Books have always been a guiding force in my life, teaching me resilience, hope, and personal growth. One book that had a profound impact on me is The Road by Cormac McCarthy. The novel explores survival and the bond between a father and son in a post-apocalyptic world. It taught me that even in the darkest of times, there’s always a way forward. Growing up in a first-generation, low-income household, I’ve faced my own set of challenges. My mom worked long hours to support us, and I often had to step in to help care for my younger siblings. These experiences taught me the importance of resilience and responsibility, which are central to my goals. Reading books like The Road, A Man’s Search for Meaning, and The Color Purple helped me understand that no matter how difficult things get, there is always room to grow. I learned that every challenge, whether personal or academic, is an opportunity for improvement. These books instilled in me the value of finding purpose even in hardship, which is a lesson I carry with me every day. One of the biggest failures I faced was in middle school when I struggled with algebra. I failed a test and thought I couldn’t succeed in math. Instead of giving up, I worked harder. I stayed after school for extra help, practiced on my own, and sought guidance from my teachers. Over time, algebra became less intimidating, and I learned that failure is just a part of the process. This experience taught me that failure is not permanent and that persistence can turn challenges into triumphs. I’ve applied that mindset to other areas of my life, tackling challenges with determination. Mentorship has been crucial in shaping my journey. I’ve been fortunate to have teachers who believed in me even when I doubted myself. One of my English teachers encouraged me to use my voice and share my ideas. This support helped me overcome my fear of speaking in front of others and has been invaluable both academically and personally. It inspired me to take on leadership roles, where I can help others find their confidence, just as my mentors did for me. I’ve also sought opportunities to give back to my community. I volunteered at the OC Autism Breakfast with Santa, assisting children with special needs. Additionally, I helped organize materials and create craft kits for kids at the Tibor Rubin Library. These experiences taught me that even small acts of service can have a big impact. I’ve seen firsthand how simple kindness can change someone’s day. My background, experiences, and mentors have shaped me into someone passionate about giving back and using my skills to make a difference. I plan to pursue engineering, a field that will allow me to solve real-world problems and contribute to a better future. I am committed to helping my community and encouraging others to believe in themselves, just as I was encouraged to do. The lessons I’ve learned from the books I’ve read, the challenges I’ve faced, and the mentors who have guided me have made me more determined than ever to make a positive impact.

As I entered my seventh-grade year, I made what I believed to be mathematical suicide. After struggling through sixth-grade math, I was convinced that Algebra 1 was going to ruin my life. That first step felt like sealing my fate with poor grades and disappointed parents. But my parents—especially my mom—saw something in me that I hadn’t yet discovered: a drive to succeed in something that terrified me—math. At the time, I didn’t understand her confidence. My mom has raised me and my two younger siblings on her own since the divorce, working tirelessly to support us. As the oldest, I’ve carried a lot of responsibility—helping with my siblings, managing schoolwork, and trying not to let the pressure break me. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I found a rhythm. I learned that if I could face something as intimidating as math and overcome it, I could face anything. Once I committed to spending extra time learning the rules, understanding the lectures, and doing more than just the homework, that fear turned into excitement. Math became my confidence-builder—the key ingredient in the fried rice of my life, because just like that dish, success took time, effort, and a bit of heat. That confidence spilled over into other parts of my life. It gave me the courage to join the wrestling team, even though I’d never seen myself as an athlete. It pushed me to enroll in college-level courses in high school and ultimately set me on the path toward engineering—a field that combines problem-solving and creativity to build solutions that can change lives. My fear of math has now become my fuel. Being a first-generation college student from a low-income background means something deeper than personal success. It means breaking a cycle. It means showing my younger siblings that where we start doesn’t determine where we end up. A college degree wouldn’t just open doors for me—it would be the foundation for a new legacy in my family. It would validate the long nights, the quiet sacrifices, and the hard work my mom has poured into giving us a future. I’m passionate about solving problems—whether it's unraveling a tough math concept, fixing something around the house, or helping my little brother with his homework. I love the process of understanding how things work and using that knowledge to make life better. I’ve followed this passion by taking challenging math and science courses, tutoring my peers, and embracing leadership roles in group projects where I can bring ideas to life. College won’t be easy—but I’ve never expected it to be. I’ve already learned how to face fear, to push through pressure, and to rise from where I once thought I’d fall. I’m ready to build something bigger—not just for me, but for everyone who's counting on me.

From a young age, I’ve always been interested in problem-solving, which eventually led me to develop a passion for mathematics and a desire to pursue a career in aerospace engineering. I still remember the moment I decided to take Algebra 1 in seventh grade. At the time, it felt like the worst decision I could make. After struggling with math in sixth grade, I was convinced that Algebra would be impossible for me. I feared it would ruin my grades and leave me disappointed. However, what started as fear turned into excitement, and that passion for math completely changed my academic path. My parents, especially my mom, saw potential in me that I hadn’t noticed. They believed in my ability to succeed, even when I didn’t. So, instead of giving up, I committed to putting in the extra work—spending more time understanding the rules and equations, paying close attention in class, and doing more than just my assigned homework. Gradually, my fear of math shifted into excitement. This new confidence extended beyond math and led me to take on more challenges in other areas of my life, like joining the wrestling team, challenging myself with college-level courses, and setting my sights on a future in aerospace engineering. My professional goal of becoming an aerospace engineer is rooted in my desire to create innovative solutions that solve real-world problems. I want to design safer aircraft, explore sustainable space technology, and contribute to advancements that can benefit people across the world. For me, aerospace engineering represents the perfect blend of creativity and problem-solving, and I want to be part of something that not only advances technology but also improves lives. The challenges I’ve faced growing up have shaped my determination. My parents divorced when I was young, and I’ve grown up in a single-parent household. My mom has worked tirelessly to support me and my two younger siblings. As the oldest, I’ve taken on a lot of responsibilities at home, from helping with schoolwork to caring for my siblings. It hasn’t always been easy, but it has taught me the value of hard work, responsibility, and resilience. On top of that, I’ll be the first in my family to attend college. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m committed to succeeding and setting a positive example for my siblings. Giving back to my community has always been important to me, and I’ve done this by volunteering in various ways. I’ve tutored younger students in math, volunteered at local charity events, and helped with after-school programs. Through these experiences, I’ve learned the importance of helping others and using my skills to make a positive difference. These opportunities have also inspired me to think about how I can make a difference in the world through my future career. Whether it's using aerospace technology to improve access to education or mentoring other students who are first-generation college applicants, I want to use my skills to help others, just like so many people have helped me. Volunteering and helping others has shown me that success is not just about achieving personal goals—it’s also about lifting others up along the way. That’s why I want to focus not only on reaching my professional goals but also on using my career to create a positive impact. My journey has taught me that with hard work, determination, and a commitment to helping others, I can make a real difference in the world.

As I entered my seventh-grade year, I decided to do what I believed at the time was mathematical suicide. After struggling through sixth-grade math, I was convinced that taking Algebra 1 would ruin my life. I expected poor grades, overwhelming confusion, and disappointed parents. But what I didn’t expect was that it would change everything for me. What I couldn’t see then—but my parents somehow did—was that I had a hidden drive for mathematics. At the time, I didn’t believe in it. Math felt like an impossible subject. But once I started putting in the effort—really learning the rules, understanding the lectures, and doing more than just the assigned homework—my fear slowly turned into interest. And that interest quickly became excitement. My excitement for math became the key ingredient in what I call “the fried rice of my confidence.” It gave me the courage to take risks, like joining the wrestling team, enrolling in college-level courses, and aiming for a future I never thought I could reach: a career in aerospace engineering. I want to become an aerospace engineer because I believe in the power of innovation and the ability to solve real-world problems. Whether it’s designing safer aircraft, building sustainable space technology, or exploring the unknown, aerospace engineering represents everything I’ve grown to love: challenge, purpose, and possibility. I want to use this career to make a positive impact on the world—not just through technology, but by inspiring others who come from backgrounds like mine. My journey hasn’t been easy. My parents divorced when I was young, and I’ve grown up in a single-parent household. My mom works tirelessly to support me and my two younger siblings. As the oldest, I’ve taken on responsibilities that many of my peers haven’t had to think about—helping with schoolwork, cooking meals, and being a role model at home. On top of that, I’ll be the first in my family to attend college. I’m proud of that, but it also comes with pressure and uncertainty. There’s no roadmap, no one to guide me through the college process. Still, I’ve learned how to face adversity head-on. I’ve learned to work hard, stay focused, and keep moving forward even when things feel overwhelming. The formula I discovered in seventh grade—learn the rules, listen to the lecture, and do more than just the homework—has carried me through every challenge since. It’s taught me discipline, confidence, and how to believe in myself even when it’s difficult. I used to think Algebra would ruin my life. Now, math is the reason I’m chasing a future I’m passionate about. And with a college education, I know I can take that passion and turn it into something meaningful—not just for me, but for my family and the world around me.

I come from a Vietnamese immigrant family and am a first-generation student. My parents divorced when I was young, and my mom has been raising me and my two younger siblings on her own ever since. We’re a low-income family, and I’ve seen firsthand how hard my mom works just to provide the basics. Her strength and sacrifice have shaped my values and inspired me to take my education seriously. As the oldest child, I’ve taken on a lot of responsibility at home—helping my siblings with school, doing chores, and making sure things run smoothly while my mom is at work. Balancing that with school hasn’t always been easy, but it’s made me more mature and focused. I’ve challenged myself academically by taking mostly AP classes, and I was also part of the wrestling team, which taught me discipline and how to keep pushing forward, even when things get tough. I plan to study aerospace engineering because I’ve always been fascinated by how things fly and the science behind it. More than that, I want to be part of a field where people from backgrounds like mine are underrepresented. With this education, I hope to not only support my family but also give back by mentoring students like me—those who feel like college or STEM careers might be out of reach. Education is my path to a better future, and I’m determined to make the most of every opportunity that comes my way—not just for myself, but for everyone who believes in me.

I am a product of a poor Vietnamese family and was raised by a single mother after my parents broke up. Being the eldest in a set of three siblings, I always had this sense of responsibility to contribute—whether it is taking care of my little brother and sister, homework, or maintaining order at home so my mom has time to work extra hours. My mom is maybe one of the strongest individuals I have ever known. She immigrated to the U.S. with nothing and built a life for us, even though it has not always been simple. Witnessing her sacrifice so much in order to give us a better future has inspired me to work harder in school and aim high, even when it gets difficult. I am a first-generation student, and college has always felt like the great goal hovering in front of me—not just for me, but for my whole family. My mom has always told me that education is the key to changing our future, and that’s stuck with me. It hasn’t been easy figuring things out on my own, like how to apply to college or what financial aid is, but I’ve learned a lot by asking questions, researching, and pushing myself to stay on track. My friends and teachers have also played a huge role in motivating me, and I thank them for that. I have chosen to study aerospace engineering because I've always been fascinated by how things fly and how we move around in space. I like learning about how things work, and the possibility of designing or building aircraft and spacecraft is actually exciting. There aren't a lot of people in my community with STEM careers, and I'd like to be one of the people who breaks that stereotype. I would also like to be able to inspire other immigrant or low-income students to go into science and engineering as well. Throughout high school, I challenged myself by taking most of my classes as AP courses and wrestling. Wrestling taught me how to stay focused while being put under stress and persevere even when things are tough—something that carries over in and out of the classroom. Outside the classroom, I like doing small projects, watching science videos, and hanging out with friends. I don't have a lot of downtime because of school and family responsibilities but I do try to stay balanced. Being Vietnamese and a child of immigrant parents has shaped my perception of the world. I've learned to be hard workers, humble, and never take opportunities for granted. I wish to use my education to its utmost capacity so that I can provide for my family and community. Not only do I wish to be successful for myself, but to also make people like me believe they can accomplish great things as well.

As I entered my seventh grade year, I made a decision that, at the time, felt like mathematical suicide. After barely surviving sixth grade math, I was convinced that taking Algebra 1 so early would ruin my academic life. I imagined long nights of frustration, plummeting grades, and the look of disappointment on my parents’ faces. The equations felt like riddles, and the logic of it all seemed far beyond my reach. But despite my doubts, my parents encouraged me to take the leap. They believed in something I hadn’t yet discovered in myself—a hidden potential and a drive for mathematics that was waiting to be uncovered. In those early days, the struggle was real. I stumbled through equations, second-guessed myself constantly, and feared failure at every turn. I was intimidated by every new formula and overwhelmed by the speed at which topics were introduced. I felt like everyone around me just “got it,” while I was barely treading water. But somewhere in that chaos, I decided to stop letting fear steer the wheel. I committed to putting in extra time, asking questions in class, attending tutoring sessions, reviewing lessons after school, and trying to truly understand what my teachers were explaining instead of just memorizing steps. That one decision—to lean into the discomfort—completely flipped the script. Slowly but surely, something amazing happened: I started to enjoy it. The satisfaction of solving a tough problem or finally grasping a difficult concept lit something inside me. My fear transformed into curiosity, and that curiosity became confidence. My excitement for math became the key ingredient in the fried rice of my self-esteem (yes, fried rice—because it’s comforting, a little chaotic, and everything blends together perfectly). Every new concept was like adding another flavorful spice to the mix, and my confidence grew with each small success. I began looking forward to challenges instead of dreading them. That confidence didn’t just stay in the classroom. It pushed me to try new things—like joining the wrestling team, stepping into leadership roles, enrolling in college-level courses, and setting my sights on a future in engineering. Math went from being a roadblock to a launchpad. It taught me a magic formula I now use for everything: learn the rules, listen to the lessons, and go beyond the bare minimum. Looking back, Algebra 1 didn’t ruin my life. It gave me the mindset to create a better one

As I entered my seventh grade year, I made a decision that, at the time, felt like mathematical suicide. After barely surviving sixth grade math, I was convinced that taking Algebra 1 so early would ruin my academic life. I imagined long nights of frustration, plummeting grades, and the look of disappointment on my parents’ faces. The equations felt like riddles, and the logic of it all seemed far beyond my reach. But despite my doubts, my parents encouraged me to take the leap. They believed in something I hadn’t yet discovered in myself—a hidden potential and a drive for mathematics that was waiting to be uncovered. In those early days, the struggle was real. I stumbled through equations, second-guessed myself constantly, and feared failure at every turn. I was intimidated by every new formula and overwhelmed by the speed at which topics were introduced. I felt like everyone around me just “got it,” while I was barely treading water. But somewhere in that chaos, I decided to stop letting fear steer the wheel. I committed to putting in extra time, asking questions in class, attending tutoring sessions, reviewing lessons after school, and trying to truly understand what my teachers were explaining instead of just memorizing steps. That one decision—to lean into the discomfort—completely flipped the script. Slowly but surely, something amazing happened: I started to enjoy it. The satisfaction of solving a tough problem or finally grasping a difficult concept lit something inside me. My fear transformed into curiosity, and that curiosity became confidence. My excitement for math became the key ingredient in the fried rice of my self-esteem (yes, fried rice—because it’s comforting, a little chaotic, and everything blends together perfectly). Every new concept was like adding another flavorful spice to the mix, and my confidence grew with each small success. I began looking forward to challenges instead of dreading them. That confidence didn’t just stay in the classroom. It pushed me to try new things—like joining the wrestling team, stepping into leadership roles, enrolling in college-level courses, and setting my sights on a future in engineering. Math went from being a roadblock to a launchpad. It taught me a magic formula I now use for everything: learn the rules, listen to the lessons, and go beyond the bare minimum. Looking back, Algebra 1 didn’t ruin my life. It gave me the mindset to create a better one.

As I entered my seventh grade year, I made a decision that, at the time, felt like mathematical suicide. After barely surviving sixth grade math, I was convinced that taking Algebra 1 so early would ruin my academic life. I imagined long nights of frustration, plummeting grades, and the look of disappointment on my parents’ faces. The equations felt like riddles, and the logic of it all seemed far beyond my reach. But despite my doubts, my parents encouraged me to take the leap. They believed in something I hadn’t yet discovered in myself—a hidden potential and a drive for mathematics that was waiting to be uncovered. In those early days, the struggle was real. I stumbled through equations, second-guessed myself constantly, and feared failure at every turn. I was intimidated by every new formula and overwhelmed by the speed at which topics were introduced. I felt like everyone around me just “got it,” while I was barely treading water. But somewhere in that chaos, I decided to stop letting fear steer the wheel. I committed to putting in extra time, asking questions in class, attending tutoring sessions, reviewing lessons after school, and trying to truly understand what my teachers were explaining instead of just memorizing steps. That one decision—to lean into the discomfort—completely flipped the script. Slowly but surely, something amazing happened: I started to enjoy it. The satisfaction of solving a tough problem or finally grasping a difficult concept lit something inside me. My fear transformed into curiosity, and that curiosity became confidence. My excitement for math became the key ingredient in the fried rice of my self-esteem (yes, fried rice—because it’s comforting, a little chaotic, and everything blends together perfectly). Every new concept was like adding another flavorful spice to the mix, and my confidence grew with each small success. I began looking forward to challenges instead of dreading them. That confidence didn’t just stay in the classroom. It pushed me to try new things—like joining the wrestling team, stepping into leadership roles, enrolling in college-level courses, and setting my sights on a future in engineering. Math went from being a roadblock to a launchpad. It taught me a magic formula I now use for everything: learn the rules, listen to the lessons, and go beyond the bare minimum. Looking back, Algebra 1 didn’t ruin my life. It gave me the mindset to create a better one.

As I entered my seventh grade year, I made a decision that, at the time, felt like mathematical suicide. After barely surviving sixth grade math, I was convinced that taking Algebra 1 so early would ruin my academic life. I imagined long nights of frustration, plummeting grades, and the look of disappointment on my parents’ faces. The equations felt like riddles, and the logic of it all seemed far beyond my reach. But despite my doubts, my parents encouraged me to take the leap. They believed in something I hadn’t yet discovered in myself—a hidden potential and a drive for mathematics that was waiting to be uncovered. In those early days, the struggle was real. I stumbled through equations, second-guessed myself constantly, and feared failure at every turn. I was intimidated by every new formula and overwhelmed by the speed at which topics were introduced. I felt like everyone around me just “got it,” while I was barely treading water. But somewhere in that chaos, I decided to stop letting fear steer the wheel. I committed to putting in extra time, asking questions in class, attending tutoring sessions, reviewing lessons after school, and trying to truly understand what my teachers were explaining instead of just memorizing steps. That one decision—to lean into the discomfort—completely flipped the script. Slowly but surely, something amazing happened: I started to enjoy it. The satisfaction of solving a tough problem or finally grasping a difficult concept lit something inside me. My fear transformed into curiosity, and that curiosity became confidence. My excitement for math became the key ingredient in the fried rice of my self-esteem (yes, fried rice—because it’s comforting, a little chaotic, and everything blends together perfectly). Every new concept was like adding another flavorful spice to the mix, and my confidence grew with each small success. I began looking forward to challenges instead of dreading them. That confidence didn’t just stay in the classroom. It pushed me to try new things—like joining the wrestling team, stepping into leadership roles, enrolling in college-level courses, and setting my sights on a future in engineering. Math went from being a roadblock to a launchpad. It taught me a magic formula I now use for everything: learn the rules, listen to the lessons, and go beyond the bare minimum. Looking back, Algebra 1 didn’t ruin my life. It gave me the mindset to create a better one.

As I entered my seventh grade year, I made a decision that, at the time, felt like mathematical suicide. After barely surviving sixth grade math, I was convinced that taking Algebra 1 so early would ruin my academic life. I imagined long nights of frustration, plummeting grades, and the look of disappointment on my parents’ faces. The equations felt like riddles, and the logic of it all seemed far beyond my reach. But despite my doubts, my parents encouraged me to take the leap. They believed in something I hadn’t yet discovered in myself—a hidden potential and a drive for mathematics that was waiting to be uncovered. In those early days, the struggle was real. I stumbled through equations, second-guessed myself constantly, and feared failure at every turn. I was intimidated by every new formula and overwhelmed by the speed at which topics were introduced. I felt like everyone around me just “got it,” while I was barely treading water. But somewhere in that chaos, I decided to stop letting fear steer the wheel. I committed to putting in extra time, asking questions in class, attending tutoring sessions, reviewing lessons after school, and trying to truly understand what my teachers were explaining instead of just memorizing steps. That one decision—to lean into the discomfort—completely flipped the script. Slowly but surely, something amazing happened: I started to enjoy it. The satisfaction of solving a tough problem or finally grasping a difficult concept lit something inside me. My fear transformed into curiosity, and that curiosity became confidence. My excitement for math became the key ingredient in the fried rice of my self-esteem (yes, fried rice—because it’s comforting, a little chaotic, and everything blends together perfectly). Every new concept was like adding another flavorful spice to the mix, and my confidence grew with each small success. I began looking forward to challenges instead of dreading them. That confidence didn’t just stay in the classroom. It pushed me to try new things—like joining the wrestling team, stepping into leadership roles, enrolling in college-level courses, and setting my sights on a future in engineering. Math went from being a roadblock to a launchpad. It taught me a magic formula I now use for everything: learn the rules, listen to the lessons, and go beyond the bare minimum. Looking back, Algebra 1 didn’t ruin my life. It gave me the mindset to create a better one.

As a first-generation college student, my career goals are greatly impacted by my origin. It encourages me to stay focused and work even harder to pave the way not only for myself but for my younger siblings as well. Being the oldest alone gives me this great responsibility to inspire them—that if I am committed and dedicated, so can they, and they can achieve their own dreams. My mom sacrificed a lot to provide us things she’d never get. She’s always put food on the table and made sure we had an education, and that drives me every day. Her strength and determination not only inspires me to be the engineer that I can be — someone who challenges the normal, someone who creates solutions to real-world problems, someone who has an impact on the world. I want to eventually work in government, to serve and be a part of making the world a better place. I want to be able to support my family and give them stability in any of their endeavors and allow them more opportunities they never though they would have ever had. I want to show appreciation for those around me that wanted nothing but the best for me and supported me along the way.

As a first-generation college student, higher education represents more than just academic success—it is a way to honor my parents’ sacrifices and build a future that reflects their hard work and dedication. My parents gave up everything familiar to provide a better life for me and my siblings. They have worked long hours, often in physically demanding jobs, just to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. Pursuing a degree in engineering is my way of showing how much I appreciate everything they have done and how seriously I take the opportunity they have given me. I chose engineering because I have always been drawn to solving problems and understanding how things work. Whether it was taking apart old electronics around the house or staying late to finish a science project at school, I have always found joy in building, fixing, and creating. These hands-on experiences helped me realize that engineering was more than just a subject—it was something that gave me purpose. Beyond my passion for STEM, I also see engineering as a path that can lead to financial stability—something I want not only for myself, but also for my family. My ultimate goal is to graduate, begin a meaningful career, and be able to support my parents the way they have supported me for my entire life. Being a first-generation student means I have had to learn how to navigate the college process on my own. I did not grow up with anyone who could explain FAFSA, college applications, or what to expect in higher education. I had to ask questions, do research, and sometimes just figure it out as I went. In high school, I challenged myself by taking rigorous courses, especially in math and science, to prepare for the demands of an engineering program. I also participated in STEM enrichment programs and found mentors who offered guidance and encouragement when I needed it most. Through this journey, I have developed resilience, independence, and a strong sense of determination. I know college will not be easy, but I am ready for the challenge. I carry with me the strength of my parents and the hopes of my siblings. I want to be someone they are proud of. Earning a college degree is my way of saying thank you—to my parents, to everyone who has believed in me, and to the younger version of myself who never stopped dreaming of something bigger.