically but began to excel. I’m still working with my physician to find a medication and dosing regimen that helps the ADHD symptoms without significant side effects. But I have learned to manage the challenges of the disorder without medication well enough to succeed in and out of the classroom. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my friends for the same outcome or when I don’t have time remaining to go to a movie or sporting event. But I also realize I'm extraordinarily fortunate in many other ways. I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of my speech issues and ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route. But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology/exercise science program to increase my chances of being accepted into a doctoral PT program, so... (deep breath)… that’s what I’ll do. I eagerly await the challenge!

Dear Mr Greenberg, As the coach of the Virginia Tech men’s basketball team, I am hoping you can help me with a problem I am having. I can’t seem to find the Adidas Tiro 3-stripe athletic pants in a size long enough to fit me. Can you share where your team purchases theirs? Thank you, Carson Gilmore – Soon-to-be Freshman, Blacksburg High School Entering high school for the first time, I just wanted to ‘fit in’, which, of course, includes dressing like everyone else. I was frustrated to discover I was unable to find the ‘cool’ pants in my size. At 14, I was already 6’2” and topped the scales at a mere 130 pounds. After contacting Adidas directly and receiving a robotic reply referring me to their “Big and Tall” shop (And yes, it’s aptly named. They apparently assume “Big” and “Tall” go hand-in-hand), I reached out to the men’s basketball coach at nearby Virginia Tech. I never heard back. What I didn’t realize at the time is that wearing ‘cool’ pants would not be enough. Not only did I stand a head length above my peers, I was pencil-thin and had a head of near-fluorescent blonde hair. The combination resembled an old fashioned lamp post shining in the Victorian night sky. Being somewhat shy, I simply wanted to be inconspicuous. A lamp post is not inconspicuous. Needless to say, I didn’t particularly like being tall. Despite my height, I wasn’t particularly good at sports. When I say “not particularly good”, what I really mean is I was average. But at my height, being average is not enough. Although I enjoyed basketball, I resigned to play only rec ball because people always seemed disappointed I wasn’t better. I did play soccer throughout high school but again, I was average. I wasn’t able to chase down the fastest player on the opposing team like people seemed to expect given the length of my stride. And I wasn’t able to stop every goal like people seemed to expect given my wingspan. No, I didn’t particularly like being tall. I also found that not only did people expect me to be an athletic star, they tended to have unfounded expectations of my personality. Tall people are leaders; they are self-assured and confident. I’m sure people expected this of me partly because tall kids are assumed to be older. But in our culture, mere tallness conveys strength and power. As a young teenager, I had neither of those things. (In my defense, what teen does?). So again, I routinely felt that I was disappointing those around me when they discovered who I really was. Nope, I really didn’t like being tall. That was three years ago. I’m now finding that I just may like being tall after all. Because people have always had high expectations of me, I have worked harder to live up to those expectations. I didn't always meet them, but I always bettered myself as I tried. I have become far more poised and self-assured, and I’ve become a leader within my school community. But with that advantage comes a responsibility. My height may help with first impressions, but my attitudes, values, and actions will determine whether I live up to those expectations. I understand now how my height will offer me a small advantage as I try to make a difference in the world … so long as my pants fit properly.

I could hardly believe my luck! I was tossing a ball with my grandpa when I ducked under the low-hanging branches of a massive pine to retrieve a stray when I saw it. Solid black except the four wheels which had the Batman emblem embossed in gold. The miniature car appeared new – even the bat-wing fins were in pristine condition. I had a collection of Superhero action figures, but not a Batmobile. “Wow, that's quite the ride!” my grandpa exclaimed when I showed him my extraordinary fortune. “But does it belong to you?” My heart sank. “Yeah, but the owner obviously didn’t like it very much or they wouldn’t have been so careless as to leave it behind!”, I suggested. Feeling desperate, I added, “Or maybe they didn’t want it anymore, so they left it for someone else to find!” My lame attempts to persuade my grandpa continued a bit longer, but ultimately, Grandpa won. We took the unearthed treasure to the neighboring community center. I suspect Kenny, the front desk attendant, didn’t expect anyone to return for the missing toy when he suggested I ‘keep it safe’ while we wait to see if anyone comes to claim it. Then the fateful moment came when Kenny called and broke the bad news. The rightful owner had returned. I felt an enormous sense of dread as I anticipated handing over my cherished chariot. But as I passed the Batmobile to Kenny, I felt an odd sense of peace. My grief didn’t grow as expected, but rather diminished. In fact, it disappeared completely. Sure, I was disappointed, but the pride I felt in knowing that I was doing the right thing instantly replaced my sorrow. That moment has become like a mantra for me. When I face a tough decision and am tempted to compromise my values, I picture my nine-year-old self handing the Batmobile to Kenny. I feel the accompanying visceral reaction of satisfaction and pride, and I know what to do. When friends and I were loading our groceries into the car and discovered a 12-pack of Coke on the bottom shelf of the cart which we’d forgotten to remove and pass through the check-out scanner, I knew what to do. My friend argued, stressing that the cost was hardly significant and we were in a hurry. But I returned to the store and paid for the unintentionally pilfered item. When I hastily pulled into a parking space at the movie theatre, misjudged the turn radius, and lightly scraped the fender of the car beside me, I knew what to do. Sure, it would have been easy to pull away and find a spot in another area of the lot. No one saw me, so no one would ever know. But instead, I left a note with my name and number. And when a classmate brought weed to a party and offered to share, I knew what to do. My friend nervously agreed to partake, but I said ‘no thanks’, and simply explained I don’t care for the stuff. With what I could tell was a sense of relief, my friend then said ‘yeah, actually, me either’. The ethical challenges I have faced to date are trivial to those I will encounter as I move through life - in the workplace and as a husband, father, community member, and friend. But I feel confident I have developed a solid foundation of integrity. I hope to be known as a person who has the courage to do the right thing, even when the right thing is hard to do.

“Cut the lights? How do you cut lights?” That was the reply I blurted out in response to my kindergarten teacher’s request as she readied our classroom for a movie (lights are ‘turned off’ as far as I was concerned). It was nearing the end of the school year and those were the first words I'd spoken aloud the entire year. I, of course, don’t remember the day, but my mom recounts the event just as Ms. Stone had excitedly relayed it to her when she picked me up from school that afternoon. Carson had spoken! I had a significant speech impediment as a child and my classmates weren’t always kind, hence I lived my early years hardly uttering a word. My older brother frequently communicated on my behalf, and my best friend took his place at school, so I was rarely in the uncomfortable position of having to speak for myself. I attended therapy for several years and my articulation improved greatly but navigating life with few words became ingrained. To this day, I’m perfectly content sitting on the sidelines of conversations. Many of my courses require class discussion, which is always rather stressful. And allthough my friend group (whom I’ve known since pre-school) is perfectly accepting of the silent version of me, I know that making and maintaining new relationships in college will require communication. So I’ve begun making a purposeful effort to interject during conversations. The dialog doesn’t come naturally for me as it does for the others, as I’m sure is obvious to anyone listening. But I’m making progress. Throughout my early years, my teachers were very accommodating of my speech issues as well; rarely calling on me in class. I suspect that contributed to my second challenge, ADHD, not being diagnosed until middle school. My form of ADHD has no hyperactivity, only attention deficit. I could be a ‘million miles away’ during a lecture, but my teacher would never know. Then finally in sixth grade, a teacher whose son has the same form of ADHD, suggested I get tested. The diagnosis confirmed her suspicion. I tried medication, but the impact on my sleep was intolerable. I was just as inattentive from sleep deprivation as I had been from the condition! So, I began working on behavioral strategies. My mom helped me with organizational and time management skills, while my teacher helped with classroom and test-taking skills. Over time, I was able to not only catch up academically but began to excel. I’m still working with my physician to find a medication and dosing regimen that helps the ADHD symptoms without significant side effects. But I have learned to manage the challenges of the disorder without medication well enough to succeed in and out of the classroom. I get frustrated at times when I have to work longer and harder than my friends for the same outcome or when I don’t have time remaining to go to a movie or sporting event. But I also realize I'm extraordinarily fortunate in many other ways. I know college will be challenging, dealing not only with the ordinary trials of university life, but also the complications of my speech issues and ADHD. My parents and I discussed at length whether I should continue to push myself or choose a slightly easier route. But because I ultimately want a career as a physical therapist, I need an undergraduate degree from a rigorous kinesiology/exercise science program to increase my chances of being accepted into a doctoral PT program, so... (deep breath)… that’s what I’ll do. I eagerly await the challenge!

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. I’ve now logged over 450 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses (usually heroin), teen suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave rescues. There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I've learned to work through them. As a student member, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member as a way to give a priceless gift to others. As much as I gain from my volunteer work, I've realized a career in emergency medicine is not for me. Likewise, after exploring a variety of fields within healthcare, I was strongly considering a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the subject of an NIH internship I completed), but my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with patients. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). I want to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly (with whom I tend to form a special relationship), restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life. And of course, I'll remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. As we entered the bathroom of the manufacturing plant, I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with his mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay on the floor beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag, regained my composure, and ran to the ambulance. Having joined the rescue squad on my first day of eligibility (my 16th birthday), this was just my second 911 call. Although the man was clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate him en route to the hospital. His supervisor explained he had been in a traffic accident a year earlier and had been prescribed oxycontin for his pain. By the time his prescription ran out, he was heavily addicted. Black market oxy is expensive so he turned to a cheaper alternative - heroin. As I looked at the man’s face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. But helping to save a life – literally, save a life - was the most gratifying experience I could imagine ever having. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. After numerous hours-long conversations with my supervisor, I’ve now logged nearly 500 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses, suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave evacuations). There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I’ve learned how to work through them. As a student member of the rescue squad, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my full EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I originally joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member because of the priceless gift it allows me to give to others. I will unquestionably remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. As we entered the bathroom of the manufacturing plant, I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with his mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His necktie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay on the floor beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag, regained my composure, and ran to the ambulance. Having joined the rescue squad on my first day of eligibility (my 16th birthday), this was just my second 911 call. Although the man was clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate him en route to the hospital. His supervisor explained he had been in a traffic accident a year earlier and had been prescribed oxycontin for his pain. By the time his prescription ran out, he was heavily addicted. Black market oxy is expensive so he turned to a cheaper alternative - heroin. As I looked at the man’s face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. But helping to save a life – literally, save a life - was the most gratifying experience I could imagine ever having. Besides, the program had invested a great deal of time and resources into my training, and our community needed qualified first responders. And I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. After numerous hours-long conversations with my supervisor, I’ve now logged nearly 500 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses, suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave evacuations). There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I’ve learned how to work through them. As a student member of the rescue squad, my medical contributions are often limited. In addition to taking vitals and transporting patients, I am often the one to hold the victim’s hand, or that of the victim’s spouse, parent, friend, or child, and assure them they will receive the finest care available. Providing emotional support is immensely gratifying, but I’m eager to do more. I will earn my full EMT certification by the end of the current school year which will allow me to join my college’s rescue squad as a full member. I originally joined the rescue squad as a way to explore the field of healthcare. I remain a member because of the priceless gift it allows me to give to others. I will unquestionably remain a volunteer EMT for life.

The air was filled with flashing lights and blaring sirens. As the back door of the ambulance flung open, I jumped out carrying the oxygen bag. There was so much shouting I could only discern a few words: “echo” (the most severe of the dispatch codes) and “heart attack”. We entered the basement bathroom of the manufacturing facility. I was not prepared for what I saw. A middle-aged man lay motionless, with mouth agape and eyes rolled back into his head. His neck tie was wrapped around his arm and a syringe lay on the floor beside him. I was momentarily paralyzed. Someone yelled to bring the gurney, so I dropped the oxygen bag and ran to the ambulance. Barely 16 at the time, this was just my second 911 call. Although clinically dead from a heroin-induced heart attack, we were able to resuscitate the victim en route to the hospital. As I looked at his face, I was struck by the realization that he was about my dad’s age. Questions flew through my mind: Is he married? Does he have kids? Might I know his kids? I tried to no avail to erase the picture that invaded my mind of his fictional family at the dinner table… with an empty chair. Then the table became my family’s and the chair became my dad’s. I could barely breathe. I almost resigned from the rescue squad that day. I wasn’t sure I had the emotional fortitude required. Seeing someone stripped of life, if only for a few minutes, was crushing. But helping to save a life – literally, save a life - was the most gratifying experience I could imagine. Besides, I wasn’t ready to abandon the dream of working in healthcare I’d had since childhood. After numerous hours-long conversations with my supervisor, I’ve now logged close to 500 volunteer hours responding to both ‘routine’ calls (e.g., vehicle accidents, elderly falls, alcohol poisoning (sadly, it is routine in a college town), and ‘exceptional’ ones (e.g., drug overdoses, suicide attempts, domestic violence, and rural terrain/water/cave evacuations). There are still gut-wrenching moments, but I’ve learned how to work through them. I expect to remain a volunteer EMT for life. After settling in at the rescue squad, I thought emergency medicine might be my calling, providing both a career and an avenue to serve my community. But then I attended Governor’s School – a full-time, four-week, summer program. There were three courses to select from in the healthcare track: anatomy, genetics, and exercise physiology. I took a chance and chose the class I knew least about: “The Science of Strength”. I was enthralled. Subsequently, I toyed with the idea of a career in research exploring the relationship between exercise and disease prevention (the topic of the NIH internship I was completing at the time). But my continued involvement with the rescue squad convinced me I want a closer relationship with the patient – closer even than a typical doctor-patient relationship. So I explored avenues to combine my love of exercise physiology and patient care. After shadowing at a sports medicine clinic, I’m now committed to becoming a physical therapist (PT). After an undergraduate degree in kinesiology and a doctorate in physical therapy, I plan to spend my career helping patients, particularly the elderly, restore function, relieve pain and prevent disability following an injury so they can continue to live a satisfying life.