I never thought I’d end up working in after-school childcare. That wasn’t part of “the plan.” My dream has always been to become a lawyer — someone who understands the law and uses it to stand up for people who’ve been pushed aside or ignored. Growing up in a working-class Mexican-American family, I saw firsthand how systems don’t always work for everyone. I came to college with big goals: law school, policy work, and eventually, public service. But dreams don’t pay for groceries. Or tuition. Or gas. So when money got tight, I picked up a job at a local after-school program. I figured it would be temporary — just something to help me get by. I didn’t realize it would become something I’d carry with me long after I clocked out. In our house, we didn’t talk much about college. My parents didn’t go. But they taught me other things — things I still hold onto. Things like showing up on time, looking out for your neighbors, and not acting like you’re better than anyone. Our home was full of Spanish, Spanglish, noise, and love. We didn’t always have extra, but we always had enough to share. And that shaped me more than any classroom ever has. At the after-school job, I started off overwhelmed. Kids are loud. They run around. They ask a million questions. But slowly, I started finding meaning in the little things. There was one kid — super quiet, barely talked. He’d stay off to the side, wouldn’t join games, kept to himself. Instead of pushing, I just sat with him sometimes. I’d color or talk about cartoons or just be there. Eventually, he started opening up. He joined activities. He laughed. One day, he led a group story time like it was nothing. I nearly choked up watching it. That moment hit me hard — the kind of hard that makes you sit still and think for a while. That kid taught me more than I taught him. I realized that compassion isn’t about big speeches or heroic gestures. It’s about being present. Being patient. Giving people the space to be themselves. That’s the kind of lawyer I want to be — someone who listens first, who doesn’t walk into a room thinking he has all the answers. This job showed me what real leadership looks like. Not the kind with titles or suits — the kind where you show up when it’s hard, and help people carry the load. I still plan on law school, but I’m walking into it with a fuller heart and a better understanding of what it means to serve. I want to be a lawyer who remembers where he came from. One who fights for clients, yes — but also for entire communities. Success, to me, doesn’t mean standing at the top alone. It means bringing people with you. That’s the life I’m working toward. And I’m proud of the path I’m taking — even if it didn’t start the way I thought it would.

Growing up in a Mexican-American household, college was always the dream — but also something of a mystery. My parents worked hard and taught me to do the same, but when it came to applications, financial aid, or even understanding what a degree really meant, we were learning together. I’m the first in my family to go down this path, and every step I take feels like I’m walking for all of us — not just myself. One experience that completely changed the way I view myself and my role in my community was when I started working at an after-school program. At first, I only took the job because I needed to pay bills. School, groceries, and gas aren’t getting any cheaper, and I couldn’t afford to sit around waiting for a perfect opportunity to come along. I figured it would just be a temporary job — clock in, clock out. But I was wrong. The students I work with are mostly elementary-aged, full of energy, and come from a wide range of backgrounds. Some remind me a lot of myself — especially the ones who come in quiet, unsure of where they fit. I remember one kid in particular. He barely spoke and kept to himself, even during group games. I could tell he was trying to disappear into the background. Instead of calling him out or forcing him to join, I sat with him. I asked him simple questions — favorite color, favorite food, what cartoons he liked. At first, he shrugged or gave one-word answers. But over time, he opened up. A few weeks later, he was laughing with the other kids and even volunteered to lead an activity. That moment stuck with me because I saw a little of myself in him. I realized how powerful it is to just be seen and accepted as you are. It’s something I want to carry with me as I pursue law — not just to fight for justice in the big-picture sense, but to make people feel heard on an individual level. That’s where real change begins. This job taught me more about leadership and compassion than any class I’ve taken. It’s also shown me that representation matters. In my professional life so far, I’ve been lucky to have some amazing mentors — but rarely have I seen someone who looks like me, speaks like my family, or comes from a similar background in positions of influence. That gap motivates me. I want to be someone younger Latino students can look at and think, “If he can do it, so can I.” Financial challenges shouldn’t stop anyone from chasing their goals, but they do. I see it around me all the time — brilliant students having to choose between school and survival. That’s why this scholarship means so much. It’s not just about the money. It’s about being reminded that people believe in students like me, and that makes a bigger difference than most people realize. My goal is to become a lawyer who doesn’t forget where he came from. Who listens more than he talks. Who shows up, not just for his career, but for his community. I’m still on that path, but I know I’m moving in the right direction — and I’m not walking alone.

My interest and goals for future life stemmed from a significant unwonted injury I experienced while playing basketball. As a teenager I became interested in how such a rare injury could happen to me, and how waiting a month would cause extra years of recovery with surgeries. Two Stage FDP Reconstruction was the name of surgery that would lead me to gain interest in the field of physical therapy. Being hopeless about me being able to relearn the movements of my index finger and build strength, I turned my trust to a physical therapist for the much needed support of guidance. As time went on I began to talk deeper to the therapist, and his passion began to resonate with me. My thoughts began to align on what I wanted in life to be able to succeed in education, but also I realized I was able to give back hope to people who have lost it due to injury. Majoring in kinesiology and health is of importance as I believe I can make a difference in people's lives. Through physical therapy people are able to see differences in their rehabilitation and recovery processes creating a sense of satisfaction. Being able to see the difference people are more likely to upkeep a level of perseverance and will power rarely seen in everyday life. This would allow me to succeed in life by giving back people joy they had lost through injuries, and seeing a quality of life progressed in themselves. This hope that I could change one's lives and progress it to multiple people would be a dream and would be a truly positive impact to the community.

Throughout life, I have been faced with multiple challenges that have molded me to be who I am today. These challenges were crucial in transforming my character and beliefs into the person I currently represent. I understand that making it this far and quitting would delegitimize the past challenges I struggled with. If I have made it this far, I think to myself, “Why not strive for more?” Strength is discovered when morality and perseverance are used to power through hardships. Morals define how successful one’s life can be and is a founding bedrock to one’s happiness. Morals are what I hope to be surrounded by when I find a new community as it will help me strive to my greatest potential. When you hit rock bottom as a high school student, you have one choice: be resilient or sink! I chose to be resilient. It taught me to be responsible, and accountable for my actions. I had to be the one to say and determine where I wanted life to take me, and alone for that matter. I could not leave behind what my parents, family and teachers expected of me. I had to keep striving to maintain my morals, being a good son, good friend, and good student. Incidents led me to maintain respect for what is important, I believe that without respect for myself and others, I will never succeed in life. Morals show the capabilities one can achieve in life, as without a proper foundation for morals to thrive on the whole structure will fall apart, me being just that, a structure. Friday, March 13th, 2019, was the day that changed my life for the worst; it was as if I entered the twilight zone and am slowly returning to what was once considered normal. Imagine going under from anesthesia and waking up in a hospital bed with people in blue scrubs walking around, now wearing masks, not wanting to tend to you closely, saying, “You could possibly be the last surgery I will do for a while as I was informed COVID-19 will shut down elective surgeries.” In the mindset of a 15-year-old, barely climbing out of the anesthesia the doctors provided, I had a wretched feeling in my stomach. This was one of the two major surgeries I needed to be normal again and just like that I was lost. As days went on, school was canceled, and life changed completely. I was not in the right place mentally; I stopped communicating with all my friends. I didn’t even get to gather my items from my school locker. The only interactions I had throughout the day was my family and my physical therapist telling me what to do for self-care. I needed something where my mind could escape the reality and the doom Covid had brought into my personal life. What started as a simple hobby became something that I lived for, and it all started in my backyard, slowly progressing to the local gym. The gym was a place where I alone can escape reality. Just me and my own thoughts surrounded by metal clanking, hands chalked to support the ripped calluses I received from slamming down the iron plates. Being at the gym was a way to escape my hollow heart with the grief and suffering I experienced during surgery. My dedication and perseverance became an identity to me, and it shows and thrives in my character. These experiences gave me values I hold that make the difference between me and the next person through the exemplification of perseverance, and character morality.