Everyone remembers at least one teacher who changes the direction of their life. For me, that teacher was my sophomore year math teacher, Cherie Bourgeois. Before her class, math had never been something I struggled with, but Algebra II was the first year I truly felt lost and unsure of myself. I began to doubt my abilities and questioned whether I was “good enough” to succeed. Mrs. Bourgeois saw that struggle before I even said it out loud. Instead of letting me fall behind, she consistently offered her time outside of class to help me understand the material, always with patience and encouragement. What made her different was not just her willingness to help, but the way she helped. She celebrated every small victory I had, whether it was a good quiz grade or finally understanding a difficult concept. She never made me feel judged or embarrassed for needing extra support. Instead, she approached me with love, not concern, and I could always tell she genuinely wanted what was best for me. In her classroom, I felt safe enough to admit when I didn’t understand something. That was the first time I truly learned that asking for help is not a weakness, it is a strength. Mrs. Bourgeois also inspired me in ways far beyond academics. She lives with an unknown medical condition that once left her paralyzed for a period of time. Although she regained the ability to walk, her legs still become paralyzed for a few minutes every now and then. Despite this challenge, she never allows it to define her. She walks through the halls each day with a smile and a hug for everyone she sees. Her resilience showed me what true strength looks like. She demonstrates that obstacles do not have to stop you; they can shape you into someone stronger. Every class, quiz, and test began with a prayer, reminding us that we are never alone. By the end of Algebra II, I had become an A student, but more importantly, I had gained confidence in myself. Mrs. Bourgeois did not just teach math, she taught me perseverance, faith, and self-belief. To this day, she greets me in the hallway with the same warm embrace and encouragement. Because of her, I approach life with greater confidence, knowing that with hard work, faith, and the courage to ask for help, I can overcome any challenge placed before me.

My major connects deeply to who I am and what I care about most: people. I have always been someone who feels things deeply, especially when it comes to others. My empathy guides almost everything I do. There have been times in my life when I made my own day more stressful just to make someone else’s easier. Supporting my friends and family has always come naturally to me, even when it required sacrifice. I remember helping a close friend through her parents’ divorce. I constantly adjusted my schedule to be there for her because I knew how much she was hurting. At the time, I did not realize that I was neglecting my own well-being and creating distance between myself and my family. When that friendship eventually changed, I learned an important lesson about balance. I realized that empathy is one of my greatest strengths, but it must be paired with self-awareness. That experience shaped me into someone who not only cares deeply but also understands the importance of healthy boundaries. My empathy is not just an emotion; it is a core part of my character and the driving force behind my career goals. My passion for helping others connects directly to my love for sports, which has been part of my life since childhood. Sports gave me connection, excitement, and a sense of belonging. I loved the adrenaline of competition and the way my family showed up to support me. However, in eighth grade, after making my high school volleyball team, anxiety began to overshadow my love for the game. I constantly compared myself to others and lost confidence in my abilities. Choosing to step away from competitive volleyball was difficult, but it taught me self-awareness and resilience. Even though I stopped playing, my appreciation for athletics never left. I understand not only the physical demands athletes place on their bodies but also the mental pressure they carry. That understanding is what led me to choose kinesiology as my major. Kinesiology allows me to combine my love for people with my passion for sports and the human body. I originally considered biology and psychology because I wanted to understand how people think and function. When I learned about kinesiology, I felt an instant sense of clarity. Studying human movement, injury prevention, and rehabilitation gives me the opportunity to support others both physically and emotionally. It allows me to channel my empathy into a profession where I can make a tangible difference. My dream is to become a physical therapist, potentially working with a professional sports team like the New Orleans Saints. Growing up watching their games with my family, I always imagined being part of that environment, not as a player, but as someone helping athletes stay healthy and return stronger after injury. I want to be the person who reassures an athlete during recovery, who understands their frustration, and who helps them regain confidence in their body. Through my career, I plan to make a positive impact by supporting individuals during some of their most vulnerable moments. Whether I work with professional athletes, young competitors, or everyday patients, my goal is to help people heal, regain strength, and believe in themselves again. Kinesiology is more than a major to me; it is the path that allows me to turn my empathy into action and make a meaningful difference in the world.

For the past four years, life has challenged me in ways that forced me to grow up quickly. While other kids my age focused on school and friends, I became a second parent to my younger brothers and a quiet support system for my mother, who was battling mental illness and an abusive relationship. In the middle of that chaos, I learned the power of patience, not just waiting, but holding on, showing up, and loving others even when it’s hard. There were moments when I felt overwhelmed and alone, but I kept reminding myself that giving up wasn’t an option. Each day became a lesson in resilience, teaching me that strength often comes in small, quiet acts of care. The summer before eighth grade, I was accepted into Mount Carmel Academy. I should have been excited, but that same summer, my mom sent my siblings and me to live with our grandparents. I remember crying on the floor, listening to arguments through the walls, scared that my stepfather might hurt her. I didn’t understand then that sometimes love makes people stay in places they shouldn’t. I blamed myself for not protecting her. That guilt followed me for years, and sometimes it still does, but I’ve learned to forgive myself and focus on what I can control. As the oldest child, I took on responsibilities no kid should have. I made sure my brothers were fed, clean, and helped with school. I tried to protect them from the trauma we couldn’t escape. I was angry, at my mom for returning to a toxic relationship, at life for giving me this role, and at myself for not being able to fix it. But over time, I realized something: I couldn’t save my mom, but I could be the one who kept my family from falling apart. That realization gave me purpose and helped me find strength I didn’t know I had. That’s why a scholarship means so much to me. I’ve worked hard to stay focused on school despite everything at home. I’ve carried burdens no one sees, and yet I’m still here, still pushing, still believing that my story doesn’t end in struggle. I want more for my future, and I want to show my brothers that we don’t have to be defined by our circumstances. This grant would give me more than money, it would give me room to breathe, to grow, and to continue pursuing a life my younger self could only dream about. I don’t just want to survive. I want to succeed, and bring my family with me.

Taking care of my younger brother has shaped my life in ways I never expected. He is my whole world, and every day I work to support him, cater to his needs, and help him grow. But it hasn’t been easy. At first, I struggled with anxiety every time I had to take him out or introduce him to new situations. I was scared he might act out or that I wouldn’t be able to manage everything. Those moments made me feel weak and disappointed in myself, I worried I wasn’t strong enough to be the person he needed. There were times I wanted to give up because the fear felt overwhelming, but I couldn’t imagine life without him. Each challenge felt like a test of my patience and courage. Slowly, I realized that being scared didn’t mean I was failing, it meant I cared deeply. Caring for him has challenged me mentally and emotionally. I’ve faced nights filled with worry and days overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility. Yet, through those struggles, I’ve learned patience, resilience, and love in ways I never thought possible. Helping him has pushed me to become more independent and determined. It has taught me how to manage my own fears so I can be the steady presence he relies on. I’ve realized that true strength isn’t about never feeling afraid, it’s about showing up anyway, for those you love. Every day, I’m committed to giving him my full focus, understanding that his needs sometimes require extra care and attention. Supporting him has not only helped him but has also strengthened me. I’ve become someone who doesn’t back down from challenges but meets them head-on with compassion and determination. This experience has fueled my desire to empower others facing similar challenges, to show them that with patience and support, we can overcome obstacles and grow stronger. While caring for my brother has been difficult at times, it has given me a deeper purpose. It inspires me to excel, to push past my own limits, and to build a future where I can continue advocating for those who need understanding and support. Through this journey, I hope to make a positive impact by sharing the resources and strategies that have helped me along the way. I know the struggle and I know the way to finding a path out of it. By offering guidance and support, I want to empower others facing similar challenges to find strength in their struggles and realize the power of love and dedication.

For the past four years, life has challenged me in ways that forced me to grow up quickly. While other kids my age focused on school and friends, I became a second parent to my younger brothers and a quiet support system for my mother, who was battling mental illness and an abusive relationship. In the middle of that chaos, I learned the power of patience, not just waiting, but holding on, showing up, and loving others even when it’s hard. The summer before eighth grade, I was accepted into Mount Carmel Academy. I should have been excited, but that same summer, my mom sent my siblings and me to live with our grandparents. I remember crying on the floor, listening to arguments through the walls, scared that my stepfather might hurt her. I didn’t understand then that sometimes love makes people stay in places they shouldn’t. I blamed myself for not protecting her. That guilt followed me for years. As the oldest child, I took on responsibilities no kid should have. I made sure my brothers were fed, clean, and helped with school. I tried to protect them from the trauma we couldn’t escape. I was angry, at my mom for returning to a toxic relationship, at life for giving me this role, and at myself for not being able to fix it. But over time, I realized something: I couldn’t save my mom, but I could be the one who kept my family from falling apart. That’s why a scholarship means so much to me. I’ve worked hard to stay focused on school despite everything at home. I’ve carried burdens no one sees, and yet I’m still here, still pushing, still believing that my story doesn’t end in struggle. I want more for my future, and I want to show my brothers that we don’t have to be defined by our circumstances. This grant would give me more than money—it would give me room to breathe, to grow, and to continue pursuing a life my younger self could only dream about. I don’t just want to survive. I want to succeed—and bring my family with me.

I have embodied a gritty mindset throughout my time in high school. My father is slightly involved in my life and while I was cared for by my mom she hit a rough patch during my time in high school. My mom at this time was not involved in my life the way she used to be. My siblings and I were forced to go back and forth between households. These two houses consisted of my mom's and step-dads house and my grandparent's house. During my 8th grade year, I completely moved into my grandparent's house. Here in this house for a while, I felt lost and alone. I had to make many mistakes alone and pave my way through high school. This included small stuff like making my plans, buying my things, and more seriously maturing to face the consequences of my mistakes. While my grandparents and mom tried their best I had to get through high school alone. It was small things like knowing what to wear or how to do my makeup that I was late to the game on compared to other people my age. For so long I fell behind and I had resentment towards my parents and grandparents for not knowing how and when to help. Soon I realized the only way I would prosper and be happy with my life was if I made it what I wanted it to be. I surrounded myself with friends who I wanted to be around and who cared for me. I took it upon myself to discover my style. While I struggled with comparing myself to others as I matured I became happy with who I was. I have the confidence to truly be myself around friends and family without worrying about what they think of me. This was because I realized that the only time I was happy was when surrounded myself with people who helped me evolve and mature and did not try to beat me down. While I still have a long way to go I can proudly say as a person can support myself without the help of others. While sometimes this is hard in the long run I now know for a fact I will be okay when troubles come my way. Being an Independent person can be hard and only but I have learned that being independent is a gift I have and it is a gift God has given me. This gift of Independence allows me to be myself.