My name is Duru Cukurtepe, and I graduated from Valparaiso High School. Right now I am a freshman at Valparaiso University majoring in biology on a premed track. My dream is to become a surgeon because I want to combine my love for science with my passion for helping people. For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by how the body works, and I want to dedicate my life to making a difference for people in moments when they need it most. When I look back on my high school years, one of the most important lessons I learned was about mental health. At first, I did not pay much attention to it. I thought that if I kept working hard and pushing through stress, everything would be fine. But over time, I realized that ignoring my mental health was only making things worse. High school was full of challenges, from tough classes to balancing activities and preparing for college. On top of that, I had just moved to the United States a few years earlier. Learning a new language, adapting to a new culture, and trying to fit in made me feel like I was carrying a weight that no one else could see. There were days when I felt completely alone. I would go home exhausted, not from the homework itself but from the effort it took just to pretend I was fine. I remember sitting at my desk sometimes and wondering if I would ever feel like I belonged. It was during those moments that I began to realize the importance of mental health. I could not just push my feelings aside and expect them to disappear. I had to face them. Slowly, I learned that it was okay to ask for help. Talking to a teacher I trusted or opening up to a friend gave me relief I did not know I needed. Taking time for myself, whether it was going for a walk or simply resting, made a difference too. Most of all, I learned to be kinder to myself. I realized that mental health is not about being strong all the time, but about knowing when you need support and being brave enough to ask for it. Now that I am in college, the pressure has only grown. Classes are harder, my schedule is busier, and the responsibilities feel heavier. But I carry those lessons with me. I know that my mental health has to come first if I want to succeed in the long run. As I prepare for a career in medicine, I want to take what I have learned and use it to care for others. I want to treat patients not just for their physical needs but also with empathy for the struggles they might be facing inside. High school taught me that mental health is not something you can ignore. It is as real and as important as any physical condition. True strength is not pretending you are fine. True strength is admitting when you need help, finding support, and choosing to keep moving forward. That lesson will stay with me for the rest of my life.

When I moved to the United States from Turkey during my sophomore year, I felt completely lost. I only came with my dad, and we had to leave my mom behind. Starting over in a new country with no support system was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I did not know the language, the education system, or even how to talk to people around me. Everything felt overwhelming, but I knew I could not give up. Reading about Maggie’s story made me feel connected to her right away, because she also came here alone and had to be brave enough to start from nothing. Learning English was one of my biggest struggles. I remember sitting in class and not understanding a single word my teachers were saying. I would go home every night and study with a dictionary, sometimes staying up late just trying to teach myself the basics. Slowly, I started to improve. By the time I graduated, I had passed all five of my AP tests and earned a 4.3 GPA, finishing with the highest distinction. It was not easy, but I learned that if I work hard and stay determined, I can overcome challenges that once felt impossible. I also pushed myself outside of the classroom. I decided to join cross country even though I had never run before in my life. The first practices were awful. My legs hurt and I could barely breathe, but I kept showing up. By the end of the season, I was not just running, I was proving to myself that I could take on challenges that scared me. Maggie was someone who loved physical challenges like skiing and climbing, and I feel like I share that same courage in my own way. Another part of my journey has been giving back. I volunteered for more than 100 hours and found that helping others made me feel more connected to my new community. I also took on leadership roles like serving as secretary of student council and becoming president of the Alliance of Students Against Poverty club. Those experiences taught me that leadership is not about being the loudest, but about being someone others can count on. One of the hardest moments for me came after I applied to college. I worked so hard and I even got accepted into my dream school. But when I saw the cost, I realized I could not go because of financial reasons. It was heartbreaking after all the effort I put in, but I am still determined to keep moving forward and pursue my dream of becoming a surgeon. I believe Maggie would understand what it feels like to fight through disappointment and keep pushing forward with determination. Maggie’s story inspires me because I see so much of myself in her. She was brave, ambitious, and willing to face challenges head on. Like her, I have learned to be strong, to keep going even when I feel alone, and to never stop working toward my goals. This scholarship would not only help me continue my education, it would also honor Maggie’s legacy, which is something I would be proud to carry with me.

When I moved to the United States at the age of 14, I barely spoke any English. Every day felt like a mountain I had to climb, trying to follow conversations in class, understand new cultural norms, and find my place in an unfamiliar world. But despite how overwhelming it was, I was never alone. My teachers, classmates, and even strangers offered help, support, and kindness without hesitation. That experience, of being seen, supported, and uplifted, planted something deep inside me: the belief that when someone reaches out to help, it can change a life. That belief is what drives me to become a doctor. Medicine, to me, is the most powerful combination of science, empathy, and purpose. It’s where knowledge meets compassion. My passion for science has always come naturally, I’ve loved learning how the body works, how cells communicate, and how small changes can have life-altering effects. But what inspires me most about the medical field is the chance to be there for people when they are at their most vulnerable, just like others were there for me. I want to turn my gratitude into action and my struggle into service. What makes me most excited about becoming a doctor is the opportunity to make healthcare more accessible, especially for immigrants and underserved communities. I’ve witnessed language barriers and cultural differences prevent people from getting the care they need. I’ve seen fear, confusion, and mistrust in doctor’s offices, simply because someone didn’t feel understood. I want to change that. I want to be the doctor who can sit with a patient, speak their language, whether it's literally or through shared experience, and make them feel safe, respected, and cared for. I plan to pursue a degree in biology or neuroscience as an undergraduate and then attend medical school. While I’m still exploring specialties, I am deeply drawn to family medicine or pediatrics, fields where I can build long-term relationships with patients and make community-focused care a central part of my practice. I don’t just want to treat symptoms; I want to be part of the solution to deeper issues, like health education, preventative care, and breaking down the fear that so many immigrants feel when navigating healthcare systems. I also want to be a voice for students like me, first-generation, bilingual, and determined. I want them to see that no matter where you start, your dreams are valid and possible. I plan to mentor other young people, speak at schools, and eventually create programs that help bridge the gap between medicine and marginalized communities. This scholarship would mean more than financial support, it would be a step toward making my dream real. It would be a reminder that my journey matters, and that who I am and where I come from are not obstacles, but strengths. I’m ready to dedicate my life to making a difference, not just by treating illness, but by treating people with the dignity, understanding, and hope they deserve.

Pillar: Hungry Hunger, to me, is not just ambition, it’s the relentless pursuit of growth, fueled by purpose, even when no one is watching and especially when the odds feel stacked against you. I exemplified this pillar during the most difficult academic year of my life, when I was balancing a demanding course load, personal challenges at home, and a growing research project that pushed me beyond my comfort zone. It would have been easy to do the minimum, to meet expectations quietly and move on. But I was hungry for more, for impact, for understanding, and for the chance to prove to myself that I was capable of more than I imagined. During the fall of my senior year, I began conducting independent research on the impact of chronic sleep deprivation on blood pressure regulation and cardiovascular health, specifically how it affects different demographics across gender and age. I wasn’t part of a large lab. I didn’t have a mentor holding my hand through every step. What I had was a burning desire to understand something that I knew mattered, especially for communities like mine where health issues are often overlooked or misunderstood. I poured myself into the project, reading dense medical journals, designing experimental groups, planning ethical sleep protocols, and identifying confounding variables I hadn’t even learned about in class yet. I taught myself data analysis tools on weekends, reached out to physicians and researchers for feedback, and revised my hypothesis multiple times when new evidence challenged my assumptions. At one point, I hit a wall. My original plan for a controlled sleep study wasn’t feasible due to school restrictions and ethical concerns, and I considered switching to a simpler topic. But I couldn't. This research felt personal, because I’ve seen what chronic sleep deprivation does to people in real life. I’ve seen it in my father, who works night shifts to support us. I’ve seen it in my classmates, burned out from academic pressure. That reality pushed me to keep going. I adapted, restructured the study, and reframed the project using a combination of survey-based human data and scientific simulations. That pivot didn’t just save the project, it made it more powerful and accessible. When I finally presented my findings, I wasn’t expecting much. But the reception stunned me. Teachers, counselors, and peers told me it changed how they saw sleep, not as a passive luxury, but as an essential foundation for heart health and mental well-being. One teacher said it inspired them to start a wellness initiative in their advisory group. Another student told me it helped them finally convince their parents to take their insomnia seriously. That moment, that impact, was everything. I didn’t do any of this for recognition. I did it because I was hungry to understand and to help, even if just a little. That hunger pushed me to exceed expectations in a project that could’ve easily stayed within safe lines. It pushed me to self-educate, to adapt, and to lead with heart. And it showed me that even without the biggest resources, passion and perseverance can drive meaningful change.