Education has always been the motivation that shaped my dreams, but If I'm being honest, the person who made education feel like a non-negotiable was my father. Since I was little, he was always the one who put the idea of college in my head and refused to let it go. It didn't matter if I was in preschool, barely old enough to spell "university", he was already telling me I was going to college and that I was capable of more, that life could be bigger than anything he ever had. At the time, it felt like pressure. Now I see it as my purpose. Growing up in an Ecuadorian family, I watched my parents work endlessly to give my brother and me the opportunities they never had. My dad always believed that education was the path out of limits, the path to independence, stability, and a life where we did not need to struggle like he did. He pushed me not because he wanted the control, but because he wanted me to have choices. As I got older, my own experiences started to align with the path he had been pushing toward me. I became more aware of the barriers people in my family, unfortunately, had to face because of language. My grandparents, who spoke only Spanish, often struggled to communicate during medical appointments. I can still picture this one day, when my grandmother was sitting in this exam room, nodding politely even when she didn't understand a word the doctor said. It truly broke something in me seeing her helplessly trying to make sense of what was being said to her. But then there was this one nurse who had come in with the ability to speak Spanish. She made sure my grandmother was able to understand completely what was going on with her health. This moment truly built the foundation for my desire to become a nurse, to become that someone who could step in, advocate, and make patients feel seen. Education gave me the vocabulary to understand what I wanted, and it gave me the structure to see my future clearly. But it wasn't a straight path whatsoever. When I moved to East Brunswick during COVID-19, everything that had felt stable suddenly fell to pieces. I went from living in a neighborhood where my friends were practically my family to being stuck in this new town where I didn't know a single person. My dad still pushed me, reminding me that this discomfort was temporary and that my education was still the way I could move forward, but at the time, it felt like I was trying to motivate myself through a fog. For months, I felt disconnected, unsure of where I fit. But when life slowly reopened, something in me shifted. I began finding my footing again. I pushed myself academically, especially in difficult classes like Human Biology and Chemistry. I learned how to study with intention. Every time I doubted myself, my dad reminded me that “the harder the path, the stronger the person walking it.” It was the tough love I didn’t appreciate until I realized it was the reason I kept going. Through all of this, I began to understand the role education was truly playing in my life. It wasn’t just preparing me for a job; it was shaping my character. Education taught me responsibility, resilience, and discipline. It taught me how to learn from failure instead of fearing it. And it taught me that my identity as a bilingual Ecuadorian woman wasn’t something I needed to shrink; it was something I could use to uplift others. My dream now is to become a nurse who advocates for patients who feel overlooked, especially those from underrepresented or Spanish-speaking communities. I want to be the person who walks into a hospital room and instantly makes a patient feel understood. I want to bridge the gap my grandparents faced. Too many families struggle in silence because they lack someone who speaks their language or understands their culture. I want to change that—even if it’s one patient at a time. I am currently working toward my BSN in Pace University’s direct-admit nursing program, a goal that took years of effort, focus, and determination. And as much as nursing is my dream, I know I wouldn’t be here without my dad. He planted the seed of higher education before I even knew what it meant. He shaped the way I see success, the way I push myself, and the way I visualize my future. His voice—the one telling me, “you’re going to college; you’re going to make something of yourself”—has stayed with me my entire life. Even when I doubted myself, he never doubted me. After earning my degree, I hope to work in a busy hospital setting where I can be hands-on with patients. I’m interested in programs like the Navy Nurse Candidate Program, which would allow me to serve the country, gain experience, and develop into a leader who can influence how healthcare is delivered. One day, I hope to become a Nurse Practitioner. My long-term goal isn’t just personal success; it’s creating systems where every patient feels respected, informed, and cared for. When I imagine the future, I picture moments where everything comes full circle: speaking to a nervous patient in Spanish, helping a family understand a diagnosis, or advocating for someone who feels invisible. In those moments, I’ll know that my father’s voice, my upbringing, and my education all led me there. Education didn’t just give me direction—it helped me understand who I want to become. It showed me that my background is my power, that my challenges are part of my strength, and that my future is something I can build through hard work and purpose. With this scholarship, I can continue walking the path my dad pushed me toward—not because he told me to, but because now I know it is exactly where I’m meant to be.

Nurses are the heart of healthcare. They’re the ones right there on the front lines, building those relationships with patients and caring for them in their toughest times. I want to connect with people by not just treating their illnesses, but understanding and providing comfort. I will never forget the look of confusion and worry on my grandma's face during her doctor visits. She didn't speak English very well and I watched as she nodded politely, pretending to understand all those complicated medical terms that were never explained in a way she'd get. As a little girl, I felt powerless, wishing that I could help translate every word. That helplessness is something that's stuck with me, it's what drives me to pursue nursing. Not just to provide medical care, but to make those meaningful connections with people to ensure no one feels as lost as my grandma did. I saw how important it was to have someone there. That’s when I knew I wanted to be the one standing by the bedside, helping people feel less alone. For me, nursing is all about forming those relationships with patients and providing compassionate care to those who need it. I believe that every patient deserves a nurse who’s going to listen and advocate for them. Especially for those who might come from underprivileged backgrounds, like many in the Hispanic community, having someone who can help bridge that language barrier and be able to communicate with those who don’t understand effectively is so important. I want to break down those barriers that prevent people from receiving the care they deserve. Long-term, I hope to work in underserved communities, where access to healthcare might be limited. I know how impactful it can be to have that one person who can truly understand and advocate for you. My goal is to be that light for families who feel overlooked or neglected in our healthcare system. I want to make sure those people are seen, heard, and valued regardless of their background. Nursing cannot just be a career; it must be a calling. I aspire to be that person who can help patients not only physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. I am dedicated to giving back to the communities that have shaped who I am, and my identity. Ultimately, my goal is to create a significant impact on the lives of my patients and help them feel supported. I am ready to embrace the challenges of nursing with passion and resilience.

The leash strained in my hand as Bruno pulled ahead, excitedly, while I on the other hand had grown tired of this annoying chore. Little did I know on that day everything would change. With one snap of his leash, Bruno bolted into the path of a school bus right before my eyes. His cry rang in my ears. Before that day, life felt like a never-ending cycle: school, clubs, homework, dinner, and then, of course, walking Bruno. My mom’s reminders to ensure he was walked became the norm, I rolled my eyes at her repetitiveness. That Friday afternoon, I wanted to relax and go out with my friends, but Bruno looked at me eagerly waiting for his walk. So once again, I put on his leash and headed out. At that time buses were passing by. Bruno, as usual, pulled towards the bus. Before I could react, he was already running into the bus's tires. My heart dropped as I ran to him. His leg was destroyed. Blood stained his fur. Seeing Bruno’s injury was terrifying, but I knew I had to act quickly. My heart was racing, but I focused on what I could do to help. Despite my shaking hands, I carefully moved him to the grass and wrapped my sweater around his leg to slow the bleeding. I looked at him and knew I needed to stay calm. I called out to my neighbors for help. We rushed him to the emergency vet. Forced to wait, my mind replayed the accident over and over. “How could I have let this happen?” I kept asking myself. The vet's news was devastating: Bruno’s leg could not be saved; they had to amputate. Those words hit me, and all the emotions I held back crashed over me. The Bruno I had known would never be the same. The following days blurred together. Bruno’s recovery became my top priority. Each day, I juggled his medication schedule, physical therapy, and making sure he had the comfort and support he needed to adapt. This responsibility was overwhelming, but seeing his small improvements made every sacrifice worthwhile. I rearranged my room, by putting my mattress on the floor so he could easily lay in bed with me, as he always had before he lost his leg. Looking at him tumbling over and unable to adjust broke my heart. I realized how much I had taken for granted. As the weeks passed, I saw Bruno becoming himself again. At first, he struggled to find his balance, but then he was just as playful as ever. Watching him, I realized how strong he was, despite everything he had been through. His perseverance and strength inspired me. Reflecting on my life, I saw I had been stuck in my routine, going through all the motions without ever stopping to appreciate the small moments. Seeing my best friend overcome such a traumatic event helped me see things and realize that the worries over grades, school work, and daily routines; suddenly seemed insignificant compared to the joy of being present with those we love. While helping Bruno recover, I learned that even when life can start to feel dull, those everyday moments truly matter. What once felt like a chore-walking Bruno, had become a great reminder of the beauty of life and how fast things can be taken away from us. I now look at challenges with an open mind and understand that setbacks, while sometimes very painful, can ultimately lead us to growth. Bruno’s strength helped me find my own; I will always be grateful for that.

Nurses are the heart of healthcare. They’re the ones right there on the front lines, building those relationships with patients and caring for them in their toughest times. I want to connect with people by not just treating their illnesses, but understanding and providing comfort. I will never forget the look of confusion and worry on my grandma's face during her doctor visits. She didn't speak English very well and I watched as she nodded politely, pretending to understand all those complicated medical terms that were never explained in a way she'd get. As a little girl, I felt powerless, wishing that I could help translate every word. That helplessness is something that's stuck with me, it's what drives me to pursue nursing. Not just to provide medical care, but to make those meaningful connections with people to ensure no one feels as lost as my grandma did. I saw how important it was to have someone there. That’s when I knew I wanted to be the one standing by the bedside, helping people feel less alone. For me, nursing is all about forming those relationships with patients and providing compassionate care to those who need it. I believe that every patient deserves a nurse who’s going to listen and advocate for them. Especially for those who might come from underprivileged backgrounds, like many in the Hispanic community, having someone who can help bridge that language barrier and be able to communicate with those who don’t understand effectively is so important. I want to break down those barriers that prevent people from receiving the care they deserve. Long-term, I hope to work in underserved communities, where access to healthcare might be limited. I know how impactful it can be to have that one person who can truly understand and advocate for you. My goal is to be that light for families who feel overlooked or neglected in our healthcare system. I want to make sure those people are seen, heard, and valued regardless of their background. Nursing cannot just be a career; it must be a calling. I aspire to be that person who can help patients not only physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. I am dedicated to giving back to the communities that have shaped who I am, and my identity. Ultimately, my goal is to create a significant impact on the lives of my patients and help them feel supported. I am ready to embrace the challenges of nursing with passion and resilience.

When I was twelve, a kick to the hand from my younger brother turned into one of the scariest moments of my life. It all started with just a harmless bump, but as the weeks passed, then months, the bump just stayed there. A year later, a second one appeared just above it. My mom took me to a hand specialist and that was when I heard the words that no healthy twelve-year-old expects: "We might be looking at something a bit more serious here" We both knew what he was implying, but just to make sure my mom confirmed by asking are we talking about cancer, the doctor nodded. It felt like the world stopped. I could see the fear in my mom's eyes as she held my hand tighter. The doctor tried to reassure us, saying he'd take care of it, even joking that if some bones needed to be removed, "No one's gonna notice, because you're too pretty for anyone to look at your hand." That comfort didn't reach me. All I could think about was the possibility of losing part of my hand. Everyone around me was worried, but they all said to make sure I was praying and to turn to my faith. I started praying. Every night, before bed, I would ask God for peace and strength. The fear of what could happen to me still hung over, but something in me began to settle. I told myself, "Whatever happens, I know God has a plan for my life" It was not easy to let go of the worry but somehow I found a calmness that helped me face every day. Even though my mom was still trying to hold everything together. I felt in my heart that I was being held up by something much bigger than myself. We went to see another doctor at the Children's Hospital of Philadephia (CHOP) and after more tests, we waited anxiously for answers. But even in the waiting room, I felt that strange peace, I knew I wasn't alone, and no matter what the doctor said I had God on my side. When we finally got the results, the diagnosis wasn't cancer. The bumps were just congested blood vessels, and surgery would be enough to remove them. I immediately felt an overwhelming wave of relief wash over me. That experience taught me more than just how to deal with fear-- it showed me the power of faith when I am faced with uncertain times. Even when life felt out of control, I had this unwavering peace that I just couldn't explain. Looking back, I realize that it was not just the doctors that brought me through, but the trust that I placed in someone much greater than myself. That peace is something I still try to carry with me every day. Now, whenever something hard is going on in my life I know that my faith will keep me grounded. Whether it's a tough test, a difficult conversation, or just the pressures of daily life. I remember how God's plan carried me through one of the scariest times of my life. I am not afraid to face whatever comes next, because I know that with God, no weapon shall prosper against me.

Back in 2020, during the pandemic, my family decided to move from our hometown (Twin Rivers) to East Brunswick because my parents wanted to provide my brother and me with a better education there, at the time I was in 8th grade, so they figured it would be best to start high school somewhere else. But little did we anticipate how much it would hurt us financially and how I as the oldest sister would need to step up. My parents' decision to prioritize our education over our financial comfort came with a whole lot of consequences, we began to wonder if this was all worth it. I could see my parents were drowning, putting groceries on credit cards. Since my parents lack college degrees, it was hard for my mom to find a job especially with the world still so worried about this virus. It was then that I knew I had to help, I began staying up at night searching for anyone who would hire a 15-year-old with no work experience in the midst of a pandemic. It was early in the morning, before my Zoom class that I found it "Cherry Hill Programs hiring photographers/sales associates 15 years old and older" I quickly applied and days later had a phone interview and got the job. Capturing moments of children with Santa and the Easter Bunny became not only a means of financial support but also an invaluable learning experience in financial management. This was like a lifeline for my father, his paycheck could help us cover the mortgage while mine during the long Christmas season was able to cover our groceries and help pay back some of those credit cards. I saw how financial choices affected our family's stability, which pushed me to learn more about handling finances wisely. I look back on this experience, and I am proud of the decision I made because of how it was able to teach me, how to budget and balance online classes while working in the middle of the mall. I believe that by sharing my journey, I can help other teenagers who feel like they're drowning due to their parent's financial decisions feel less alone. Show them that it is possible to overcome this especially those whose parents don't have a college degree, because it's harder for us. We are most likely to follow in their foot steps but we must break down those barriers, and learn from them, and even learn from our financial mistakes!