My path to graduate study began long after I first started teaching high school English, my second career. I didn’t step into academia as a 22-year-old with boundless time and freedom; I came to it as a full-time teacher, a mother of two, and the wife of a veteran navigating PTSD and anxiety. I came to it after more than a decade of mentoring teenagers, designing curriculum, managing yearbook production deadlines, and grading essays late into the night. And I came to it because I still felt a hunger to learn: a need to keep evolving. When I applied to graduate studies, it wasn’t to chase prestige. It was because I wanted to model for my own children what lifelong learning really looks like: messy, brave, and rooted in curiosity. My program in Literature and Arts has become more than an academic pursuit; it’s a space where I reconnect with the intellectual part of myself that teaching and motherhood sometimes demanded I put on pause. I’ve written essays on Enlightenment philosophy and Frankenstein, researched Elizabethan court gifting, and begun exploring a dissertation on illustrative print practices in 19th-century literature. Each piece of work has reminded me that scholarship is not about perfection; it’s about conversation, empathy, and seeing connections across time and disciplines. But the truth is, none of this has been easy. There have been nights when I’ve written papers at the kitchen table while my children slept and mornings when I get up early to research after finishing grades at midnight. There have been times when self-doubt crept in; the kind that whispers, you’re too old for this, too stretched, too late. What’s carried me through isn’t confidence; it’s perseverance. It’s the belief that education should never be limited by age, circumstance, or fear. That belief in lifting others is something I learned, too, through personal challenge. My husband’s military service shaped our family in profound ways, including his ongoing battle with PTSD. There were years when our household revolved around managing anxiety, parenting differences, and learning how to communicate through the walls that trauma builds. I won’t romanticize it; it’s been hard. But that experience has taught me deep compassion. I know that people’s struggles are rarely visible, and that the smallest gestures can carry immense weight. Balancing graduate studies while teaching full-time in North Carolina means living in two worlds: one of historical archives and literary theory, the other of music lessons, Scouts, grading, and school deadlines. There’s beauty in that contrast. My research informs my teaching, and my teaching grounds my research. When I write about women’s independence in authorship of the 19th century, I think of my own independence and the ways I’ve had to carve out time to write, to grow, to preserve my identity outside of being a wife and mother. When I teach my students about human creativity, I show them my own essays, my own messy drafts, marked in red pen. I want them to know that learning doesn’t end with a degree; it’s a lifelong pursuit of revelation. The past few years have also taught me to let go of perfectionism. I used to measure success by outcomes: the publication, the grade, the gratitudes. Now, I measure it by authenticity; by whether I am living and teaching in alignment with my values. It’s allowed me to embrace vulnerability in the classroom, to admit when I don’t know something, and to create space for my students to do the same. It’s what keeps me grounded in compassion instead of competition.

If there’s one lesson my life has taught me, it’s that growth rarely follows a straight line. My journey as a student, teacher, mother, and partner has been shaped less by smooth progress than by resilience; the steady, sometimes quiet act of continuing to show up; to learn, and to lead even when life feels uncertain. I suppose that makes me a non-traditional student, but more than that, it makes me someone who has learned to see strength in persistence and meaning in imperfection. My path to graduate study at the University of Oxford began long after I first started teaching high school English. I didn’t step into academia as a 22-year-old with boundless time and freedom; I came to it as a full-time teacher, a mother of two, and the wife of a veteran navigating PTSD and anxiety. I came to it after more than a decade of mentoring teenagers, designing curriculum, managing yearbook production deadlines, and grading essays late into the night. And I came to it because I still felt a hunger to learn – a need to keep evolving, not just for myself, but for the students I guide every day. When I applied to Oxford, it wasn’t to chase prestige. It was because I wanted to model for my students what lifelong learning really looks like: messy, brave, and rooted in curiosity. My program in Literature and Arts has become more than an academic pursuit; it’s a space where I reconnect with the intellectual part of myself that teaching and motherhood sometimes demanded I put on pause. I’ve written essays on Enlightenment philosophy and Frankenstein, researched Elizabethan court gifting, and begun exploring a dissertation on women’s mobility and independence in 19th-century literature. Each piece of work has reminded me that scholarship is not about perfection; it’s about conversation, empathy, and seeing connections across time and disciplines. The past few years have also taught me to let go of perfectionism. I used to measure success by outcomes: the publication, the grade, the gratitudes. Now, I measure it by authenticity; by whether I am living and teaching in alignment with my values. That shift has changed everything. It’s allowed me to embrace vulnerability in the classroom, to admit when I don’t know something, and to create space for my students to do the same. It’s what keeps me grounded in compassion instead of competition. I am not a perfect student, or a traditional one. But I am a persistent one. I’ve built a life that bridges teaching and scholarship, family and growth, compassion and hardship. I have learned that resilience doesn’t mean never falling; it means continuing to rise with grace. And if I can pass even a fraction of that lesson to my students: to help them see themselves as capable, curious, and worthy of being seen, then I will have honored not only my own journey, but the kind of legacy I would like to leave behind.

If I could design one course that every student would take from kindergarten through twelfth grade, it would be an interdisciplinary exploration of human material culture: a class that combines literature, philosophy, art, and history to help students understand how people across time have made meaning from the world. The class would bridge across humanities, examining the objects, stories, and ideas humans create, and how those creations, in turn, shape who we become. As both an English teacher and a graduate student in Literature and Arts at the University of Oxford, I’ve seen firsthand how deeply interconnected the humanities truly are. Literature does not exist in isolation from the art, architecture, or philosophical movements that surround it. When students read Frankenstein, for instance, they’re not just encountering a Gothic novel; they’re engaging with Enlightenment philosophy, the early history of science, and questions of moral responsibility that still resonate today. Similarly, when my students analyze Hamlet or The Canterbury Tales, they are studying psychology, theology, rhetoric, and sociology as much as literature. This layered approach is what fuels my teaching, and what I believe could transform K–12 education if made foundational rather than elective. In a “Human Material Culture” course, students would trace how ideas evolve through objects and stories: how a medieval manuscript communicates faith and fear; how a Victorian factory reflects the tensions of progress; how a digital meme becomes a modern form of satire. In younger grades, the course might look like guided play and storytelling: how the things we make express our identity. In later years, it would become more analytical and project-based, asking students to curate small exhibitions, create multimedia essays, or design modern reinterpretations of historic ideas. A final project could be as creative as a podcast, as visual as a digital gallery, or as textual as a research essay, mirroring the choice-based, inquiry-driven structure that I use in my own classroom. Project-based learning is essential to this vision. I’ve seen how students thrive when they can build, write, and create in ways that connect the past to their own lives. Whether it’s crafting a “Canterbury Pilgrim” social media profile, composing a Shakespearean podcast, or filming their Gothic micro-fiction, students internalize complex ideas when they have the freedom to interpret and make meaning for themselves. A material culture course would encourage exactly that; deep thinking through doing. It would replace the passive absorption of content with active exploration, where students are both scholars and creators. The impact of such a course would be profound. In an era increasingly dominated by STEM and AI, the humanities remain essential to understanding why we create technology, not just how. A curriculum centered on human culture would nurture empathy, critical thinking, and historical consciousness. It would help students recognize patterns across time: how societies have confronted fear, injustice, and innovation; and how our responses reveal enduring human questions. Most importantly, it would teach them to value interpretation, ambiguity, and curiosity: the habits of mind that sustain a democratic and imaginative society. At its core, this class would remind students that every artifact, text, and image carries a narrative about what it means to be human. By studying how people across centuries have shaped and been shaped by the material world, students would leave school not only with academic knowledge but with cultural fluency and a sense of connectedness to the larger human story. That, to me, is the most vital outcome of education – not simply preparing students for a job, but preparing them for a life of thought, empathy, and participation in the shared project of humanity.

Glancing around the walls lined with bookcases, colorful posters, and littered with lost water bottles, the school year came to a close once again. After fifteen years in the classroom, it felt like my journey was only beginning as I prepared to embark on the Teaching and Learning Abroad program at Oxford University. As a teacher, I am surrounded by students each day, some eager to learn alongside those who struggle to find their passion within the assigned curriculum. After the pandemic, the struggle to engage teenagers was even more constant and demanded a revision of the traditional expectations in my North Carolina classroom. I knew this, but I was so tired of the daily grind that had become a teacher’s life. Caught up in grading, technology, and administrative requirements, it had become too rushed with no time to consider needs or interests of my own. The summer program at Oxford University’s Exeter College reignited my creativity: one that aimed to create not just a classroom but a globally aware sanctuary of learning. My time spent at Exeter College unfolded with seminars and courses that breathed life into my love for teaching and inspired new ideas on how to support students’ access to literature and ignite their curiosity. The prospect of not merely dissecting literary works but immersing myself in the very essence of human creation—art, architecture, and philosophy—resonated with the way I always envision learning in my classroom. The transformative experience and the time to engage with other educators has truly transformed my teaching methods allowing me to transform my classroom. Offering my students a profound and relevant experience from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to student-composed modern-day Shakespeare adaptations in film. Continuing to enhance and hone my project-based learning units, I strive to use fresh perspectives and methodologies gained from the summer program. Engaging in course discussions and collaborating on group projects opened the door to a treasure trove of ideas that I eagerly carried back to my students—a newfound appreciation for questions of identity, culture, and self-awareness. The interdisciplinary nature of the literature and arts course holds an inestimable opportunity for me that I cannot wait to explore. It was an invitation to bridge the gap between literature, art, architectural history, history, and philosophy—a journey into a world where each discipline danced in harmony. The exploration of British history promises a multifaceted understanding of the past, and I embrace the challenge of analyzing visual art and architecture alongside literary texts. The course’s emphasis on interdisciplinary studies, and research skills has opened new doors to a more holistic approach to how my students previously considered literature. My excitement has infused my classroom and is integral to my decision to apply for the Master’s program with the Continuing Education Department at The University of Oxford. My goal is to pursue my advanced degree without bidding farewell to my beloved classroom. The course’s interdisciplinary view has continued to inspire my curriculum design and aligns with my vision for a globally aware and inclusive classroom. I have already seen how my enthusiasm and increased learning have had positive effects in the classroom as I work with students to find their own niche. It has been affirming in a way I could not have predicted and shown me how much our students see and absorb from the world around them. As we work together to learn more about the humanities: art, history, philosophy, literature, I always drive them to see its application to understanding who they are through their learning. T

Public service, especially in the role of a teacher, holds a unique and profound significance for me. It is a career rooted in a sense of responsibility to the community, a drive to foster growth in others, and a deep belief in the power of education to transform lives. Pursuing a Master’s degree in the humanities while continuing to serve as a teacher in public schools is a natural extension of this commitment. Teaching is more than a profession—it is a vocation grounded in empathy, critical thinking, and the desire to elevate others. The humanities, with their focus on human experience, ethics, and the exploration of culture and history, are at the heart of this calling. I entered public service as a teacher because of a deep belief in the power of education to shape not only individual futures but the broader society. In the classroom, I engage with students in critical dialogue about literature, history, and philosophy, helping them understand not only the content of the curriculum but how it applies to their lives and the world around them. The humanities offer a framework through which students can explore diverse perspectives, grapple with ethical dilemmas, and develop a sense of empathy and global citizenship. In guiding students through this process, I see education as a means of empowering them to think independently and critically, preparing them to become active and informed participants in a democratic society. Pursuing my Master’s degree in the humanities while working as a public school teacher allows me to deepen my own understanding and expertise, which in turn benefits my students. Advanced study in the humanities challenges me to engage with complex ideas and interdisciplinary perspectives, enriching my teaching practice. It also equips me to introduce more innovative and thoughtful approaches to the curriculum, creating learning experiences that are more meaningful for my students. At a time when education is often narrowly focused on metrics and standardized testing, a deeper engagement with the humanities provides a counterbalance, reminding me—and my students—of the importance of critical inquiry, ethical reasoning, and the shared human experience. In essence, my pursuit of a Master’s degree is not just about advancing my own career, but about enhancing my ability to serve my students and contribute to the broader educational landscape. I am deeply committed to public service through education, and this path allows me to grow both personally and professionally while continuing to make a meaningful impact in the lives of my students.

Public service, especially in the role of a teacher, holds a unique and profound significance for me. It is a career rooted in a sense of responsibility to the community, a drive to foster growth in others, and a deep belief in the power of education to transform lives. Pursuing a Master’s degree in the humanities, while continuing to serve as a teacher in public schools, is a natural extension of this commitment. Teaching is more than a profession—it is a vocation grounded in empathy, critical thinking, and the desire to help others. The humanities, with their focus on human experience, ethics, and the exploration of culture and history, are at the heart of this calling. I entered public service as a teacher because of a deep belief in the power of education to shape not only individual futures but the broader society. In the classroom, I engage with students in critical dialogue about literature, history, and philosophy, helping them understand not only the content of the curriculum but how it applies to their lives and the world around them. The humanities offer a framework through which students can explore diverse perspectives, grapple with ethical dilemmas, and develop a sense of empathy and global citizenship. In guiding students through this process, I see education as a means of empowering them to think independently and critically, preparing them to become active and informed participants in a democratic society. Pursuing my Master’s degree in the humanities while working as a public school teacher allows me to deepen my own understanding and expertise, which in turn benefits my students. Advanced study in the humanities challenges me to engage with complex ideas and interdisciplinary perspectives, enriching my teaching practice. It also equips me to introduce more innovative and thoughtful approaches to the curriculum, creating learning experiences that are more meaningful for my students. At a time when education is often narrowly focused on metrics and standardized testing, a deeper engagement with the humanities provides a counterbalance, reminding me—and my students—of the importance of critical inquiry, ethical reasoning, and the shared human experience. In essence, my pursuit of a Master’s degree is not just about advancing my own career, but about enhancing my ability to serve my students and contribute to the broader educational landscape. I am deeply committed to public service through education, and this path allows me to grow both personally and professionally while continuing to make a meaningful impact in the lives of my students.

I stared out at the sea of heavy lidden eyes wondering if they understood the instructions. Several groans came from the back of the classroom when I had mentioned poetry. I knew I had limited time to get these 30 teenagers’ interest before they drifted back into the world of TikTok. As an English teacher with over seventeen years of experience, I may expect creativity and new thinking from my students. My walls are decorated with evidence of their thinking and originality, but as a teacher, new thinking is in short supply. My creativity may not exist in physical endeavors, but I engage students to think about the world in new ways and encourage them to explore ideas without limits. During my recent poetry unit, I realized that my students did not feel comfortable with poetry and didn’t find it interesting. My first instinct was to pull out my favorite poem; however, I doubted they’d love Anne Bradstreet as I did. Instead, I turned my ideas to appealing to artists they already knew. I pulled songs from Tupac Shakur, Lil’ Gambino, Beyonce, and Taylor Swift to excite and engage them in the many forms of poetry in their world today. Using their interests, I had students identify works they loved and compete in a ‘March Madness’ poetry slam. Each work is judged against another with students arguing for their favorite text. Hearing students debate the intricacies of justice in Lil’ Gambino’s song versus the simple rose and concrete metaphor of Tupac, or the powerful literary allusions in Taylor Swift’s works began to engage the whole class. After a series of bracket “games,” two winners emerged for the showdown with a sea of young voices pointing out alliteration, rhyme, and meter and their effects on the reader; I knew it was a win for all of us. Teaching high school students is a fulfilling and sometimes exhausting experience; however, there is nothing better than when all of the different elements come together for a true learning experience. For all of my life, I have loved words and reading: books, poetry, the dictionary, or the back of the cereal box; it made no difference. I loved the worlds that words can create for the mind. Instilling this love and engagement with language is what I strive to do each day. I hope to provide students with opportunities to read and find their love of language, hone their ability to communicate with others, and offer them new worlds to visit in the pages of a book. By exciting their interests with my enthusiasm, I approach problems in the classroom with humor and creativity.

I stared out at the sea of heavy lidden eyes wondering if they understood the instructions. Several groans came from the back of the classroom when I had mentioned poetry. I knew I had limited time to get these 30 teenagers’ interest before they drifted back into the world of TikTok. As an English teacher with over seventeen years of experience, creativity is not a quality that comes to mind regularly. I may expect this from my students, and my classroom walls are decorated with evidence of their thinking and originality, but as a teacher, creativity can be in limited supply for us. During my recent poetry unit, I realized that my students did not feel comfortable with poetry and didn’t find it enjoyable. My first instinct was to pull out my favorite poem; however, I doubted they’d love Anne Bradstreet as I did. Instead, I turned my ideas to appealing to artists they already knew. I pulled songs from Tupac Shakur, Lil’ Gambino, Beyonce, and Taylor Swift to excite and engage them in the many forms of poetry in our world. Using their interest, I had students identify works they loved and compete in a ‘March Madness’ poetry slam. Each work is judged against another with students arguing for their favorite text. Hearing students debate the intricacies of justice in Lil’ Gambino’s song versus the simple rose and concrete metaphor of Tupac, or the powerful literary allusions in Taylor Swift’s works began to engage the whole class. After a series of bracket “games,” two winners emerged for the showdown with a sea of young voices pointing out alliteration, rhyme, and meter and their effects on the reader; I knew it was a win for all of us. This experience has kept me in education even in a post-pandemic, severe teacher attrition era school system. Each year we have been tasked with doing more, with less, and each year we lose great teachers. Teaching high school students is a fulfilling and sometimes exhausting experience; however, there is nothing better than when all of the different elements come together for a true learning experience. For most of my life, I have loved words and reading: books, poetry, the dictionary, or the back of the cereal box; it made no difference. I loved it all. Instilling this love and engagement with language is what I strive to do each day. After having my own children, I realized how limited some students' exposure is to language. It takes so much time and energy to work, parent, and teach children. There are not enough hours in the day to do it all. I hope to provide students with opportunities to read and find their love of language, hone their ability to communicate with others, and offer them new worlds to visit in the pages of a book. By exciting their interests with my enthusiasm, I approach problems in the classroom with humor and creativity. My creativity may not exist in physical endeavors. I engage students to think about the world in new ways and encourage them to explore ideas without limits. \

A student once asked me, “What do YOU want out of your life?” Teenagers are not known for their subtlety, but they sure know how to stump you at the oddest moments. At the time, I was drowning in the expectations of motherhood and full-time teaching; I was stumped by this question. I had two toddlers at home and my husband was military. It didn’t leave much time for me to contemplate my needs or goals. Since this interaction, I knew there was more I needed to accomplish for myself, not as a spouse, mom, or teacher, but for me. Pursuing passions and interests that I had long suppressed for lack of time or energy. I was prepared to return to grad school in the summer of 2020, but like so many others my plans were put on hold due to my husband’s deployment, and then, the pandemic. I juggled full-time teaching, and childcare alone throughout much of the lockdown, but had no reserves for additional pursuits. Juggling graduate school was a constant stream of prioritization and a challenge to me, but I found my village. The decision to pursue further education wasn't made lightly. This required me to manage my full teaching load: senior English and Yearbook, while also attending online classes, researching, posting responses, and meeting with my advisor AND mom life. My days are bustling with activity, but there's more. When the school bell rings, my role as a teacher doesn't end. It's a whirlwind of after-school activities, homework help, and quality time with my family. And just when you think I couldn't possibly take on more, there's graduate school. It has meant sacrificing precious moments with my family and dedicating countless hours to studying and research. But it also meant fulfilling my long held dream, expanding my knowledge, and setting an example for my kids: both my little ones at home AND the ones that are in my classroom each day. Juggling these roles isn't easy. There are moments of exhaustion, doubt, and even guilt. Am I spending enough time with my family? How will I ever complete all this reading? Will I ever catch up on my grading? These thoughts often swirl around in my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. But I remember the passion that drives me—the love for teaching, and learning that have always been a huge part of who I am. And with that realization, I summon the balance needed to keep going. Knowing that I have a solid foundation to rely on and a village of supporters cheering for me and lending helping hands when I need it.

A student once asked me, “What do YOU want out of your life?” Teenagers are not known for their subtlety, but they sure know how to stump you at the oddest moments. At the time, I was drowning in the expectations of motherhood and full-time teaching; I was stumped by this question. I had two toddlers at home and my husband was military. It didn’t leave much time for me to contemplate my needs or goals. Since this interaction, I knew there was more I needed to accomplish for myself, not as a spouse, mom, or teacher, but for me. Pursuing passions and interests that I had long suppressed for lack of time or energy. I was prepared to return to grad school in the summer of 2020, but like so many others my plans were put on hold due to my husband’s deployment, and then, the pandemic. I juggled full-time teaching, and childcare alone throughout much of the lockdown, but had no reserves for additional pursuits. Juggling graduate school was a constant stream of prioritization and a challenge to me, but I found my village. The decision to pursue further education wasn't made lightly. This required me to manage my full teaching load: senior English and Yearbook, while also attending online classes, researching, posting responses, and meeting with my advisor AND mom life. My days are bustling with activity, but there's more. When the school bell rings, my role as a teacher doesn't end. It's a whirlwind of after-school activities, homework help, and quality time with my family. And just when you think I couldn't possibly take on more, there's graduate school. It has meant sacrificing precious moments with my family and dedicating countless hours to studying and research. But it also meant fulfilling my long held dream, expanding my knowledge, and setting an example for my kids: both my little ones at home AND the ones that are in my classroom each day. Juggling these roles isn't easy. There are moments of exhaustion, doubt, and even guilt. Am I spending enough time with my family? How will I ever complete all this reading? Will I ever catch up on my grading? These thoughts often swirl around in my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. But I remember the passion that drives me—the love for teaching, and learning that have always been a huge part of who I am. And with that realization, I summon the balance needed to keep going. Knowing that I have a solid foundation to rely on and a village of supporters cheering for me and lending helping hands when I need it.

As an experienced educator, I am passionate about enriching my teaching methodologies and expanding my understanding of literature and the arts to create a more engaging and globally aware classroom environment. The prospect of delving into the intricacies of not just literary works, but the facets of human creation: art, architecture, and philosophy that surround a text and affect its creation speaks to how I address learning in my classroom. During the most recent summer graduate classes at Exeter College, the seminars and courses reinvigorated not only my love for teaching but also my love for learning. It has been many years since I have seen the classroom from a student’s perspective but through the daily seminars, lectures, and research in my courses, I was excited to pursue my academic interests. The innovative approach to exploring Romeo and Juliet's deaths through mock trials, graphing Hamlet's existential crisis, and crafting Lady Macbeth-style monologues demonstrates the transformative impact such teaching methods can have on students' engagement and critical thinking. I eagerly integrated the insights gained from this course into my curriculum providing my students with a more profound and relevant experience of Shakespeare's works. The students’ responses have continued to encourage me on my path of advanced academic study. Equally compelling is the "World Literatures in English" course, which holds great significance in fostering cultural awareness and a sense of global community through literature. Currently teaching a Muted Voices unit, I am excited about the opportunity to enhance my project-based learning units by incorporating the fresh perspectives and methodologies gained from the Summer program. Through course discussions and group projects with the other attendees, I found so many new ideas to bring to my students. Exploring questions of identity, culture, and self-awareness with like-minded thinkers has greatly contributed to refining and expanding my teaching approach, aligning with the broader goal of creating a globally conscious and culturally sensitive classroom. The interdisciplinary nature of the literature and arts course at Oxford is particularly appealing to me, offering a unique opportunity to bridge the gap between literature, art, architectural history, history, and philosophy. The sequential exploration of British history, with a focus on key periods and achievements, promises a multifaceted understanding of the past. I am enthusiastic about overcoming the challenges posed by interdisciplinary study, such as analyzing visual art and architecture alongside literary texts. One of the key components of my teaching is using visual mediums as texts and teaching students to become critical evaluators of multi-modal messaging. The online components offered in the course, especially the emphasis on developing interdisciplinary research skills, are invaluable in preparing me for a more holistic approach to historical and cultural studies and will provide me with the opportunity to pursue my advanced degree without leaving the classroom. Moreover, the introductory unit's emphasis on Britain's global cultural interactions since the sixteenth century resonates with my commitment to a broad perspective on cultural history. The utilization of the Ashmolean Museum's international collections as a model for understanding British culture's formation is a unique and inspiring approach that aligns with my vision of fostering cultural inclusivity in the classroom. I am confident that participating in this graduate program will deepen my knowledge and pedagogical skills and empower me to inspire and educate my students in more meaningful ways. I am excited about the opportunity to contribute to and benefit from the rich academic and cultural resources offered by Oxford University. This scholarship would help me advance my goals in promoting education for young people as I continue my journey as a lifelong learner.