Why I Am Passionate About the Special Education Teacher Profession “I have learned that the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” – Harold Bloom To me, Professor Bloom’s statement captures the soul of teaching. “Presence” in this sense is more than physical participation in a classroom—it’s the realization of one’s value, voice, and potential. For students with special needs, who are too often overlooked or underestimated, helping them develop a true sense of their own presence means nurturing self-confidence, identity, and the belief that they belong in the world and have something meaningful to offer. My passion for becoming a special education teacher is rooted in both experience and purpose. As someone who has worked in education for over 15 years, I’ve witnessed the moments when a child finally feels seen, when they recognize that their voice matters, that their learning style isn’t a limitation but a path of its own. I’ve seen firsthand how powerful and transformative it can be when students are given tools, patience, and a teacher who believes in their brilliance. Special education isn’t just about accommodations—it’s about liberation. It’s about recognizing and celebrating neurodiversity, emotional depth, and different learning styles as strengths. Each student I work with teaches me something new about persistence, curiosity, and joy. Many of them have spent years being told what they can’t do. I want to be the educator who helps them see what they can do—and more importantly, who they are when they feel safe, respected, and capable. To guide students to a sense of their own presence, I begin with building trust. A student who feels emotionally safe can begin to take academic and social risks. I create structured, predictable classroom environments, and celebrate every step forward—no matter how small. Through strategies like differentiated instruction, Universal Design for Learning, and High Leverage Practices, I adapt teaching to the learner, not the other way around. Each lesson is an invitation: “This space is for you. You are important here.” I also believe that presence is linked to purpose. Many of my students flourish when their learning is connected to their interests and identities. Whether it’s using music to teach reading, or storytelling to teach math, I want to make education feel relevant. I encourage self-expression through art, movement, journaling, and conversation. I build in moments for students to reflect on what they’re proud of, what they’re working toward, and who they are becoming. Most importantly, I model presence. I show up fully for my students. I speak to them with dignity, I learn their stories, I listen more than I talk. I admit when I’m wrong. I laugh with them. I believe that how we show up as educators is one of the most powerful lessons we can teach. ⸻ A Fairy Tale: Ms. Chloe and the Classroom of Hidden Stars Once upon a time, in a busy city not far from here, there lived a brave and determined woman named Ms. Chloe. She had journeyed through many paths in life, wearing many hats—mother, mentor, guide, student—but in her heart, she always knew she was meant to be a teacher. Not just any teacher, but a teacher for the students whom the world often forgot. In her kingdom—known to others as “Room 208”—there were no dragons, but there were challenges. Some students spoke in whispers, some didn’t speak at all. Some had trouble sitting still, others had trouble being heard. Many had already been told they weren’t good enough, smart enough, or fast enough. But Ms. Chloe saw something different: she saw magic. She arrived each day with a glowing satchel filled with tools—storybooks that spoke to the soul, music that moved the room, markers that created new worlds, and charts that tracked every victory. She called her students “Hidden Stars” because they only needed the right light to shine. One day, a student named Jayden, who hadn’t spoken in months, stood up and read an entire sentence aloud. The class clapped. Ms. Chloe smiled and whispered to herself, “He’s finding his presence.” Another student, Amira, who used to avoid eye contact, started helping her classmates. Ms. Chloe wrote her a golden note that said, “You are a leader.” The more Ms. Chloe believed in them, the more they believed in themselves. Room 208 began to sparkle—not with glitter, but with confidence. Students danced when they got answers right, sang when they needed to think, and hugged each other when things got tough. And when people passed by the room, they often paused and said, “Something special is happening in there.” It was true. Something magical was happening. Presence was blooming. The stars had been found. And Ms. Chloe? She didn’t need a crown or a castle. Her reward was in every smile, every “aha!” moment, every whispered “I did it.” And as long as there were children needing to be seen, she vowed to keep showing up, lighting the path, and helping them see their own shine. The end… or rather, just the beginning. ⸻ This profession is more than a career—it is my calling. Helping students with special needs experience their own presence is a mission that brings meaning to my every day. Like Professor Bloom said, our purpose as teachers is not to mold students into something else, but to help them discover what was already inside them. That discovery is the real magic—and I am honored to be a part of it.

My name is Chloe Williams, and I’m a proud Afro–Puerto Rican woman from Harlem. My mother is from Ponce, Puerto Rico, and my father is African American with roots in North Carolina. I was raised in a community where struggle and resilience go hand in hand, and where creativity, culture, and family hold everything together. I’m also a mother to a 17-year-old son, who has been my greatest motivation and my most important teacher. Every decision I make is rooted in the desire to create a better future for him—and for children like him. For over 15 years, I’ve worked in education as a paraprofessional, literacy instructor, and program coordinator in New York City public schools. I’ve served in classrooms with students from all walks of life—many of whom have learning differences, behavioral challenges, or emotional needs that require care, structure, and unwavering belief in their potential. I currently work in a third-grade classroom, providing support to students on the autism spectrum, including one child with severe anxiety. I adapt instruction, create visual schedules, offer sensory breaks, and communicate closely with the special education team to ensure every student gets what they need to thrive. It’s demanding work, but I love it—because I see firsthand how the right support can completely change the way a child sees themselves. Education is more than a career for me—it’s a calling. I am currently finishing my sociology degree at Hunter College, and after graduation, I will begin pursuing a master’s degree in special education and literacy. My long-term goal is to become a certified teacher and open my own learning center called The Learning Lounge Harlem. This center will provide culturally responsive academic support, social-emotional learning, and literacy-focused programming for students who need more individualized instruction—especially Black and Brown children who often fall through the cracks in traditional school settings. I also want to provide resources for parents so they can better advocate for their children’s needs and be active participants in their educational journey. My impact will be rooted in love, strategy, and empowerment. I know what it’s like to juggle multiple responsibilities—school, work, parenting—and still dream bigger than your circumstances. That’s why I strive to be the kind of educator who truly sees her students. I want to help children build confidence in themselves, understand their unique learning styles, and embrace the idea that they are more than capable, no matter what labels they’ve been given. This scholarship would help me step into this next chapter with greater stability and peace of mind. I currently work multiple jobs while attending school, and while I’ve always found a way to make it work, the financial support would allow me to focus more deeply on my studies and fieldwork. But more importantly, this scholarship represents belief. It shows that someone out there sees value in what I bring to the table, and in the future I want to build—not just for myself, but for my students, my community, and my family. Thank you for considering me. I plan to make the most of every opportunity I’m given and pay it forward by pouring into the next generation—especially those who need someone to believe in them, just like you’re believing in me

Dear Scholarship Committee, If I could start a business with my late sister Sandy, it would be a community-centered wellness and education space called Roots & Wings. This name captures exactly what Sandy and I always dreamed of offering to others—roots to ground them in love and knowledge, and wings to help them rise above life’s challenges. Sandy passed away from an asthma attack—a tragedy that still weighs heavily on my heart. She was young, full of life, and had such a nurturing spirit. We grew up in Harlem, where access to quality healthcare, mental health support, and educational resources wasn’t always guaranteed. Even as teenagers, we talked about how one day we’d open a place that could give kids what we never had: a space where they felt safe, seen, and supported. In Roots & Wings, we’d offer tutoring, mentorship, mental health counseling, and creative arts programs—all while advocating for asthma awareness and health equity. Sandy was incredibly artistic and emotionally in tune with others. She would’ve led the heart-centered work—creating healing spaces, writing programs, and inspiring young people through her vision. I’ve spent over 15 years in education, specializing in supporting students with learning differences. I would bring my experience as an educator, mentor, and advocate to make our dream sustainable and impactful. Although she’s no longer here, I carry Sandy’s dreams with me in everything I do. This business would be our shared legacy—one that turns grief into growth, and love into lasting change. Thank you for considering my application. Warmly, Chloe Williams

My Mission Beyond the Degree By Chloe Williams For most people, a college degree is a milestone. For me, it’s a turning point—one I’ve been working toward for over a decade. It represents more than academic achievement; it’s the result of grit, sacrifice, and an unshakable desire to build a better life not just for myself, but for my son, and for every student I’ve had the privilege of working with. My story hasn’t been simple. I became a mother at sixteen, at a time when I was still figuring out who I was. I was in high school, working part-time at AMC Theatres, navigating the instability of growing up in foster care, and trying to create some sense of normalcy for my son and myself. I was tired. I was scared. But I never let go of the belief that education would be my way out—and my way forward. Juggling motherhood and school at such a young age wasn’t easy. I’d go from changing diapers to completing homework, then walk to the theater to work the evening shift. Sometimes I’d come home with just enough money for baby formula and bus fare. There were many nights I cried in silence, wondering if I was doing enough or if I was enough. But every time I thought about giving up, I thought about my son. I wanted him to grow up knowing that no matter where you start in life, you can still create your own ending. Today, I’m 33 years old and finishing my bachelor’s degree in Sociology at Hunter College. I work full-time in a New York City public school as a paraprofessional and have dedicated over 15 years to working with students with diverse learning needs. I’ve supported students with autism, learning disabilities, anxiety, and more—often serving as both their academic support and emotional anchor. This work has shaped my purpose and solidified my calling: I want to become a certified special education teacher and reading specialist. My passion for special education stems from my own experiences of being overlooked and underestimated. Growing up, I didn’t always feel seen or understood by the adults around me. I know what it’s like to struggle in silence, to mask your challenges just to survive the day. When I walk into a classroom, I’m not just an educator—I’m someone who can say, “I’ve been there,” and mean it. I want my students to feel that. I want them to know they are never alone, that their voices matter, and that their learning style is not a flaw, but a strength. Once I earn my master’s degree in special education and literacy, my goal is to work as a certified teacher in the New York City Department of Education. But beyond that, I dream of opening a literacy and learning center in Harlem—the neighborhood that raised me. This center will be a safe haven for children who learn differently and for families who may not have access to the resources they need. It will offer after-school programs, tutoring, emotional support, and community-building workshops. I want to create a space where every child feels empowered, where no one falls through the cracks, and where learning is joyful and affirming. This scholarship would help me continue that journey. It would give me the financial flexibility to pay down student loans, apply to graduate school, and invest in the tools and resources I need to support my students effectively. I’ve always made things work, even with limited means. But the truth is, balancing school, work, and parenting on a tight budget is exhausting. This scholarship would help lift some of that burden, allowing me to move through this next chapter with more focus and less financial strain. Throughout my career, I’ve seen the difference that one adult can make in a child’s life. I’ve worked with students who were labeled as “difficult” or “behind,” and I’ve watched them blossom with the right support. Sometimes, it’s just about giving them the space to be themselves, the patience to move at their own pace, and the belief that they are capable of greatness. I’ve learned that teaching isn’t just about delivering information—it’s about building trust, creating structure, and helping students tap into their own sense of self-worth. In many ways, I see my future classroom as a place where students can discover their sense of “presence,” just like Professor Harold Bloom described. I want each child to know that they are not invisible. That their ideas matter. That they are capable of achieving whatever they set their minds to, even if it takes a different path to get there. Presence, to me, is confidence, identity, and belonging—and I will spend my career making sure every student I teach feels that way. Looking ahead, my long-term goal is to influence education on a broader level. I want to mentor new teachers, advocate for inclusive education policies, and build programs that support early intervention and family involvement. I believe that by working both inside and outside the classroom, I can create lasting change for students and their communities. One of my proudest accomplishments to date is raising my son. He is now seventeen and preparing for college. Watching him grow into a thoughtful, determined young man fills me with pride. He has seen me study late at night, work weekends, and push through exhaustion because I believed in something greater. He is my greatest motivation—and my greatest success. This degree, this scholarship, this moment—it’s about more than me. It’s about breaking cycles, building new legacies, and giving other young mothers, foster kids, and struggling students someone to look up to. I want my life to be proof that it’s never too late, that dreams are still possible, and that education truly does open doors. Thank you for considering my application. Your support would not just impact my academic journey—it would help bring to life a vision that has been years in the making. A vision of classrooms filled with joy, of students learning with pride, and of one woman who refused to give up—because she knew her presence mattered.

Why I’m Passionate About Special Education & How I Help Students Discover Their Presence By Chloe Williams Professor Harold Bloom once said, “I have learned that the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” To me, this quote captures the very heart of what it means to be an educator—especially in the field of special education. To experience a “sense of presence” is to become aware of your worth, your power, and your place in the world. It means knowing you matter, even if your learning path looks different from others. It means walking into a room and knowing you belong there. For many students with special needs, that kind of self-awareness doesn’t come easily. Too often, they’ve been told—directly or indirectly—that they’re “too much,” “not enough,” or “a problem.” My mission as a future special education teacher is to undo that damage. I want to guide my students toward the truth of who they are: capable, brilliant, unique, and worthy of love and learning. My passion for special education isn’t academic—it’s personal. I know what it’s like to be overlooked, underestimated, and labeled as a statistic. I grew up in the foster care system, bouncing between homes and schools, never feeling grounded or truly seen. Then at sixteen, I became a mother, navigating high school, part-time work at AMC Theatres, and motherhood all at once. I wasn’t expected to succeed—but I did. And I did it because, somewhere along the way, a few educators saw something in me and refused to let me fade into the background. They made me feel present. That feeling changed everything. That’s the kind of educator I strive to be. In the classroom, I believe in meeting each child exactly where they are—no shame, no judgment. I use strategies grounded in empathy, structure, and creativity to help my students build confidence and skills at the same time. Whether that’s breaking down a lesson into manageable steps, using visual aids, or celebrating even the smallest victories, my goal is always the same: to help each child discover their strengths and recognize their value. Presence, for some students, might look like raising their hand for the first time. For others, it might be reading aloud with pride, taking the lead in a group project, or advocating for what they need. No matter how big or small the moment, when a child begins to realize they matter—that’s when the magic of teaching happens. Outside the classroom, I’m working toward completing my degree in sociology and entering a master’s program in special education and literacy. I’ve been a paraprofessional for over 15 years, and I’ve had the honor of supporting students with autism, learning disabilities, anxiety, and more. I’ve also raised a now-17-year-old son who I’m sending off to college soon. Every experience has taught me something new about patience, adaptability, and the importance of showing up with your whole heart. I plan to use this career not just to teach, but to build—programs, safe spaces, community partnerships, and eventually, a learning center in Harlem that focuses on literacy and individualized support for children with special needs. I want my legacy to be one that says: “Every child deserves to feel seen, supported, and significant.” ⸻ Optional Fairy Tale: “Chloe and the Classroom of Hidden Stars” Once upon a time, in a bright and bustling village called Harlem, there lived a woman named Chloe. She wasn’t born into royalty, nor did she have a fairy godmother or a castle to call her own. She had something better—grit, love, and a dream. Chloe had once been a child who felt invisible. She wandered through forests of uncertainty and crossed rivers of rejection, never quite sure where she belonged. But one day, she stumbled upon a mirror in the woods. When she looked into it, she didn’t see weakness. She saw strength. She saw a mother. She saw a teacher. She returned to the village and built a small school made of warmth, books, laughter, and hope. It wasn’t fancy, but it glowed. And soon, children from all corners of the village arrived—kids who didn’t fit in other schools, kids who spoke in different ways, moved at different speeds, or felt like their magic had been overlooked. Chloe greeted each child like they were royalty. She gave them capes made of courage and tools made of trust. She taught them to read, to count, to speak their truth—but more than anything, she helped them look into their own mirrors and see themselves fully, powerfully present. Word spread, and soon, other villages began to send their teachers to learn from Chloe. But she never left her school. Because every day, as she watched a child shine in their own unique way, she knew she had already found her happily ever after.

I didn’t grow up dreaming of college. I grew up dreaming of stability. Of feeling safe. Of not having to pack my belongings into a black trash bag every time I was moved to a new foster home. My childhood wasn’t easy, and for a long time, I wasn’t sure what my future would look like. But when I became a mother at sixteen, something inside me shifted. Suddenly, I wasn’t just living for me—I was living for him. I gave birth to my son during my junior year of high school. At the time, I was bouncing between foster placements and trying to keep my head above water. I’d wake up early to feed him, walk to school half asleep, and head straight to my part-time job at the AMC movie theater after the last bell rang. I wasn’t thinking about college applications or SAT scores—I was just trying to pay for diapers and keep the lights on. But even then, I knew I wanted more for us. I just didn’t know how I was going to get there. What inspired me to continue my education was the quiet strength I discovered in myself during those early years of motherhood. No one was coming to save me, so I decided I had to become the person I needed. Over time, that meant pushing myself academically, showing up to class even when I hadn’t slept, and believing in a future I couldn’t quite see yet. My son was growing, watching, learning from everything I did. I wanted him to know that hard beginnings don’t have to define you. The obstacles didn’t end when I left foster care or graduated high school. Financial stress, housing insecurity, and burnout followed me through my twenties. But I kept going. I worked multiple jobs while attending college part-time. I leaned on mentors, asked for help when I needed it, and reminded myself daily that I had already survived so much—there was no reason I couldn’t succeed. Now, I’m 33, a college senior, and preparing to apply for graduate school in special education and literacy. My son is seventeen and planning for college himself. Managing the roles of student and mother is still a balancing act. I plan my homework around his basketball games and cook dinner with my laptop open beside me. I’ve learned to stretch my time, my energy, and my budget like magic. But the truth is—I wouldn’t trade it. My experience has made me resilient, compassionate, and deeply committed to building a better future not just for my family, but for every child I’ll teach. Continuing my education isn’t just about degrees or titles. It’s about rewriting the story I was handed as a child. It’s about proving that with enough determination, support, and love, cycles can be broken—and new legacies can be created.

The path that led me to my current position did not follow conventional steps. I have faced many  detours and late nights during my journey while doubting my ability to succeed yet I kept pushing  forward. I am a mother to my proud child and a college graduate who will not accept mere survival since  I know I was born to succeed. My name is Chloe Williams. I complete my Sociology degree at  Hunter College while working full-time in a public school. During more than 15 years in education I  have supported students with different learning abilities while helping them achieve success in inclusive classroom environments. The children I  work with particularly those who have special needs have shown me my life purpose while leading me to dedicate myself  to this field of work at a more profound level. Special education and literacy studies are now my focus  because I pursue my graduate degree. My professional goal includes obtaining teaching certification alongside reading specialization to create  life-changing educational experiences. Through my direct observations I have witnessed that early intervention and patience combined with encouragement can  transform the entire academic journey of children. The educational process frequently ignores students from underprivileged backgrounds because their  learning methods differ from typical standards. I will work to guarantee their educational development continues without interruptions. Service  has been my lifelong commitment outside academic environments. My volunteer work includes running local family literacy nights as well  as mentoring new paraprofessionals and assisting single parents through the school system. Community matters to  me. The Harlem neighborhood where I grew up remains my dream destination for establishing a future literacy and learning  center. I wish to establish an organization which combines educational resources with advocacy and happy services for families and  children under one umbrella. I consider myself most fortunate for having successfully raised my child. The  seventeen-year-old boy who is now getting ready for college. I dedicated every work hour and study session along with  my difficult attendance because of my son. The transformation of my son into a goal-oriented caring young man  has made all my sacrifices worthwhile. The scholarship money will enable me to reduce my student loan debt and  allocate the saved funds for my educational pursuits as well as family needs and classroom materials I currently buy with  my own funds. I have consistently managed to succeed despite adverse circumstances but such financial backing would provide me  with better resources to devote to my students and community while reducing my financial burdens. I am looking for  more than a job since I aim to establish a lasting legacy. My mission is to motivate others while  helping them grow while ensuring every child gains excellent educational opportunities without limitations based on their background. I am  not seeking flawless results. I am chasing purpose. My journey into the future has only just  begun.

My mind still recalls the first time I heard my baby boy crying while I held him in the  tiny hospital room. At sixteen I felt terrified and overwhelmed while holding him. This experience transformed my life  into something different from what others had predicted. The event did not destroy my future prospects. I built  my future because of him. As a Black woman who experienced foster care during her childhood I spent most  of my existence learning survival strategies in environments that were not naturally suited for me. The different foster homes  and unsafe environments pushed me to mature beyond my peers. The circumstances of my life never controlled my path  in life. Since a young age I understood I wanted to stop the cycle of poverty alongside unstable living  and social disregard. The world predicted my failure when I became a teen mom. I converted all my  suffering into motivational energy. That baby I cradled as a teenager has now reached seventeen years old  and prepares for college while I am thirty-three years old. Single parenting my child proved to be a  challenging experience. My determination to provide him with a life filled with love and structure and possibilities led me  to take three jobs while sacrificing sleep for schoolwork and skip numerous young adult experiences. My commitment remained  firm to provide him with a life filled with love and structure and opportunity. Both my child and I  placed education at the forefront of our priorities. Service defines the existence of my deepest desires. A literacy  and learning center in Harlem where I spent my childhood remains my envisioned life’s work. The establishment will  serve as a sanctuary for children with learning differences while providing parents including single mothers like myself with communal  support. I aim to support young people who possess great potential yet need someone to demonstrate faith in their abilities. My professional path includes working in special education while I complete my bachelor’s degree and submit applications for  master’s programs to become a certified teacher. My life vision extends beyond personal achievement because I aim to  establish transformative change across generations. I aim to become the support system that little me required during my time  in foster care where I doubted my worth. This scholarship will enable me to continue pursuing my goals.  The scholarship represents more than financial support since it demonstrates faith in someone who defied expectations of failure.  Someone who shows up every day with passionate dedication and purposeful heart. My current existence focuses on establishing  a heritage that will outlast me. My goal is to overcome obstacles while assisting others who want to  achieve their goals.