The greatest lesson I learned before ever stepping into a classroom was at my own kitchen table, translating for my immigrant parents. At the time, I simply thought I was helping my family. Looking back, I realize God was preparing my heart long before I recognized His calling. Through those moments, He taught me that education is more than academics. It is a way to open doors, restore confidence, and give hope. This fall, I will attend Houston Christian University (formerly Houston Baptist University) to pursue a Bachelor's degree in Education. Choosing a Christian university was never just about earning a degree. I wanted an education that would strengthen both my faith and my calling because I believe teaching is not simply my future career, but it is the ministry God has placed on my heart. Growing up as the daughter of immigrant parents and becoming a first-generation college student has shaped who I am. I often became the bridge between my family and the world around us, translating conversations, reading important documents, and helping my parents navigate systems they could not always understand. Those experiences taught me compassion, patience, and the importance of advocating for others. Today, they fuel my desire to become a bilingual elementary teacher who not only educates children but also supports the families behind them. Throughout high school, I had the privilege of student teaching through internships in elementary classrooms. Every day with my students confirmed that this was where God was leading me. While my passion for teaching grew, a close family member that began to ferociously battle with mental illness made life at home incredibly difficult. Balancing heavy schoolwork and even heavier family challenges often felt overwhelming. Yet those were the moments that strengthened my faith the most. Prayer became my refuge, and over time I watched God bring healing, restore hope, and remind me that His timing is always perfect. Those experiences changed the way I see children. I know that many students walk into the classroom carrying burdens no one else can see. Because of what God has brought me through, I want to be the teacher who notices the quiet child, extends grace before judgment, and reminds every student that they are deeply valued. Serving in my church through Vacation Bible School during the summer and the children ministry every Sunday has only strengthened that calling. It has shown me that whether I am teaching a Bible lesson or helping a child learn to read, I can reflect Christ through patience, kindness, and love. Receiving this scholarship would be an incredible blessing. As a first-generation college student, it would help ease the financial burden of tuition, books, and classroom materials, allowing me to focus on preparing for the purpose God has called me to. More than financial support, it would be another reminder of His faithfulness and provision. When I look back on my journey, I do not just see challenges. I see the faithfulness of God. Every obstacle has drawn me closer to Him, every opportunity has reminded me of His provision, and every step has affirmed the calling He has placed on my life. Receiving this scholarship would not only help me continue my education at Houston Christian University, but it would also remind me that God continues to provide through the generosity of His people. My prayer is that one day, every student who walks into my classroom will leave knowing they are valued, capable, and deeply loved, just as Christ has always reminded me that I am.

The peace and quiet of my home was something I always treasured. It was where I could finish homework, dream about my future, and believe that no matter how difficult school became, I always had a place to return to. But during high school, that sense of stability disappeared. A close family member began facing serious mental health challenges, and she and her children moved into our home so we could support them. Overnight, the house I had grown up in became crowded and emotionally heavy. The quiet evenings I once relied on to study were replaced with uncertainty, and eventually my family made the difficult decision to leave the home I had known for years because there simply was not enough room for everyone. Watching someone I loved struggle while trying to stay focused on school was one of the hardest experiences of my life. There were days when I felt emotionally exhausted before I even stepped into a classroom. At home, I often put my own feelings aside because I knew my family needed me to stay strong. At school, I still held myself to the same expectations, determined not to let my circumstances define my future. As the daughter of immigrant parents and a first-generation college student, I understood that earning a degree meant more than personal success. It represented an opportunity to change the trajectory of the future of my family. Even when life felt overwhelming, I continued moving forward because I knew that every assignment, every exam, and every accomplishment brought me one step closer to breaking the generational barriers my parents never had the opportunity to overcome. Living through those challenges changed the way I see education. I realized that many students walk into classrooms carrying burdens no one else can see. Some are worried about what is happening at home, while others are simply trying to make it through the day with a smile. Their struggles do not disappear when the school bell rings. That realization became even more real during my internships in classrooms. While teaching lessons and working one-on-one with students, I met children whose lives reminded me of my own. Some struggled to focus because of challenges at home, while others simply needed someone to believe in them. I quickly learned that the most meaningful part of teaching is not just helping a child solve a math problem or improve their reading, but it was making them feel safe enough to learn in the first place. In those moments, I saw the kind of teacher I want to become. I want to be the teacher who notices when a smile is hiding something deeper. I want to be the teacher who stays after class to listen, celebrates even the smallest victories, and reminds every child that they are capable of more than they realize. I want to be the teacher who helps both students and families feel seen, supported, and welcomed. My experiences have taught me that children rarely remember every lesson their teacher gives them, but they always remember how that teacher made them feel. If I can be the person who gives a child hope during one of the hardest seasons of their life, then I will have done far more than teach. I will have made a difference.

Some people leave behind buildings, awards, or titles. Others leave behind a powerful legacy that continues through the lives they touched. Although I am not from Alabama but from its neighboring state of Texas, the story of Sandy Jenkins reminds me that the heart of an educator knows no state lines. The love of a teacher reaches far beyond the walls of a classroom, inspiring future generations of educators like me to continue the work they so faithfully began. My passion for early childhood education is rooted in love. Love for children, love for learning, and love for the incredible opportunity to shape lives during the years that matter most. Growing up as the daughter of immigrant parents, I experienced education through a different lens. I became the translator in my family, helping my parents understand school forms, meetings, and conversations. I watched teachers become more than educators. They became trusted guides who gave my family confidence when we often felt uncertain. Their kindness taught me that the greatest lessons are not found in textbooks, but in making a child and their family feel seen, valued, and understood. That realization planted a dream in my heart that has only grown stronger with time. When I began my internship at Martinez Early Learning Center, I knew I enjoyed working with children. What I did not expect was how deeply I would fall in love with the beauty of early childhood education. Every day, I witnessed children discovering the world for the very first time. A child would proudly write their name. Another would sound out a word they had struggled with for weeks. Someone would finally find the courage to raise their hand after days of quiet observation. These moments may seem small to others, but to me, they were life changing because I realized that behind every tiny victory is a child beginning to believe, "I can do this." Children may not remember every worksheet they complete, but they will always remember how their teacher made them feel. They will remember the teacher who celebrated their victories, comforted them through their fears, and believed in them before they believed in themselves. That is the kind of teacher I aspire to become. My experiences serving through the children ministry in my church have only strengthened this calling. Whether I am helping children learn through music, movement, or encouragement, I am reminded that every interaction is an opportunity to plant seeds of confidence, kindness, and curiosity. Those seeds may not bloom immediately, but they have the power to flourish for years to come. As a future bilingual educator, I hope to create a classroom where every child feels safe, capable, and celebrated. I want children from families like mine to know that their language is a gift, their culture is something to be proud of, and their dreams are worth pursuing. I want every student who walks through my classroom door to leave believing they are loved, valued, and capable of accomplishing incredible things. Sandy Jenkins dedicated her life to giving children the best possible beginning, a mission I hope to continue. While I may call Texas home, my passion for early childhood education reaches far beyond state lines. I aspire to honor educators like Sandy by nurturing young minds, encouraging young hearts, and reminding every child of their limitless potential. If I can help even one child fall in love with learning or believe in themselves for the first time, I will know I have fulfilled the purpose God placed on my heart.

My drive to become a teacher comes from the people who believed in me, the experiences that shaped me, and the indescribable joy I feel whenever I have the opportunity to help children learn and grow. Growing up as the daughter of immigrant parents, I often helped translate serious conversations, important school documents, and significant information for my family. From a young age, I saw how overwhelming school could feel when there was a language barrier. I also saw the difference compassionate teachers made when they took the time to communicate with my parents and ensure they felt included in my education. Those experiences showed me that the impact a teacher has reaches far beyond the classroom. They inspired me to become a bilingual educator who can help students and families feel understood, supported, and confident. As I grew older, one teacher completely changed the way I saw myself. She believed in me before I fully believed in myself. She celebrated my strengths, encouraged me to step outside my comfort zone, and reminded me that I was capable of accomplishing more than I imagined. Because of her, I found the confidence to pursue leadership opportunities, challenge myself academically, and dream bigger for my future. She taught me that the most meaningful lessons are not always found in a textbook. Sometimes they come from a teacher who refuses to let a student give up on themselves. I knew then that I wanted to become that kind of teacher. Even before I stepped into a classroom as an intern, I found myself naturally drawn to children. Whether I was helping care for my younger nieces and nephews or volunteering with the children ministry at my church, I discovered how much happiness I found in encouraging young minds. Nothing compares to seeing the eyes of a child light up when they finally understand something they once struggled with or accomplish something they never thought they could do. Their curiosity, creativity, and excitement remind me every day why I chose this path. Being around children does not feel like work but it feels like where I am meant to be. That feeling only grew stronger during my internships at Martinez Early Learning Center and Mata Intermediate School. Every day in the classroom confirmed that teaching is exactly where I belong. Some of the moments that impacted me the most were not the biggest achievements, but the smallest ones: helping a struggling student finally understand a lesson, celebrating a personal victory, or simply being a trusted adult who listened. Those experiences showed me that teachers have the incredible privilege of shaping not only the education of a student but also their confidence and sense of belonging. My goal is to become a bilingual elementary teacher because I understand what it feels like to grow up balancing two languages and two cultures. I want every child, especially those from immigrant families, to feel welcomed, understood, and confident in who they are. I hope to create a classroom where students feel safe to ask questions, excited to learn, and encouraged to believe in themselves. Although I never had the opportunity to meet Teri Schulze, I admire the legacy she left behind. Like Teri, I hope to inspire curiosity, encourage a love of learning, and make every child who enters my classroom feel valued. If years from now one of my students remembers me as the teacher who believed in them before they believed in themselves, I will know I have left the kind of impact that first inspired me to become a teacher.

Growing up as a BIPOC student, I learned very early that success would not simply be handed to me, but it would have to be earned through resilience, faith, and determination. There were many moments in my childhood when things felt uncertain, when resources felt limited, and when the future felt bigger than what I could see around me. Yet even in those moments, school became my safe place. It was the one environment where I felt that my effort could directly shape my future. There were times when I doubted myself. I questioned whether I was smart enough, capable enough, or strong enough to achieve the goals I quietly carried in my heart. As a young girl navigating academic spaces, I sometimes felt the pressure to work twice as hard to prove that I belonged. But in those moments of insecurity, a few extraordinary teachers changed everything for me. They saw potential in me before I fully saw it in myself. They spoke life into my dreams and reminded me that my background was not something to overcome, but something to be deeply proud of. Their encouragement became a turning point. I realized how powerful the words and presence of a teacher can be. A single conversation, a note of affirmation, or a moment of patience can shift the entire trajectory of a student. That realization stayed with me. It planted a seed in my heart that one day, I wanted to be that person for someone else. The encouragement I received did not stop with me. As my confidence grew, I began stepping into that same role for others. In high school, I found myself tutoring younger students and helping classmates prepare for exams. What started as small acts of support became moments of clarity for me as I discovered how deeply fulfilling it was to break down a difficult concept and watch the faces of others light up with understanding. In those moments, I recognized that my own experiences had shaped me into someone who understands perseverance on a deep level. I have learned how to navigate challenges quietly, push through self-doubt, and remain disciplined even when things felt overwhelming. Those experiences strengthened my empathy. I know what it feels like to struggle silently while trying to appear strong, and because of that, I am committed to creating a classroom where students feel seen, heard, and supported, especially those who may feel overlooked. Pursuing a career in K–12 public education is more than a professional goal for me. It is a mission. I want to serve in communities where students may question their potential the way I once did. I want to remind them that their circumstances do not define their ceiling. I want to show young girls and boys of color that leadership, intelligence, and excellence look like them. Representation matters, and I aspire to stand in front of my classroom as living proof that resilience creates opportunity. Education transformed my confidence, expanded my worldview, and gave me tools to rewrite my narrative. Now, I want to give that same gift to the next generation. My background did not weaken me, but it refined me. My struggles did not stop me, but they strengthened me. And my aspirations are rooted in the belief that one caring, determined teacher can change the course of the life of a child. I intend to be that teacher. The one who sees potential before it is fully realized, who speaks encouragement when doubt grows loud, and who reminds every student that their story is still being written.

“In the middle of every difficulty lies opportunity,” a quote by Albert Einstein, reflects a lesson I came to understand through my own experiences. One of the most significant challenges I have overcome began during my childhood, when my family moved homes, disrupting my sense of stability and routine. Adjusting to a new environment brought uncertainty, and the transition was accompanied by financial pressure that affected my household. At the same time, a close family member was facing personal challenges, which altered the dynamics of my home life. Suddenly, I found myself navigating responsibilities I had never anticipated, from helping manage household tasks to providing emotional support to my family. Through this period of hardship, I learned resilience and adaptability, but also carried an unspoken responsibility to remain strong, dependable, and successful, even while feeling overwhelmed. As I adapted to these changes, I also learned how to conceal my struggles. I believed that asking for help would only add to the stress around me, so I pushed myself to handle everything independently. I set extremely high expectations for myself, measuring success by perfection rather than progress. Completing tasks without error became my standard, whether it was schoolwork, household responsibilities, or supporting those around me. While this mindset fueled my determination and gave me a sense of control, I developed a fixed mindset in which mistakes felt discouraging rather than instructive. Any setback felt like a personal failure instead of an opportunity to learn. Over time, I realized that my drive for perfection was both limiting and exhausting. It was during primary school that I learned some of the most important lessons about growth, perseverance, and asking for help. My teachers created classrooms where curiosity was encouraged, mistakes were seen as opportunities, and every question was valued. In this supportive environment, I began to understand that struggling with a task was not a failure, but a natural and necessary part of learning. I gradually learned to seek feedback, participate more confidently, and challenge myself without fear of making mistakes. These experiences helped me develop a growth mindset rooted in perseverance, self-compassion, and curiosity. Letting go of perfection did not diminish my ambition, but instead, it strengthened my ability to learn, adapt, and grow, laying the foundation for the student and future educator that I aspire to be today. These experiences profoundly shaped my values and strengthened my passion for education. They taught me that many students enter classrooms carrying unseen challenges that affect how they learn, participate, and view themselves. I want to become an educator who recognizes these challenges and creates a classroom environment rooted in empathy, encouragement, and curiosity. I want my students to feel safe asking questions, making mistakes, and exploring their potential without fear of judgment. I hope to model the same patience, support, and belief in the abilities of students that my mentors showed me, helping them see challenges as opportunities rather than obstacles. Carrying an Adventurer spirit means embracing uncertainty with courage and optimism, even when the path forward is unclear. It means approaching each challenge with curiosity, resilience, and a willingness to grow. It also means using what I have learned through my own struggles to empower others. This scholarship would support my pursuit of a degree in Education and allow me to honor the legacy of Deborah Brown Alexander by inspiring students to spread their wings, believe in themselves, and discover the joy of learning, just as she did for generations before me.