As I finish high school, and prepare to attend UC Berkeley this fall, I’ve been thinking about what has shaped me most. I keep coming back to the communities that helped me to grow and gave me the chance to help others grow too. As a two-year low brass section leader and trombone player in the SRVHS Marching Band, I inherited a group that was uneven in skill and disconnected after the pandemic. Some students were new, others were not fully committed, and we did not feel like a team. I focused on small, intentional changes: pairing rookies with veterans, setting goals for each show, and building systems for communication and accountability. I am grateful for that experience because it taught me how to build belonging on purpose, how to lead across differences, and how consistency and care can turn a group into a community. That same lesson showed up in sports, but in a more personal way. I grew up with a developmental coordination disorder, so basketball and movement never came easily to me. I needed extra reps, more time, and different ways of learning a skill. Over time, through persistence and support from coaches and teammates, I stopped seeing that as a limitation. I learned to break skills into smaller steps, to stay after practice, and to measure progress in effort as much as outcome. I played three years of basketball at SRV and four years of track, and I no longer think of myself as someone with a limitation. I think of myself as someone who learned how to work. That mindset shaped how I show up for others. Coaching middle school athletes and working with younger players, I try to meet people where they are and find ways to help things click. I am grateful for the challenge that forced me to develop that patience and creativity, because it changed not only how I improve, but how I lead. I am also grateful for the opportunity to explore what I want to learn. I entered high school thinking I would be an engineer, but after attending two selective STEM programs for women, I realized something was missing. I was drawn to problems, but I wanted a deeper connection to people, culture, and stories. That led me to anthropology and archaeology. Last summer, at the Center for American Archaeology Field School in Illinois, I was assigned a one-by-two meter excavation unit. I spent long days digging, sifting dirt, and searching for evidence of human activity. I loved the work, the physical effort, the science, and the collaboration, but most of all the feeling that each small discovery connected me to a larger human story. That experience helped me see the kind of work I want to pursue in the future. Finally, I am grateful for the chance to serve and to be part of my community. Volunteering at Alamo Care Home, where my grandfather lived with advanced Parkinson’s, I learned that what matters most is presence, taking a walk, finishing a puzzle, or sitting in conversation, even when it circles or pauses. Through working as a coach and member of the Youth Activation Committee for the Special Olympics, I learned to listen first and adapt so others can succeed. These experiences have shaped how I define impact, not as something large or visible, but as something consistent and human. Underlying all of this is my family, who have supported me, challenged me, and given me the confidence to find my own path. They have taught me to care deeply. I am most grateful for them.