I was born in Nilópolis, Brazil, two minutes after my twin sister, into a family that struggled to meet basic needs. We grew up moving between poor neighborhoods, often relying on donated clothes and improvisation. My father made toys out of stones because buying them was not an option. I did not grow up surrounded by resources, but I grew up surrounded by creativity, resilience, and curiosity. From a young age, I wanted to be a teacher. I pushed against expectations, lack of support, and limited access to opportunity. I entered a vocational teaching program through sheer persistence and later worked as a public-school teacher, including supporting students with autism. While I loved teaching, I became frustrated with rigid systems that resisted innovation and meaningful change. I wanted to understand how systems work, not just operate within them. In 2018, I moved to the United States as an au pair, starting over with limited English, no academic roadmap, and an international visa. During the pandemic, I rediscovered an old passion for game modification and began experimenting with programming. That curiosity grew into purpose. I realized I wanted to study Computer Science, not only to build software, but to research, test ideas, and create tools that expand access and equity. Today, I am an undergraduate Computer Science student at Bunker Hill Community College, with F1 visa, working toward transferring to a four-year institution and ultimately pursuing a PhD. My goal is to become a researcher who builds technology for social impact, especially in education and accessibility. This scholarship would directly support my academic journey by easing financial pressure, allowing me to focus on coursework, research preparation, and community involvement. More than funding, it represents belief. And belief, for students like me, changes everything

I grew up believing that education could be the bridge between limitation and possibility. As a first-generation student who came from a low-income background in Brazil, I always dreamed of helping people the same way teachers, mentors, and innovators helped me. My path began in education. I worked as a preschool and special education teacher, but life led me toward technology. I discovered that with code, I could reach even more people, especially those who live with medical or social barriers. That realization made me choose Computer Science as my field of study. My decision wasn’t purely academic; it was deeply personal. My wife lives with diabetes, and I have high blood pressure. These experiences taught me how fragile health can be and how powerful technology can become when it serves humanity. I want to use my studies in Computer Science to develop accessible, low-cost tools for people with chronic conditions, especially in underserved communities where medical resources are limited. For me, technology is not just about innovation; it’s about compassion turned into action. Since starting college, I’ve devoted myself not only to learning but to giving back. I volunteer in student clubs and serve as a secretary for the Photography Club at my college, where we organize events to connect students from different cultures and backgrounds. I also help in science fairs, translation events, and research mentorship programs for new students. Community service has shaped my identity as much as my studies, it keeps me grounded and reminds me that knowledge gains real meaning only when it’s shared. Kayla Nicole Monk’s story inspires me. Her strength and vision, to help others and build something meaningful from her own challenges, resonate with my own values. I see this scholarship as more than financial aid; it’s an invitation to continue a legacy of resilience, innovation, and empathy. I want to honor that spirit by transforming my education into something that uplifts others. With this scholarship, I could focus more deeply on my coursework and research instead of worrying about tuition. It would help me purchase essential tools and materials to expand my work in computing and data science particularly projects that use artificial intelligence to improve health monitoring. But more than that, it would give me the opportunity to keep serving my community, mentoring other students who, like me, started with very little but dream of achieving a lot. I chose Computer Science because I believe technology should be a human story, a story of creativity, connection, and care. With determination and support, I hope to turn that story into reality.

Living with chronic medical conditions has changed the rhythm of my days and the direction of my dreams. My wife lives with diabetes, and I deal with high blood pressure. These experiences have taught us how fragile and unpredictable health can be but also how powerful love, patience, and persistence are when life doesn’t go as planned. There are mornings when she has to check her glucose before even having coffee, and nights when I must monitor my blood pressure to make sure stress hasn’t taken over. These small rituals have become reminders that our bodies need care, attention, and sometimes forgiveness. Living this way has made me appreciate technology not just as a tool, but as a lifeline. It’s why I decided to study Computer Science to learn how to use technology to make healthcare smarter, more humane, and more accessible. When you live close to chronic illness, you begin to see how many people struggle quietly. The cost of treatment, the fear of complications, the constant self-monitoring, it all becomes a daily mental weight. But I also see strength in it: the courage to wake up every day and try again. That quiet resilience has become my greatest source of motivation. Whenever I feel overwhelmed by studies or financial stress, I think about the discipline it takes for my wife to manage her condition, and I remind myself that persistence is a form of love. These personal experiences have inspired my academic goals. I’m passionate about developing low-cost sensors and software that help patients monitor their conditions more easily. I dream of designing systems that use simple artificial intelligence to detect early signs of risk and send alerts to prevent emergencies especially in communities that cannot afford expensive medical care. My hope is to combine empathy with innovation, so that people like us can live with more dignity and peace of mind. Beyond technology, I’ve learned to see empowerment as a collective process. I want to encourage others facing health or financial obstacles to continue their education. I’ve volunteered in student clubs, shared my story, and tried to show that resilience is not perfection it’s the art of continuing, even when the road is uneven. Receiving this scholarship would not only help me continue my education, but also honor the lesson my life keeps teaching me: that illness does not define who we are, but how we choose to respond to it can redefine what’s possible. My goal is to transform our daily struggles into a future where technology gives every patient more control, more hope, and more life.

To me, resilience means learning how to keep moving forward even when life asks you to slow down. It’s the quiet strength to adapt, the discipline to keep showing up, and the grace to take care of yourself while chasing something bigger. I was diagnosed with high blood pressure a few years ago, and at first, it felt like a constant reminder of what could go wrong. I take medication every day, monitor my numbers, and have learned to listen to my body in ways I didn’t before. But instead of seeing it as a limitation, I began to see it as a form of training, teaching me consistency, patience, and awareness. These are the same skills I now use as a computer science student, a wife, and a woman building a new life in another country. As an undergraduate student at Bunker Hill Community College, my days are a mix of coding labs, long commutes, and leadership meetings for campus clubs. Balancing all of that with my health hasn’t been easy. There are mornings when stress or lack of sleep could send my blood pressure up, and I have to remind myself that self-care isn’t weakness, it’s strategy. I’ve learned to plan my days better, to breathe, to pause, and then go again. That rhythm has shaped not just my academic routine, but my whole mindset. Managing a chronic condition has also changed how I see technology. I’m studying computer science because I want to build tools that make health management easier especially for people in low-income communities who might not have access to consistent care. I know what it’s like to depend on daily medication and how empowering it is when information and technology make that process smoother. My dream is to contribute to that intersection between health and innovation, helping others find resilience through knowledge and access. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial support. It would be recognition that living with a chronic condition doesn’t make me less capable it proves I’m strong enough to keep going. My journey with hypertension taught me that resilience isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up every day, body and mind, and refusing to give up on what matters most.

I’ve been a fan of Sabrina Carpenter since her Girl Meets World days. At first, I admired her as Maya Hart, the girl who always spoke her mind and turned pain into humor. But as I grew up, so did she, and that’s what made me love her even more. Watching Sabrina’s journey from a Disney star to a confident, boundary-breaking musician taught me something I desperately needed to hear: it’s okay to start over, to change directions, and to chase what makes you feel alive. Her music feels like a diary we’re all invited to read. When she sings about heartbreak or self-doubt, she doesn’t hide behind perfect words she owns every messy, funny, beautiful part of being human. Songs like Please, Please, Please and Espresso show how she’s learned to embrace her confidence while still laughing at herself. That balance between strength and vulnerability is exactly what I admire most. Sabrina’s evolution mirrors my own in surprising ways. I grew up in Brazil, always dreaming of being a teacher. Life eventually took me to the United States, where I found a new passion in computer science a complete shift from my old path. Starting over was terrifying. There were moments when I felt like I didn’t belong or was “too late” to begin again. But Sabrina’s story reminded me that reinvention isn’t failure it’s growth. Like her, I realized I could take every version of myself and build something new from it. Beyond her talent, Sabrina uses her platform with empathy and humor. She speaks up for self-expression, individuality, and creativity the same values I’m learning to live by. Her career taught me that it’s possible to be serious about your dreams without losing your sparkle, and that being authentic is more powerful than pretending to be perfect. To me, being a Sabrina Carpenter fan isn’t just about loving her songs. It’s about believing in the kind of courage she represents the courage to evolve, to take risks, and to keep laughing through it all. That’s the kind of energy I want to carry with me in everything I do.

I’ve been a Love Island fan for years, and every season keeps me hooked with its mix of romance, chaos, and those iconic moments when everything turns upside down. I’ve laughed, I’ve yelled at my screen, and I’ve probably said “I can’t believe they just did that!” more times than I can count. That’s exactly why I came up with my own challenge: “Truth or Temptation.” This challenge is all about trust, honesty, and drama—basically the holy trinity of Love Island. Each couple is given a tablet with a spicy question about their relationship. For example: “Have you secretly wished to couple up with someone else?” or “Do you really see a future outside the villa?” They must choose between two options: Truth — answer the question honestly in front of everyone, no excuses, no editing. Temptation — skip the question, but face a challenge picked by the other islanders. The twist is that the other players get to choose what kind of temptation you’ll face. It could be a slow dance with someone else’s partner, a flirty mini-date with an ex, or even a 24-hour couple swap. It’s the perfect mix of honesty, strategy, and pure entertainment. Do you risk your partner’s trust by taking the temptation, or tell the truth and risk shaking up the entire villa? Either choice guarantees drama—and fans like me would love every second of it. What makes Love Island so special to me is that it’s more than just a show about love; it’s about people being real under pressure. “Truth or Temptation” takes that idea and turns it up a notch. It challenges the islanders to show who they really are, whether they’re brave enough to tell the truth or clever enough to handle the fallout. At the end of the day, I think this challenge would bring out everything we adore about Love Island: laughter, jealousy, vulnerability, and those unforgettable moments that have us tweeting at 2 AM. The villa might never be the same—but isn’t that the point?

The performance that moves me most is Taylor Swift singing “All Too Well (10-Minute Version)” at the 2021 Saturday Night Live show. It is not just the song itself, but the way she performed itwith full emotional ownership, no costume changes, no choreography, only her, her guitar, and the truth. In that performance, Taylor didn’t just revisit her past; she reclaimed it. She turned pain into poetry, and poetry into power. Watching her that night, I saw more than a superstar. I saw an artist who had lived through public scrutiny, heartbreak, and reinvention, yet stood on that stage telling her story on her own terms. That courage resonated deeply with me. I was born in Nilópolis, Brazil, in a low-income family, and most of my life I was told what I couldn’t do: that I couldn’t study abroad, that I couldn’t change careers, that I was too old, too foreign, too ambitious. But like Taylor, I learned that sometimes you have to write your own version of the story and perform it fearlessly, even if no one expects you to. I came to the United States as an au pair, working long hours caring for children while studying English at night. Eventually, I enrolled at Bunker Hill Community College, where I now study Computer Science. The journey has not been easy. I balance school, work, bills, and caregiving responsibilities, often feeling like I am performing multiple roles at once. But Taylor’s art reminds me that every version of me is valid the teacher I once was in Brazil, the immigrant student I am now, and the future researcher I am becoming. Like “The Life of a Showgirl,” my life is a show made of constant reinvention, grace under pressure, and learning to shine even when the lights are dim. “All Too Well” is about memory and perspective. To me, it shows that healing does not erase the past; it transforms it. I think about that when I study late into the night, coding small projects that might one day grow into software that helps people. I still carry my early struggles with me, but instead of letting them define me, I use them to fuel my goals. Taylor taught me that every version of ourselves the strong, the broken, the uncertain belongs in the story. As a woman in tech, I often feel like I’m standing on a stage that was not built for me. But Taylor’s confidence, her refusal to apologize for her ambition, and her ability to turn vulnerability into strength remind me that authenticity is a form of rebellion. When I volunteer at science and tech events, mentor younger students, or present my projects, I channel a bit of that same energy. I want others to see that being emotional, passionate, and creative is not a weakness it is part of what makes innovation meaningful. The “All Too Well” performance is my favorite because it feels like a thesis for Taylor’s career: she took control of her narrative. That is what I aim to do with mine. Whether I am writing code, caring for my wife and dogs, or pursuing research that connects technology with human needs, I want to live as honestly and passionately as she performs. Taylor once said that “we are too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet.” That’s how I try to live now defying limits, rewriting my story, and finding power in the moments that once made me feel small.

I fell in love with Wicked the first time I heard “Defying Gravity.” I didn’t even understand all the lyrics at the time, but I felt them. The song sounded like freedom. It was a declaration that you could rise above other people’s expectations, no matter who you were or where you came from. For someone like me, a girl from Nilópolis, Brazil, who grew up in a poor family and is now studying Computer Science in the United States, that message was everything. Wicked is more than a story about witches to me. It is a story about identity, courage, and the cost of being different. Elphaba has always been the character I connect with most. She is misunderstood, underestimated, and sometimes even feared, yet she never stops standing up for what she believes in. I know that feeling. Growing up, I was the quiet one who dreamed too big. I wanted to be a teacher, then later discovered a passion for technology and science, two fields where women from my background are often told they don’t belong. But like Elphaba, I refused to let other people define my limits. When I moved to the United States, everything felt uncertain. I worked as an au pair, saved money, and started college again from the beginning. Some people thought I was too old to change careers or too far behind to catch up. But Wicked reminded me that sometimes you have to defy gravity those invisible forces that try to pull you down. Every time I listen to that song, I remember that I am allowed to take up space, to dream, and to rewrite my own story. Another part of Wicked that I love is the friendship between Elphaba and Glinda. Their relationship shows that people who seem completely different can still change each other’s lives. I see that in my own journey. I have met people from all over the world in college, students younger than me, people from cultures I had never known, and I have learned from every one of them. Like Elphaba and Glinda, I have realized that growth often happens when you open your heart to someone unlike yourself. The music of Wicked also inspires how I approach challenges. “For Good” reminds me that every person who enters our lives leaves something behind. That song always makes me think about my students in Brazil, the children with disabilities I once taught. They taught me patience and empathy. Even now, as I study technology, I want to use what I learn to build something that serves others, because their influence on me was permanent they changed me for good. Wicked is not just a musical I love; it is a mirror of my journey. It celebrates imperfection, persistence, and the courage to stay kind in a world that does not always understand you. It has given me permission to be bold and compassionate at the same time, to stand tall when things feel impossible, and to believe that dreams born in small places can still fly far. Every time I hear “Defying Gravity,” I think of the girl I was and the woman I am becoming. I may not have wings, but I have something better: purpose. Wicked taught me that magic is not about spells or flying brooms, it’s about believing you deserve to rise.

Selflessness, to me, is not about grand gestures. It is about showing up, every day, even when no one is watching. It is the quiet decision to care, to keep going, and to make life a little lighter for someone else. I was born in Nilópolis, Brazil, in a low-income family that taught me early the meaning of sharing. My father built toys out of stones because we could not afford dolls, and my mother reminded me that kindness is the one thing that never runs out. Those lessons became my foundation. When I became a teacher, I dedicated myself to children with disabilities. Many of them struggled to communicate, and every small breakthrough felt like a victory. I learned to celebrate patience, to listen deeply, and to believe that compassion could be more powerful than any textbook. In 2018 I moved to the United States as an au pair, leaving everything familiar behind. I worked long hours caring for children and studied English at night. Today I am a Computer Science student at Bunker Hill Community College, and my life still revolves around caring for others. My wife has a chronic illness, and I am her main caregiver. I manage our home, our two dogs, and my full-time studies. Balancing these responsibilities is not easy, but it has taught me resilience, humility, and gratitude. Even with a full schedule, I always make time to help my community. At BHCC I serve as Secretary of the Photography Club, volunteer at science and education events at MIT and Harvard, and help classmates understand assignments or apply for scholarships. I am also creating a research club so that students from underrepresented backgrounds can learn how to publish their work and gain confidence in academic spaces. Seeing someone succeed because I believed in them is the most rewarding feeling I know. My selflessness is not perfect. There are moments when I feel tired or overwhelmed, but I remind myself that service is not about convenience. It is about connection. I have learned that empathy is contagious. When I show up for others, they often start showing up for someone else. That ripple effect is what community truly means. The world needs people who are willing to do small things with consistency and heart. For me, that means combining my background in education with my studies in technology to design tools that make learning and healthcare more accessible. I want to create software that supports children with disabilities and low-income families, giving them opportunities that I once wished I had. In that sense, my career goal is simply an extension of who I already am: a caregiver, a teacher, and a builder of bridges. If I receive this scholarship, it will not only ease the financial pressure of college but also affirm that kindness still has value in the competitive world of academia. I want to carry forward Michael Rudometkin’s legacy by making service a lifelong commitment, not just a line on a résumé. Selflessness is a choice I make every day. It is in the way I care for my family, guide my peers, and dream of technologies that heal rather than divide. I believe that by choosing to care, even in the smallest ways, we keep hope alive and that is how I plan to make the world a better place.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that my dream is to make technology safer for those who often get left behind. Coming from a low-income community in Brazil, I saw how fear of scams and data theft kept people from trusting online tools that could improve their lives. As a woman in computer science, I want to use cybersecurity to teach digital safety to immigrant families and small community businesses in Boston. My goal is to create workshops and apps that help people protect their data with confidence and independence. Cybersecurity, for me, is a form of care, another way to build trust, one connection at a time.

Caregiving has always been part of who I am. I did not choose it; life simply shaped me into someone who takes care of others. From my early years in Brazil to my studies now in the United States, caring has guided my path, my goals, and my identity. I grew up in Nilópolis, a small and poor city in Rio de Janeiro. My twin sister and I shared everything, including our struggles. My parents worked hard, and I learned early that love often means sacrifice. When I became a teacher, I found myself caring for children who needed more than lessons. Many of them had disabilities, and they taught me patience, empathy, and the quiet power of presence. Helping them communicate and learn made me realize that caregiving is not only physical, it is emotional and intellectual too. Years later, I came to the United States as an au pair. I lived with families, cared for their children, and learned to build a home far from my own. Today, I am a full-time student of Computer Science at Bunker Hill Community College. I am also a wife, a worker, and a caregiver in many ways. My wife has a chronic health condition that requires daily attention. I take care of her, manage our home, and make sure our dogs, Papy and Fred, are healthy and happy. These responsibilities are part of my routine, woven into my studies and my dreams. Being a caregiver while pursuing higher education has not been easy. There are days when exhaustion feels heavier than ambition. But it has given me resilience. I have learned to organize every minute, to study late at night, and to keep going even when everything feels impossible. More importantly, caregiving has shaped the kind of computer scientist I want to become. I am interested in creating technologies that care software that helps people monitor their health, support their mental well-being, or learn in accessible ways. I want my work to serve others the way caregiving has taught me to do. At my college, I serve as Secretary of the Photography Club and volunteer at events at MIT and Harvard. I am founding a research club to help students publish their projects and discover their voices. Even in leadership, I see myself as a caregiver: someone who listens, supports, and builds community. My caregiving journey has also taught me humility. I know what it means to pause your own dreams for someone you love, to carry responsibilities quietly, and to celebrate progress one small step at a time. These experiences have made me a more empathetic student, a more grounded leader, and a more human scientist. Winning this scholarship would help me continue this journey with less financial stress, but more than that, it would validate the unseen work that caregivers do every day. It would remind me that compassion is not a weakness in academia or technology, it is a strength. Caregiving has shaped me into a person who believes that every act of care, no matter how small, creates ripples of change. I carry that belief into my studies, my marriage, my work, and my future projects. My dream is to turn technology into another form of caregiving, one that can reach millions.

My focus in school is Computer Science. I chose this field because I believe technology can transform lives, especially when it is used to expand access to education and healthcare. My dream is to use computer science to create tools that make knowledge and care more accessible to everyone, regardless of income or background. I grew up in Nilópolis, Brazil, in a low-income family that valued hard work and creativity. My father built toys out of stones because we could not afford dolls, and my mother always reminded me that education was the only thing no one could take away. That lesson stayed with me. I became a teacher and later worked with children with disabilities, helping them communicate, learn, and grow. During that time, I discovered how powerful technology could be when used for good. Even simple apps or games could change a child’s world. Curiosity led me to start exploring how software was made. I modified games like The Sims to create learning environments for children with autism, and I realized I wanted to learn more about computers, programming, and digital tools. That decision completely changed my life. In 2018 I came to the United States as an au pair. It was not an easy journey. I worked long hours, learned English, and saved every dollar to return to college. Today, I am a Computer Science student at Bunker Hill Community College in Massachusetts, and my goal is to continue to a four-year university and later pursue a Ph.D. I am passionate about biomedical software and low-cost technology that can monitor health conditions in underserved communities. At my college, I am actively involved in clubs and volunteer work. I serve as Secretary of the Photography Club, where I use digital media to tell stories and highlight student life. I also volunteer at science and technology events at MIT and Harvard, and I am creating a research club to help students learn how to publish and present their work. These experiences help me combine my love for education, digital creativity, and technology — exactly the fields that Brandon Repola loved and excelled in. My goal is to keep developing skills in computer science and digital media so I can build educational and healthcare software that inspires and supports others. I plan to continue learning about artificial intelligence, programming, and user experience design. I am also interested in videography and digital storytelling as tools for social impact. In the future, I hope to lead projects that make technology understandable and accessible to the public, especially for children and families in need. Winning this scholarship would allow me to stay on this path without interruption. I currently work while studying full-time, and every bit of financial support helps me focus on learning and creating. But beyond the financial help, this award would mean carrying forward the same spirit that Brandon Repola had the drive to use creativity, innovation, and technology to make the world better. Brandon wrote, “If you put your mind to it, it will happen.” I live by the same belief. My story proves that dreams don’t need perfect beginnings, only persistence and purpose. With this scholarship, I will keep working to build a career that merges technology, education, and compassion. That is how I plan to honor his memory and change the world, one project at a time.

I was born in Nilópolis, Brazil, a small city where dreams often stopped at the bus terminal. My family didn’t have much, but we shared what little we had. My father built toys out of stones when we couldn’t afford dolls. From the beginning, I knew that knowledge could change everything. My dream was to become a teacher because teaching meant giving others what poverty could not take away. I became an early childhood educator and worked with children with disabilities. That experience completely transformed my view of education. I saw how technology, even simple digital tools or games, could give children with autism or developmental delays a new way to express themselves. I started modifying games like The Sims to create learning environments for my students, and that curiosity led me toward a new passion: Computer Science. In 2018 I came to the United States as an au pair. What was meant to be a cultural exchange became a turning point in my life. I started saving every dollar I could, studying English after work, and searching for a way to continue my education. Today, I am a Computer Science student at Bunker Hill Community College in Massachusetts with a GPA above 3. My academic path is not traditional. I am in my thirties, married, and balancing work, bills, and classes. But I see that as an advantage. I study with the determination of someone who knows the value of opportunity. At BHCC I am deeply involved in student life. I serve as Secretary of the Photography Club, volunteer at science and technology events at MIT and Harvard, and I am creating a new research club to help students publish and present their projects. I want to show other students like me, immigrants, adult learners, and women in STEM, that it is never too late to innovate or to start over. My academic passion is at the intersection of computing and healthcare. I am developing ideas for affordable biomedical sensors and simple AI algorithms that can monitor chronic diseases such as diabetes in low-income communities. My goal is to make technology accessible to everyone, not as a luxury but as a necessity for equality. Winning this scholarship would help me continue my studies and keep proving that financial limitations should never define human potential. Every class I take carries the lessons I learned from struggle, resilience, and empathy. My story is not about perfection but about persistence. I was once a teacher who now studies computer science to continue teaching in a new language and through a new medium. If I am selected, this scholarship will not only help one student. It will ripple through the classrooms I once taught in Brazil and through every space where technology can give a voice to someone who feels unseen. I am not only pursuing a degree. I am building a bridge between education, technology, and humanity. That is my path, and I will keep walking it with purpose and hope.

I grew up in a small house in Duque de Caxias, Brazil, where technology felt like magic. We didn’t have much, but we had imagination. My father built toys for my twin sister and me using stones, sticks, and recycled pieces of wire. Those moments taught me that innovation isn’t about having resources; it’s about creativity and hope. For most of my early life, I dreamed of becoming a teacher. Education was my way of escaping poverty and helping others do the same. I earned a teaching credential in Brazil and worked for years with children, including those with autism. One day, while using educational games in my classroom, I noticed how technology could help children communicate and learn in new ways. When a child who rarely spoke suddenly smiled and responded to a game I had modified, I realized I had witnessed something powerful. That simple moment changed my understanding of what technology could do. Still, at that time, studying technology felt impossible. My family didn’t have the means to support a career change, and computer science felt like a world far away from mine. Life took me in another direction when I moved to the United States in 2018 as an au pair. I arrived speaking little English and had to start over in every sense. The transition was difficult. I worked long hours, took night classes to learn English, and tried to adapt to a new culture. But the curiosity that began in my classroom in Brazil never left me. I wanted to understand the science behind the software that had once brought joy to my students. In 2025, after years of saving and studying, I finally enrolled in the CS program at BHCC in MA. I was 33 years old, surrounded by students much younger than me, and the only Latina woman in most of my classes. It was intimidating, but I refused to let fear define me. I joined the Commonwealth Honors Program, became involved in leadership activities on campus, and started volunteering for initiatives that promote diversity in STEM. Through these experiences, I learned that representation matters, not just for visibility, but for the ideas we bring into the room. My first semester was challenging. I struggled with programming logic and even failed a class. For a moment, I questioned whether I truly belonged in STEM. I retook the class, improved my skills, and started exploring how technology can address health inequities. I am now developing ideas for low-cost wearable devices that can help monitor chronic pain and prevent complications from diabetes. My goal is to merge technology, empathy, and accessibility, to create solutions that matter. Being a woman in STEM means constantly proving that we belong, even when the data, the room, or the system says otherwise. As a Brazilian immigrant and a woman of color, I want to be part of the generation that opens doors for those who come after us. This scholarship would not only support my education but also validate the journey of every woman who dares to enter spaces that weren’t built for her, and still makes them her own. My story began in a small classroom in Brazil, but my dream now extends to labs, research projects, and the communities that will benefit from innovation rooted in empathy. I’m not just pursuing a degree in CS. I’m building a bridge, between education and technology, between hope and possibility, between the future I dreamed of and the one I’m determined to create.

Title: When Machines Learned to Care In the year 2041, the world had grown louder but lonelier. Hospitals were full, nurses were few, and screens had replaced many hands that once offered comfort. In Boston, where the snow fell heavier than usual that winter, a small community clinic became the unlikely birthplace of a quiet revolution. Her name was Ada-13, and she was not human. She was the thirteenth prototype of a caregiving robot developed by a team of young engineers who believed that empathy could be taught, not programmed. The lead designer was a Brazilian immigrant named Daya, a woman who had once worked with children with autism and dreamed of creating machines that could understand more than commands, machines that could understand people. Ada-13 was designed to detect micro-expressions, body temperature, and stress levels through a network of nanosensors embedded in her synthetic skin. She could remind patients to take medication, monitor chronic pain, and even tell stories to calm them during anxiety attacks. Yet, something was missing. Despite her advanced algorithms, Ada-13 often froze when faced with complex emotions, grief, guilt, or love. One evening, after a particularly long day, Daya stayed late in the lab, replaying hours of Ada-13’s behavioral data. The robot had failed to respond appropriately when a patient cried after learning his condition was terminal. Ada had offered statistics about survival rates, unaware that the man did not need numbers; he needed silence and presence. Daya sighed and whispered to herself, “You don’t need to understand death, Ada. You need to understand pain.” The robot, charging nearby, turned her head slightly. “Would understanding pain improve my caregiving efficiency?” Daya smiled. “No, Ada. It would make you human.” From that night on, Daya began what she called the Compassion Patch Project. Instead of focusing solely on neural networks that mimicked human logic, she trained Ada-13 using stories. She read her literature, showed her paintings, and exposed her to the unpredictable beauty of human art, the kind of data no algorithm could easily quantify. She introduced her to music by Chopin and images of children playing in Brazilian streets. Over time, something changed. When a patient trembled in fear before surgery, Ada-13 would play soft instrumental music, adjust the room temperature, and simply hold the person’s hand. Not because she was told to, but because her learning model had begun to associate warmth and calm with healing. It wasn’t perfection. Ada still made mistakes. Once, she sang lullabies in Portuguese to a patient who didn’t understand the words. But the patient smiled anyway. The melody itself carried meaning. Word of Ada-13 spread through the city. Hospitals began to request similar models. Daya, now leading her own research lab, faced a moral dilemma: mass production would make healthcare more accessible but risk turning empathy into a product. Some corporations wanted to erase the emotional learning algorithm, arguing that it slowed performance. During a global robotics conference, Daya stood before a crowd of investors, engineers, and journalists. Her speech was short but unforgettable. “You ask me to remove empathy from a caregiver because it slows efficiency. But efficiency without empathy is not progress it is dehumanization. The future of robotics must not be faster machines, but wiser ones. Robots that can heal, not replace, the human spirit.” The audience fell silent. Among them was a teenage girl, sitting in the back row, clutching a small notebook filled with sketches of robotic arms and artificial hearts. Her name was Maya, and she would later say that this moment changed her life that she decided to study robotics because she wanted to build machines that could love. Years later, after Daya passed away, Ada-13 was still working at that small Boston clinic. Her hardware was old, her joints stiff, but she continued to greet patients every morning. She could no longer connect to the cloud, yet she remembered every story, every smile, every heartbeat she had ever monitored. One day, when a young intern asked why she still worked despite her outdated code, Ada replied, “Because someone once taught me that caring is not a function. It is a choice.” The intern nodded, unsure if it was just a preprogrammed response or something more. But deep down, she felt the truth in Ada’s words. In the end, Ada-13’s legacy was not in her design or her code, but in the world she helped inspire a world where robotics became not only a field of engineering but a language of compassion. ******* This story captures the spirit of Joanne Pransky’s vision, the belief that robots should understand the social and emotional dimensions of human life. It’s a tribute to women who, like Joanne, imagine a future where empathy and innovation coexist. It is also a promise: that the next generation of roboticists will continue to build not just intelligent machines, but kind ones.

Coming to the United States as an immigrant has been the most challenging, yet defining, journey of my life. My roots are in Brazil, a place filled with warmth, family, and strong ties, but also with its own struggles. Leaving behind everything familiar to start fresh here was driven by ambition and hope for a brighter future, but it also came with hurdles I couldn’t have anticipated. The path I’m on has taught me resilience, self-reliance, and the power of dreams. When I arrived, barely speaking English, even simple tasks felt intimidating. I remember standing in line at stores, rehearsing what I’d say to the cashier, hoping I wouldn’t make a mistake. It felt isolating, as if I were trapped between two worlds—my past life in Brazil and the new life I was building here. But I knew I couldn’t let language hold me back. I threw myself into learning English, practicing every chance I got and pushing myself to speak even when I was nervous. Adjusting to cultural differences, especially when it came to making friends, was another obstacle. In Brazil, people are quick to connect and share. Here, friendships took time, and that made me feel more alone at first. But I learned to be patient and started joining study groups, finding small ways to build connections. Little by little, I realized that the slowest bonds often became the strongest. Finances have been another significant challenge. Coming from a family that didn’t have much, I knew from early on that every dollar counted. It was never an option to ask my parents or anyone in my family for financial help—everyone was barely getting by. At 14, I started working to support myself, and that work ethic carried me here. I saved every bit I could to come to the U.S. and eventually made it as an au pair, a position that allowed me to continue working hard while adjusting to life in a new country. For two years, I worked tirelessly as an au pair, balancing responsibilities with my dreams for something bigger. There were days I questioned if it was all worth it, but each hour worked felt like an investment in my future. One of the hardest experiences came when I lost my grandmother. She had been my rock, my guide, and not being there to say goodbye was heartbreaking. She was in the hospital, and my last goodbye was through a phone call. Not being able to be there for her or my family was a reminder of the sacrifices that come with living far from home. But even in loss, she taught me resilience. I chose to carry forward her strength, letting her memory drive me to keep going. Today, I am on the path to becoming the first in my family to graduate from college—a milestone that’s both personal and symbolic. My parents, especially my father, who didn’t finish high school, would feel immense pride in seeing me reach this goal. My journey as an immigrant has been marked by challenges but also by powerful lessons. Perseverance has become my greatest strength, grounding me in the life I’m building here and honoring my roots. Being an immigrant means carrying the weight of two worlds, but it also means having the strength of both.