Math has always been the most consistent structure in my life. In the extremely religious small town I grew up in, where everything seemed to live in a grey area that disappointed God, math had a clear right and wrong. 1+1=2. 10*10=100. These were easy problems with clear solutions. When I was introduced to algebra around the 6th grade, math became more complicated. As the math I learned grew harder, I became more interested. As we learned about synthetic division and imaginary numbers, the clear-cut answers of my childhood melted away. Derivatives and integrals were mind-boggling to me. For the first time, I didn't understand the math I was doing. Instead of taking action to improve my learning, I gave up. I placed all my worth into my inability to find dy/dx. The one thing that had always been there for me was suddenly unreachable, and I didn't reach out for help. Learning the graph of sin(x) led me to my "aha" moment. I'd known I wanted to be a math teacher, but I'd never felt such a connection and love for math. As we learned the graph has a period of 2pi, I burst out, "Is that why it's 2pi*r?" My lovely teacher explained that when you combine the graph of sin(x) contained in the 1st and 4th quadrants, you create a circle with a period of 2pi. Knowing that the graph I compared my life to was simply an extended circle was a critical moment for me. The best thing I've learned from math is that life isn't linear. There will be ups and downs, and end-behavior isn't always what you expect. But there are rules and principles you can use to guide yourself in the right direction. I am getting a degree in math education to help future learners love and understand math. I hope they can see applications beyond the classroom and allow their curiosity to take them to uncharted places.

Instagram: @ell_machel If I had to give one piece of advice to students, it would be to pretend that you're in kindergarten again! We used to ask people to be our friends, but somewhere along the way, many of us have become too insecure to reach out. If you're kind and want to make new friends, just ask! They're waiting to be your friend too. Good luck!

Approximately 283,000 people under 20 in the United States have diabetes. I am at high risk because of my family history, but I haven't always prioritized my health. After recently learning that I have high cholesterol, I have tried to eat foods rich in nutrients. These benefits are why I love superfoods. As a vegetarian, I use a high amount of soy in my cooking. From air frying tofu to drinking non-dairy milk, soy is a part of my daily life. I also love blueberries and acai berries which I blend into my protein smoothies. Aside from the delectable taste, I love how these foods make me feel! I have much more energy and focus when I eat them, especially compared to high-carb and sodium foods.

My dream life is an oxymoron. It is a quiet and peaceful life in the bustling streets of New York City. A bold and passionate life in a farm town. I'm a performer and an educator. I have a large family, and I am content on my own. I want so much for my life, and I often fear I won't have time to do it all. But at the center of my dream life, I am happy and content, surrounded by people who care about me and who I love dearly. If I could have the best of all worlds, I would be on Broadway, release a country album, and teach high school math! I'd be married to the love of my life, and we would have a happy home full of plants and pets. My dream life is a lot of things because there is so much in this world that brings me joy. As long as I'm healthy and loved, I will be living my dream life.

I have an awful track record with money. I have never been good at saving, investing, or responsibly spending. In my defense, I didn't receive much financial education. I took a financial literacy course during my Sophomore year of high school, and it changed my views. I decided to research more and stumbled upon the Financial Feminist podcast. Tori, the host, talks about the intersection of finances and women's experiences in the workplace and financial spaces. One of the most important lessons I have learned from her is that the money you save needs to be invested! Depending on your lifestyle, your 401K may be enough to last you through retirement, but I want a safety net to fall on when I am no longer working. She also talks about how to overcome the fear of starting. It has been life-changing.

I have recently begun to watch Total Drama Island. I was never allowed to watch it as a child, so being an adult and getting to make my own decisions has been so freeing. Though it seems simple, getting to nurture my inner child has been very healing. I am grateful for the joy it brings me, both in its content and the context in which I consume it.

Art is often associated with creativity, whereas STEM seems concrete and unchanging. Though this makes sense, I think it may be vice versa. There are concrete techniques and fundamentals in art, and there is creativity and curiosity within STEM. My name is Ellie, and I am an undergraduate student at Southern Utah University, studying Math Education and Theatre Arts. When I tell people this, they give me a confused look. "Math and theatre?" Yes. It may seem counterintuitive to some, but it makes complete sense to me. Art, music, and theatre have always been my outlets. They have given me the ability to express myself and discover who I am. STEM has always been concrete and curious; it allows me to explore the world without bias or rose-colored glasses. I always pictured myself going to a Conservatory or University to study theatre. Math was always something I loved, but it was never a priority. Sophomore year of high school, that changed. I had a teacher who was very creative and outlandish. She used constructivist techniques to help us build a foundation in geometry and upper-level algebra. We had free range to do whatever we felt drawn to for our projects. I decided to pull out my guitar and write songs about math. Looking back, I am embarrassed that I ever thought those were clever lyrics and melodies. However, I am very grateful that Ms. Jones allowed me to connect the two things I love most. I had always been good at math, but that was the first time I seriously considered pursuing it as a career. Watching my teachers influence my future in so many positive ways, I decided to look into education. I wanted to be a theatre teacher. I figured I could minor in math and be a substitute if needed. I don't know what changed, but Senior year I decided to pursue math full time and put the arts on the backburner. Since starting University, I have realized that swinging between extremes on a pendulum is not how I'd like to live. I've learned I need both the Arts and STEM in my life to feel content and complete. I need the concreteness and creativity I find when involved with art and math. This has not been an easy realization, as I have historically lived on extreme ends of spectrums. However, living on my own and finding balance in school has opened my eyes to what I love and believe. I want to stay at University to become the kind of teacher that changed my life. If I have a fraction of the impact on my students that my teachers had on me, this will all have been worth it. There are too many false beliefs perpetuated in school. You are an Artist, or you are in STEM. Most people don't realize they can be both. I want to show them that they can. I want the next generation of artists, scientists, engineers, and mathematicians to know they're multifaceted and valued individuals. They can change the world.

My name is Ellie, and I am not the first person in my family to leave a cult. I hold local records in extreme sudoku games and have collected puzzles for the last 3 years. I had an extensive plant collection, which died while I was home for Winter break. I'm currently working on building it back up. Until my senior year of high school, I planned on doing musical theatre for a living. I am now majoring in math education. Things have changed, for better or worse, and I am doing my best to make them work.

I have attempted suicide too many times. I never thought I'd make it past my 15th birthday, and yet I have graduated and turn 18 in a week. I've come out as a lesbian, I've left the cult I spent 17 years of my life in. I am happy. This is my bold. Everyday tasks have always felt like mountains to me, and yet here I am. I graduated Salutatorian, Senior Class President, and Summa Cum Laude. I tried to overdose just 5 months, and I am still here. Moving out and moving on is my bold.

When I sat down to write this piece, it came so naturally. I was amazed at how quickly the lyrics came to me. The original accompaniment was inspired by the hymns of my childhood- songs I sang daily in hopes that God would love me. I wanted to reflect on my time and relationship with the cult I was raised in- the kind of relationship you just can't put to words. Using lines with double meanings on top of hymnal chord progressions gave me the ability to finally speak up about my time in The Church, perfectly encompassed in my favorite line I've ever written: "I gave you the last piece of my soul to whole again."

The last few years of my life have been incredibly bizarre, and fulfilling, and heart breaking, and miserable. The first time I lost a loved one was at the end of my Sophomore year, and I experienced debilitating grief. It was awful. Just when I thought I’d healed, my best friend moved 350 miles away, my sister moved to another country, we were quarantined, and I lost my great grandmother. In the span of a year and a half, my life was tipped upside down too many times to count. I have been at my wits’ end more than I’ve been at my home at times. I wish I could say I’ve had a positive outlook, but I don’t like to lie. I’ve been incredibly pessimistic in my head and heart, while still putting on a happy face for the rest of the world to see. The one thing that has brought me some semblance of peace and the closest thing I can get to happiness is music. I have been able to get in my car, turn on the radio, and sing until my voice is lost. I've written my own music to process the many changes I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with. I listened to music with my great grandpa and thought of better times. I’ve sung him a new song every few weeks, and I look forward to our visits. If the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that healing isn’t linear, and music is the best form of catharsis. The peace I find comes from knowing that everything will come to an end, including the pain. The music I have the privilege of singing and listening to aids in that process. I know that things will get better. They have to. The joy I get from performing, for myself and for others, allows me to forget for a moment, and brings me back to a simpler, happier time. I hope that one day the music I’ve written is able to bring the same peace and joy to others as it has to me. My favorite line from the song I wrote and dedicated to my grandma, “Butterflies spin around the room, and I begin to dance; butterflies fly around the room and they give me a second chance,” perfectly encapsulates my relationship with music as I’ve been grieving. Music has given me a second, a third, and a millionth chance, and I am so grateful for every single one.

The last few years of my life have been incredibly bizarre, and fulfilling, and heart breaking, and miserable. The first time I lost a loved one was at the end of my Sophomore year, and I experienced debilitating grief. It was awful. Just when I thought I’d healed, my best friend moved 350 miles away, my sister moved to another country, we were quarantined, and I lost my great grandmother. In the span of a year and a half, my life was tipped upside down too many times to count. I have been at my wits’ end more than I’ve been at my home at times. I wish I could say I’ve had a positive outlook, but I don’t like to lie. I’ve been incredibly pessimistic in my head and heart, while still putting on a happy face for the rest of the world to see. The one thing that has brought me some semblance of peace and the closest thing I can get to happiness is music. I have been able to get in my car, turn on the radio, and sing until my voice is lost. I've written my own music to process the many changes I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with. I listened to music with my great grandpa and thought of better times. I’ve sung him a new song every few weeks, and I look forward to our visits. If the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that healing isn’t linear, and music is the best form of catharsis. The peace I find comes from knowing that everything will come to an end, including the pain. The music I have the privilege of singing and listening to aids in that process. I know that things will get better. They have to. The joy I get from performing, for myself and for others, allows me to forget for a moment, and brings me back to a simpler, happier time. I hope that one day the music I’ve written is able to bring the same peace and joy to others as it has to me. My favorite line from the song I wrote and dedicated to my grandma, “Butterflies spin around the room, and I begin to dance; butterflies fly around the room and they give me a second chance,” perfectly encapsulates my relationship with music as I’ve been grieving. Music has given me a second, a third, and a millionth chance, and I am so grateful for every single one.

There is a period between 5th and 7th grade in which I don’t remember much of anything. My mom noticed a shift in my behavior and attitude, but didn’t know what was happening. I can’t give her peace of mind, as I don’t know what was happening either. I do know that I was extremely anxious, self conscious, and the first signs of my OCD were beginning to peek through a window. I was anxious about any and everything. I was afraid to go places I’d never been, for fear of needing to find an exit in the case of an emergency. I couldn’t go to bed without checking my bathroom window in 4 sets of 3 bumps on the locks, checking my shower handle in 4 sets of 2 bumps to make sure y house wasn’t flooded in my sleep, and checking the panel in the ceiling of my closet and pushing all of my clothes to the sides of the walls to make sure no one was waiting to kill me in my sleep; to name a few. My checking and anxiety were making simple daily tasks absolutely miserable. I needed help, and I had no idea how to ask. In the 8th grade, I read by Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, and felt an instant connection. I was speaking less and less, I felt completely lost and alone, and when the main character found relief through self harm, I figured it would help me too. I cut and burned myself for the next year and a half, even after my mom had learned from a friend and I promised to stop. I didn’t know how else to cope with the ideas and situations I was constantly living in. Growing up queer in an extremely conservative religion helped in no way, and made life a sneak peek of what I thought was my future: a living hell. As I grew more comfortable with myself, I felt myself falling further from my religion, and in turn, my family. Over our quarantine starting mid March of 2020, I learned how to cope in healthy ways and fully accept myself. After the passing of my great grandparents, I felt myself start to spiral out of control, and I unfortunately relapsed in self harm and my eating disorder after a year and a half of recovery. Through the summer going into my senior year, I became more open with my parents and siblings concerning my mental health issues and sexuality. I was able to work closely with my dear therapist Alyssa to process some traumatic things, develop healthy coping skills, and fully come out to relieve the burden of pretending to be someone I was not. I’ve also gotten on medication and started exposure therapy to help improve my OCD. It brings me immense joy and peace to say that it’s been months since I’ve harmed myself in any way. Since working on my mental health consistently, the relationships I have with my friends, family, and most importantly myself are stronger than ever. I’ve learned to accept myself completely, and promise to believe in myself no matter what happens. I am so excited for my future: a fresh start with a new outlook on life. I am so grateful that my attempts to prevent my future were not successful. Getting the opportunity to teach and help the lives of students in the same way my teachers helped me is the best thanks I could ever give them. My therapist recently told me, “You think you can’t, but you will. You think you won’t, but you always do.” She perfectly encapsulated the resilience it takes to live with mental health issues, and the many reasons we should be proud of ourselves for sticking it out. Our lives are worth living. We deserve the chance at happiness. I’m grateful I didn’t lose mine.

The last few years of my life have been incredibly bizarre, and fulfilling, and heart breaking, and miserable. I came out to my mom in a suicide note my Freshman year, and was sent to therapy, where I had an extremely negative experience. Unfortunately, this prevented me from going to therapy for another 3 years. The first time I lost a loved one was at the end of my Sophomore year, and I experienced debilitating grief. It was awful. Just when I thought I’d healed, my best friend moved 350 miles away, my sister moved to another country, we were quarantined, and I lost my great grandmother. In the span of a year and a half, my life was tipped upside down too many times to count. I have been at my wits’ end more than I’ve been at my home at times. I wish I could say I’ve had a positive outlook, but I don’t like to lie. I’ve been incredibly pessimistic in my head and heart, while still putting on a happy face for the rest of the world to see. The one thing that has brought me some semblance of peace and the closest thing I can get to happiness is music. I have been able to get in my car, turn on the radio, and sing until my voice is lost. I've written my own music to process the many changes I’ve had the misfortune of dealing with. I listened to music with my great grandpa and thought of better times. I’ve sang him a new song every few weeks, and I looked forward to our visits. Unfortunately, he died 3 months ago. I was grateful for the time we spent together, listening to music and talking about our lives. If the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that healing isn’t linear, things will be better one day, and music is the best form of catharsis until then. The peace I've found comes from knowing that everything will come to an end, including the pain. The music I have the privilege of singing and listening to aids in that process. I know that things will get better. They have to. The joy I get from performing, for myself and for others, allows me to forget for a moment, and brings me back to a simpler, happier time. I hope that one day the music I’ve written is able to bring the same peace and joy to others as it has to me. My favorite line from the song I wrote and dedicated to my grandma, “Butterflies spin around the room, and I begin to dance; butterflies fly around the room and they give me a second chance,” perfectly encapsulates my relationship with music as I’ve been grieving. Music has given me a second, a third, and a millionth chance, and I am so grateful for every single one.

My life has been similar to the graph of sin(x). It was going up consistently, then started to turn down a bit, then absolutely crashed, then moved back up to a reasonable baseline. Math has always been the way I've seen the world and expressed myself. Math has been the most consistent thing in my life since I can remember. In the extremely religious small town I grew up in, where everything seemed to live in a grey area that disappointed God, math had a clear right and wrong. 1+1=2. 10*10=100. These were easy problems with clear solutions. As I was introduced to algebra around the 6th grade, things became more complicated but increasingly interesting. Solving for x seemed like the best kind of puzzle- one you liked to do and also got school credit for. As the math I learned grew harder, I became more interested. As we learned about synthetic division and imaginary numbers, the clear-cut answers of my childhood melted away. Learning derivatives and integrals was mind-boggling to me. It was the first time in my life that I didn't understand the math we were doing. As much as I hate to admit it, I stopped trying for a few months. I placed all of my worth into my inability to find dx/dy. The one thing that had always been there for me was suddenly unreachable, and I didn't reach out for help. After months of ignoring my homework and crying in the back of the class, I decided to get myself back on track. I went in after school for tutoring 3 days a week and studied during my 3 free periods in addition to my 3 classes a week. Though it was immensely more difficult, it felt like working through those algebra puzzles in middle school. Math felt intriguing again, even though I didn't have a clear grasp of the concepts. My life has followed this same pattern. Easy, intriguing, fun, and then something comes out of nowhere and knocks me off of my feet. It takes me a long and grueling effort to get back up, and when I do, I'm ready to fight again. In my Junior math class, learning the graph of sin(x), I had my "aha" moment. I already knew I wanted to be a math teacher, and things had clicked before, but I'd never felt such a connection and love for math. As we talked about the graph having a period of 2pi, I burst out, "Is that why it's 2pi*r?" The rest of my class seemed extremely confused, rightfully so, when my lovely teacher pointed at me and showed the face he made when students had beat him to the point of the lesson. "Yes! Everyone, close your ears!" I loved when he said to close our ears. He looked at me and explained that when you combine the graph of sin(x) contained in the 1st and 4th quadrant, you create a circle, with a period of 2pi. Learning that the graph I used to compare my life to was simply an extended circle was an integral point in my life when I realized that I'd be okay. Even if I fell deep down into the 4th quadrant, I was going to come back up. The best thing I've learned in math is that life isn't linear. There will be ups, there will be downs, and sometimes end behavior isn't what you expect. But there are rules and principles you can use to guide yourself in the right direction.

There is a period between 5th and 7th grade in which I don’t remember much of anything. My mom noticed a shift in my behavior and attitude but didn’t know what was happening. I can’t give her peace of mind, as I don’t know what happened either. I do know that I was extremely anxious, self-conscious, and the first signs of my OCD were beginning to peek through a window. I was anxious about any and everything. I was afraid to go places I’d never been, for fear of needing to find an exit in the case of an emergency. I couldn’t go to bed without checking my bathroom window in 4 sets of 3 bumps on the locks, checking my shower handle in 4 sets of 2 bumps to make sure y house wasn’t flooded in my sleep, and checking the panel in the ceiling of my closet and pushing all of my clothes to the sides of the walls to make sure no one was waiting to kill me in my sleep; to name a few. My checking and anxiety were making simple daily tasks miserable. I needed help, and I had no idea how to ask. In the 8th grade, I read Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson and felt an instant connection. I was speaking less and less, I felt completely lost and alone, and when the main character found relief through self-harm, I figured it would help me too. I cut and burned myself for the next year and a half, even after my mom had learned from a friend and I promised to stop. I didn’t know how else to cope with the ideas and situations I was constantly living in. My goals changed from maintaining my 4.0 GPA to making it to Sophomore year. I didn't understand why I had to feel so much, all of the time. It never stopped. Growing up queer in an extremely conservative religion helped in no way, and made life a sneak peek of what I thought was my future: a living hell. As I grew more comfortable with myself, I felt myself falling further from my religion, and in turn, my family. Over quarantine starting mid-March of 2020, I learned how to cope in healthy ways and fully accept myself. After the passing of my great grandparents, I felt myself start to spiral out of control, and I, unfortunately, relapsed in self-harm and my eating disorder after a year and a half of recovery. Through the summer going into my senior year, I became more open with my parents and siblings concerning my mental health issues and sexuality. I was able to work closely with my dear therapist Alyssa to process some traumatic things, develop healthy coping skills, and fully come out to relieve the burden of pretending to be someone I was not. I’ve also gotten on medication and started exposure therapy to help make my OCD manageable. It brings me immense joy and peace to say that it’s been months since I’ve harmed myself in any way. Since working on my mental health consistently, the relationships I have with my friends, family, and most importantly myself are stronger than ever. I’ve learned to accept myself completely, and promise to believe in myself no matter what happens. I am so excited for my future: a fresh start with a new outlook on life. I am so grateful that my attempts to prevent my future were not successful. Getting the opportunity to one day teach and help the lives of future students in the same way my teachers helped me is the best thanks I could ever give them. My therapist recently told me, “You think you can’t, but you will. You think you won’t, but you always do.” She perfectly encapsulated the resilience it takes to live with mental health issues, and the many reasons we should be proud of ourselves and the people around us for never giving up. Our lives are worth living. We deserve the chance at happiness. I’m grateful I didn’t lose mine.

"Once you learn to read, you will forever be free."- Frederick Douglass Reading those words in my Junior History class changed my life forever. I already knew that education had a profound impact on my life, but it wasn't until I read The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass that I realized how crucial it was. I've been admitted to Southern Utah University for the Fall 2021 semester, and plan on Majoring in Theater Arts and Math Education; with the goal of teaching in the way that I have been taught, and having an immense impact on the lives of my future students. Every teacher in my life has given me valuable skills both inside and outside of state-mandated curriculum- every one of them has gone above and beyond their responsibilities and pay grades to make sure that I was as best prepared as possible. I could never thank them enough, and so I've decided to pay forward the gesture to the next generation of students. Currently, I am my Senior Class President, resident Choreographer in my school's Drama department, leading an initiative to start a food pantry in my school, and teaching dance as part of a home school arts program. In Student Government, I am involved in planning assemblies, dances, teacher appreciation weeks, wellness weeks, calendars and extracurriculars for the year, and the school talent show. I'm able to choreograph between 5 and 10 dance numbers for our musicals over the past 3 years. The food pantry project is part of the Service Unit of our Honors Political Thought class, applying all of the theories we've learned into our communities. I love working with the 6-8-year-olds I teach and seeing their joy and energy every day. I am extremely passionate about education, music, math, and civil rights. I believe that no child should go hungry in such a plentiful and monetarily successful country. Education is a right, not a privilege, and every student deserves a teacher who cares about them and their future. Music is the key to joy and connection across language, culture, and countries. Math is a subject students have a fundamental disdain for, which I believe is due to a lack of understanding. I truly believe everyone is capable of doing high-level math successfully if they are given enough grace and help to understand.

Jenny Nuo is a musician and a woman in STEM whom I look up to immensely, as her music focuses on growing up, self-acceptance, and her experiences in the STEM field. In particular, her song "print: I'm so tired" highlights the frustrations one can feel sitting in the back of a class, feeling too hopeless to ask for help. Jenny has had a large impact on my life, particularly as I prepare to study Theater Arts and Math Education in the Fall. I'm grateful for her transparency and honesty as she recounts difficult experiences, and I hope to have just as positive of an impact on people in the future.

I am proud to be a lesbian, proud to be myself. I am proud to have overcome a community and a religion that taught me I was dirty, and proud to show those around me that I will not be silenced. I am proud to be part of a community that preaches, love, acceptance, and authenticity in everything we do. My instagram is @ell_machel