Growing up in a majority low-income small town, by the time I entered high school, I had come to the conclusion that the true measure of success is not how much money you have or how many degrees you get, it’s what you do with that money and that knowledge. Living in a community where so many people were struggling to make ends meet and put food on the table required this attitude. The first time I acted on this belief was the summer before tenth grade. The year before I noticed that a lot of my classmates didn’t have school supplies and some didn’t even have backpacks, and when I asked one of my teachers whether the school kept extra supplies on hand, she told me, “that would require funding,” which I took as a ‘no.’ So, I decided to do something about it. I put on a school supply drive and got enough donations to give over 80 kids (K-12) a full back-to-school set, including a backpack, and was even able to give some of the highschoolers graphing calculators. Even though I knew the drive was just a band-aid solution, it felt good knowing that I was able to help some kids, some of whom were my friends, start the school year confidently. A couple years later, while in undergrad, I was looking for volunteer opportunities and came across a daycare that helped low-income and foster families. Not only did they provide the families with childcare, they also provided diapers, toys, and clothing, but had recently got their funding cut and were asking for donations. So, I decided I would help and put on my second supply drive. This time, I didn’t collect nearly as many donations, only about two boxes. Embarrassed, I walked up to the daycare expecting disappointment but was met with enthusiasm. “Anything is better than nothing,” the facilitator told me. “A pack of diapers is still a pack of diapers.” Over the years, I’ve experienced this gratitude over and over, and it’s taught me that volunteering is less about giving and much more about seeing. Since I was 14, I’ve volunteered at food banks, elementary schools, tutoring programs, local gardens that harvest vegetables and fruits for food pantries, and even worked with the U.S. Forest Service, all of which have reinforced this sentiment. Volunteer work often serves our most underserved populations, communities that go unrecognized most of the time. What I find most fulfilling about this work is the community-building aspect, the fact that by doing something like donating a pack of diapers, you’re not just meeting someone’s basic needs, you’re also telling them that they matter. I opened this essay with the claim that those who have money should share it and those who have knowledge should use it. I don’t have money (obviously. I’m applying for a scholarship, after all), but I do have knowledge. I’m currently finishing my master’s in English and by next year will either be entering my first year of law school or starting my social work degree. Either path will help me take my altruistic pursuits to the next level and hopefully let me give back to low-income and rural communities like the ones I grew up in. I’ve been given so many opportunities in my life, mostly because of other people’s generosity, and I believe that it is only right to use those opportunities to build a brighter future for others, which is what I'm trying to do and what I believe this scholarship will help me achieve.

Discussing mental health issues in rural areas is difficult. Nearly everyone knows that, but discussing it and experiencing it are two different things. By the time I was 16, I had three classmates attempt suicide, one in active addiction, and knew more struggling with depression than not. This morning, I read an article on rural social work, the area I aim to specialize in, and came across this line: “while ‘rural communities have a tradition of caring and protecting their communities amid the various accessibility challenges they routinely face’ (p. 85), they do not necessarily offer the kind of support people need and may reinforce the cultural mores sustaining [their] problems” (Meng and Gray 2025). I couldn’t describe it better myself. I had a support system–it’s impossible not to in a town of fewer than 2,000 people–but when it came to mental health, all those doors closed. Luckily, I didn’t have too many issues on this front, but many of my friends did, and I had to witness their cries for help go unanswered. Too many times I heard people describe their deteriorating mental health as sensitivity, attention-seeking, or a “phase,” refer to issues like sexual assault, abuse, and other traumatic experiences as “character building,” and mental health resources as “hippy dippy nonsense” or “scams.” Instead, my friends were told things like, “go for a run when you feel ‘sad’” and to remember that they’d “grow out of it.” How one grows out of depression I’m still trying to figure out. One of the three classmates who attempted suicide was my close friend, at the time I would have said my best friend, and when I asked her after the fact why she’d done it, she told me, “people like us have no futures anyway, so I figured why not end it and try again.” (She believed in reincarnation.) About a year after this she cut me off because I chose to go to college, and she didn’t. “People like us don’t leave,” she’d said. For a long time, I believed that it was this rhetoric about small town kids being “doomed” that caused all my friends’ issues, which is why I decided to study English. I wanted to learn why narratives are so powerful, how they operate, and how to change them. Mostly, I wanted to know what had stolen my friend from me. Now, I want to know how I can prevent others from losing their friends. I currently have a bachelor’s and will soon have a master’s in English, which means that I know my way around narratives forwards, backwards, and sideways. In the process of getting these degrees, though, I’ve learned that the most damaging narratives never work alone. Most often, they are rather the result of, not the cause of, adverse experiences and a lack of beneficial resources, meaning to grapple with the rural “narrative” one must first grapple with the harsh realities of the rural experience, which most people only get by going elsewhere. This is not okay, and I want to do something about it. So, I’ve decided to become a youth therapist to help small town kids access mental health resources without having to leave their small towns. As hard as it was to lose that friendship, it’s harder to know that she and many of my other friends are still without the help that they need. Sadly, I know there are many like them. This is who I will work for as a mental health professional: the kids who are crying out in the wilderness, literally.

"The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats: Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? Yeats’ Philosophies in “The Second Coming” William Butler Yeats spent much of his life constructing his philosophy, pulling from mythologies and religions, as well as, teachings of famous philosophers like Nietzsche. He practiced automatic writing, through which he believed he could tap into a collective unconscious, which he called the Spiritus Mundi. He presented many aspects of this philosophy in his poetry, especially in “The Second Coming,” much of which can only be understood through his book, A Vision, where he attempted to present his ideas in their entirety. Only through analyzing “The Second Coming” with his philosophical ideals in mind, namely Nietzschean philosophy and his theory of “The Great Wheel,” can the reader fully understand Yeats’ message. Disturbed by the atrocities of the First World War and searching for the root of humanity’s evils, Yeats turned to the Nietzschean theories of cyclical history and warring forces. Nietzsche believed in ewige Wiederkehr, or Eternal Recurrence, which holds that all life exists in a warring cycle of two opposing forces. Yeats expanded this idea to create his theory of the “Great Wheel” or “Wheel of Time,” a life cycle consisting of 28 phases coinciding with the phases of the moon. Yeats believed, as Nietzsche did, that each person was reincarnated. However, in his theory, an individual’s soul is cycled through each phase of the wheel, alternating every 2000 years between opposing epochs, which Yeats deemed the Primary and Antithetical ages. Stemming from Nietzsche’s theory of Apollonian and Dionysian forces, opposing forces of art and intoxication, Yeats utilizes the Primary and Antithetical to represent the conflicting motivations of humanity and account for mass tragedies. He believed these forces existed in both the personal state and as ages on the Wheel of Time. This further emphasizes his belief in a dominating spiritual realm that controls not only the universe but also the individual. Within the first four lines, Yeats introduces his idea of the spinning gyres and establishes his belief in a growing Primary force. Yeats believed the Primary and Antithetical forces manifested themselves in a person’s soul as spiral vortexes. The closer one was to the center, the more antithetical they were, and vice versa. The Antithetical, rooted in Nietzsche’s Apollonian, represents everything artistic and beautiful, while the Primary, the Dionysian, is the “dark” force, from which all life stems. These can more loosely be applied to the inner drives of self-control/aspiration and self-destruction. Lines one through four express these beliefs. Yeats says, “Turning and turning in the widening gyre / The falcon cannot hear the falconer / Things fall apart; the center cannot hold / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world” (lines 1-4). Were the gyre turning toward the Antithetical, the falcon, representative of the individual and society, would be moving toward the falconer, an image Yeats uses as a representation of God and spirituality. However, in Yeats’ image, the falcon is separated from the falconer and this separation brings about anarchy. Within these first lines, Yeats establishes the focus of his poem: humanity’s separation from the Antithetical and the growing Primary force. Yeats believed the Primary and Antithetical forces embody two polarities on the Wheel of Time. Phase One, complete darkness, represents the beginning of the Primary period, and Phase 15, complete light, represents the Antithetical. Emphasizing his desperation during this destructive age, Yeats begins his second stanza with the exclamation, “Surely some revelation is at hand” (line 9). Given the events of WWI, it is understandable that Yeats felt his time was approaching the Primary age, an age where inner gyres become almost purely Primary, humanity falls victim to their base desires, and the world begins a period of self-destruction. In the Primary phase, Yeats believed, those who are more Antithetical, and therefore understand the dangers of Primary behaviors, are unable to act upon their moral “conviction” because they are surrounded by the Primary forces of others and the universe (line 7). This perhaps is his attempt to understand why people like himself could see the injustices of their world and be unable to change it. If the universe is contained in a predestined cycle of good and evil and each person is powerless in the scheme of their lives, then the evils of the world are not so much the fault of society, but more so part of the overarching plan of a divine being, and therefore not capable of being fully understood. In Yeats’ second stanza, he describes a spiritual vision he has of the coming Primary age, and, in doing so, outlines his overall philosophical claim. Through “a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi,” (line 12) Yeats sees an animal with the body of a lion and “the head of a man” (line 14) moving through the desert while “darkness drops again” (line 18). He questions what “rough beast…slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?” (line 22). In his poetry, Yeats often depicted the First Phase as a “beast” and utilized it as a symbol for death both in a metaphorical and literal sense. Here, he chooses to specify that the “beast” is a Sphinx. This is perhaps a reference to Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil, in which he used the myth of Oedipus and the Sphinx to introduce the Dionysian self. In this myth, the Sphinx would prompt a person with riddles and eat them should their answer be wrong. Nietzsche asks “Is it any wonder…that we should finally learn from this Sphinx to ask questions, too? Who is it really that puts questions to us here? What in us really wants ‘truth’?...Who of us is Oedipus here? Who the Sphinx?” (9). Nietzsche contends that though we believe ourselves to be Oedipus in our quest for understanding, we attempt to act as both. The universe is unknowable, yet we strive for an answer, therefore, we pose a riddle we, ourselves, can never solve. Nietzsche argued that one’s quest for full understanding was driven by the main motivation of the Dionysian force: a desire to exert control. In the first stanza, Yeats suggests, through the symbol of the falcon, that humanity has drifted from God. Here, he explains how. In attempting to gain control through full understanding, humanity has determined that their wisdom is equal to that of God in that they believe themselves capable of understanding a system greater and more complicated than they will ever be. This inflated sense of self leads people to act as if there is no higher being than themselves, so they engage in Primary behaviors, which leads to travesty, and separates them further from the Antithetical. Yeats further illustrates humanity’s separation from the Antithetical, specifically their separation from spiritualism, through the symbol of the “indignant desert birds” flying above the sphinx as it crawls across the desert. Though Yeats does not specify what species of bird these are, because he often used birds as symbols of the Antithetical age, the reader can assume that these birds are symbolic of the Antithetical age, as well. The lack of specificity is not concerning, though, as Yeats’ focus lies not in their species but in their indignance. They resent the Sphinx but do not attack it. Yeats writes that their “shadows,” not their bodies, “reel” around the Sphinx (line 17). Like the warring Primary and Antithetical ages, the birds are engaged in a battle with a force they cannot physically affect. In 1882, Nietzsche wrote his famous words, “God is Dead,” as a response to what he saw as the decay of Christianity and a rise in shallow materialism, a trend he believed would lead to mass self-destruction. Yeats, living amidst a post-war world, most likely saw Nietzsche’s warning as having come to fruition, choosing to symbolize this through the image of the Sphinx and its separation from the “desert birds.” Though at first Yeats’ poem may seem pessimistic, in actuality it is an admission of powerlessness, and therefore an attempt on Yeats’ part to find peace in his troubling world. Yeats hoped that others, as he did, could find solace in the idea of a predetermined cycle of time. Often referred to as “amor fati” or “the love of fate,” Yeats found a great sense of peace in knowing he had no control over his life. In his philosophy, there was no eternal death or destruction, only temporary phases on the Wheel of Time, which always shifted to periods of light. He could control nothing, but he saw the ever-shifting nature of life as a sign that he was part of something greater. Amidst all the turmoil of a Primary world where “things fall apart,” anarchy grows, “blood-dimmed tides” flow, and “rough beasts” lurk in the desert, Yeats chose to include markers of hope. Although the falcon drifts from the falconer, the falconer remains. Yeats says, “The falcon cannot hear the falconer,” implying that the falconer has not left and still calls to the bird, but it is too far to hear him (line 2). In a religious sense, this means that even though humanity has drifted from God, God has not abandoned them. In the aspect of the Wheel of Time, this emphasizes Yeats’ message that the Primary will not reign forever. This is also seen in his choice to overcast the image of the Sphinx with shadows of the “desert birds,” portraying the idea of a reigning Antithetical force amidst an approaching Primary age. Although Yeats believed the world was entering a dark Primary era, he also understood that this was part of the grand scheme of time and found solace in the belief that this was only a temporary phase on the wheel. “The Second Coming” is not a poem about destruction and death at the hands of a monstrous beast. It is a poem written by a man attempting to understand a post-war world who believed and found comfort in believing he was part of an eternal spiritual realm. Drawing on Nietzsche’s theory of competing forces and cyclical history, Yeats constructed a variation of these ideas around which he shaped his philosophy. He posited that each individual cycled through an eternal Wheel of Time, alternating every 2,000 years between dominating Antithetical and Primary forces. He believed that within the individual, these forces resembled spiral vortexes that remain in conflict, as they do at the societal level, which accounts for the evils and injustices of the world. Although he displays the darkness and dangers of the Primary age he also provides aspects of hope in the images of the falconer and the birds as symbols of the Antithetical age that will one day regain control. Yeats hoped that in his poem readers could find comfort in the idea of an uncontrollable eternal world that for every bad time provides a good one. In essence, “The Second Coming” is a poem about accepting one’s powerlessness and finding peace in the idea of a power greater than oneself with the understanding that death is not always the end.

Literature works as a reflection of the world around us. If we can understand the narrative, character development, and the emotional turmoil of a book, we can understand ourselves. In a speech made in Berlin, Teju Cole spoke on the importance of literature and the impact that it can have not just on one person but on all of society. What he presents is the idea that not only does literature tell a story or share a message, but it can spark an idea/emotion so visceral that it requires action, thereby affecting the whole world, all through writing. In this speech, he quotes a passage from the Mishnah, which states, “Whoever destroys a single life is considered by Scripture to have destroyed the whole, and whoever saves a single life is considered by Scripture to have saved the whole world.” Literature is an intimate thing. It is an activity done in solace, with only the reader, the text, and the reader’s thoughts. It is powerful in that it tells not only the story of the character or the author but also the story of everyone who has lived or will live. It speaks of the most delicate parts of humanity, connecting itself in a specific, unique way with its readers. Teju Cole says, “Literature can save a life” and I agree. Books span cultures, countries, nationalities, and even languages when nothing else can. The question is, why? Why does something so simple as ink on paper affect us to such an extent that it is necessary to be translated and printed across the world? Why do we argue over the meaning of books and the author’s intent? The answer is that in every book there is a part of us. A shadow of who we are, were, or will be. Each of us hurts, feels joy, has ups and downs in our lives, loves, and yearns for something. Everyone has people and places in their lives that they love and care about and, therefore, can relate to books like Little House on the Prairie, The Outsiders, Franny and Zooey, As I Lay Dying, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, the Odyssey, or Old Yeller. Each of these books is different. Some are for children. Some are Young Adult novels or classics. Some are set in ancient Greece, the 1800s, 1960s Oklahoma, or a suburb in the 1990s. But despite these differences they each touch on a fundamental aspect of being human. They describe in detail the confusion and conflict of life: how simply existing can be difficult at times. Dogs die, families get separated, friends fight, and sometimes the people we love disappoint us. None of which are things contained to a time or place. Therefore, when we study a book, analyze it for hours, and reflect on its message, we are, inadvertently, reflecting on humanity, ourselves, and the universe. “The Library of Babel” by Jorge Luis Borges describes an infinite library, one with endless bookcases and spiraling staircases. In the opening lines, he describes the library as a “universe” and says, “Like all men of the Library, I have traveled in my day; I have wandered in search of a book.” In a sense, a library is a universe. It contains worlds unknown to anyone having not read the book (Treasure Island, Narnia, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Beowulf, or The Hobbit) and the ideas of people long passed whose voices can only be heard in between the pages of their books. An interesting article by Time Magazine explains the science behind the construction of human cells. They described how every element present in stardust can be found in the human body, thereby maintaining the idea that we and the universe are one. Of course, if one does the most minute amount of research, he/she will find that this is not a new idea, it has been purported by scientists for generations, but to seven-year-old me, it was mind boggling. To think that I could be related, even in a scientific sense, to something as great and vast as the stars was surprising and somewhat empowering. I now like to think of the world as Borges’ infinite library, where the words that create paragraphs, that create pages, that create stories, are the elements that compose stardust. Words are the building blocks of life. So, just as how, in the real world, we and stardust, at our elemental level, are the same, I maintain that people and stories, at our core, are no different. As they say, we are only the stories we tell ourselves and only as powerful as our words. Why, though? I think it is because our words (our stories) are in some way literally a piece of ourselves. We are made from carbon. Paper is made from carbon. The pencil that writes on a piece of paper (made from carbon) is also made from carbon. So, when a reader traverses the many rows of books in our infinite library searching for the perfect story, they are walking through a mosaic of carbon, i.e., a mosaic of themselves. The very same words that create books that sit on shelves in a library that make up the entirety of our universe were created by people like us and tell stories about us and are made up of the same elements that create us. We are stories passed down from one millennium to the next. As Borges would maintain, we are simply librarians scavenging an infinite library of words, searching for an ancient book that will give us a magical understanding of the complexities of the library (our universe) only to discover that knowledge and writings are infinite and thereby nothing can ever be truly understood, but what a great adventure it will be to try! As an English major, I have dedicated my life to the study of literature, to the stories of lives now past, and to the nature of humanity in all its glory and disgrace. As an educator, I want to pass this passion on to my students, so that they may understand the beauty of writing. I aim to help them see themselves in the stories of past and present generations, to be able to identify the commonalities between their families and the ones in books, and, thereby, develop a love and connection to their own and other's stories. I want them to see books not as things sitting on shelves but as a story waiting to be told. Understanding this concept, that books from decades or centuries ago may aid them in their present lives, is crucial to their development as well-adjusted human beings. As they say, if we do not learn from our past, we may be doomed to repeat it. In my career, I want to help students understand that books reflect upon universal problems and feelings, that they share ideas meant to alter one's thinking, and work as a lantern in the darkness. As Kate DiCamillo states in "The Tale of Despereaux," “The world is dark, and light is precious. Come closer, dear reader. You must trust me. I am telling you a story.” In a world so dark, stories are the one thing that seems to survive. They offer an answer to the turmoil that we face. They reach the innermost depths of our souls despite differences, offering a roadmap to guide us along in this strange thing called life. Who needs a roadmap more than the young? As a teacher, I intend to provide a lantern in this dark and confusing world and hope that in doing so, I strike a flame of curiosity and intellect that they may later share with others.

Behind the desks in any classroom sit future teachers, parents, police officers, firefighters, doctors, lawyers, and possibly even presidents. They are society’s next leaders and as such, will be faced with the responsibility of making decisions that affect not only them but their world, as well. It is vital for educators to recognize this and prepare students for the trials and tribulations that come with adulthood. One of the easiest ways to do this is to instill within them a love for literature, which I plan to do. As Harry S. Truman said, “Not all readers are leaders, but all leaders are readers.” At the high school level, (where I will be teaching) the goal in analyzing literature is no longer to learn the fundamentals of sentence structure but to understand how humanity and societal problems are presented in writing. Through studying things like symbolism, character development, and the historical backgrounds of books students not only gain cognitive thinking skills but also develop empathy, which is vitally important. As an English teacher, there are many approaches to teaching reading skills, however, two I see as being most important: independent reading and class participation/discussions. The only way for a student to become a life-long reader is for them to become comfortable with independent reading. Reading competitions or simply having a class library are great ways to encourage this but I think the best approach I have seen is to assign projects that require students to use self-picked books. This is an opportunity for students to build a particular literary “taste.” For example, during my teacher observations, my coordinating teacher had her students pick a book and write a paper where they analyzed symbolism and literary devices the author used throughout the story. Many students said that they didn’t know what kind of books they liked and she was able to help them pick books that she felt fit their personalities. This approach shows the student that the teacher cares and opens students up to genres of books that they may not find in the standard required readings. After this project, she had five students tell her that before this assignment, they hated reading, but now, because of her book suggestion, they started a books club, i.e., they are now readers. Due to the apparent productiveness that this technique produced, I plan to incorporate assignments like this in my future classroom. The second tactic I plan to use is class discussions. There is one project in particular that I am excited to utilize, and it goes as follows: First, the class is divided into groups and is assigned a chapter from whatever book the class is reading. They are then told to analyze it as far as symbolism and character development. Next, they are told to write a short description of how they think the story will unfold solely from what they read in the chapter. Once everyone has completed these steps, the class discusses what they found and compares the various theories. Seeing how everyone’s ideas compare to the storyline is interesting. I like this approach because it leaves room for the students to explore their creativity, which is sometimes neglected in schools. If students gain a love for reading, they gain a love for the world and themselves, which is the most valuable skill I hope to instill in my students.

“The world is dark, and light is precious. Come closer, dear reader. I am telling you a story.” This is the opening line of “The Tale of Despereaux” by Kate DiCamillo. Books are not only entertainment. They are a way of understanding the world in a deeper way. Each book is based on the author’s beliefs and experiences, which result in unique stories that the reader can then interpret for themselves. This creates a personal relationship between the reader and the book, which follows and shapes them throughout their lives. It's an intricate artform that relates to each person differently. Books have always been a part of my life. As a toddler, my favorite book was “Go, Dog. Go!” In elementary school, it was “The Boxcar Children: The Mystery Behind the Wall.” In middle school, it was the “Series of Unfortunate Events” books. In High School, I was reading so much I could no longer pick a favorite, however, some contestants were “The Catcher in the Rye” and “Franny and Zooey” by J.D. Salinger, “The Book Thief” by Marcus Zusak, “Desolation Angels” by Jack Kerouac, “Beautiful Boy” and “The Buddhist on Death Row” by David Sheff, and “A River Runs Through It” by Norman Maclean. One book in particular has stuck with me throughout my entire life, always present in the back of my mind. That book is “The Tale of Despereaux.” It tells the story of a mouse born to a family who did not want him, to a community who did not understand him and led into a situation that no one thought he would survive. Yet, he survives all of this and makes many friends along the way. He encounters other characters who feel unwanted or out of place. He meets a rat who lives in the dungeon of a castle, a servant-girl who feels ugly and dreams of becoming the princess, and, eventually, he meets the princess herself, who wishes to become closer to her father who is mourning the death of his wife. Every character has to overcome their own obstacles and is helped by the most unlikely of characters: the smallest mouse in the land, who was thought to be the weakest of his kind, yet who becomes the hero of the story. He saves the kingdom by reuniting the royal family, freeing the rat from the dungeon, and helping the servant-girl become confident. This story taught me that no matter how small or insecure we may feel at times, we can overcome any obstacle if we stay true to ourselves and persevere. This story encouraged me in elementary school, when I was having trouble with bullies, in middle school when I felt out-of-place, and in high school when I was competing in competitions and activities I had never done before. Now that I am in college, I think of this book and of Desperaux when I feel nervous about the world ahead of me. My love of books has inspired me to pursue my degree in English Education in the Fall. I hope to bring the joy of reading to my future students and, hopefully, bring the “precious” light of literature into their lives for them to connect with and interpret for themselves. Books are a powerful tool in a person’s life. They shape worldviews and spark conversations. I want to convey this sense of importance to my future students when discussing books in class. Books have brought me immense joy throughout my life and I look forward to providing this joy to many others in the future.

The saying, "mitzvah goreret mitzvah, averah goreret averah" translates to "one good deed will bring another good deed, one transgression will bring another transgression." This saying teaches that one mitzvah can lead to another until it forms a habit within one's life to the point that they unknowing perform mitzvot. These actions can then be seen by others who become inspired to do their own good deeds. This is a way to approach life, a simple way for us to "be a light," however it portrays performing mitvot as being a choice. It is not. It is a commandment and for good reason. Without charity or "tzedaka", the world would be lost. We must "pay it forward" in order to heal the world (Tikkun Olam.) It is our duty, our commandment, to perform good deeds throughtout our lives to benefit others and inact change within the world. The word tzedaka (charity) comes from the word tzedek (justice), meaning that by giving charity we are not only being charitable, we are being just. When someone is in need, an injustice has been served. Therefore, it is our duty to bring justice to that person, which can be done by fulfilling their needs. This can come in the form of "paying it forward." Put simply, the idea of "paying it forward," is that when one sees an injustice, a need, they fulfill it and, hopefully, someone else sees this and does the same in a similar instance. This idea cannot happen, though, if one does not fulfill the need, but because we, as Jews, are commanded to pursue justice in Deuteronomy, we are, therefore, obligated to fulfill this need, thereby ensuring that the idea of "paying it forward" is instigated. My idea of "paying it forward" is that simple: fulfill a need that you see and hope that someone else does the same. This idea played out in my life in 2018. My mom, a Forest Service employee, was furloughed due to a presedential dispute over the budget for the Mexican border and had gone to work at Pizza Hut in order to pay the bills. She was making minimum wage and working long hours and still struggling to make end's meet. A person within our community saw that we were struggling and brought two large boxes of food over to our house. This food lasted for two months, the remainder of the furlough, and ensured that we had enough money to pay bills without the stress of having to buy groceries. I am reminded of this event every time I see a homeless individual asking for food or a struggling family in the checkout line. This one individual's act of kindness impacted my life and inspired me to help others. Because of this, I organized a school supply distribution in 2021 after seeing multiple students in need of school supplies earlier that year. I was able to supply 80 children with a backpack and full set of supplies. This year, I organized a similar event where I gathered donations to present to a daycare specializing in helping low-income families with clothes and supplies. One act of kindess inspired me to fulfill my commandment to help others. Paying it forward is a critical idea in producing positivity in our world. One good deed could impact an individual for the rest of their lives. It takes little effort on our part to bring joy to others. So, why not do it? This is my goal in life: to help others. Tikkun Olam is simple if we all try.