If I could change one thing in education, it would be how we teach young children to understand themselves in a world increasingly mediated by screens. I believe that in early education, we have the rare chance to shape not only how a child learns, but how a child relates to others, to the world, and to their own sense of wonder. In an age where digital saturation begins in toddlerhood, children often arrive in classrooms overstimulated, yet under-nurtured. They are “connected” in the technological sense, but many lack the emotional connection and patient guidance that is foundational to human development. I am pursuing a degree at Georgetown University to bolster my understanding early childhood education because I want to meet these children with calm, presence, and the kind of understanding that rewires the pace and priorities of the classroom. My background as a theater educator has allowed me to work with young artists across the globe. In classrooms I have witnessed a universal truth: children want to be seen. They want someone to hear their stories, to reflect back to them that they matter. They crave the kind of attention that cannot be downloaded, swiped, or multitasked. I’ve worked with children for whom English is a second language, children on the autism spectrum, and children navigating trauma far beyond their years. Each time, I’ve seen how the arts, especially drama, offer them a language beyond words to express themselves and feel affirmed. But I have also seen how overstimulation and digital exposure have created barriers to focus, self-regulation, and imagination. Many of my students struggle to sit still, to follow a story from beginning to end, or to tolerate even small doses of discomfort without the immediate reward or distraction a screen provides. This isn't their fault — it’s the world they’ve inherited. And instead of punishing them for it, we must teach differently. We must cultivate classrooms that encourage embodied learning, slow thinking, and emotional literacy. We must model patience instead of performance. This is why I believe that early childhood education is the most important frontier of our time. If we can meet children with compassion during these first formative years, if we can slow down with them, breathe with them, and give them tools to navigate their feelings and curiosity, we stand a real chance of shaping a healthier, more connected generation. We can teach them to value presence over productivity, and to relate to others as more than faces behind a screen. What I want to bring into the classroom is not just knowledge, but presence. I want to be a teacher who helps children feel safe in their bodies, curious in their minds, and secure in their relationships. I want to create a learning environment where exploration is encouraged, mistakes are welcomed, and every child, no matter how noisy or shy, digitally immersed or newly arrived, feels known. My dream is to bring a drama- and play-based curriculum into early education spaces, particularly in underserved communities, where creativity is too often considered a luxury rather than a necessity. My passion for teaching is rooted in my own lived experience. I come from a low-income household where patience was sometimes in short supply and emotional understanding was rarely modeled. I know what it means to crave stability and structure and to need just one adult to believe in you. In working with children, I aim to be that adult. I have seen the transformative power of simply holding space for a child’s voice, validating their emotions, and giving them the tools to express themselves. This isn’t only teaching, it’s healing as well. The loss of Sierra Argumedo speaks deeply to me. Her dream that every child should feel seen and loved in the classroom, is the same dream that fuels my work. I carry it with me every time I step into a room of young people. I believe that education, when done right, can be one of the most compassionate professions in the world. It’s not just about shaping minds, but about safeguarding hearts. If I could change education, I would start by changing our priorities. I would advocate for curricula that emphasize self-regulation, imagination, and relationship-building alongside academic benchmarks. I would push for fewer screens in early childhood and more movement, music, storytelling, and sensory exploration. I would center the emotional world of the child as a key part of their learning journey. Because children are not just absorbing facts , they are becoming people. And the kind of people they become depends so much on who’s there to guide them.

Helping others with their mental health has been a central focus of my personal and professional life, shaped by my own journey through anxiety, agoraphobia, and PTSD in my late teens. Overcoming these challenges taught me the transformative power of compassion, creativity, and therapy—lessons I have worked to share with others through my background in theater and education. For years, I have designed and facilitated theater workshops that create safe spaces for participants to explore their emotions, confront fears, and build confidence. These workshops help individuals process their experiences and connect with others. I have seen how these methods can foster resilience and emotional healing, particularly for those who feel isolated or overwhelmed. By integrating mental health awareness into creative expression, I have helped participants discover their inner strength and develop tools to navigate life’s challenges. As I pursue a Bachelor’s degree at Georgetown University and eventually a Master’s in Psychology, my goal is to expand the scope and impact of my work. I plan to combine my studies in psychology with my experience in the arts to develop innovative therapeutic programs that address the mental health needs of underserved communities. These programs will use creative approaches, such as drama therapy and collaborative storytelling, to make mental health care more accessible and engaging. In my future career, I aim to emotionally support others by breaking down the stigma surrounding mental health and promoting open, inclusive conversations. I envision establishing community-based initiatives that integrate psychological principles with artistic practices to empower individuals to heal and thrive. Whether it’s working with schools, nonprofits, or mental health organizations, my mission is to ensure that emotional support and mental health resources are available to all who need them. At the heart of my work is a belief in the potential for growth and resilience within every individual. By fostering a culture of empathy and understanding, I hope to contribute to a world where seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Through my studies and future career, I am committed to helping others find hope, healing, and the courage to move forward.

Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book 1 Lines 1 - 88 (Translated by A.D. Melville): “Before the seas and lands had been created, before the sky that covers all, Nature displayed a single aspect only throughout the cosmos: Chaos was its name, a shapeless, unwrought mass of inert bulk, and nothing more, with the discordant seeds of disconnected elements all heaped together in anarchic disarray. No Sun as yet shone forth upon the world, nor did the waxing Moon renew her horns; nor was the Earth suspended in the air, balanced by her own weight; nor Ocean stretched to far horizons, as a world of sea. Land there was none, nor air, nor sky. The mass lay without form and shone without a light; no aspect of its essence could be seen; and each was hostile to the others’ kind, for in one body cold contended hot, and wet was dry, and soft was hard, and weightless substance strove with matter having weight.” Ovid’s depiction of the universe’s creation in Metamorphoses can be read as a metapoetic meditation—a self-reflective exploration of the poet’s role as a creator. The transformation of chaotic, disconnected elements into an ordered, harmonious cosmos mirrors Ovid’s poetic process of constructing his epic from a vast collection of myths. By juxtaposing natural creation with artistic creation, Ovid positions the poet as a divine architect, shaping chaos into meaningful form. At the core of this passage lies the image of Chaos, “a shapeless, unwrought mass of inert bulk.” This description of primordial disorder directly parallels the raw material of storytelling: myths, characters, themes, and ideas in their unrefined state. Like the discordant elements of Chaos—“cold contended hot, and wet was dry”—the poet’s source material is filled with tension, contradiction and contrasting narratives that must be resolved into a coherent structure. The poetic act, much like the cosmic act of creation, involves imposing order, balance, and clarity onto this formless mass. A.D. Melville’s translation highlights the tension between disordered elements: “discordant seeds of disconnected elements all heaped together in anarchic disarray.” This conjures the diversity of myths Ovid inherited, which in their unrefined state resemble seeds—raw potential waiting to be cultivated by the poet’s hand. The emergence of structure from Chaos functions not only as a cosmic process but also as a reflection of the Metamorphoses itself. Ovid’s epic spans vast narrative landscapes, from creation to the reign of Caesar Augustus, weaving hundreds of myths into a singular, unified tapestry. The eventual order that emerges in the passage—“each was hostile to the others’ kind” but is eventually balanced—mirrors the poet’s task: not to erase conflict, but to reconcile and organize it. Myths—gods and mortals, transformation and permanence, love and violence—are preserved in the Metamorphoses, framed in a way that reveals their interconnections and significance. Through this metapoetic reading, we also recognize Ovid as an innovator. By opening the Metamorphoses with the transformation of Chaos, Ovid aligns himself with divine creation, setting the stage for a work that will continue to explore transformation. This theme of transformation, mirrored in the description of Earth becoming “suspended in the air, balanced by her own weight,” reflects the precarious balance of Ovid’s project—uniting diverse myths into a cohesive narrative without collapsing under its ambition. In a performed reading of Metamorphoses, I found the interplay between voice and movement mirrored the text’s own process of transformation. As performers we began with the words on the page and constructed the work through physicality, we embodied Ovid’s creative act. Each transformation on stage—whether through gesture, expression, or vocal modulation—was a reenactment of the cosmic transformation described in the text. As Ovid transforms chaos into cosmos his language lends directly to performance, human’s ability to be transformative creatively across multiple mediums. The passage’s reference to the Sun’s absence—“no Sun as yet shone forth upon the world”—can function as a metaphor for poetic and artistic inspiration, emerging from darkness. As the world is illuminated through creation, the poet brings clarity to chaos, shaping it into a coherent whole. Ovid’s creation passage is not just a cosmological account but a metapoetic exploration of artistic creation. The transformation of Chaos into order mirrors the poet’s role in shaping raw material into a structured, meaningful whole. Through this process, Metamorphoses itself becomes a reflection of cosmic and human creation. Ovid’s work celebrates the power of art to impose meaning on a chaotic world, embodying the very act of transformation that it describes.