I didn’t truly realize how my background affected my career until recently. This past summer, I was a tutor for an underfunded middle school in Compton, CA. My students were those who "started fights,” “refused to attend school,” and “did not want to succeed.” I persevered in helping these students realize their true potential, but it was obvious that it was an institutional issue. Students' potential is often diminished on the basis of their race, economic status, and culture. This marginalization is why for some, university is an effortless assumption, while for others, it is an unattainable commodity. Educational inequity affects all marginalized communities, including the one I grew up in. I watched my parents work tirelessly so that I have a more comfortable life than they did. I knew early on that meant going to university. As a first-generation college student, I knew I was often at a disadvantage because of my economic background. Unlike my colleagues, I relied heavily on scholarships to afford college. Although harbored by imposter syndrome, food insecurity, and anxiety, I remained undeterred from my love of education. I cherished every class knowing that I was one of the only Latinas there. Because of my experiences, I realized I could make the biggest impact as an educator, supporting and serving students like myself. I have confidence in recognizing the resources students lack because I didn't grow up with a tutor, expensive technology, or access to challenging curriculum. I want to use my experiences and advocate for low-income students. My students inspire me everyday. While I can’t alleviate the adversities they face everyday, I aim to be a pillar of encouragement and advocacy. I wholeheartedly trust that every student has the same right to learn and know, with absolute certainty, that their impact is boundless.

It's easy to take, not to give. Volunteering came to me unexpectedly. Two weeks into my undergraduate education, when I was still finding my ground at my college campus, a student came up to me and asked me “How much do you care about the environment?" I had never thought much about why I cared about nature and how much I cared compared to others. I lent an ear and decided that volunteering with this club would give me the guidance to answer that question. I started volunteering 2 times a week, collecting petitions to save marine life, while also learning about the impact of global warming on our environment. Through volunteering, I advocated for renewable energy, an end to pollution, basic needs for college students, and saving the bee population. I liked volunteering so much that, in my last year of college, I became the president of the nonprofit organization, California Public Interest Research Group. Within the leadership role, I ran into a fundamental issue that my team and I tried to solve each year: How do we get students motivated to volunteer on top of being a college student? Our organization always had a high turnover rate because college students couldn't spare the time to volunteer. We decided that making volunteering as easy and flexible as possible was the way to go. We hired interns with a weekly expectation that wasn't met with deadlines, but rather, results. Each weekly meeting, I restated what our goals were and brainstormed with all my 50 students how to get others involved. Our ideas were to provide praise, leadership roles, and creative control over events and posters we would make. This issue improved over the course of the school year, even though we still had a lot of students leave throughout the year. In those four years, I accomplished a lot for myself. I met with elected officials in my college city and collaborated with community organizations to put on educational events. My biggest event was when I organized a Clean Car show. For this, I went to car dealerships and asked them to donate their time to showcase one of their electric cars. We got representatives from Tesla and Nissan to help educate students on the importance of clean energy. The pride I felt after seeing so many of my peers talking about the event, asking more questions about the impacts of fossil fuels, and wanting to get involved is what kept me volunteering. I don't regret all the hours I put in as a volunteer because I did something that I cared about and succeeded in educating some of my peers. Volunteering is not just a hobby, it is something that you do from the goodness of your heart. I cherish those college memories because they have inspired me to continue advocating for the issues I care about well into adulthood. Nowadays, I am deeply involved in the Women's right movement and advocating for human rights. I take part in every march I can and politically urge my friends and family to care about the issues that affect their livelihoods every day. I am extremely motivated to continue this work because I know that not everyone has the capacity and security of speaking up themselves. I want to represent my community and ensure that we obtain equality in the hopefully near future.

I want to be a teacher. I would play teacher to my stuffed animals as a little girl and have loved the field ever since. However, an educator is much more than just a teacher. Our responsibility is to inspire, comfort, and of course, teach our students to be the best students they can be. Education, although a robust and stable constant in our lives, is always in the spotlight for change. There is always something new to be taught, difficult conversations to navigate, and different ways to integrate learning through participation. As an educator, you must also change and adapt to accommodate each student. I didn’t truly realize my impact as an educator until recently. This past summer, I was a tutor for an underfunded middle school in Compton, CA. My students were those who "started fights,” “refused to attend school,” and “did not want to succeed.” I didn’t expect to be around such talented students in an environment riddled with so much doubt –one student in particular stuck out to me. Having decided he was incapable of writing a paragraph, he refused to do assignments. Over time, my encouragement improved his confidence, allowing his creativity to flourish into classwork he was proud of. Because his efforts were not celebrated beforehand, it became apparent that he was pushed not to succeed, but to be reduced to a “problem student.” There are students like Eyner everywhere; no matter how hard they work to prove themselves academically, their potential is always diminished on the basis of their race, economic status, and culture. This marginalization is why for some, university is an effortless assumption, while for others, it is an unattainable commodity. Educational inequity affects all marginalized communities, including the one I grew up in. I watched my parents work tirelessly so that I have a more comfortable life than they did. I knew early on that meant going to university. As a first-generation college student, I knew I was often at a disadvantage because of my economic background. Unlike my colleagues, I relied heavily on scholarships to afford college. Although harbored by imposter syndrome, food insecurity, and anxiety, I remained undeterred from my love of education. I cherished every class knowing that I was one of the only Latinas there. Because of my experiences, I realized I could make the biggest impact as an educator, supporting and serving students like myself. I have worked with a variety of students from different cultural backgrounds, ages, and social classes. As a behavioral interventionist, I assisted children with developmental disabilities and witnessed how my clients’ condition affected their access to accommodations at school. Currently, I tutor students from kindergarten to high school. I’ve taught classes on my own, developed individual study plans, and catered to each student’s educational needs. Here, I have worked primarily with students from affluent families. The disparity between my own upbringing and theirs has created difficulties to adjust to. However, I find interacting with students who have opposing viewpoints makes me a stronger educator. I have confidence in my versatility and ability to recognize the resources a student may lack. After I earn my degree and start working in the field, my priority is to work in an underserved community. It is imminent that I work among students that I share identities with and learn more about how those identities contribute to educational inequity. As an educator, I want to take into account all of my students' experiences. Even if I only have one student facing homelessness, for example, I want to maintain a lens of inclusivity to make sure that student does not feel left out. Likewise, I want to create a safe space for all gender identities and students dealing with mental health issues. I've learned through therapy in my own life, that there are a lot of barriers that can take our attention away from our day to day duties. I want to be a teacher that leads with apathy to ensure that I don't see students as just students. K12 children are humans outside of schools dealing with depression, anxiety, family issues, self-esteem issues, and economic struggles. It's not about teaching at students, but learning from them as well. All human beings deserve to be seen. Earning a scholarship would mean less worry and more focus. While I work full-time now, I do not have enough in savings to comfortably start graduate school without worrying about going into debt. I will be working while I am registered as a full-time student, but most of that income will be going towards rent and other house utilities. My parents no longer work, so I am currently the only breadwinner. While this is an inopportune time to start graduate studies, I am motivated to be a master student and take advantage of an opportunity my parents did not get. This scholarship would ensure a little more safety for me to dedicate more time to my studies. Since this will most likely be the last year of schooling for me, I want to be intentional with the work I turn in and with the students I attend to. My goal is to learn the most I can with student teaching and getting that valuable first hand experience in the classroom. Having an economic leverage would allow me to be fully present during seminars, without the disruption of worrying how I'm going to pay for the seminar. Professionally, I would get pay full attention to courses and take that knowledge with me when I run my own classroom. I have the passion and drive to be a teacher worth talking about. My students inspire me everyday. Witnessing their progress and perseverance is what makes being an educator rewarding and urges me towards longevity in the field. While I can’t alleviate the adversities they face everyday, I aim to be a pillar of encouragement and see them through accessing their full potential. I wholeheartedly trust that every student has the same right to learn and know, with absolute certainty, that their impact is boundless.

I didn’t truly realize my impact as an educator until recently. This past summer, I was a tutor for an underfunded middle school in Compton, CA. My students were those who "started fights,” “refused to attend school,” and “did not want to succeed.” I didn’t expect to be around such talented students in an environment riddled with so much doubt –one student in particular stuck out to me. Having decided he was incapable of writing a paragraph, he refused to do assignments. Over time, my encouragement improved his confidence, allowing his creativity to flourish into classwork he was proud of. Because his efforts were not celebrated beforehand, it became apparent that he was pushed not to succeed, but to be reduced to a “problem student.” There are students like Eyner everywhere; no matter how hard they work to prove themselves academically, their potential is always diminished on the basis of their race, economic status, and culture. This marginalization is why for some, university is an effortless assumption, while for others, it is an unattainable commodity. Educational inequity affects all marginalized communities, including the one I grew up in. I watched my parents work tirelessly so that I have a more comfortable life than they did. I knew early on that meant going to university. As a first-generation college student, I knew I was often at a disadvantage because of my economic background. Unlike my colleagues, I relied heavily on scholarships to afford college. Although harbored by imposter syndrome, food insecurity, and anxiety, I remained undeterred from my love of education. I cherished every class knowing that I was one of the only Latinas there. Because of my experiences, I realized I could make the biggest impact as an educator, supporting and serving students like myself. I have worked with a variety of students from different cultural backgrounds, ages, and social classes. As a behavioral interventionist, I assisted children with developmental disabilities and witnessed how my clients’ condition affected their access to accommodations at school. Currently, I tutor students from kindergarten to high school. I’ve taught classes on my own, developed individual study plans, and catered to each student’s educational needs. Here, I have worked primarily with students from affluent families. The disparity between my own upbringing and theirs has created difficulties to adjust to. However, I find interacting with students who have opposing viewpoints makes me a stronger educator. I have confidence in my versatility and ability to recognize the resources a student may lack. Above all, my dedication to serve underrepresented students is unwavering. My students inspire me everyday. Witnessing their progress and perseverance is what makes being an educator rewarding and urges me towards longevity in the field. While I can’t alleviate the adversities they face everyday, I aim to be a pillar of encouragement and see them through accessing their full potential. I wholeheartedly trust that every student has the same right to learn and know, with absolute certainty, that their impact is boundless.

I was not confident in high school. Dealing with a plethora of issues at home, I found it hard to fit in at school and to be unapologetically me. For years, I stayed under the radar, always thinking that I couldn't amount to much in my high school career. This was until I reached my junior year English class. My teacher, Ms. Enger, right off the bat, created an environment of self-love, praise, and encouragement to be creative. I looked forward to her class every single day. It was the only class where I felt like I could write whatever I wanted in my notebook and raise my hand without a doubt in myself. I excelled in her class, so much so, that she recommended me to be a part of the newspaper club she ran. Apprehensively, I started to develop my writing as part of the news team and went around school gathering new stories and interviews from students. Under her mentorship, I diligently learned how to become a better journalist and even ran for the news category editor. In my senior year, I was elected to that position. The entire year, I had creative control and ran a small team for the public school newspaper every month. She encouraged me to continue working towards being a better writer and leader. While I didn't realize it then, being a part of the newspaper team gave me a true sense of purpose. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere and found the space to come out of my shell. The confidence in myself continued to grow all the way into college. Ms. Enger impacted my life in the best way: she helped me realize my true potential. I didn't think that I would be able to accomplish being a leader of a club and getting into great universities. It was all because Ms. Enger pushed me to believe in myself, my writing, and the potential I had to continue my education. With the students I support today as a case manager and tutor, I always make sure that each student feels comfortable at school. It is only when a student feels a sense of community and has a good rapport with staff that they feel confident at school. I try to foster encouragement wherever I can. I want to be an educator not only to teach, but also inspire them to try new things and be themselves. I see myself in a lot of my students: shy, quiet, and hesitant to ask for help. Because of my experiences, I have an upper hand in noticing students that need the extra push and assistance. It is important to me that every student feels seen. No matter how difficult, I plan to support all my students. I recently enrolled in a graduate program to become an educator. I am aiming to become a high school English teacher, just like Ms. Enger. I also want to have an impact on one of my students' lives and encourage them to be themselves without hesitance. If I impact one student, just like Ms. Enger did for me, I will have accomplished my goal.

Breathe. Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay. These were the things I would tell myself as I knelt down in my closet, trying to calm myself in the midst of a panic attack. I quietly let tears roll down my cheeks and played music loudly, so I wouldn’t be able to hear myself cry. This was one of many nights. The worst night came as a junior in high school when my mind was plagued with suicidal ideation after a fight with my parents. I survived that moment by pure optimism that things were going to get better. I try not to remember those times in my teenage years, but I know now that those moments shaped me into the woman I am today. It wasn’t until college when I found out I was struggling with mental health. Growing up in a Latino household, mental health was not a conversation or buzz word thrown around. Words like depression and anxiety were equated to words like crazy and unreasonable. There was no space for me to tell my parents that I needed help. Rather, I didn’t know that I needed help. I hated the way I looked and lived to compare myself to the other girls my age. I remember first feeling this way around 15 years old and breaking down every little part of my body that was different from others. My mind ran with thoughts saying “you’re not good enough,” “no one likes you,” “no one thinks you’re pretty,” “they are laughing at you.” I went through all of high school hating who I saw in the mirror and didn’t allow myself to succumb to compliments from others. It wasn’t until college when I sought out therapy and began to live for myself. Although college was filled with new experiences, imposter syndrome and anxiety were still at the forefront of each day. I struggled with weekly panic attacks that could only be consoled with meditation and therapy visits. However, I found an outlet in running and taking leadership roles in community organizations. As the imposter syndrome started dissipating in my last years of college, I experienced a huge spike in my self esteem. I was on top of the world and after COVID-19 stopped my therapy appointments, I felt like I was going to be okay. For months, I wholeheartedly received praise from my family because I was the first to graduate college. I felt invincible and so proud of the person I was becoming, but that was also short lived. Much like most people’s experience with mental health, mine was never in a steady place. I graduated college and ended up in a job that I did not like and that did not appreciate my work ethic. I felt stuck and unfulfilled, quickly falling into a depression. All my friends and colleagues excelled in finding a career that suited them and I simply couldn’t. What was wrong with me? Once again, I sought out therapy to get me out of the rut I was in. I only lasted a few more months before getting a job in education that changed my goals. Now, I have sustained placements as a case manager and tutor. I have continued my love for education where I get to teach one-on-one and work with students personally. My goal is to continue in education as a full time English teacher. I am currently enrolled to begin graduate school with Alder Graduate School of Education this summer. I will be pursuing a Master of Education degree, along with a teaching credential. Younger me would have been proud of all the progress I’ve made in my personal, academic, and professional life. My journey was not an easy trek or linear. As much as I changed and grew as a person, I also adapted to the newer environments I was in. I learned how to advocate for myself and do what is best for me above anything else. I am a strong believer that one is never truly healed. While I feel content with my life now, I know that therapy is still going to be there when I need it. As an adult, I practice self-care and positive reinforcement, as well as read books on trauma to help make sense of my feelings. I do the work primarily to show myself the love I wish I would’ve given to myself earlier. Younger me didn’t deserve to be put down as much as she did and future me knows that I have the strength to continue on to be the best version of myself. Now I know, it is okay to cry and it is okay to ask for help. Despite what may come in my future, the hardest part of the journey is over.