1. What trade are you pursuing and why are you passionate about it? I am pursuing furniture making because it allows me to use my hands, heart, and mind all at once. After a career in academia as a professor and writer, I longed for something more tangible—work that leaves a physical mark on the world. Furniture making is that for me. It blends form and function, art and utility. There’s something deeply satisfying about transforming raw wood into something useful, lasting, and beautiful. It’s not just a trade—it’s a way of reclaiming tradition, honoring skilled labor, and creating pieces that outlive us. I’m passionate about preserving that craftsmanship while bringing new voices into the field. 2. What are your future plans after your trade education? After finishing the furniture making program at North Bennet Street School, I plan to open a community-centered workshop that offers mentorship and hands-on training in the trades—especially for women, people of color, and others historically excluded from blue-collar fields. I want to help demystify woodworking and furniture making, turning it into a space where more people can feel confident, capable, and proud. I also hope to create a line of sustainable, heirloom-quality furniture while using my platform to raise awareness about the importance of skilled trades. I see this as a way to both carry forward a centuries-old craft and contribute to the next generation of makers. 3. Describe a time in your life when you overcame adversity. How did you work through it? Several years ago, I lost nearly everything—my job, my financial security, my sense of direction. I was at a professional and personal crossroads, unsure of how to begin again at midlife. I had always defined myself through intellectual work, but I began to realize I could also define myself through creation. I started small: repairing broken chairs, building shelves, working late into the night just to learn. There was something grounding about working with wood—when everything else felt unstable, it gave me structure. Over time, those quiet hours turned into a new direction. I applied to North Bennet Street School and committed fully to becoming a tradeswoman. It was humbling. It was hard. And it was exactly what I needed. I worked through adversity not by trying to return to the life I had, but by building a new one—one joint, one drawer, one dovetail at a time. Receiving the Uniball’s Skilled Trades Scholarship would be more than financial support—it would be an emotional lift. Dan “Uniball” Lansing’s story reminds me of why this work matters. He faced immense physical and personal challenges, yet stayed devoted to his craft and to the value of trades. That kind of spirit is what I hope to bring into my own journey, and into the community I’ll serve when I graduate. I am proud to be joining a field rooted in skill, purpose, and resilience.

At 41 years old, I’ve had the privilege of living several lives in one. I was a tenured professor, a published author, and a mentor to countless students. But life, with all its unexpected turns, led me to a place of deep reevaluation. I realized that while I had spent years encouraging others to chase purpose, I hadn’t yet given myself permission to pursue a long-held dream: to work with my hands, to build, and to create functional beauty through furniture making. Returning to school at this stage in my life was not a decision I took lightly. It required me to walk away from a familiar path, face financial uncertainty, and step into a world where I was once again a beginner. But it also gave me something I hadn’t felt in years—excitement, clarity, and a renewed sense of purpose. Like Debra S. Jackson, whose legacy inspires this scholarship, I found that education in midlife is not just about changing careers—it’s about reclaiming your voice and your joy. My life experiences have shaped values rooted in service, creativity, and second chances. As a woman of color, I’ve spent my professional life helping students—especially those from marginalized backgrounds—navigate systems not designed for them. I know what it’s like to feel out of place, to fight for representation, and to break ground where few have walked before. These experiences have deepened my belief in equity, in access, and in the healing power of both education and art. Furniture making is not just a trade for me—it is a calling. It’s where form meets function, where design becomes dignity. I’ve enrolled at North Bennet Street School to master this craft, with the long-term goal of opening a community-based workshop that offers vocational training and creative mentorship to women in transition: survivors of domestic violence, formerly incarcerated individuals, and women looking to rebuild after loss. I want to create a space where people can not only learn a skill, but also rediscover their worth through the process of making. This scholarship would be a crucial part of that journey. As someone returning to school after a full career, I face financial hurdles that younger students may not—yet I also bring the clarity, focus, and determination that only lived experience can provide. The Debra S. Jackson Scholarship would help alleviate the financial burden of this educational pivot and affirm that my second act is just as worthy of investment as my first. I am not starting over. I am building forward—with intention, with heart, and with the hope of lifting others as I climb. Like Debra, I believe in the power of second chances. This time, I’m using mine to create something lasting—not just in wood, but in lives.

Volunteering has always been an integral part of my life, but I didn’t truly understand its transformative power until I found myself rebuilding my own life from the ground up. I’m an adult woman, a Massachusetts resident, and I’m now pursuing a new path in furniture making after an earlier career as a professor, published author, and mentor in higher education. For years, I served my students and community with a deep belief in education’s power to transform lives. But life has a way of pushing us to evolve, and in my case, that evolution led me to the trades—a space where I could continue helping others, but with my hands as well as my heart. Throughout my life, I’ve consistently made time to serve others through meaningful volunteer work. One of the most rewarding experiences was volunteering with Habitat for Humanity. Helping to build homes alongside families who would one day live in them grounded me in the truth that safe, stable shelter is one of the most fundamental human needs. It was physically demanding work, but it gave me a direct understanding of the power of craftsmanship and community coming together. I’ve also organized writing workshops for underserved youth, mentored first-generation college students, and created community-based programs that help individuals from marginalized backgrounds find their voices and navigate educational systems. One of the most powerful moments came during a volunteer-led storytelling workshop for formerly incarcerated women. As they told their stories—some for the first time—they found the strength to reimagine their futures. I’ll never forget the day one woman said, “This is the first time I felt like I was more than my mistakes.” Volunteering taught me that service isn’t just about donating time—it’s about seeing people. It’s about meeting others where they are, honoring their dignity, and walking beside them as they build something better. These experiences have deeply shaped my approach to my new career in furniture making. When I chose to pursue furniture making at the North Bennet Street School, I brought with me the same core values: community, transformation, and equity. This path may look different from my past, but to me, it’s a continuation of my life’s work. Woodworking has given me a new language of care—creating functional beauty that supports people’s daily lives. My long-term vision is to open a community-based furniture workshop that offers vocational training to women—especially those who are transitioning from incarceration, overcoming domestic violence, or facing systemic barriers. I want to create a space where craft becomes a tool for rebuilding lives, where confidence is restored through skill, and where everyone who walks in feels seen, supported, and empowered. This scholarship would not only help ease the financial burden of my education—it would help me carry forward the legacy of Carla M. Champagne, whose life exemplified compassion, service, and resilience. I hope to reflect those values through every chair I build, every student I mentor, and every life I help shape with my hands and heart.

Most people walk into a room and barely notice the furniture. I walk into a room and see the soul of it. From a young age, I’ve been drawn to the quiet strength of wood—how it bends but doesn’t break, how it carries the weight of generations. I come from a family with a deep respect for working with our hands. My early training was in carpentry, learning how to frame walls and build structures that last. But it wasn’t until I began designing furniture that I truly felt my purpose take shape. I’m pursuing a career in furniture making not just because I love building things—but because it gives me a way to combine precision, creativity, and function in a tangible, lasting form. There's something powerful about making objects people live with—tables where families gather, chairs where elders rest, beds that hold dreams. These aren’t just products. They are part of someone’s everyday life. Knowing that I can shape those experiences through skill, grit, and design is what drives me. As a woman of color in the trades, I’ve had to carve out my own space in a world that doesn’t always expect me to be here. I’ve been underestimated, questioned, and doubted—but I’ve never been discouraged. Every splinter, every setback, every long day in the shop has only fueled my ambition more. I wear my work with pride because it’s built on persistence. Each piece I complete is proof that I belong in this field—and that others like me do too. I’m currently continuing my education at North Bennet Street School, where I’m deepening my expertise in fine furniture making. The school’s rigorous, hands-on approach aligns with my belief that mastery doesn’t come from shortcuts—it comes from showing up every day, sweating the small details, and never settling for “good enough.” My goal isn’t just to become a skilled craftswoman—it’s to build a future where trades are seen not as a last resort, but as a first choice. A proud, noble path. One day, I hope to open my own furniture studio and community workshop where I can train young people—especially women and those from underrepresented backgrounds—in woodworking and design. I want to show them that there’s dignity in this work, that you can make a life by making things, and that the trades are not just jobs, but powerful, creative careers. This scholarship would lift some of the financial burden off my shoulders and allow me to focus more fully on my training and long-term goals. It would be an investment in someone who isn’t just here to build furniture—I’m here to build a legacy, to build access, and to build pride in the trades. I believe deeply in what Brattican stands for: honoring the work that keeps our world moving forward. I’m ready to carry that torch with both hands, heart wide open, and tools at the ready.

There was a moment when I stood in a nearly empty room, surrounded by the fragments of a broken childhood. The house where I had grown up was being cleared out—my family was moving on, but the pieces of our past, especially the worn furniture, told stories of resilience, love, and quiet struggle. Among the boxes and dust, I found an old, splintered chair—my mother’s favorite. It wasn’t much, but it held memories of family dinners, late-night talks, and celebrations amidst hardship. That chair, cracked and weary, sparked something inside me. It was a symbol of endurance and comfort, yet it was fragile, much like the lives that depended on such small anchors of home. I realized then how much power there is in making something that lasts—not just in a physical sense, but emotionally and socially. Furniture is more than wood and nails; it’s a vessel of human experience. It can hold memories, provide refuge, and inspire connection. As a woman of color pursuing furniture making, my journey carries additional layers of meaning and challenge. I come from a family of carpenters, and from a young age, I admired their ability to transform raw materials into structures that shelter and protect. I apprenticed in carpentry myself, learning to measure twice and cut once, to honor precision and patience. But somewhere along the way, I felt the pull toward something more intimate, more personal—furniture making. It was the idea of creating pieces that live inside people’s homes, that touch daily lives in close and tangible ways. My journey into furniture making is a mission born from my own history and the stories of those around me. Growing up in a low-income community, I witnessed how economic hardship often stripped people of dignity and comfort in their living spaces. Affordable, well-crafted furniture was a luxury many couldn’t afford. I wanted to change that narrative, to use my skills not only to craft beautiful and functional pieces but to make them accessible—to design furniture that welcomes people in and helps them feel proud of their homes. Navigating this trade as a woman of color has meant confronting stereotypes and biases, often being the only woman in the workshop or classroom. There have been moments when I questioned if I belonged. Yet, each obstacle fueled my determination to prove that creativity, skill, and passion know no gender or race. I am committed to mastering this craft—not just for myself, but to open doors for others like me who rarely see themselves represented in the trades. The education I am pursuing at North Bennet Street School’s Furniture Making program is the key to unlocking that future. It offers me the tools, techniques, and mentorship to refine my craft and to innovate. More importantly, it prepares me to give back. I envision community workshops where I can teach woodworking and design skills to youth—especially girls and underrepresented groups—helping them discover their own potential in the trades. This scholarship would be transformative. It would ease the financial burden that often threatens to halt dreams like mine and allow me to focus fully on my craft and my community mission. Supporting students like me isn’t just an investment in individual success—it’s an investment in reshaping the trades to be more inclusive, compassionate, and impactful. Furniture making is my way to build beauty, resilience, and hope into the lives of others. Through every joint and finish, I want to tell a story of endurance and uplift, much like that old chair in my childhood home. I am ready to carry this legacy, shaping not just wood but futures.

When I first discovered furniture design, it felt like uncovering a hidden language—a way to communicate through wood, form, and function that could touch people’s lives in quiet but meaningful ways. My passion for this craft grew from a foundation in carpentry, where I learned the importance of precision and structure, but furniture design invited me to add heart and soul to the pieces I create. It’s a trade that combines artistry with utility, and it’s in that balance where I found my purpose. Growing up, I watched my family work with their hands—carpenters, builders, makers—who shaped not only homes but the lives of those around them. Their work was tangible proof that skill and dedication can transform communities. However, I also saw the challenges faced by people in my neighborhood: many couldn’t afford well-made, lasting furniture or the kind of personal spaces that nurture wellbeing. This reality planted a seed in me: the desire to create beautiful, functional furniture that is accessible and meaningful to people from all walks of life. One story stays with me. I volunteered to help restore furniture at a local community center that served underprivileged families. Among the worn tables and chairs was a simple wooden bench, scarred and faded. When it was refurbished and placed back in the center’s reading nook, it became a favorite spot for children—a small but powerful symbol of care and comfort. That bench reminded me that furniture isn’t just objects; it’s part of people’s stories, their daily lives, and their sense of belonging. This scholarship honoring Ben Bonner deeply resonates with me because of his kindness and his commitment to uplifting others regardless of socioeconomic status. Like Ben, I believe that compassion means more than words—it means taking action to create spaces and things that support and uplift people, especially those who face barriers. Through furniture design, I want to offer more than just craftsmanship—I want to contribute to social equity by making well-designed, durable furniture available to those who might otherwise be overlooked. My goal is to continue my education at North Bennet Street School in their Furniture Making program, building on my carpentry background. This advanced training will equip me with the skills to design and build pieces that combine beauty, durability, and affordability. I see furniture design as a form of social service—crafting pieces that enhance homes, schools, and community centers, helping to create environments where people feel valued and cared for. Beyond creating furniture, I hope to start workshops and mentorship programs for youth in under-resourced neighborhoods, teaching them skills in woodworking and design. This would not only provide practical skills but also empower young people to discover their own creativity and potential for change. By giving back in this way, I aim to extend Ben Bonner’s legacy of kindness and community support, using my trade as a vehicle for empowerment and connection. This scholarship would provide crucial support to help me focus on mastering furniture design without the weight of financial strain. It represents an opportunity to honor the spirit of generosity and compassion embodied by Ben Bonner by committing myself to a career that blends artistry, skill, and service. In pursuing furniture design, I am not just building pieces—I am building hope, dignity, and community for those who need it most.

The first time I grasped a handplane, the experience went beyond simply shaping wood—it felt like stepping into a dialogue with history. The shavings curling away from the board were echoes of countless craftspeople before me, shaping not just objects but legacies. While my foundation in carpentry taught me the discipline of structure and precision, it was during a class project crafting a small stool that I realized my true passion lies in furniture making—the art of creating functional, beautiful pieces that connect people to their everyday lives. I’m currently pursuing my education at North Bennet Street School, where I completed the Carpentry program and am now preparing to advance into their Furniture Making program. This transition feels like a natural evolution: moving from building the bones of a space to designing the intimate objects that fill it with life. Furniture making, to me, is where creativity and craftsmanship intersect in their purest form. It is the art of shaping both form and function with hands and heart. One moment stands out vividly on my journey. I was helping an elderly neighbor restore a worn dining chair that had been in her family for decades. As I carefully repaired each joint, smoothed worn edges, and refinished the wood, I saw how that chair held stories of generations past. It wasn’t just a piece of furniture—it was a vessel of memory and connection. That realization transformed how I view my craft: every piece I create or restore carries the potential to connect people to their history, their homes, and each other. Calvin C. Donelson’s life and work inspire me deeply. His mastery of carpentry and barbering was more than a career; it was a testament to the power of dedication, creativity, and integrity. Like Calvin, I believe that a skilled trade is a noble path where passion becomes purpose and craftsmanship leaves a lasting impact. Tradespeople don’t just build objects—they build community, preserve culture, and shape futures. This scholarship would be a vital step in helping me continue my education without the heavy burden of financial stress. It would allow me to devote myself fully to mastering furniture making, pushing the boundaries of my craft, and developing skills that honor the legacy of artisans like Calvin. With this support, I will be able to invest the time, focus, and resources necessary to perfect my work and contribute meaningfully to the tradition of fine craftsmanship. My vision is to design and build furniture that is more than functional—pieces that foster connection, serve diverse communities, and celebrate sustainability and heritage. I want to create accessible, affordable, and beautiful objects that enhance daily life and tell stories worth passing down. In doing so, I hope to show that skilled trades like furniture making are vital, fulfilling careers that blend artistry, service, and social impact. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease my financial needs but also affirm my commitment to a craft that demands ambition, resilience, and heart. It would honor Calvin Donelson’s legacy by empowering me to carry forward the values of creativity, integrity, and dedication in the skilled trades. Through my work, I aim to build more than furniture—I want to build lasting connections and a legacy rooted in craftsmanship and community.

When I first stepped onto a job site, I wasn’t wearing steel-toe boots. I was in sneakers, holding a camera. As a filmmaker and educator, I spent years telling stories through images and words. But deep down, I always felt something was missing. I longed not just to tell stories—but to build them. To use my hands to create something lasting, useful, and meaningful. So I made a bold move. I returned to school as an adult learner and enrolled in the Carpentry program at North Bennet Street School (NBSS) in Boston, one of the country’s most prestigious craft and trade schools. It was a leap of faith—but it felt like coming home. I’m a proud resident of Massachusetts, and for the first time, I felt grounded in a future I could shape myself. The journey hasn’t been easy. As a low-income woman of color switching careers later in life, I’ve faced steep financial hurdles. Tuition, tools, and transportation all add up. I’ve taken on multiple part-time jobs and freelance work to make ends meet while dedicating myself fully to mastering my trade. And still, some weeks, the math just doesn’t add up. But I’ve kept going—because I believe this work matters. Because I want to be part of rebuilding this state I call home, one project at a time. Since completing the Carpentry program, I’ve volunteered with Habitat for Humanity on local builds, worked on residential construction sites, and developed a growing love for fine craftsmanship. Now, I’ve been accepted into NBSS’s Furniture Making program, where I plan to deepen my skills and bring both beauty and functionality into people’s homes. Massachusetts has been the foundation for my transformation—and it’s where I plan to stay, work, and give back. I want to design and build custom furniture that serves communities in need: compact pieces for shelters, accessible designs for elders, and creative storage solutions for small urban apartments. My goal is to open a workshop here in Massachusetts where design meets social impact—a place where marginalized voices are not just heard, but uplifted through trade. The story of Khai Perry moved me deeply. His legacy of love, compassion, and quiet leadership is a reminder that helping others isn’t just a side note—it is the story. I share that belief. Through my volunteer work, mentorship, and commitment to inclusive design, I strive to live that mission in every board I plane, every table I build. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education at NBSS without the constant weight of financial strain. It would give me the stability to focus fully on mastering my craft, serving my community, and honoring Khai’s message that not all stars must fall. I’m ready to keep building—right here in Massachusetts.

When I first told people I was leaving behind a successful career in filmmaking and education to pursue carpentry and furniture design, they looked at me like I’d just announced I was joining a circus. But the truth is, I was finally coming home. I come from a long line of tradespeople—my grandfather was a carpenter, my great-uncle a canoe builder. Growing up, I was more likely to see a toolbox than a toy box. Still, I took a different path, one paved with stories and scripts, classrooms and cameras. I built narratives. I inspired students. I celebrated the arts. But something inside me always longed to create with my hands—to feel the weight of a hammer or the grain of wood passing under a planer. I wanted to build something real. Something that could hold weight, withstand time, and be of service. I found that opportunity while volunteering for Habitat for Humanity. It wasn’t glamorous. It was summer in New England, the kind of hot where your sweat has sweat. I spent days on roofs and floors and framing walls. But I also saw the faces of single mothers walking through the homes we were building. I watched one little girl pick the color of her bedroom with reverence, like she was choosing the sky. That’s when it hit me: this is more than construction. It’s transformation. It’s hope. It’s dignity nailed into studs and beams. That experience solidified my decision to enter the trades. I completed the Carpentry program at North Bennet Street School and am now continuing into their Furniture Making program. I’ve come to see furniture as the architecture of our most intimate spaces. Chairs, tables, beds—these are the unsung heroes of our daily lives. They cradle, support, gather, and hold. I want to craft objects that are not just functional, but meaningful—especially for those who have gone without. I care deeply about housing insecurity, equitable access to skilled trades, and diversifying who gets to call themselves a “craftsperson.” I’m especially invested in creating opportunities for marginalized people in the trades. We often hear that trades are dying, but that’s only because they haven’t been made accessible to everyone. I want to change that. As a low-income student and a woman, I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong in certain rooms—whether it’s a film set or a construction site. But I’ve also learned that showing up is the first step to changing the blueprint. Slater Miller stood for justice and using skills to help others. I strive to do the same—not just by building beautiful furniture, but by building bridges between craftsmanship and community. Through volunteer work, education, and intentional design, I hope to leave behind a legacy that’s not unlike Slater’s: humble, helpful, and human. If I’ve learned anything from wood and life, it’s this: the strongest joints are invisible, but they hold everything together. I want to be that joint.

The first time I ever truly saw a chair, I was standing in the middle of a half-framed house, hammer in hand, drenched in sweat and gratitude. I had volunteered to help build homes for single mothers through Habitat for Humanity, and one of the homeowners—a woman not much older than me—said, “I can’t wait to have dinner at a real table again.” That moment lodged in my chest like a nail waiting to be driven. She wasn’t just dreaming of walls or roofs. She was dreaming of furniture—of sitting down, of stability, of dignity. That’s when I began to realize that furniture is architecture at the human scale. And I wanted to be the one to build it. My path into the trades hasn’t been a straight one. I spent years in the arts—as a filmmaker, screenwriter, and educator. I’ve told stories on screens, mentored students, and stood on film festival stages. But something was always missing. I didn’t want to just create things you could watch. I wanted to make things you could use. Things that hold weight—both literally and emotionally. I enrolled in the Carpentry program at North Bennet Street School, following the legacy of my grandfather and great-uncles, all tradesmen who built homes, boats, and lives with their hands. At NBSS, I discovered what it feels like to be exhausted from honest work. I learned how to read grain, frame with precision, and solve problems in real time. Most importantly, I learned to respect the materials and the labor—mine and everyone else’s. Now, I’m continuing my education at NBSS in the Furniture Making program. Carpentry gave me the foundation, but furniture making lets me focus on the deeply human moments—the shared meal, the baby’s crib, the elder’s rocking chair. These are not just objects. They are quiet witnesses to our lives. The person who influenced me most is my grandfather, a master carpenter who never once called himself an artist, though I now know he was one. He believed in doing things right the first time, in sharpening tools before using them, and in building with intention. He taught me that the trades aren’t just about skill—they’re about character. Through furniture design, I plan to give back by creating pieces that are functional, affordable, and lasting—especially for underserved communities. I hope to furnish transitional housing, community centers, and single-parent homes with dignity and craftsmanship. I also aim to mentor young women and BIPOC tradespeople, helping to diversify a field that still doesn’t reflect the full richness of those it serves. When people ask why I made the leap from film to furniture, I tell them this: both are about structure, emotion, and impact. But with furniture, the story never ends. It’s lived every day. I want to build things that matter—things that last. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.

I used to write stories with words. Now, I want to write them with wood. For much of my professional life, I lived in the world of film—as a writer, director, actress, and educator. I was fortunate to win awards, teach the next generation of storytellers, and immerse myself in the language of light, performance, and structure. But over time, I felt myself pulled toward a different kind of storytelling. It didn’t happen overnight. It started subtly—my browser history shifted from screenwriting software to woodworking tutorials. I found myself lingering longer in furniture stores, not for the decor, but for the craftsmanship. I was fascinated by how a single chair could tell a story about the person who made it, the materials used, and the space it was meant to live in. Looking back, I realize this wasn’t a new interest—it was an old inheritance. I come from a long line of carpenters on both sides of my family. For generations, my ancestors built with their hands—homes, boats, furniture, and lives. While I initially chose the arts, their legacy was always present, waiting patiently in the wings. That legacy came roaring forward when I volunteered with Habitat for Humanity. Helping raise walls for single mothers in my community was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. Carpentry became more than a trade—it became a way to serve, to empower, to give people a sense of place and permanence. In helping others build homes, I began building a new understanding of myself. I enrolled in the Carpentry program at North Bennet Street School, and now I’m continuing on to study Furniture Making. The transition from screen to shop floor may seem drastic, but for me, it feels like coming home. Furniture design is the intersection of everything I care about—storytelling, visual aesthetics, problem-solving, heritage, and hands-on labor. It allows me to blend my artistic sensibility with tangible utility, to create objects that are not only beautiful but meaningful and enduring. Mastering my trade is not just about technical skills—though I’m committed to honing those every day. It’s also about mastering humility, discipline, and patience. It’s about listening to wood the way I once listened to characters: with care, curiosity, and respect. In the future, I plan to give back by creating functional, affordable pieces that serve underserved communities. I want to build furniture for spaces that often get overlooked—community centers, single-parent homes, and transitional housing. I also hope to teach, mentor, and advocate for greater inclusion in the trades, especially for women and BIPOC makers like myself. Some people see furniture as background. I see it as essential architecture of everyday life. We eat at tables, grieve on sofas, and rock our children to sleep in chairs. I want to design the objects that hold those moments—quietly, sturdily, and with soul. Because sometimes, the most lasting stories aren’t the ones we watch on a screen—but the ones we live, touch, and pass down. One piece at a time.

To me, a "Trades Make The World Go 'Round" scholarship means supporting brown women of color, such as myself, in obtaining an education we may not have access to otherwise. Any scholarship received means more than just financial aid to me. I see it as a reward and motivation for the volunteer work I’ve done with carpentry and will do as I move into my new construction career. I attend the Diploma of Carpentry Program and will add to my course of study the Furniture-making Intensive at North Bennet Street School in Boston. I will be leaving my current full-time paid position as a teacher and filmmaker to pursue these programs full-time. This means I will not be making any income during my studies. I will live off a small amount of savings and still have a mortgage. A scholarship would make attending the program affordable. North Bennet Street School has generously provided me with a partial scholarship, but it is not enough to attend without taking on another significant financial burden. I am still short $4,000 in tuition. Carpentry interests me because it is a solution to this national crisis. As a volunteer builder with Habitat for Humanity, I assisted in building not just houses but decent and affordable homes for single mothers in my community. My contributions demonstrated my solidarity with everything a home stands for, which is why I wish to pursue carpentry: family, safety, self-reliance, financial health, and growth. Narrow streams of water sprang from her eyes. She was happy—and so was I. What I thought was a simple favor of building my elderly neighbor a chicken coop was, to her, the happiest moment of her life. I stem from a long family lineage of carpenters and have realized building is in my DNA. What I hope to learn during my time at North Bennett Street School is not so much what my purpose in life is, but what the purpose of life is. My current profession teaching filmmaking to college students does not provide me with the creative outlet and sense of societal impact I long for. This is where carpentry comes into play. Whether serving as the neighborhood “handywoman” or building a shed for the community garden, constructing something utilitarian to better my community is why I desire to transition to a career in carpentry. What I will contribute to the field of carpentry is a renewed outlook on trade schools and blue-collar jobs. In addition, as a Ph.D. and university professor making a career shift to carpentry, I will serve as an ambassador, mentor, and cheerleader for others in vocational programs. I have witnessed too many students pushed into college because careers not requiring higher education—such as carpentry—are devalued. I am out to change this, one chicken coop at a time. Although I am leaving higher education, I still enjoy teaching and remain open to teaching carpentry and woodworking—especially to other girls or women such as myself. If more women were involved in this field where they are underrepresented, the world would be a better place, and our surroundings would look much different (more balanced) than they do now. I'm also interested in a permanent position with Habitat for Humanity or a similar charity, as I still very much hope to contribute to easing America’s housing crises by building free or affordable homes for my neighbors.

I am writing to apply for the John Geremia Memorial Trades Scholarship. To me, this scholarship means supporting brown women of color, such as myself, in obtaining an education we may not otherwise have access to. Any scholarship received means more than just financial aid to me. I see it as a reward and motivation for the volunteer work I’ve done with carpentry and will do as I move into my new construction career. I'm attending the carpentry program at North Bennet Street School in Boston. I will be leaving my current full-time paid position as a teacher to pursue this carpentry program full-time. This means I will not be making any income during my studies. I will live off a small amount of savings and still have a mortgage. A scholarship would make attending the program affordable. North Bennet Street School has generously provided me with a partial scholarship, but it is not enough to attend without taking on another significant financial burden. I am still short $21,000 in tuition, and your scholarship will greatly help me. In addition to tuition, parking around North Bennet Street School is extremely expensive (as is the commuter rail). Predicted costs are $4,200 for transportation. Books and tools are an additional $3,900, further adding to my inability to attend school without additional financial support. I am choosing to pursue a career in carpentry because the US has not built enough homes in recent decades, causing a housing shortage and making home ownership unaffordable for many Americans. Carpentry interests me because it is a solution to this national crisis. By serving as a volunteer builder with Habitat for Humanity, I aided in completing roofing, flooring, and framing work for three projects. By lending my time, a helping hand, and expressing empathy, I assisted in building not just houses--but homes that are decent and affordable for single mothers in my community. The outcome of my contributions to building these homes led to affordable shelter for my neighbors and relieved these needy families of stress. Showing up daily and nailing, hammering, and sawing wood was more than just manual labor; it was active allyship. My contributions demonstrated my solidarity with everything a home stands for: family, safety, self-reliance, financial health, and growth. My participation in the home-building process using my carpentry skills means involvement in decisions that positively affect the lives of others. For me, genuine, active participation means personal (people) action. I view my work as a carpenter building homes as a form of “citizen power,” which means a true partnership, delegated power, and citizen control. I hope to pursue full-time work with Habitat for Humanity or a similar organization. As a Ph.D., published author, award-winning filmmaker, and university professor making a career shift to carpentry, I will serve as an ambassador, mentor, and cheerleader for others in vocational programs. I have witnessed too many students pushed into college because careers not requiring higher education—such as carpentry—are devalued. I am out to change this.

1. What skilled trade are you studying, and why have you chosen it? I am pursuing carpentry because the US has not built enough homes in recent decades, causing a housing shortage and making home ownership unaffordable for many Americans. Carpentry is my passion because I see it as a solution to this national crisis. By serving as a builder with Habitat for Humanity, I aided in completing roofing, flooring, and framing projects. By lending my time, a helping hand, and expressing empathy, I assisted in building not just houses--but homes that are decent and affordable for single mothers in my community. The outcome of my contributions to building these homes leads to affordable shelter for my neighbors and relieves these needy families of stress. I view my work as a carpenter building homes as a form of “citizen power,” which means a true partnership, delegated power, and citizen control. 2. Why have you planned a career in this chosen trade? Narrow streams of water sprang from her eyes. She was happy—and so was I. What I thought was a simple favor of building a chicken coop for my elderly neighbor was, to her, the happiest moment of her life. My current profession (university professor) does not provide me with the creative outlet and sense of societal impact I long for. Whether serving as the neighborhood “handywoman” or building a shed for the community garden, constructing something utilitarian to better my community is why I desire to transition to a career in carpentry. Upon graduation from North Bennet Street School, I hope to pursue full-time work with Habitat for Humanity or a similar organization. As a Ph.D., published author, award-winning filmmaker, and university professor making a career shift to carpentry, I will serve as an ambassador, mentor, and cheerleader for others in vocational programs. I have witnessed too many students pushed into college because careers not requiring higher education—such as carpentry—are devalued. I am out to change this, one chicken coop at a time. 3. What does a successful life look like, and why will you be successful? Success is all about overcoming adversity—something I’ve been doing since I was 9 years old. I grew up with various articulation disorders, meaning I had trouble pronouncing certain sounds, which meant I was constantly bullied. I never thought I’d grow up to be successful. To make things worse, I found out it was mandatory that I’d perform lines in a school play. Living with a speech impediment can be challenging. I faced social stigma and discrimination and had difficulty communicating with others. However, like many successful people, I was determined to change. I had an opportunity to speak with a speech therapist and chose to get treatment. Working on speaking takes time and effort, and while I didn’t see immediate results, I did not give up. Never giving up is the cornerstone of success. I kept on practicing and working hard, and eventually not only overcame my articulation disorder, I became a success in the world of speaking. As for the school play, I stole the show and went on to pursue a professional career in acting and voiceovers. I was also a California State Speech and Debate Champion. effective communication is essential for successful carpentry projects, contributing to safety, collaboration, problem-solving, quality assurance, client satisfaction, and professional reputation. In conclusion, overcoming adversity by never giving up is a principle that is essential to achieving success, and I’ve known and practiced this since I was 9 years old.

Narrow streams of water sprang from her eyes. She was happy—and so was I. What I thought was a simple favor of building my elderly neighbor a chicken coop was, to her, the happiest moment of her life. I stem from a long line of Polynesian canoe builders and have realized building is in my DNA. My current profession teaching filmmaking to college students does not provide me with the sense of societal impact I long for. This is where carpentry comes into play. The US has not built enough homes in recent decades, causing a housing shortage and making home ownership unaffordable for many Americans. Carpentry interests me because it is a solution to this national crisis. By serving as a volunteer builder with Habitat for Humanity, I assisted in building not just houses--but homes that are decent and affordable for single mothers in my community. My skills serving as the neighborhood “handywoman” or building a shed for the community garden, constructing something utilitarian to better my community is why I desire to transition to a career in carpentry. To me, being awarded this bursary means supporting brown women of color, such as myself, in obtaining an education we may not have access to otherwise. Any scholarship received means more than just financial aid to me. I see it as a reward and motivation for the volunteer work I’ve done with carpentry skills and will continue to do as I move into my new construction career. Although I am leaving higher education, I still enjoy teaching and would like to use my skillset in teaching to serve as an instructor of carpentry to other females. Girls Garage, a non-profit out of Berkeley, CA, is an organization I admire. Their goal is mine: to see females build our towns because if more women were involved in this field where they are currently underrepresented, the world would be a better place, and our surroundings would look much different (more balanced) than they do now. Another idea is a permanent position with Habitat for Humanity, as I still very much hope to contribute to easing America’s housing crises. I possess writing skills and I am a published author and would love to publish books for girls and women all about carpentry and construction. I will use my time at North Bennet Street School to explore all avenues of carpentry and allow my curiosity to lead the way to the most appropriate career path. As a female Ph.D. and university professor making a career shift to carpentry, I will serve as a skilled ambassador, experienced mentor, and practiced cheerleader for other women in vocational programs. I have witnessed too many women pushed into college because careers not requiring higher education—such as carpentry—are devalued. I will use my skills to change this, one chicken coop at a time.

My earliest experiences with the trades were in my garage with my grandfather. He was a master carpenter and built everything from rocking horses to houses. I fondly remember the smell of sawdust on Saturday mornings and felt honored when he let me hammer a nail into a project. He inspired me to go into the trades because he taught me that by using my hands, I can change lives. I spent my teens building sets with the local community theater group and 20s volunteering with Habitat for Humanity. Sawdust is in my blood, I guess! What is driving my passion to pursue a career in carpentry is the fact that the US has not built enough homes in recent decades, causing a housing shortage and making home ownership unaffordable for many Americans. Carpentry interests me because I see it as a solution to this crisis. By serving as a volunteer builder with Habitat for Humanity, I aided in completing roofing, flooring, and framing work for three projects. By lending my time, a helping hand, and expressing empathy, I assisted in building not just houses--but homes that are decent and affordable for single mothers in my community. The outcome of my contributions to building these homes led to affordable shelter for my neighbors, relieving them of stress. I learned that hammering nails and sawing wood was more than manual labor; it was active allyship. My contributions demonstrated my solidarity with everything a home stands for: family, safety, self-reliance, financial health, and growth. Time to make a career out of this! My current profession teaching filmmaking to college students does not provide me with the creative outlet and sense of societal impact I long for. This is where carpentry comes into play. Whether serving as the neighborhood “handywoman” or building a shed for the community garden, constructing something utilitarian to better my community is why I desire to transition to a career in carpentry. YouTube videos, a woodworking course, and volunteering with Habitat for Humanity have taught me a great deal about carpentry. However, hands-on instruction at North Bennet Street School will give me the confidence and skill necessary to be a changemaker in the homebuilding field. Now all I need is the money to fund this worthwhile endeavor. Regarding professional goals, although I am leaving my current position in higher education, I still enjoy teaching and remain open to teaching carpentry—especially to other girls or women such as myself. Girls Garage, a non-profit out of Berkeley, CA, is a non-profit that I admire. Their goal is mine: to see females build our cities and town because if more women were involved in this field where they are underrepresented, the world would be a better place, and our surroundings would look much different (more balanced) than they do now. Another idea is a permanent position with Habitat for Humanity or a similar charity, as I still very much hope to contribute to easing America’s housing crises. I will use my time at North Bennett Street School to explore all avenues of carpentry and allow my curiosity to lead the way to the most appropriate career path. What I will contribute to the field of carpentry is a renewed outlook on trade schools and blue-collar jobs. As a Ph.D. and university professor making a career shift to carpentry, I will serve as an ambassador, mentor, and cheerleader for others in vocational programs. I have witnessed too many students pushed into college because careers not requiring higher education—such as carpentry—are devalued. I am out to change this.

My earliest experiences with the trades were in my garage with my grandfather. He was a master carpenter and built everything from rocking horses to houses. I fondly remember the smell of sawdust on Saturday mornings and felt honored when he let me hammer a nail into a project. He inspired me to go into the trades because he taught me that by using my hands, I can change lives. I spent my teen years building sets with the local community theater group, and by the time I was in college, I was already volunteering with Habitat for Humanity. Sawdust is in my blood, I guess! What is driving my passion to pursue a career in carpentry is the fact that the US has not built enough homes in recent decades, causing a housing shortage and making home ownership unaffordable for many Americans. In particular, carpentry interests me because I see it as a solution to this national crisis. By serving as a volunteer builder with Habitat for Humanity, I aided in completing roofing, flooring, and framing work for three projects. By lending my time, a helping hand, and expressing empathy, I assisted in building not just houses--but homes that are decent and affordable for single mothers in my community. The outcome of my contributions to building these homes led to affordable shelter for my neighbors, relieving them of stress. Hammering, and sawing wood was more than just manual labor; it was active allyship. My contributions demonstrated my solidarity with everything a home stands for: family, safety, self-reliance, financial health, and growth. Time to make a career out of this! My current profession teaching filmmaking to college students does not provide me with the creative outlet and sense of societal impact I long for. This is where carpentry comes into play. Whether serving as the neighborhood “handywoman” or building a shed for the community garden, constructing something utilitarian to better my community is why I desire to transition to a career in carpentry. YouTube videos, a woodworking course, and volunteering with Habitat for Humanity have taught me a great deal about carpentry. However, hands-on instruction at North Bennet Street School will give me the confidence and skill necessary to be a changemaker in the homebuilding field. Regarding professional goals, although I am leaving my current position in higher education, I still enjoy teaching and remain open to teaching carpentry—especially to other girls or women such as myself. Girls Garage, a non-profit out of Berkeley, CA, is a non-profit that I admire. Their goal is mine: to see females build our cities and town because if more women were involved in this field where they are underrepresented, the world would be a better place, and our surroundings would look much different (more balanced) than they do now. Another idea is a permanent position with Habitat for Humanity or a similar charity, as I still very much hope to contribute to easing America’s housing crises. I will use my time at North Bennett Street School to explore all avenues of carpentry and allow my curiosity to lead the way to the most appropriate career path. Now all I need is the money to fund this worthwhile endeavor.