Look, unless my Whataburger job suddenly comes with stock options, I need this scholarship. College isn't cheap, and I'd rather focus on engineering than master the fine art of surviving on ramen noodles. Life threw me a curveball in May 2024 when I unexpectedly lost my dad. I was the one who found him, and I performed CPR until the ambulance arrived. That kind of moment doesn't just fade. A few weeks later, my mom was hospitalized from the stress of it all. With everything happening so fast, I had no choice but to step up. I balanced school, sports, and grief, while also helping in any way I could around the house. I also worked three jobs during my senior year to help save for college. I've unlocked game-expert-level time management (and caffeine consumption). My mom, a public school teacher, is doing all she can to support two kids in college, but our budget is stretched thinner than my patience when my brother eats the last of my leftovers. But even when life smacks me around, I show up. I kept my grades up and made it into the top 10% of my class. I was involved in football, basketball, track, and tennis. I also found time to give back through the La Grange Optimist Club, Rotary events, and helping out at the county fairgrounds. I don't say this to brag. I say it because giving back has always been important to me. I know what it feels like to need help, so when I can give it, I do. I'm starting college at the University of Arkansas this fall, majoring in engineering. I've always been the kid who liked figuring out how things work. My dad worked for the railroad, so I grew up around various machines, tools, and stories about keeping things running safely. I want to follow that same path by creating things that last and solve real problems. Civil engineering is where I see myself landing. I want to work on infrastructure projects that improve lives. Roads that drain properly, buildings that withstand storms, and maybe one day, a bridge with my name on it. Unless it's a toll bridge. Then maybe just a plaque. One of the best examples of my thinking was in my welding class. A broken metal tire stand needed fixing, and we didn't have fancy materials. I had to figure it out with what we had. I cleaned the rust, lined everything up, welded it solid, and didn't even need duct tape. That project was more than tacking metal. It was about solving problems, working under pressure, and getting the job done right. That's what I want to do in the world. I plan to use my career to help small communities like mine. We don't always get the attention or funding of big cities, but we still need safe roads, clean water, and buildings that don't leak when it rains sideways. I aim to bring solid, affordable solutions to overlooked areas and maybe even start a business that trains and hires local people. I am sure there are many worthy of this scholarship, but I work hard, don't make excuses, and take nothing for granted. Plus, I promise not to blow it all on unnecessary gadgets or a lifetime supply of chicken nuggets (tempting as that may be). This scholarship would help lift some of the weight off my family's shoulders and give me more time to focus on what matters: learning, building, and giving back.

In May 2024, my world flipped upside down. I walked into our shop and found my dad on the ground, unresponsive. I yelled out for my mom to call 911 and began CPR. We live far from town, and it took the ambulance nearly 25 minutes to arrive. I kept doing compressions even though I could feel his ribs breaking. I was hoping I could save him. But he didn't make it. That moment changed everything. My dad was the rock of our family. He worked for the Union Pacific Railroad and was the one always making sure things ran smoothly at home, too. With him gone, someone had to step up. A few weeks later, my mom was hospitalized after struggling with grief. That's when I realized it was up to me to keep things together, not just for myself, but for my younger brother and my mom. At 18, I became the man of the house. During my senior year, I had three jobs. I learned about time management and had to set some priorities for myself. It wasn't easy, but I handled a heavy class load and stayed active in things that mattered to me. By the end of my senior year, I earned my way into the top 10% of my graduating class, and I also punched my ticket to the UIL State Track meet in pole vault. I managed all these things and got accepted into multiple universities. I had to lead by example, showing my younger brother that tough times are not an excuse to give up on your dreams. This past year has tested me in every way. I've had to make tough decisions and grow up faster than I expected. But with everything spinning out of control, I had to dig deep. I didn't even know I had that kind of strength in me until life forced it out. I just kept going back to what my parents always taught me—do the right thing, work hard, and don't give up, no matter what. To me, being a leader isn't about getting a fancy title or some kind of award. It's about stepping up when it counts, even when no one's watching. Sometimes it's about showing up every day when it's hard. It's about taking care of people, even when you feel like falling apart. That's the kind of leader I've become, one who leads quietly, through action. Outside my home, I've volunteered with the Fayette County Fair Association and the La Grange Optimist Club. I help coach youth basketball and soccer, organize events, and give my time to causes that bring people together. I aim to leverage my engineering career to continue this service by building safer communities, enhancing infrastructure, and giving back to the place that raised me. I'm applying for this scholarship because my mom, a public school teacher, is doing everything she can, but finances are tight. My older sibling is in college, and my younger brother still has years to go. I don't want to add to my mom's stress. That's why I've taken on so much work, so she doesn't have to carry it all alone. This past year has been the hardest of our lives, and I did everything I could to hold my family together. I'm not done. I plan to keep showing up, keep leading, and keep pushing forward in college and whatever comes next. I want to build a future that honors the people who raised me and gives back to the community that's always had my back.

I've always been a hands-on learner. If something breaks, I want to figure out how to fix it. And let's not forget when my curiosity, persistence, and willingness to get my hands dirty have gotten me in some hot water with my mom. Like the time I took apart my toaster. Needless to say, she was NOT very happy with me, but I learned an important lesson: leave mom's stuff alone. One highlight of applying the knowledge I had learned was from my welding course. A metal tire stand had broken welds and rusted joints. My dad had shown me how to repair things before, but this time, I had to do it on my own and fast. I didn't have fancy tools or extra materials. I had one shot. So, I went back to the basics: measuring, aligning, cleaning the surface, making sure I had the right angle, and then trusting my weld. It held. That project didn't just teach me about metalwork. I gained practical experience in problem-solving under pressure, utilizing available resources in the moment, and applying knowledge in real-world situations. But not all learning comes from projects. In May of 2024, my father passed away unexpectedly. I had to perform CPR on him while we waited for help. That experience cracked my world open. It forced me to grow in ways no textbook ever could. Suddenly, I was the one making the hard calls, the one my younger brother looked to. My mom was grieving, and I had to be her support, too. Life didn't stop; I had to learn how to adapt to this new change, and life became my teacher. I ended up working for three different employers because I was aware of our financial situation without my dad's income. In addition to working, I took over all the minor household jobs around the house that my dad used to do, I kept up with my school work, breaking into the top 10% of my graduating class, and stayed involved in extracurricular activities, and and still punched my ticket to the State Track Meet in the pole vault. Trust me, life was difficult. But I kept showing up, even when I was running on fumes. I was about a month into my senior year, and things were getting very overwhelming. I set my pride aside and asked for help. I feel this is the most important lesson life has taught me. We all need help, and there is no shame in asking others for assistance. Learning is not just in the walls of a school building or in the books we read. We have to be curious about the world around us. Every new situation that crosses our path is an opportunity to grow. We can't pick life's lessons, as they could be both good and bad. Taking in everything I've been through and trying to learn from it, that's what real growth looks like to me. No matter what curveball life throws, I always ask myself, "What can I take from this to do better next time?" That mindset is what's going to carry me through college and help me build a future in engineering. I want to be the kind of person who keeps learning, gets creative when things don't go as planned, and refuses to settle for just "good enough." This scholarship honors someone who lived with curiosity and passion. That is the only way to live a life that will help you grow. I don't always have the answers, but I'm never afraid to search for them.

Trains. Whistles. Diesel smell. That was my childhood. My dad worked out of the Smithville yard as part of Union Pacific's San Antonio service unit. He was a manager, on call 24/7, with no set schedule. He'd get up and go, sometimes without notice. Every time we passed the depot, I'd glance at the injury-free sign he updated daily. Most people ignored it. For him, it meant everything. That number represented the number of his coworkers who got home safely. He cared more about that than any award. When his unit hit safety milestones, he was recognized. Once, he received a UP watch for safety and performance. He just tucked it away with the others, as he didn’t want the spotlight. I was proud of him, but I didn't fully understand his job until he showed me derailment photos. I asked a million questions. He didn't share everything, but he told me enough to help me understand why he ran surprise safety drills. Seeing train cars tipped over, the waste, and knowing someone could've been seriously hurt, or worse, shaped my path. That's when I decided to become a civil engineer and help make rail transportation safer. I've always been fascinated by how systems work, much like solving a giant puzzle. Each decision my dad made required coordination across multiple departments, knowing where trains were, track conditions, and delays. One time, a crew member had a heart attack on board. My dad called 911, assessed the train's location by counting the cars, and realized it was blocking both of our town's crossings. The next crew wasn't due for hours, so he moved the train just enough to clear one crossing, even though union policy said not to. He was suspended for it, but he said he'd do it again. In small towns, people don't have extra routes. He always said safety and access came before rules on paper. Then May 2024 happened. I had just finished my junior year. My dad took a rare day off to be with us. That night, I found him unresponsive. I did CPR while my mom called 911. We live in a rural area, and it takes nearly half an hour for help to arrive. Too late. No warning, just gone. That moment shattered me. But I hold on to what he gave me: his values, his work ethic, his care for others. His coworkers told me how seriously he took safety, not because he had to, but because he wanted his crews to make it home. That's what drives me now. I don't want just a job. I aim to develop systems that benefit people, such as safer infrastructure, improved emergency response routes in rural areas, and more efficient logistics. I want to be the one catching the details that matter. I've lived the railroad life. I've seen the pride, the pressure, and the people behind the scenes. This scholarship would help relieve some of the financial pressure on my mom, a school teacher, after my dad's passing. But more than that, it would be an investment in the kind of civil engineer I'm becoming, one who puts safety first and carries forward the legacy of someone who quietly made a difference every day.

Trains. Whistles. Diesel smell. That was my childhood. My dad worked out of the Smithville yard as part of Union Pacific's San Antonio service unit. He was a manager for most of my life, which meant he was on call 24/7. No set schedule, he'd get up and go, sometimes with no notice at all. Every time we passed the depot, I'd glance at the injury-free sign he updated daily. Most people ignored it, but to him, it meant everything. That number represented coworkers getting home safely. He cared more about that than any award. Still, when his unit hit safety milestones, they were recognized. One time, he received a UP watch for safety and performance. He just tucked it away with all the other accolades. Quiet pride, no need for a spotlight. I was proud of him, but I didn't fully understand it until he showed me some derailment photos. I asked a million questions. He didn't tell me everything, but he shared enough to help me understand why he ran surprise safety drills. Seeing train cars tipped over, the waste, and realizing someone could've been seriously hurt, or worse, shaped my path. I decided I wanted to be a civil engineer and help make rail transportation safer. I've always been fascinated by how systems work, much like solving a giant puzzle. Each decision my dad made required input from multiple departments. He had to know where trains were, track conditions, priorities, and delays. It all had to sync, or things would fall apart. One time, a crew member had a heart attack on board. My dad called 911, assessed the train's location by counting the cars, and realized it was blocking both of our town's crossings. Knowing the next crew wasn't due for hours, he moved the train just enough to clear one crossing, even though union policy said not to. He got suspended for it, but he said he'd do it again. In small towns, people don't have extra routes. He always said safety and access came before rules on paper. Then May 2024 happened. I had just finished my junior year. My dad took a rare day off to spend with us. That evening, I found him unresponsive. I did CPR while my mom called 911. We live rural. It took nearly half an hour for help to arrive. Too late. He had just been cleared at a checkup. No warning, just gone. That moment shattered me. But I hold on to what he gave me: his values, his work ethic, his care for others. His coworkers told me how seriously he took safety, not because he had to, but because he wanted his crews to make it home. That's what drives me now. I don't want just a job. I want to build systems that help people. Whether it’s better emergency response routes in rural areas or designing safer logistics, I want to be the one catching the details that matter. I've lived the railroad life. I've seen the pride, the pressure, and the people behind the scenes. I want to be remembered for making this industry better. For putting safety first, just like my dad. For showing that getting the job done isn't enough if people get hurt doing it. I want to be the kind of engineer my dad would be proud of.

My name is Cordale, and this fall, I'm heading into my first year at the University of Arkansas to study engineering. I've always kept busy. At four, I was in Pre-K and playing sports. Then, at age 14, I got my first job. Not to chase a resume, but because my parents taught me to work for what I want. I just wanted that new gaming console my friends had. In May 2024, everything changed. My dad passed away. No warning, just gone. I remember doing CPR on him for nearly half an hour before the ambulance came. That day will forever be etched into my brain. A couple of weeks later, my mom ended up in the hospital too. The weight of all the added stress and coping with her grief became too overwhelming. So, adulthood hit fast. I stepped into shoes I never expected to fill. My new normal meant caring for my brother, taking on my dad's old tasks, holding two jobs, attending 6:00 AM football training, and completing college applications. I felt stretched thin. But I had no choice. The focus that emerged when things felt out of control may have stemmed from years of Taekwondo training. I started at four and earned my second-degree black belt by twelve. Throughout high school, I was involved in nearly every activity I could: football, basketball, track and field, soccer, tennis, and swimming. I showed up even when my head wasn't in it because I was a leader. The same goes for academics. I took challenging course loads that included AP and dual credit courses, participated in UIL academics, and maintained a strong GPA. During my senior year, while most kids were experiencing "senioritis" and preparing for senior days, I was juggling work shifts at Whataburger and the Country Club to save for college. I managed to graduate in the top 10% and qualified for the state pole vault competition. I also give back to my community. That has always been important to me. I have volunteered with the Fayette County Fair Association, flipped some great-tasting burgers for the Rotary Club, and coached teams for the Optimist Club. Coaching kids was about more than wins. It meant I had to be patient and teach fundamentals. Not every kid had the same skills. My goal was to make our time together fun and encouraging. I've started sharing more about what I've been through, not for sympathy, but in case it helps someone else feel less alone. I have learned that grief's a heavy thing, especially when you're 18. I am thankful that my mom got us into counseling. We three boys resisted it at the time. Honestly, it was helpful to be able to talk openly to someone about my feelings. Financially, college isn't cheap. My mom is a public school teacher; now, there will be two of us in college and another in high school, and she is unable to assist as my parents had intended. A scholarship is more than just money. To me, it's hope. Proof that someone sees the work I've put into overcoming life's obstacles. It's someone saying, "Hey, we see you. Keep going. Conquer your dreams." When I read about Kalia, something clicked. Her energy, her heart for people. It reminded me of who I want to be. If I were chosen for this scholarship, it wouldn't be something I'd take lightly. I'd carry her name with pride, and I'd keep trying to lift others the way she did. Thanks for reading my story.

My next journey is just around the corner. I will embark on my freshman year at the University of Arkansas, where I will major in engineering. It feels so surreal. When I was younger, time was just a thing adults worried about. My biggest concerns were, "Are we there yet?" or "When's lunch?" Then came May 2024. I walked into our shop and saw my dad on the ground. Not moving. Not responding. I shouted for my mom to call 911 and started CPR. As I began compressions, I felt my dad's ribs cracking as I broke them. This was very traumatic as I never wanted to hurt my dad, but I knew through my training that this was likely to happen. Everything was in slow motion, like a sports replay, to determine if the initial call was correct or needed to be overturned. We live in a rural area, so it took about 25 minutes for the ambulance to arrive. The EMTs did what they could and rushed him to the hospital, but... he didn't make it. That moment changed everything. I never imagined life without him. He was supposed to be there for the big stuff like senior year events, graduation, moving into the dorms, my wedding someday, maybe even holding my kids. And just like that, the future I envisioned was gone. That is when I realized the importance of time. That summer was a blur. I tried to fill his shoes by cutting grass, handling home repairs, helping out my younger brother, and juggling two jobs. Oh, and those 6 AM football workouts? I still showed up. I also had to start applying to colleges. Looking back, I'm not entirely sure how I managed to keep moving. When senior year hit, I had to dial it in. I made myself a promise: crack the top ten percent of my class, qualify for the State Track Meet in pole vault, and save whatever I could for college. With my mom working as a public school teacher and my older brother already in college, our finances were tight. Still are. So I cut back where I had to. I focused on four sports—football, basketball, tennis, and track. Took on leadership roles as captain of the basketball team and a defensive leader in football. But honestly? Sports were my lifeline. My team became my second family. They gave me space to breathe, they listened when I was overwhelmed, and reminded me I was not alone. In the spring, I added a job at Whataburger. Around 20 hours a week. Somehow, I kept up with school and sports. I saved most of what I made. By the end of my senior year, I had accomplished what I set out to do. State Track Meet?...check! Top ten percent?...check! Even now, part of me wonders how I pulled it off. Now, I'm aiming higher. I want to build things that matter, especially in rural communities like mine. Roads, infrastructure, and emergency response systems are all areas that could be improved. Can I help an ambulance get to someone 10 minutes faster? That could save a life. That could change everything for someone else. I also want to mentor kids like me. Students who are dealing with loss, hardship, or just plain burnout. I want to be living proof that you can overcome something devastating. I'm not here looking for pity. Just a shot. A shot at college without drowning in debt. A shot to turn the worst moment of my life into something that might, someday, save someone else's.

I've only lived in a single-parent household for one year, my senior year of high school. But that one year flipped everything. My dad passed away suddenly in May of 2024. One day, I had both parents balancing life for our family. Next, it was just my mom trying to hold everything together. My dad wasn't just my father. He was my ride to practice, the guy who stayed in the bleachers until every game was over, even if I didn't play a single snap. He was steady. Losing him made everything feel off balance. My mom was now the head of our household on her public teacher's income. She was now dealing with the emotional and financial responsibilities while trying to put on a brave face for us kids. I could see the stress she carried, but she never complained about it. That made it clear: I couldn't sit back and watch her take on all the burden. I had to step up. That summer, I worked as much as I could at the Rec Center and took on shifts at the Country Club pool. Around the house, I started pitching in by taking on some of my dad's tasks. I mowed the lawn, shredded the fields, cleaned the pool, completed maintenance on the cars, and helped with the animals. I did everything I could to take some of the stress off my mother. These are not major things, but each one added up and helped my mother out. While taking on all these new responsibilities, I still had my regular tasks to attend to, such as summer football training and preparing college applications. When August rolled around, I was managing all these duties in ways that forced me to mature quickly. My mom always taught me to finish what I start. When I was four, she enrolled me in Taekwondo. It began with me just having fun kicking and yelling. Over time, I became much more serious about the sport. I stuck with it until I earned my black belt, and then continued until I achieved 2nd Dan by age twelve. That taught me how to keep showing up even when it's hard. That mindset proved particularly helpful in my senior year. I set three goals for my senior year: to make the top 10%, qualify for state in pole vault, and gain admission to my dream college. Juggling school, sports, work, college applications, and scholarship applications was no easy task. There were plenty of nights I wanted to quit, but my mom would always provide some type of encouraging words. By spring, I had achieved my goals. I was ranked in the top 10% of my class, a state qualifier in the pole vault, and was accepted into college at the University of Arkansas. I was even named Male Athlete of the Year, which felt like a full-circle moment for everything I'd pushed through. My summer looks the same as last year's. I am still working two jobs, saving up money, and applying for national scholarships, such as this one. My dream is to become a civil engineer. I want to build something meaningful. I want to make an impact. Growing up with a single mom for just one year showed me more than I expected. It taught me what quiet strength looks like. It showed me how to be more independent and rely on myself, and to keep moving forward, even when life knocks you down. My senior year didn't break me. If anything, it built me into a better man.

I have always excelled in math. When I signed up for my freshman classes, the school gave us a rough four-year plan. As soon as I spotted "calculus" on that sheet, I thought, "Nope, not for me." The word on campus was that it was super challenging. I ain't going to lie, I was intimidated. Calculus has limits, derivatives, and integrals, all things that sound like they belong in a sci-fi movie. When I finally got to the course in my senior year, I enjoyed calculus. Part of that was having a super supportive teacher who made the course enjoyable. I didn't put all my efforts into calculus as I had wanted. My life was different going into my senior year. I had additional obligations I had to take on. We lost my dad in May of 2024. His passing has changed everything. My mom, who teaches full time, has been doing her best, but we've had to make things stretch. I ended up picking up a few jobs, including one at Whataburger, another at our local recreation center, and seasonal work at the country club pool during the summer. I chipped in to help ensure my younger brother attended all his activities. Some days it felt like too much to keep up with. But, like in calculus, some progress comes from taking small steps repeatedly. Knowing I hadn't put my full effort into my high school calculus class, I decided to seek advice from some engineers in my community. The consensus was that calculus was the foundation of engineering. That stuck with me. Based on their advice, I will be retaking Calculus I during my first semester of college. This time around, I have a purpose…preparing for my future. I know Calculus frequently appears in STEM fields. It's not just some abstract math. It helps us figure out how things change over time. For example, if you're working on how fast a tank fills or how much weight a beam can hold, calculus is what you use. If something is moving or changing, calculus plays a part. That's why I'm approaching this go-around with a new mindset. I want to grasp the core concepts fully, ensuring my foundation is solid. As a young child, I always enjoyed building things with my LEGO bricks. I would create different things, expand on existing ideas, and more. One of my favorite memories was building a fort with my dad. I was also one to take things apart to see how they worked. I am drawn to solving problems and finding ways to modify or improve designs. When I was 8, I took apart my mom's toaster and let's just say she had to purchase a new one. I learned that you don't mess with mom's appliances. That curiosity has me thinking that civil engineering or mechanical engineering may be my future. I am headed to the University of Arkansas. When I toured their engineering department, I was drawn to the fact that during my freshman year, I would be exposed to many avenues of engineering, and then in the spring, I would have the opportunity to choose my path. Calculus is needed for all paths. Paying for college isn't easy, and I'm doing my part to help out. I'm applying for every scholarship for which I qualify, and this one aligns perfectly with my career goals. Calculus pushes me, and I don't always get things right the first time. But those mistakes are how I learn. When I finally figure out something I was stuck on, it feels like a small victory.

I was about four years old, and my parents signed me up for FAST, the Fayette Area Swim Team, as my older brother, Clayton, was already on it. He would always come back to our "camp" with these blue ribbons in hand. Now it was my turn. I remember looking at the pool feeling like it went on for ever. No fear, I jumped in and swam the length from one end to the other just like those big kids. Clayton and I ended up racing sometimes during practices or at small meets. He beat me every time. I didn't quit. The truth is, I wanted to catch him. That sibling rivalry stuck with me. In swimming, you can't fake it or you will drown. You either push through or you don't. Every second or tenth of a second you can cut, means you earn it. Fast forward, I swam with FAST from age four until I hit ten. My mother would always wake me up for swim practice. It was too early in the morning, and I would stomp out of bed. She would always tell us, "You have to work to get better". I never became the fastest kid out there, but my times did improve. That idea of small, steady gains started to click. Growth doesn't have to happen in leaps and bounds. That same mindset carried into school, extracurriculars, and even work when I got older. I joined my high school swim team in my sophomore year. My town doesn't have an aquatic center. We use our local camp pool until the water gets too cold, then we bus over to the nearest aquatic center, which is 45 minutes one way. Boy, did my life get busy with the addition of swim to my schedule. I had no choice but to get better at time management. I would do my homework on the bus, both to and from swim practice. I was still competing in football and basketball, so I had to learn how to coordinate practices. I worked my part-time job on the weekends if I had no extracurricular events. Despite all that, it was nice getting back into the pool to compete. Swimming is a sport where you have to focus 100% of your time if you want to be the best. Unfortunately, I couldn't do that since I was involved in so many things. There are so many benefits of swimming. For me, the most cherished thing swimming gave me is a community. FAST wasn't just swim lanes and time trials. It was bringing snacks to share with friends between heats (gotta mention the frozen grapes, they were terrific), cheering teammates on as loud as you could, and just good old conversations of how we did in our heats. It truly was a second family. I needed that second family when my dad passed right before my senior year of high school. My world was torn apart. I never envisioned my life without him. Lucky for me, a few friends from FAST helped me through that difficult time. They reminded me that life goes on, that I am not alone, and I need to keep moving forward one stroke at a time (pun intended). For me, swimming wasn't about that blue ribbon after all. It was about being supportive, encouraging others, and fellowship with a second family. I genuinely believe that Cynthia Vino felt that experience as well. So much so, she provided that to her students and others around her.

I always knew college was expected of me. With my mom being a public school teacher, education was central in our home. She often said, "No one can take away your intelligence. You can lose use of an arm or a leg, but the knowledge you acquire is what will provide for your future the most." I believed her, but after the year I had, even that belief was tested in ways I never saw coming. May of 2024 changed everything. I walked into our shop and found my dad collapsed. He didn't look like his "normal" color; instead, he had a gray tone to him. I rushed to him, checked for a pulse, and felt his arm. He was cold. I started CPR the way I'd been trained, though nothing prepares you for what it actually feels like. His ribs cracked beneath my hands. My mom was calling 911, and we just kept going, hoping something would work. It took 35 minutes for paramedics to arrive. They shocked his heart, gave him medication, managed to get a pulse here and there, but it never held. We drove behind the ambulance for the 30-mile ride to the hospital. That's where the doctor pulled us aside and told us the truth. My dad had been down too long. They'd tried everything. We handed them his advance directive. That was the end. I never imagined I would be planning my senior year, and the next, I was trying to figure out how to keep our family together. My mom tried to stay strong, but a month later, it was too much. She broke down. A friend found her surrounded by whiskey bottles and prescription meds. That same night, she was admitted to a mental health facility. I had just turned 18 the week before, and I was handling real adult duties. When August finally came around, all my peers were talking about the different colleges they applied to and sharing their number one choice. That's when I realized college may not be in my future right after high school. I knew my senior year consisted of challenging classes, multiple extracurricular activities, and I was working. The odds of me hitting the lottery to pay for school was a long shot. So, when Spring rolled around, "Scholarship Season", I turned in a total of 61 local scholarship applications to my counselor. My new daily schedule allowed more time after school to work, so I increased my working hours to 20 hours a week. And I turned my focus on national scholarship opportunities. This August, I'm headed to the University of Arkansas to study civil engineering. I chose it because of all the times I stood beside my dad in his shop, watching how things worked, helping him fix things, or in some cases, making things worse. I've always loved math, but what I really enjoy is solving problems that matter. One dream I've decided upon since my dad's passing is to design an emergency response system for rural towns. Places like my hometown, where response times are too long in some areas of our county. If emergency services had reached my dad ten minutes earlier, who knows what might've happened? I'm not in this for a fancy job or to make a name for myself. I just want to do work that matters. I want to be the kind of person my dad would be proud of and my mom can count on. Whether that means helping someone build a new road, mentoring a younger kid who feels lost, or simply showing up when it counts, that's the kind of life I want to lead. If I were chosen to be the recipient of this scholarship, it would allow me to focus on becoming the best version of myself without drowning in debt. Having more time in class, showing up during office hours for questions or advice, having more opportunities to intern, to give back, and to live the kind of life Treye Knorr's family hoped he would have. Thank you for taking the time to hear my story.

I always knew college was expected of me. With my mom being a public school teacher, education was a big part of our household. She used to say, "No one can take away your intelligence. You can lose use of an arm or a leg, but the knowledge you acquire is what will provide for your future the most." So yeah, going to college wasn't a question of if, but expected of me. However, after the year I just had, it started to feel like that expectation is more of a dream. The path of going to college seemed buried under everything else I was dealing with. I knew I didn't want to let my mom down, and I didn't want to give up on myself either. In May of 2024, I experienced the worst day of my life. I found my dad lying in his shop; he was not his "normal" color. I ran over to him, grabbed his arm, and I could tell his body wasn't at its normal temperature. I still attempted CPR as my mother called 911. I felt his ribs break as I did compressions. That was mentioned in my CPR training, but until you experience it, you don't understand what it really means. I felt as if I was hurting him. About 35 minutes from the time my mother had called emergency services, the ambulance finally arrived. They tried using a defibrillator to regain a pulse along with some type of medicine. They would get a pulse for a minute at the most, and then they would lose it. They repeated this cycle over and over, until they were able to load him up to take him to the hospital, which was 30 miles away. When we arrived at the hospital, the doctor pulled my mother and me to the back room. He told us that my dad had been down too long, and that even though the meds combined with the shock voltage to get his pulse back, my dad could never sustain his heartbeat. The doctor provided some treatment options, but my mother gave the doctor my dad's advance directive, indicating no life-saving measures. The days to follow were nothing but a blur. So many emotions were running around in my head. I told myself my dad was too young to die; he wasn't sick, maybe a little overweight. This has to be a nightmare, and I'll wake up any minute now, and everything will be back to normal. That never happened. I became a bit angry. My dad is supposed to be at all my big life moments, especially going into my senior year of high school. There is so much I didn't know. Who is going to give me advice or share words of wisdom when I need them? I never envisioned a future without my dad in it. Even though my dad is no longer with us, I will always be grateful to him for instilling the values of family and hard work. He worked for the railroad for 26 years in various positions throughout his career. His latest position was going to give him the ability to make all my football games, most of my basketball games, and, of course, he would make as many track meets as he could. He always put us, his family, first. There were times when I was in grade school, he was unable to take a summer vacation with us, but he insisted we go. He never wanted to hold us back from experiencing things. I never shied away from hard work, but no kid likes doing chores and such. I did learn so much from him. I know how to change the oil in my truck, I know how to tend to cattle, I know how to weld, and so much more. I never really appreciated how much he did around the house until I had to fill his shoes. A month after my dad's passing, my mother was overwhelmed. My dad did not renew his life insurance policy when he took the new position. She was scrambling, contacting various institutions, trying to get everything in order. She was exhausted as she was grieving while trying to tend to all the things that go with losing a spouse. She had a support group of friends who came and helped where they could. One day, everything caught up to her, and she broke. She called one of her friends, who happens to be a nurse, and could tell that something was wrong. She and another friend from the friend circle rushed over to the house to find her with various whiskey bottles around her, along with the medications the doctor had prescribed. They immediately called for an ambulance. As I was arriving home, the ambulance was leaving our house. They told me what had happened. The next morning, she voluntarily checked into a mental health hospital for treatment. Here I was, having just turned 18 the week prior, and now dealing with a whole new set of concerns. No guidebook, no backup. I had no choice but to step up as the man of the house now. I took on all of my dad's responsibilities that he had around the house. I took care of my younger brother, made sure he was fed, drove him to places he needed to be, and more. I just knew that I needed to do as much as possible to ease the pressures my mother was dealing with. As August arrived, the excitement of college applications was in the air among my peers. That is when I realized that the future of attending college may have been derailed for a while. I did send in some college applications as I wasn't giving up just yet. My senior year was marked by a very challenging academic schedule, as well as involvement in numerous extracurricular activities and work. It wasn't until the Spring when my schedule opened up more in the afternoons that I could get a job at Whataburger and start earning some real bank. I worked around 20 hours a week the rest of the semester. Spring is also referred to as “Scholarship Season” at my school. When I wasn't working, I was busy filling out local scholarships. I turned in 61 applications to my high school counselor. Then I started looking for national scholarships online and applying to those. How else can I improve my odds financially? I am not likely to win the lottery. Graduation has come and gone. I am working about 50 hours a week between my two jobs. And, I am still applying for as many scholarships as I can this summer. My peers think I am wasting my time, that I should just be enjoying this last carefree summer. I remind them that our situations are different. I don't want to graduate with a massive debt, so spending time completing scholarships versus hanging out at the beach is worth it, as every dollar counts. I'm heading to the University of Arkansas to study engineering. I picked civil engineering because I've always liked tinkering in the shop with my dad, trying to figure out how things work. Problem solving is a natural skill set for me, and I enjoy math. Civil engineering allows me to combine my skills with my love of math to make improvements for my community and impact the world. What would it feel like to create or improve existing systems, such as roads, bridges, or public works? These things aren't glamorous, but they matter. They keep people moving and keep communities safe. Ultimately, I would love to develop an emergency plan that enhances response times for emergency services. Would the EMTs arriving 10 minutes sooner have been enough to save my dad? We will never know, but it would have increased his odds. I aim to develop a solution specifically tailored to rural areas, such as my hometown, that improves the overall survival rate in emergencies; then that is the impact I want to have on this world. This scholarship is more than providing financial assistance to some random student who wrote a good essay. I have shared with you my raw experiences in hopes of continuing to fight for my future and my dreams. Thank you for taking the time to hear my story.

Before I could even spell "engineering," I was voiding warranties out of pure curiosity. I have always wanted to know how things work. I would take things apart— my brother's toys (yeah, I got in trouble for this one), our bicycles, and appliances—just to see if I could put them back together. Sometimes, it went fine. Other times… well, we had to replace the toaster. My mom was not thrilled, but she never stopped me from learning through trial and error. Now, I want to take that same curiosity (and better repair skills) and turn it into a career in engineering. I am not someone who enjoys sitting still, reading from a textbook all day. I want to solve real problems—the kind that actually help people, especially people in my community. Whether it's saving time, making something safer, or improving how things run, I want to be the person my community counts on when things need to work better. I do not mind the mess or the hard work. Honestly, I kind of like it. I have always learned best by doing. One of my favorite projects was in my welding course, when I had to fix a rusty, beat-up tire stand. There were no instructions, no team—just me, a deadline, and some leftover scrap in my dad's shop. (And yes, it is still standing. No toes were lost.) That kind of hands-on problem-solving is where I thrive. On top of school, I work three part-time jobs, stay involved in extracurriculars, and try to keep up with everything life throws at me. Somewhere in there, I still make time for my girlfriend—though I have definitely gotten more than a few eye rolls over the welding burns. None of this is easy, but I have never really expected it to be. Hard work has always just been a part of life for me. That is one of the reasons I landed at the University of Arkansas. It seems like a place where I can keep pushing forward, both in and out of the classroom. I am not just looking to earn a degree—I want to actually grow while I am there. I want to be around people who challenge me, learn from instructors who know the real world, and use what I learn to actually build something that matters. But this path is not only about me. My dad passed away in May 2024 after 26 years of giving everything he had to our family. This degree is part of my promise to him—that I would keep going, no matter how hard things got. College is my way forward, and one day, I hope it is also my way to give back. And hey—if I made it through senior year with AP exams, welding sparks, and Whataburger grease burns, I think I've got this.