My interest in materials science didn't start in a lab; it started in the kitchen. While other kids watched cartoons, I watched Good Eats, enamored by the chemistry behind cooking. I wasn't only following recipes; I reverse-engineered sodium citrate, an emulsifier, by using baking soda and lemon juice to make the smoothest mac and cheese ever. For me, food, engineering, chemistry, and teaching have always melded together in a way that pushed me to explore learning independently. When I first entered, my school had no program or equipment. Having no lab space or supplies, I ran my first experiments at home, paid for materials using money from my summer job, and learned how to research as I went. I dove into the work, spending months learning complex topics. Pushing further, I forged connections where they didn't exist and entered spaces I previously felt were closed off to me. After months of independent work, I gained access to UCI's mass spectrometry facilities. There, I researched a novel method for recycling non-dyed plastics that’s cleaner and more efficient through photothermal depolymerization. My lack of resources severely limited the scope of what I could study, but it also made me determined to build something better for the students who came after me. That confidence was contagious. I returned to my high school to mentor others, establishing a science fair program so nobody else would stand alone the way I did. I created the entire curriculum from scratch, teaching everything from experimental design to statistical analysis, sharing the "gatekept" knowledge that had taken me hundreds of hours to learn on my own. Because many students were low-income, like me, I focused on helping them design high-level projects without expensive equipment. I loved watching them turn their own "impossible" ideas into high-level research. To bridge the gap between science and the public even further, I expanded the curriculum online through Schoolhouse.world so any student around the world could access it for free. I also brought this advocacy outside the classroom. As a Cooking Merit Badge instructor, I taught nutrition and chemistry to 100+ scouts, realizing that food is the perfect vehicle to make STEM accessible. What is at stake if science is not championed and made accessible? The silencing of innovation due to wealth disparity. We face existential threats like climate change, yet we leave more than half our problem-solvers behind because they lack funding. The challenge isn't only poverty; it's the undiscovered potential geniuses that have been lost due to the opportunity gap. This adversity taught me that students usually lack access, not potential. For me studying materials engineering isn't about building things; for me, it's applying science to ensure that a student's access doesn't limit their ability to change the world, and I want to be that change. My main goal is to become a research professor and spearhead initiatives for disadvantaged students; my contribution will be to ensure that the door to innovation is held open for those behind me.

My perspective is shaped by what wasn't there. When I first entered science fair, my school had no program, no equipment, no research culture, and no one who had ever competed before. One teacher and I decided to try anyway. Neither of us knew where to start. Having no lab space or supplies, I ran my first experiments at home, paid for materials myself, and learned research by doing it. The lack of resources severely limited the scope of what I could study, but it also made me determined to build something better for the students who came after me. The following two years, I founded a research program so others wouldn’t have to stand alone the way I did. I created the entire curriculum from scratch, with everything from experimental design to statistical analysis, sharing the “gatekept” knowledge that had taken me hundreds of hours to learn on my own. I developed lectures, organized meetings, helped students form research questions, guided them through methodologies, and taught them how to present. Because many students were low-income, like me, I focused on helping them design high-level projects without expensive equipment. I carpooled students to fairs, helped them apply, and guided them through setbacks. I then expanded the curriculum online through Schoolhouse.world so any student around the world could access it for free. I also pushed my own research further. After months of independent work, I gained access to UCI’s mass spectrometry facilities. I trained with faculty and found a novel method (HS-SPME-GCMS) and explanation for why benzoyl peroxide decomposes into a carcinogen—a huge public health risk. I brought back everything I learned to improve my own research program. By senior year, the impact was palpable; around ten students had joined; one student I helped early on won bronze at Riverside County before my full program even launched; and the entire science department committed to integrating science fair into their classes because they believed in the program’s potential. However, my time leading the "Mad Scientists" VEX robotics, NASA JPL Invention Challenge, and TARC Rocketry teams added a crucial layer to this perspective. Leading a team with no mentor and limited funding forced me to rethink engineering. At first, I tried to be everything: the builder, coder, driver, recruiter. But I quickly realized that being a leader wasn’t doing everything myself; I had to recognize others' strengths. I’m not the strongest builder on the team. However, I’m good at designing, organizing, and helping people work together. So I focused my leadership there: training new members, designing the overall models of our robots, compartmentalizing our robot, creating subteams for each part, and establishing a workflow to build with limited time/tools. I want to bring my perspective as a changemaker—someone who knows how to build innovation from scratch and believes discovery is a team effort. Starting at Stanford, my goal remains the same: to prove that students who lack resources usually lack access, not potential. I want to become a research professor to hold the door open for students like me: students who didn't have the same resources but still want to make an impact on the world.

Planting 200,000 trees. That's the impact I made by coding a program. With all my devices running Ecosia (a search engine that funds tree planting through ad revenue), my program constantly refreshed search queries that maximized ad revenue. The result? Enough money for two hundred thousand trees to be planted. This experience taught me how engineering is making life better across the globe right now: it is an equalizer. Despite my family's low income and my socioeconomically disadvantaged school, math and code are accessible tools that have allowed me to create massive impact from my bedroom in Lakeland Village. I want to study engineering because I am drawn to solving "impossible" problems with what I am given, solutions people wouldn't have otherwise considered. However, to continue protecting our planet, we need massive advancements in sustainable materials processing. One of the biggest threats to our globe is plastic waste. Traditional recycling is failing, with current methods of recycling polystyrene producing harmful byproducts, leading to under 10% of it being recycled. Every year, the world produces 24 million tonnes of non-dyed polystyrene: plastics used in everyday consumer products. Most of it ends up in landfills. Recently, scientists discovered that black plastics can be recycled cleanly by using light; the dark dyes absorb the light, converting it into heat to break down the plastic at a molecular level. The only caveat is this photothermal process doesn't work on non-dyed plastics because they lack those heat-absorbing dyes, meaning 85% of plastics can't be recycled with this highly efficient method. I believe the next big scientific advancement will be scaling this photothermal process for all mixed-waste streams. I developed a novel, accessible method to fix this gap. Using a process called solvent casting, I dissolved non-dyed polystyrene and infused it with a 5% concentration of Carbon Black. This essentially made the formerly non-dyed plastic able to absorb the light. When exposed to the right wavelength, it successfully triggered photothermal depolymerization, breaking the plastic down into styrene in a cleaner manner. I validated this success through GC-MS analysis at UC Irvine. This advancement will affect society globally because it offers a cheap, accessible recycling solution for clear plastics that could be easily deployed in developing nations. I built this entirely without high school funding, relying on my summer job and a scrappy mindset. That resourceful mindset is exactly why my heroes in engineering are the team behind the Apollo 13 "Mailbox" fix. When an oxygen tank exploded, they didn't have access to state-of-the-art replacement parts. Using only materials already on the spacecraft: plastic bags, cardboard, spacesuit hoses, and lots of duct tape, with only that they created a contraption to fit the Command Module filters, saving the astronauts' lives. They are my heroes because they exemplify the ultimate form of engineering: finding solutions only with what is available. Engineering isn't just about building things; for me, it’s applying science to ensure that a student's access doesn't limit their ability to change the world. My goal now is to scale my recycling processes at Stanford, holding the door open for the next generation of resourceful problem solvers.

They all stare at me, but I don’t care at all. Inside the heavy mascot suit, I’m drenched in sweat, bouncing across the gym floor, waving wildly to a crowd of students who have no idea who's under the mask. The anonymity emboldens me, as I’ve finally been allowed the freedom to be ridiculous, bold, myself. That wasn’t always the case. Growing up gay in a conservative town, I learned to blend in. Hearing homophobic remarks casually whispered around me whenever I dressed or talked a certain way, conditioned me. To survive, I calculated constantly: when to speak, when to stay quiet, when to fade into the background. But blending in didn't protect me; it erased me. The mascot suit became my paradox; while hidden, I finally felt visible. As "Lance the Lancer," the energy I poured into making others laugh made me realize something: leadership goes beyond words or actions; it's the ability to spark inspiration in others. This realization followed me from the gym floor to the halls of my school. I realized that to spark inspiration, I had to stop fading into the background of my own education. I live below the federal poverty line, and my lack of resources limited what I could study but made me determined to build something for the students who came after me. As the first student at my school to compete in a science fair, my school had no program or equipment. Having no lab space or supplies, I ran my first experiments at home, paid for materials using money from my summer job, and learned how to research as I went. This scarcity forced me to become creative out of necessity. A scholarship is financially critical for me because it will allow me to continue breaking down these barriers without the weight of tuition, turning the ingenuity I developed under constraints into a lasting impact. This same resourcefulness drives my academic goals. My interest in materials science didn't start in a lab; it started in the kitchen. I reverse-engineered sodium citrate, an emulsifier, by using baking soda and lemon juice to make the smoothest mac and cheese ever. I want to study engineering because I am drawn to solving impossible problems with what I am given, solutions people wouldn't have otherwise considered. My experiences mentoring other students inspired my goal of becoming a research professor at the forefront of biomaterials research, spearheading initiatives for disadvantaged students. I founded a research program so others wouldn't have to stand alone the way I did. Because many students were low-income, like me, I focused on helping them design high-level projects without expensive equipment. My unique perspective as a low-income LGBTQ+ student taught me what it feels like to be invisible, and how transformative it is when someone finally creates a space for you. I want to continue building those spaces by joining or starting initiatives for LGBTQ+ students in STEM. Engineering isn't just about building things; for me, it's applying science to ensure that a student's access doesn't limit their ability to change the world, and I want to be that change. I offer not just my engineering skills, but my commitment creating access through them.

My ultimate goal is to become a materials science research professor, engineering accessible solutions to the global plastics crisis. To reach this, my immediate objective is to scale my independent, DIY research into a fully resourced initiative at Stanford University. In high school, I focused on a massive environmental flaw: traditional recycling is failing. Every year, the world produces 24 million tonnes of non-dyed polystyrene: plastics used in everyday consumer products like containers and packaging. Most of it ends up in landfills. Recently, scientists discovered that black plastics can be recycled cleanly by using light; the dark dyes absorb the light, converting it into heat to break down the plastic at a molecular level. However, this photothermal process doesn't work on non-dyed plastics because they lack those heat-absorbing dyes. I developed a novel, accessible method to fix this gap. Using a process called solvent casting, I dissolved clear polystyrene and infused it with a 5% concentration of Carbon Black. This essentially made the formerly non-dyed plastic able to absorb the light. When exposed to the right wavelength, it successfully triggered photothermal depolymerization, breaking the plastic down into styrene something more useful than other recycling methods in a cleaner manor. I validated this success through GC-MS analysis at UC Irvine. This is globally important because it offers a cheap, accessible recycling solution for clear plastics that could be easily deployed in developing nations. I built this entirely without high school funding, relying on my summer job and a scrappy mindset. My goal now is to scale this process for complex, mixed-waste streams. Timing and Execution Plan: - Phase 1: Foundation (Year 1): Secure an Undergraduate Research Opportunity (UROP) in a Stanford materials science lab to recreate and refine my Carbon Black baseline experiments using university-grade equipment. - Phase 2: Scaling (Years 2-3): Test my 5% solvent casting method on mixed-polymer matrices to determine if the photothermal trigger remains effective when the plastic is contaminated with other waste. - Phase 3: Coterminal Transition (Year 4): Enter Stanford’s Coterminal Master’s program, finalize a scalable prototype, and publish my findings. Resources and Budget: To execute Phase 1 and 2, I am estimating a $5,000 budget, allocated as follows: - Summer Housing & Sustenance ($3,000): This allows me to stay on campus for full-time summer lab work instead of returning home to work a minimum-wage job. - Specialized Reagents & Polymers ($800): Purchasing industrial-grade polystyrene and Carbon Black supplies. - Analytical Testing Fees ($700): Reserving specific machine time for advanced GC-MS or Scanning Electron Microscopy (SEM) testing. - Dissemination & Travel ($500): Registration to present findings at research conferences. Considering All Angles: In research, planning for failure is required. If I cannot immediately secure physical lab space, I will pivot into computational materials science, modeling photothermal reactions virtually to gather predictive data. If the solvent casting method struggles in mixed-waste streams, I will test alternative dispersal methods, like mechanical compounding. Growing up low-income, my biggest hurdle has been a lack of resources, not a lack of drive. This funding provides the financial runway to focus entirely on building a scalable solution to combat the global plastic waste problem.