Growing up in a single-parent, low-income household shaped my character in ways I carry with pride every day. My mother, an immigrant with limited education, worked multiple jobs to provide for our family. Watching her sacrifice taught me that resilience isn’t just about enduring—it’s about showing up, finding purpose in the struggle, and choosing hope when circumstances try to convince you otherwise. As the eldest child, I took on many responsibilities early in life—translating at doctor’s appointments, helping my siblings with homework, and supporting my family emotionally and financially as soon as I was able. At times, the pressure felt overwhelming. But these experiences pushed me to grow faster, think deeper, and lead with empathy. They also ignited my passion for educational equity, especially for students who, like me, navigate school systems that don’t fully understand the barriers we face at home. I serve as the Dean of Operations at a public high school where 98% of the students are Latino and many come from backgrounds similar to mine. I’ve made it my mission to break down barriers—from organizing food and housing support with local partners to helping families access legal aid and navigate school transitions. I believe real impact comes when we lead from lived experience—when our work is rooted in understanding, not pity. I’m also a full-time student, a mother of three, and a community advocate. I’m pursuing my education in human development with the goal of expanding support systems for underserved families. My goal is to one day lead a nonprofit or policy initiative that transforms how schools and systems respond to trauma, poverty, and immigration challenges. What drives me isn’t just personal ambition—it’s the responsibility I feel to lift others as I climb. My story is one of survival, but more importantly, it’s one of service

Essay: My Journey of Resilience and Purpose I was born in Sinaloa, Mexico, and brought to the United States at the age of eight by my parents, who dreamed of a better future for our family. As a young girl growing up in East Palo Alto and later Redwood City, California, I quickly learned that opportunity often comes with struggle—especially in a single-parent, low-income household. My parents separated when I was still very young. From that moment, my mother became the backbone of our family. With limited English and no formal education beyond middle school, she took on multiple jobs to support us. I watched her clean houses during the day and sort mail at night, all while making sure my siblings and I had dinner and help with our homework. Her perseverance taught me that strength is not about how much you can carry—it’s about how long you’re willing to keep going. Our small apartment was crowded and noisy, but it was also full of love. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. Still, I often felt the pressure of our financial reality. I helped care for my younger siblings, translated paperwork, and took on part-time jobs as soon as I was old enough. I became not just a student, but a provider, an advocate, and a role model. These experiences have shaped me deeply. School became both my escape and my fuel. I immersed myself in academics and community service, driven by the desire to break the cycle and build a better future not only for myself but for my family and others like us. As a first-generation college student, I know the power of education. I want to pursue a degree in human development or social work so I can advocate for immigrant and low-income families who feel unheard—just as my family once did. Today, I’m also a mother of three. Juggling school, work, and parenting is no easy task, but my children are my greatest motivation. I want them to grow up in a world where their dreams are not limited by circumstance. This scholarship would not only ease the financial burden but also serve as a reminder that my story matters—that our stories matter. The community that raised me, with all its struggle and strength, taught me to dream big and never give up. I carry their hopes with me every step of the way.

Tell us about a time when you had a positive impact on a child’s life. Throughout my career in education and community service, I have had the privilege of supporting many students by helping them access the basic necessities required to simply show up and succeed in school. One of the most impactful experiences I’ve had involved a student named Alex, whose journey continues to inspire me. Alex was a newcomer to the United States who arrived with the hope of building a better life. He came under the sponsorship of a relative but was left to fend for himself as soon as he turned 18. Alone, with no family support, housing, or financial resources, Alex struggled just to meet his most basic needs. When he enrolled at Summit Everest High School, he was quiet, reserved, and visibly overwhelmed. I learned about Alex’s situation through a staff referral and immediately stepped in to help. Drawing from the community partnerships I had developed—including collaborations with Second Harvest, HIP Housing, and UC GoHealth—I was able to connect Alex to temporary housing, food, clothing, and emotional support. I also helped him get a part-time job and ensured he had access to school supplies, technology, and enrollment in adult school to begin learning English. What stood out most about Alex was his quiet resilience. Despite his hardships, he showed up every day, ready to learn and contribute. Over time, he began volunteering at the food distribution program I organized through our school and Second Harvest. It was a full-circle moment: the same program that had once helped stabilize his life was now the place where he chose to give back. On Saturdays, he helps set up, greet families, and distribute groceries—often translating for Spanish-speaking community members and building relationships with other volunteers. Seeing Alex grow into a confident, hopeful young adult reminded me that success in education isn't just about test scores or GPAs—it’s about removing barriers and meeting students where they are. It’s about creating a support system that says, "You matter, and we’re here for you." As someone who was once an immigrant student myself, I know how isolating and difficult it can be to navigate systems that aren’t built with you in mind. That’s why I’ve made it my mission to build bridges—to create access to resources, community, and dignity for students like Alex. This experience reaffirmed why I am pursuing my degree in Educational and Community Leadership at San José State University. My goal is to become a certified educator who leads with compassion and action. I want to continue building programs and systems that lift students up—especially those who come from backgrounds that are too often overlooked or misunderstood. Helping Alex wasn’t just about housing or food. It was about helping him feel seen, supported, and empowered to believe in his own future. That is the kind of impact I want to continue making for every student who walks through my door. In addition to Alex, I’ve supported many students and families by connecting them to vital resources such as healthcare access, school transportation, mental health support, and academic mentoring. Through my bilingual outreach, I’ve been able to bridge language and trust gaps with immigrant families—often the first point of contact they have in a system that can feel overwhelming and confusing. These connections are not just professional to me—they are personal. I see my younger self in many of the students I serve, and it fuels my commitment to ensure they know they are not alone and that their future matters.

My name is Daira Ramirez, and I am a first-generation college student, full-time working mother, and community advocate pursuing a degree in Interdisciplinary Studies with a focus on Educational and Community Leadership at San José State University. I grew up in East Palo Alto, raised by immigrant parents who taught me to lead with purpose and to serve others. These values guide both my academic journey and my work. At Summit Everest High School, where I serve as the Senior Dean of Operations, I lead programs to support underserved students and families. One of my most meaningful projects was launching a food distribution partnership with Second Harvest. I recognized how many families in our community faced food insecurity and led the effort to create a program that now serves over 300 families every month. This project has not only provided meals but has also built trust and connection. Beyond food access, I’ve established partnerships with HIP Housing, UC GoHealth, and our local libraries to bring resources into the hands of families who often feel overlooked. I also help coordinate school services—transportation, health screenings, and bilingual outreach—to ensure no student falls through the cracks. These efforts are rooted in compassion, and every family I help reminds me why I chose this path. The relationships I’ve built are what keep me grounded. I’ve mentored students through difficult transitions, stood beside immigrant parents navigating enrollment systems, and shared my own journey to show them that higher education is possible. My children inspire me daily—they are my reason for pursuing a better future for our community. This scholarship would support me financially as I continue working full-time and studying toward my teaching credential. But more than that, it would be an investment in someone who is already making an impact and plans to do much more. I hope to become a certified educator and advocate for students with learning differences, especially those facing economic hardship or trauma. Like Thomas, I believe in the power of empathy, connection, and kindness. I want to create spaces where students feel safe, valued, and inspired to lead. Thank you for the opportunity to honor Thomas’s legacy by continuing the kind of work he believed in. In addition to my work in education, I have also supported youth through programs outside the classroom. During my time at Boys & Girls Clubs of the Peninsula, I helped middle school students find their voice and confidence through structured enrichment activities, tutoring, and mentorship. I saw firsthand how meaningful relationships, consistent encouragement, and a safe environment could help students develop not only academically, but socially and emotionally as well. These experiences shaped my commitment to equity and the importance of meeting each child where they are.

I believe Professor Harold Bloom's quote, "The purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence," speaks to the heart of what it means to be an educator. To me, it means helping students understand their value, their voice, and their potential to shape their world. As someone who grew up navigating barriers as an immigrant and first-generation college student, I know how powerful it can be when just one teacher helps you recognize your presence—your worth. My passion for becoming a special education teacher comes from my work in schools and my experiences supporting students who have historically been overlooked. As the Senior Dean of Operations at Summit Everest High School, I’ve worked closely with students who face learning challenges, emotional needs, and socio-economic obstacles. I’ve witnessed how, with the right support and understanding, these students begin to advocate for themselves and believe in their abilities. I want to be the teacher who helps them get there. Guiding special needs students to a sense of their own presence means recognizing their unique strengths and creating safe, inclusive environments where they can thrive. My mission is to use culturally responsive teaching, patience, and clear structure to empower every student. I will help them celebrate their learning differences, rather than see them as setbacks. By collaborating with families, specialists, and the students themselves, I will tailor instruction that builds confidence, skill, and independence. Fairy Tale: Daira and the Forest of Hidden Voices Once upon a time, in a land where children’s voices were hidden beneath thick vines of doubt and fear, lived a determined woman named Daira. She came from the village of Persistence, where she learned to navigate winding roads and steep hills to reach her own voice. One day, she journeyed into the Forest of Hidden Voices, a place where children with special gifts were silenced by labels and overlooked by hurried travelers. Daira carried a lantern made of compassion and a backpack full of tools: patience, creativity, advocacy, and love. She listened to the quiet, to the stutters and pauses, to the movement of hands and eyes. Slowly, the children began to speak—not just in words, but through art, rhythm, kindness, and persistence. With each voice that grew stronger, the forest began to bloom. Colors returned to the trees, laughter echoed across the canopy, and the vines of doubt began to dissolve. The children no longer hid. They danced, they debated, they led. And Daira? She was no longer just a traveler—she became their teacher, their mirror, and their guide back to themselves. And so, in every new classroom, Daira carried that lantern. Because once a student finds their voice, they can find their place in the world. This is why I’m passionate about the special education profession. Because every child deserves to feel seen, heard, and powerful in their own presence.