The future I want to help create is one in which illness, poverty, or circumstance may shape a child’s story, but never determine its limits. That vision is deeply personal to me. My best friend since kindergarten, Allison, was diagnosed with brain cancer when we were 14. I watched her world narrow to hospital rooms, procedures, scans, remission, relapse, and eventually words no family is prepared to hear. Yet my strongest memories are not of cancer itself, but of the nurses who made an unbearable reality more livable. They played games, danced, and laughed with Allison on the good days and remained beside her through the worst ones. They treated more than her disease; they preserved her sense of self. Even when medicine could no longer offer a cure, they offered comfort, dignity, and moments in which she felt like herself rather than a diagnosis. It was the nurses who helped my best friend feel alive while she was dying. Their example continues to define the impact I hope to make. Nursing is not only about curing disease, but remaining present, protecting dignity, and preserving what matters when circumstances cannot be changed. Today, I am a senior at the University of Missouri–St. Louis earning my Bachelor of Science in Nursing while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. I am preparing to become a pediatric oncology nurse and provide children and families with the same steadiness and compassion that meant so much to Allison and her family. My education has broadened my understanding of caring for a child to include not only treating illness, but protecting their ability to learn, develop, play, and experience childhood. That understanding informs the work I pursue outside the classroom. For the past two years, I have volunteered at Ranken Jordan Pediatric Bridge Hospital, where I read, play, and support children with complex medical needs. Some remain hospitalized for months or years, missing experiences essential to childhood development. Through this work, I developed a passion for childhood literacy. I created a reading program at Almost Home, an organization serving pregnant and postpartum adolescent mothers living in poverty, where I promote early literacy and help mothers recognize their influence on their children’s development. These experiences have clarified the future I am working toward. I want children facing serious illness to have opportunities not merely to survive, but to continue learning, developing, and being children. I want parents to feel informed and supported, and families confronting devastating diagnoses to know they do not have to navigate those moments alone. I hope to extend that impact through education. As a biology tutor and TA, I saw how transformative it can be to help someone move from uncertainty to confidence. I hope to earn a Master of Science in Nursing Education and teach future nurses while continuing to practice at the bedside. By combining patient care with education, I can serve the child in front of me while helping prepare nurses who will care for countless others. Allison’s life continues to shape mine, and her influence is inseparable from the nurse I am becoming. I know the impact I want to make: to become a pediatric oncology nurse who gives children and families the same sense of safety, dignity, and humanity that Allison’s nurses gave her. I may not be able to change a diagnosis or erase every barrier a child faces, but I can change how supported they feel while facing it. Through nursing, literacy, and education, I hope to ensure that illness or circumstance never has the final word in a child’s story.

I want to be nothing more than a spot on the wall. No thirteen-year-old wants every eye in the room—or hallway—on them, and I am no exception. As I make my way through the tiled halls of Truman Middle School, I weave around classmates while the once-empty hallway explodes with students. I take one step down the stairs toward my classroom. My black Converse high-top loses its grip on the step. I tumble down two flights of stairs, my nose graciously breaking my fall. I slide to a stop … fifty pairs of shiny middle-school eyes lock onto me. So much for going unnoticed… Unfortunately, that fall was hardly an isolated incident. I was born to be awkward. Growing six inches in a single year left me with the coordination of a baby giraffe. As I ran up and down the basketball court, I regularly tripped over my own feet and fell at least five times per game. Needless to say, activities requiring hand-eye (or foot-eye) coordination were not exactly my strength. By eighth grade, I was six feet tall and towered over every boy in my grade. One year later, I finally stopped growing at six feet two inches, leaving me a head taller than nearly every girl at my school. Standing out was unavoidable, so I eventually learned to have fun with it. As if being unusually tall and uncoordinated were not awkward enough, I chose to play the tuba. Yes, the enormous instrument often associated with plump, pimpled teenage boys—that was for me! I initially chose it because the idea made me giggle. The first song I learned was the Jaws theme, and I became enamored with both the tuba and the experience of being part of a band. The trumpet may be the star, but I loved that the tuba could almost go unnoticed. It seldom carried the melody, yet it formed the foundation beneath the ensemble. Without its deep sound, the music felt shallow. My "teensy" tuba may have been enormous, but it taught me that something does not have to be flashy to be important. In seventh and eighth grade, I earned first chair in the St. Louis All-Suburban Band, making me one of the strongest young tuba players in the metropolitan area. By my freshman year of high school, I joined the Spirit of St. Louis Marching Band. My serpentine sousaphone wrapped around my body, its bell towering over me. Apparently, being 6’2" wasn’t tall enough—I added 26 inches to my height and 50 pounds of brass to my body. Through marching band, I traveled across the country, performing with my sousaphone and contributing to something larger and more beautiful than myself. After years of practice, I became one of the top tuba players in Missouri. Over eight years of playing, I was teased plenty. To many of my classmates, I was the weird band kid carrying a ridiculous instrument. Teenagers can be cruel, and playing the tuba sometimes felt like an open invitation to ridicule. Still, I would not trade those years for anything. The qualities that made me awkward became essential to my identity. The tuba taught me to embrace standing out, find joy in being unconventional, and appreciate providing a strong foundation for others. Although I no longer tote a sousaphone, the beat of the tuba still lives within me. It thrums beneath my journey through nursing school and marches alongside me as I interview for pediatric nursing positions. It remains the steady metronome of my life—a reminder that being different is not something to hide, but something to celebrate.

My interest in nursing began with a deeply personal experience that changed my life. My best friend since kindergarten, Allison, was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer when we were 14. Throughout her treatment at St. Louis Children’s Hospital, I watched nurses become her anchor. They celebrated victories, comforted her through setbacks, and brought light to even the darkest days. Witnessing the compassion, skill, and unwavering presence of her nurses showed me that nursing is far more than a profession—it is a calling. Their compassion, presence, and love left a lasting impression on me; I aspire to become a pediatric oncology nurse and care for children and families with the same dedication. Since then, I have dedicated myself to preparing for that calling. I am currently a senior at the University of Missouri–St. Louis, where I am pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Nursing while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Beyond the classroom, I work as a Student Nurse Technician on an acute medicine floor at Barnes-Jewish Hospital, where I continue developing the skills needed to serve patients. One of my proudest accomplishments has been serving as a biology teaching assistant and tutor at St. Louis Community College. After being recommended by one of my professors, I tutored introductory biology, microbiology, anatomy, and physiology, working with students from a wide range of backgrounds and experience levels. Watching students experience those “aha!” moments, celebrating their successes, and encouraging them through setbacks sparked a love of teaching that I never expected to discover. Those experiences taught me that education, whether in a classroom or at a patient’s bedside, has the power to change lives. While my long-term goal is to build my career as a pediatric oncology bedside nurse, I also hope to one day earn a Master of Science in Nursing Education and serve as an adjunct nursing instructor. Teaching would allow me to share my love of learning while helping prepare the next generation of safe, competent nurses. Even then, I envision teaching as an extension of my bedside career rather than a replacement for it, because I believe my greatest impact will always come through direct patient care. Outside of school and work, I continue to serve others. For the past two years, I have volunteered at Ranken Jordan Pediatric Bridge Hospital, where I read to children, play games, and support the developmental growth of patients with complex medical needs. Through this experience, I have developed a passion for improving childhood literacy. The children at Ranken Jordan have hospital stays ranging from months to years, often missing critical opportunities for learning and developmental growth. This places them at risk of falling behind their peers. I hope to help bridge that gap by fostering a love of reading and supporting children’s cognitive development during hospitalization. Inspired by this passion, I am implementing a literacy program at my public health clinical site, Almost Home, a residential and educational center that supports pregnant adolescents and young mothers living in poverty. Nursing is not simply a career choice for me; it is the calling God has led me toward. Allison’s life and the nurses who cared for her inspired me to pursue nursing. Her story is interwoven with mine. It changed my life. It gave me purpose. I would be honored to carry Sara Jane’s legacy forward by caring for pediatric oncology patients and their families with the same compassion, selflessness, and unwavering dedication that defined her 48 years of service. If, through my own career, I can inspire and serve others as she did, I will consider that a life well lived.