Growing up in New York City, I’ve seen firsthand how important compassionate healthcare is, especially for people who are often overlooked. Nursing has always been important to my family, especially because my sister is on dialysis. Seeing the way the nurses cared for her with patience, kindness, and genuine attention showed me how powerful a nurse’s touch can be. They made her feel safe, supported, and truly heard during some of the hardest moments of her life. Watching that inspired me and made me realize that I want to be that kind of nurse for others. Over the summer, I spent my time advocating for homeless rights at my local Assembly office. That experience reinforced what I had already learned from my family. People need more than just services; they need someone who listens, understands, and genuinely cares. That human connection is at the heart of nursing, and it’s what I hope to bring to every patient I care for. I’m following my dreams at Nazareth University, where my courses challenge me in ways I never imagined. Anatomy and physiology are teaching me how the human body works and how small changes can make a huge difference in someone’s health. Chemistry is pushing me to think critically as I juggle concepts like covalent bonds and dimensional analysis. It can feel completely overwhelming at times, but I know that every bit of knowledge I gain now is preparing me to provide precise and effective care later. The stress and late nights can feel impossible, but I know it’s all going to be worth it. Every exam, every assignment, and every confusing concept is a step toward becoming the emergency room nurse I’ve always dreamed of being. To me, human touch goes far beyond physical contact. It’s about presence, empathy, and connection. It’s noticing a patient’s fear, listening to their story, and reassuring them even when answers aren’t clear. Human touch transforms patient care because it communicates trust and understanding. I’ve seen it in action with my sister and in the communities I’ve worked with in New York City. Small gestures, a kind word, or just taking the time to be present can make people feel seen and valued in ways that no medication alone can. In the emergency room, where moments can be intense and lives can change in minutes, human touch becomes even more critical. A calm voice, a steady hand, or simply explaining what’s happening can ease a patient’s anxiety and improve outcomes. I want to be the kind of nurse who combines medical expertise with genuine care, who treats people as people, not just cases or charts. Whether it’s administering medication, monitoring vital signs, or helping someone through a difficult day, I want every patient to feel that I am fully there for them. My journey to nursing has been shaped by my experiences, my education, and my commitment to helping others. I know it won’t be easy. Nazareth is challenging, the science is complex, and emergency rooms are intense. But I am ready. I want to bring my skills, my empathy, and my passion for helping people to a profession that truly matters. Just like I’ve seen with the nurses who inspired me, combining knowledge with heart can make a real difference, and I am determined to do just that.

When I first stepped onto the sidelines of my school’s cheer team, I wasn’t there as a coach, a referee, or even a cheerleader. I was simply a brother encouraging my younger sister to take a chance on something new. She had spent her entire life being homeschooled, and I wanted her to have a high school experience that pushed her out of her comfort zone. I convinced her to try out for the cheer team, and when she made it, I thought my role was done. What I didn’t know then was that stepping up for her would lead me to discover my own voice as a leader and referee. Our school’s cheer team wasn’t traditional. It was a Step Cheer group based in Lower Manhattan, New York City, bringing together students from many different backgrounds. Step Cheer was about rhythm, movement, pride, and community. For me, being a male in cheer was unusual, and at first, it felt intimidating. But I realized that representation mattered. My presence could encourage other boys and students of all backgrounds to see themselves in spaces they might not have considered before. Over time, the team grew more ambitious and eventually expanded into stunt cheer, officially becoming a full stunt team while keeping our Step roots alive. My counselor, who ran the squad, was balancing many responsibilities, so I offered to help however I could. I started by giving input and organizing practices, then gradually took on more leadership. I guided routines, corrected performances, supported the team’s structure, and enforced fairness during practices and games. Eventually, I was officially recognized as the coach and referee for the team. My favorite memory as a referee came during our very first cheer competition. Schools from across New York City were competing, and the energy in the gym was electric. For many of the girls, including my sister, it was their first time performing in front of such a large crowd. I helped the team stay organized and calm, reminding them to trust their preparation. We placed third, but the pride and teamwork on their faces were unforgettable. That sense of collaboration, seeing everyone move in sync after weeks of practice, showed me that sportsmanship is about more than winning-it’s about growth, inclusion, and shared effort. Being a referee has shaped my character in ways I never expected. I learned to stand firm in my decisions, guide others respectfully, and uplift my team. Most importantly, it strengthened my bond with my sister. What started as encouraging her to try something new turned into both of us stepping into something bigger than ourselves. Looking forward, I want to advocate for cheer programs in underfunded schools across New York City. Many students, especially boys or those from marginalized communities, don’t see cheer as an opportunity for growth, leadership, or fun. Cheer gave me purpose, and I want to make sure its benefits reach students from all communities. My ambition is to expand the sport, my drive comes from the difference it already made in my life, and my impact will be creating access, inclusion, and opportunity for others who may not otherwise have the chance. Refereeing didn’t just make me a leader. It gave me a sense of purpose and taught me the value of teamwork, fairness, and inclusion. It made me a better brother, teammate, and person, and that is something I will carry with me for life.

I was twelve years old when my little brother was born, and from the moment I met him, something in me shifted. Our dad was still living with us at the time, but he was already emotionally gone. He spent most days drinking, caught up in his own struggles with alcoholism. He was there, but not really there. He never looked up when I brought home good grades, never asked how I was doing, never tried. My mom, a hard working Mexican immigrant, held everything together the best she could, but she needed help. So I stepped in. I became a second parent overnight. I changed diapers, made bottles, soothed my brother to sleep. As he grew older, I helped him with homework, taught him how to ride a bike, and made sure he had everything he needed. I was just a kid myself, but I didn’t have the luxury of being one. I grew up in the Bronx, in an area most people would call “the ghetto.” It’s not always safe, and it’s definitely not easy, but it’s home. It’s where I learned how to be resilient. When you grow up in a place like mine, people often expect you to fail. They assume you won’t make it out. But I’ve always known that I wanted more, for myself, for my brother, for my family. As a first-generation student, I’ve had to figure everything out alone. There’s no roadmap when you’re the first. I’ve learned how to apply to college by staying after school with my counselor, attending workshops, and Googling everything from FAFSA to scholarships. It’s exhausting, especially while balancing the responsibility of caring for my brother, but I keep pushing forward. My dream is to become a nurse—not just to create a better future, but because I’ve seen firsthand how much care and compassion can change someone’s life. My brother doesn’t know everything I’ve done for him, and I don’t want him to. I just want him to grow up feeling supported, feeling loved, and believing that he can become anything he wants. That’s what keeps me going on the hardest days. When I read about Jesus Baez-Santos, I saw so much of myself in his story. He was selfless, goofy, loving - someone who lit up rooms and gave even when he didn’t have much. I try to be that person too. I try to show up for my family with love, even when I’m tired. I try to laugh, even when things are heavy. This scholarship would mean the world to me, not just financially, but emotionally. It would remind me that everything I’ve carried hasn’t gone unnoticed. That someone out there sees my story and believes in my future.