I became a fan of Wicked not just because of its music, its spectacle, or its iconic characters, but because of a single figure most people overlook: Doctor Dillamond. In a story filled with witches, magic, and political power, it was the quiet, gentle goat professor who captured my heart. His character may not command the stage the way Elphaba or Glinda do, but his presence carries one of the most powerful messages in the entire show — one that shaped the way I see the world. Doctor Dillamond represents every person who has ever been silenced, underestimated, or pushed aside simply for being different. In Oz, he is a respected academic whose voice is slowly taken from him as Animals lose their right to speak. Watching his struggle unfold is heartbreaking, but it’s also deeply human. His story mirrors the experiences of so many people in real life who face discrimination not because of their abilities, but because of their identity. That theme resonated with me in a way I didn’t expect. As a first‑generation student and a young woman carving out my own path, I’ve often felt the weight of being “the first” or “the only.” Doctor Dillamond’s character reminded me that knowledge, curiosity, and compassion are powerful forms of resistance. Even as the world around him becomes hostile, he continues to teach, to care, and to believe in his students. He sees potential in Elphaba before she sees it in herself, and that small act of belief changes the entire trajectory of her life. His influence is quiet, but it is transformative. That’s what makes Wicked so special to me. It’s not just a story about witches and destiny — it’s a story about the people who shape us in ways we don’t always recognize. Doctor Dillamond taught me that impact doesn’t always come from being the loudest or the most powerful. Sometimes it comes from being the one who listens, the one who encourages, the one who stands firm in their truth even when the world tries to silence them. His storyline also opened my eyes to the importance of advocacy. The injustice he faces is subtle at first, then undeniable. Watching him lose his voice — literally and symbolically — made me think about how easily people can be stripped of their dignity when others decide they don’t belong. It made me more aware, more empathetic, and more determined to speak up when I see unfairness around me. I am a fan of Wicked because it reminds me that every voice matters, especially the ones that are ignored. Doctor Dillamond may not be the star of the show, but he is the heart of its message: that courage isn’t always loud, and change often begins with someone who simply refuses to stop caring. And that is why Wicked will always be more than a musical to me — it’s a reminder of the quiet heroes who shape us, inspire us, and teach us to stand up for what’s right.

As a first‑generation college student, choosing a career in healthcare was never just about selecting a major — it was about rewriting a story. I grew up watching my family navigate a world they didn’t always understand, especially when it came to healthcare. Appointments were confusing, medical terms felt like another language, and the fear of “not knowing” often overshadowed the care itself. I realized early on that access to healthcare isn’t only about having insurance or transportation; it’s about having someone who sees you, hears you, and guides you without judgment. That realization is what led me to pursue a career in medicine, specifically pediatrics. I chose pediatrics because children deserve someone who believes in their potential before they even understand it themselves. They deserve a provider who sees more than symptoms — someone who sees the whole child, the whole family, and the whole story. I want to be that person. I want to be the doctor who makes a child feel safe, who explains things in a way parents can understand, and who stands in the gap for families who feel overwhelmed by a system that wasn’t built with them in mind. Being first‑gen has shaped the way I view healthcare. I know what it feels like to walk into a room and not know the right words. I know what it feels like to translate for your parents, to carry responsibilities that feel too big for your age, and to wish someone would slow down long enough to make sure you truly understood. That experience didn’t discourage me — it fueled me. It taught me that representation in medicine isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. When patients see someone who looks like them, who shares their background, or who understands their struggles, trust grows. And trust is the foundation of healing. My goal is to use my degree to become a pediatrician who advocates for families who often feel overlooked. I want to work in underserved communities, where access to compassionate, culturally aware care can change the entire trajectory of a child’s life. I hope to create a space where families feel empowered, not intimidated — where questions are welcomed, where education is prioritized, and where every child is treated with dignity. In the future, I also hope to mentor other first‑generation students pursuing healthcare. I know how isolating it can feel to be the first, to carry the weight of expectations, and to navigate a path without a map. I want to help others find their footing, just as I am finding mine. Choosing healthcare wasn’t just a career decision; it was a promise — a promise to my younger self, to my family, and to the communities I hope to serve. I am pursuing this degree because I believe in the power of care that is compassionate, accessible, and human. And I am determined to become the kind of pediatrician who not only treats illness, but also inspires hope.

Entrepreneurship, to me, is not just about profit or ownership—it is about service, community, and creating opportunities for others. I plan to create a legacy rooted in giving back, supporting those around me, and proving that businesses can uplift entire communities when they are built with purpose. My journey toward becoming an entrepreneur began early, during my senior year of high school, and it continues to shape my future goals today. While still in high school, I started my own small business called FresitasDeBelen, a chocolate-covered treat business inspired by culture, creativity, and bringing people together. What started as a passion project quickly became a way for me to connect with my community. Through local sales and word of mouth, I saw how something as simple as a treat could create joy, spark conversations, and support local events. Running my business while balancing school taught me responsibility, discipline, and perseverance, but it also showed me the importance of supporting and being supported by my community. In addition to running my own business, I help my father with his handyman business. Working alongside him has been one of my most meaningful learning experiences. I have seen how providing honest, reliable service builds trust and long-term relationships within the community. Many of the people we help rely on these services to feel safe and comfortable in their homes. Through this work, I have learned that entrepreneurship is not only about skills—it is about showing up for people, listening to their needs, and doing the job with care and integrity. In the future, I hope to build a community-centered business that creates jobs, supports families, and reinvests into the neighborhoods it serves. Whether through expanding my food business or creating another service-based company, my goal is to use entrepreneurship as a tool for positive change. I want to mentor young people, especially those from low-income backgrounds, and show them that they can turn their talents into opportunities. I plan to volunteer, partner with local organizations, and create spaces where people feel encouraged and supported. I shine my light by leading with compassion, dedication, and action. I help where I can, whether by supporting family businesses, volunteering my time, or sharing my journey to inspire others. I believe that when one person succeeds, the community succeeds, and I want my legacy to reflect that belief. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education and strengthen my ability to give back through entrepreneurship. With ambition, drive, and passion, I am committed to building a future where my success creates opportunities for others and leaves a lasting, positive impact on my community.

My immigration experience has shaped me in ways I’m still learning to understand. I came to the United States young, and from the beginning, I had to grow up fast. I learned English on my own, helped my family translate, and figured out how to navigate school without anyone to guide me. Being a first-generation Hispanic immigrant means you’re always trying to balance two worlds, and sometimes you feel like you don’t fully belong in either one. But it also teaches you determination, grit, and the importance of not giving up even when everything feels stacked against you. School became the one thing I could control. Even when money was tight, even when life felt overwhelming, I always pushed myself. I didn’t grow up seeing a lot of teachers who looked like me or who understood what it felt like to come from nothing. That’s a big reason why I want to become an educator. I want to be the teacher who sees the student who feels invisible. I want to be the person who tells them, “You can do this. I’ve been where you are.” As someone who struggled in the beginning because of language, culture, and financial challenges, I know how powerful just one supportive educator can be. That’s the impact I want to make. I want immigrant students and first-generation students to feel comfortable, to feel represented, and to know that their dreams aren’t too big just because their circumstances are small. What really inspires me about Vito Martino’s story is that he didn’t just push through his challenges—he turned them into a purpose. He worked his way up in education so he could help students who reminded him of himself. I connect with that deeply. Like him, I want to lift others as I move forward. I want to use my own struggles, not as something to hide, but as something that gives me the heart and patience to support students who feel lost or overlooked. This scholarship would help me continue my education and get one step closer to becoming the kind of teacher who makes a difference. My goal isn’t just to graduate — it’s to go back into communities like mine and help students who need someone who truly understands them. I want to honor the sacrifices my family made, make something meaningful out of my journey, and follow the same path of impact that Vito Martino created.

My name is Evelin, and I’m a proud first-generation, Hispanic college student working toward a degree in education. I come from a low-income household where dreams often had to be put on hold—but not forgotten. In my family, faith, love, and hard work were our foundation, even when we didn’t have much. That foundation is what’s guiding me now as I pursue my biggest dream: to become a teacher who makes every student feel seen, valued, and capable. From a young age, I’ve had to learn how to navigate the world on my own—translating for my parents, figuring out financial aid, and juggling work and school. But through every challenge, my faith and the support of my community have kept me grounded. I believe that every hardship I’ve overcome is part of the purpose I’ve been called to fulfill. I’m passionate about education because I know what it feels like to walk into a classroom and not feel fully understood. I also know how powerful it is when a teacher does see you, believes in you, and helps you believe in yourself. I want to be that person for the next generation of students, especially those who feel overlooked or underestimated. My goal is to become an educator who creates safe and affirming spaces for students from all backgrounds—particularly students of color and those from underserved communities. I want to teach with compassion, patience, and high expectations. I want my students to leave my classroom not just with knowledge, but with confidence in who they are and hope in where they’re going. Beyond teaching, I hope to one day create programs that offer academic support, mentorship, and mental health resources to young people in low-income areas. Education doesn’t just change individual lives—it can uplift entire families and communities. That’s the kind of impact I want to make: one that lasts beyond the classroom and ripples outward into the world. Willie Mae Rawls’ story inspires me because her life was rooted in faith, love, and progress. She believed in pouring into others and being a light—and that’s exactly what I hope to do through my work in education. I may not have all the answers yet, but I do have the heart, the ambition, and the drive to make a difference. Attending an HBCU would enable me to study in an environment that values identity, celebrates culture, and cultivates leaders who uplift their communities. I want to be one of those leaders. This scholarship would not only provide me with financial assistance—it would also carry forward a legacy of love, light, and a faith-driven purpose. I’m committed to making sure that legacy lives on through every student I reach, every lesson I teach, and every door I help open.

Get ready for chaos, confession, and connection—because “The Secret Sync-Up” is about to shake the villa like never before! My Challenge Concept: In this surprise challenge, Islanders will be put to the ultimate test of emotional awareness, loyalty, and intuition. “The Secret Sync-Up” is designed to see how "in tune" the couples really are—without them even being in the same room. How It Works: 1. Couple Separation: All current couples will be split up. One partner from each couple will be taken to a private lounge (the Hideaway is transformed for this!), while the other stays in the main villa. 2. Confession Booth Round (Partner 1): The partner in the lounge will enter the “Confession Booth” and answer 5 spicy, emotional, or revealing prompts on camera. Examples: “Who do you trust least in the villa right now?” “Have you ever thought about coupling up with someone else?” “Who do you think is here for love—and who’s playing a game?” 3. Sync-Up Round (Partner 2): Meanwhile, the other partner in the villa will try to "guess" how their partner answered each question. They’ll record their predictions on camera. 4. The Reveal: Later, the couples reunite in front of the group for the live results. One by one, the original answers and predictions are revealed side-by-side on the screen. For every match, the couple scores a point. Twist: The couple with the fewest correct matches will be forced into a dramatic decision: Either switch couples for 24 hours (with two other Islanders chosen by the group), Or stay together—but give up immunity from the next recoupling. Why It would add Excitement: It mixes emotional drama with relationship dynamics—a core part of the show. We see which couples really know each other and who’s just coasting. The challenge creates juicy conversations, unexpected betrayals, and maybe even a surprise spark from the 24-hour switch. It builds audience suspense and gives Islanders a reality check on how in-sync they actually are Set Design and Aesthetic: The Confession Booth has a glittery, moody vibe with neon signs like “Truth Hurts” and “Say It With Your Chest.” The Reveal Area is set up like a game show, with dramatic music, spotlight effects, and loads of slow-motion reaction shots (we NEED those eye rolls and gasps!). Final Thoughts: Love Island is iconic because it blends heart, humor, and high-stakes choices. “The Secret Sync-Up” would be the perfect mix of tension, truth, and entertainment—reminding everyone that love is more than just looks. It's about really knowing someone. Now, that’s my type on paper.

The moment I knew I wanted to be a teacher wasn’t in a classroom—it was in a kitchen. I was babysitting my little cousin, who was struggling with his reading. He was fidgeting, frustrated, and close to tears. “I’m dumb,” he whispered, avoiding my eyes. Those words broke me. Not because he said them, but because he believed them. I sat next to him, took a deep breath, and tried again—but this time, with patience, humor, and praise. Slowly, he began to read. Then he smiled. That night, when he went to bed, he asked, “Can you be my teacher when I go to school?” That moment changed everything. I realized how much power lies in the way we treat children with just the way we see them, speak to them, and how we show up for them. I didn’t just help him learn to read; I helped him believe in himself. That’s the kind of impact I want to have every day as an educator once I get the chance to become one. As a first-generation woman from a low-income household, I didn’t always feel super seen in school as much as the other kids did. There were many kind teachers, but there were also missed opportunities—moments when my potential was overlooked or my story misunderstood. If I could change one thing about education, it would be how we approach "connection" from a student-teacher perspective to even a student-to-student one. Curriculum is important, of course, but kids don’t learn well from people who they believe don't see them or value them as much as others. I would create more time for social-emotional learning, provide more mental health support, and increase diversity among staff—so students can see themselves reflected in their teachers and feel valued. For me, the biggest inspiration to become a teacher has been my mom. She didn’t go to college, but she taught me everything about resilience, love, and service. She’s worked long hours to provide for our family, never complaining, always encouraging me to chase my dreams. Every time I wanted to give up, she reminded me why I started. She may not have stood in front of a classroom, but she has taught me more than any textbook ever could. Sierra Argumedo’s story touches me deeply because I, too, want every child to feel loved and valued in the classroom. It is heartbreaking to know that such a kind soul was lost, but I believe her mission lives on in future educators like me. I want to teach with the kind of heart Sierra had—gentle, attentive, and filled with purpose. I want to be the kind of teacher who sees every student, not just for their grades, but for their potential, their struggles, and their dreams. This scholarship would help me continue pursuing my degree in education, so I can stand in front of a classroom not just as a teacher, but as a reminder to every child that they are important, worthy, and never alone.

Loss changes you in a way nothing else can. It forces you to grow in places you didn’t expect and feel things you didn’t choose. I’ve experienced that kind of loss—deep, personal, and silent. The kind that stays with you even when the world moves on. When I was younger, someone close to me went through a severe mental health crisis. It wasn’t spoken about much in my family, but I remember the fear, the confusion, and the helplessness. I didn’t have the words to explain what was happening or the tools to help. All I knew was that someone I loved was hurting in a way I couldn’t see, and I didn’t know how to reach them. That experience stayed with me. It made me realize that mental health is often treated like a hidden wound—one that people are expected to ignore or “tough out.” But just because it’s invisible doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Watching someone struggle in silence showed me how vital it is to have support, understanding, and a safe space to talk. It also showed me what can happen when that support is missing. I want to be part of the change. I’m pursuing a degree in psychology because I believe every person deserves to be seen, heard, and supported—especially during their darkest moments. My goal is to become a therapist who specializes in working with youth and communities of color. As a Mexican-American and a first-generation student, I’ve seen how stigma, lack of access, and cultural barriers prevent people from seeking help. I want to change that. I believe suicide prevention starts with connection. It starts with having professionals who look like us, speak our language, and understand our stories. It starts with conversations—in schools, in families, and in the places where young people spend their time. I want to bring those conversations to life. I want to work in schools, community centers, and eventually open a practice that offers affordable, culturally sensitive care to those who need it most. I also want to be a voice that reminds people: you are not alone, and your life matters. So many people suffer in silence because they feel like no one would understand. I want to be the kind of therapist who proves them wrong. The loss I experienced opened my eyes to how broken our mental health system can be—but it also lit a fire in me to do something about it. I see this career not just as a job, but as a mission. One that could save lives. Receiving this scholarship in Jake Thomas Williams’ honor would be a step forward in that mission. It would support me in becoming someone who can walk with others through the darkness and help them find light again.

Why I’m Passionate About Being a First-Generation, Mexican-American College Graduate Being a first-generation, Mexican-American college student means carrying the weight of my family’s sacrifices on my shoulders—but also the pride of their hopes in my heart. My journey toward becoming the first in my family to earn a college degree isn’t just about me. It’s about honoring everything my parents gave up so that I could have the opportunities they never did. My parents are Mexican immigrants who arrived in this country with dreams bigger than their pockets. They didn’t have diplomas or formal training, but they carried something stronger—resilience, humility, and the belief that education could rewrite the future. They taught me, not with fancy words, but with everyday actions. My dad leaving for work before the sun rose. My mom doing whatever job she could find, always with love and patience. They never asked for recognition, but they deserved all of it. As I grew up, I became the bridge between two worlds—translating documents, helping with bills, and figuring out school systems no one else in my family had ever been through. At times, I felt overwhelmed, but I never felt alone. My family reminded me daily that every challenge I overcame was a step forward for all of us. When I think about graduation, I don’t picture just myself on that stage. I picture my parents, their hands tired but their faces proud. I picture my younger siblings, watching and realizing that if I can do it, so can they. I’ve worked hard, both inside and outside of school. Whether it was through jobs, volunteering in my community, or helping in family businesses, I’ve learned the value of effort, service, and showing up even when it’s hard. That’s what makes me passionate about being a first-generation college graduate—it’s proof that hard work means something, that our culture, language, and roots are not obstacles but strengths. I chose to pursue a degree in education because I want to become the kind of teacher who sees potential in every student, especially the quiet ones, the first-gen ones, the ones who doubt if they belong. I know what it’s like to feel unsure in a space that wasn’t built for you. I want to help build better spaces. The story of José Melendez inspires me deeply. He may not have had a degree, but he had something even more powerful—a vision for his children, and the determination to see it through. That’s the kind of legacy I hope to create too. This scholarship would not just support me financially; it would help carry on a legacy of perseverance, belief, and love for education. I am proud to be a Mexican-American. I am proud to be first-generation. And I’m proud to be building a future that honors where I come from while reaching for everything that’s still ahead.

If I could create one mandatory class for all K–12 students, it would be called “Roots & Realities: Life Skills Through Cultural Storytelling.” This interesting class would be combining two things I care deeply about: practical life skills and personal identity. By using these specific points, I would be able to teach students how to navigate the real world while honoring who they are and where they come from. As a first-generation Hispanic student, I’ve seen how school often forgets to teach the most important lessons: how to manage money, how to deal with emotions, how to communicate with respect, how to advocate for yourself, and how to be proud of your roots. “Roots & Realities” would blend lessons on financial literacy, emotional intelligence, self-advocacy, and real-world skills (like writing a resume or having a tough conversation) with a storytelling component where students would be exploring their culture, interviewing their family members or members of the community, and reflect on how their background shapes who they are and who they want to be. This class would be taught from Kindergarten through 12th grade, a class that will be growing alongside the students. Younger grades might put their focus on feelings, traditions, and storytelling. Middle schoolers would begin learning about budgeting, time management, and setting goals. High schoolers would tackle job interviews, college applications, taxes, civic engagement, and how to understand contracts and rights—while still connecting it all to their family stories and values. Why storytelling? Because every student has something powerful to share, no matter where they come from. Storytelling makes lessons stick, and when students see themselves reflected in the classroom, they feel seen. They feel worthy. And when a student feels worthy, they show up differently in life. They speak up. They chase dreams. They give back. I believe this class could break generational cycles, not just academically, but emotionally and socially. It could empower students to face life with confidence while honoring their communities. Make them realize that their roots and cultural beliefs aren't silly or something to be ashamed of. I want to become the kind of teacher who not only teaches content but creates space for students to feel valued and prepared for life beyond the classroom. I know what it’s like to grow up with limited resources but big dreams. And I want to be the kind of educator who turns those dreams into plans.

Education has always been important to me, not just because it opens doors, but because it’s something my family has dreamed of for generations. As a first-generation college student, I carry more than just my own goals—I carry my parents’ sacrifices, my siblings’ hopes, and my community’s dreams. Growing up in a Hispanic household where my parents didn’t have the chance to pursue higher education, I was taught from a young age that education is the key to a better future. Still, it hasn’t been easy. My parents have always worked hard to provide for us, but college was never something we could afford without stress or struggle. Even so, they constantly reminded me how important it is to keep learning, to do my best, and to never stop believing in my goals. That encouragement is what’s kept me going, especially in moments when the path ahead felt uncertain or overwhelming. Being the first in my family to go to college means stepping into the unknown. I haven’t had the advantage of parents who could help with college applications, financial aid forms, or choosing the right classes. Everything I’ve learned, I’ve had to figure out on my own—by asking questions, seeking help, and doing endless research. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s made me stronger and more determined to succeed. Education, to me, represents opportunity. It’s the chance to not only build a better life for myself but to create a new path for my family and others like us. I want to become a teacher because I believe education should be a source of empowerment. I want to help students from underserved communities see their worth, recognize their potential, and chase their dreams—no matter how big they may seem. The legacy I hope to leave is one of change, impact, and inspiration. I want my younger siblings and future generations in my family to grow up knowing that college isn’t a far-off dream—it’s something that’s within reach. I want to be the one who breaks the cycle of limited opportunity and proves that with hard work, support, and determination, anything is possible. I also hope to leave a legacy in my future classroom. I want to be the kind of teacher who not only teaches lessons but also makes students feel seen, heard, and valued. I want to be someone who helps them believe in themselves, even when life gets hard, just like I had to do. This scholarship would help lift a huge weight off my shoulders and allow me to focus on becoming the best student and future educator I can be. More than that, it would be an investment in the legacy I’m working hard to build—one where the dreams of one generation open doors for the next.

Growing up as a first-generation Hispanic student, adversity wasn’t just a one-time obstacle—it was part of my everyday life. From a young age, I learned how to navigate spaces where I didn’t always feel seen or understood, and I quickly realized that I’d have to work twice as hard to reach goals that others seemed to take for granted. One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced has been balancing school with family responsibilities. My parents, who didn’t have the opportunity to pursue higher education, have always worked incredibly hard to provide for us. Because of this, I’ve often taken on the role of translator, paperwork-filler, and guide—not just for myself, but for my entire family. Whether it was translating school forms, attending meetings, or helping my younger siblings with their homework, I had to grow up quickly and learn how to carry a lot on my shoulders. There were times I felt overwhelmed and unsure if I could handle it all—especially when school got tough. I didn’t have older siblings or family members who could tell me what to expect from college applications or advanced coursework. I had to figure it out on my own, asking questions, staying late with teachers, and researching everything from FAFSA to scholarship deadlines. Even when I doubted myself, I kept going because I knew I wasn’t just doing this for me—I was doing it for my family and for the future we all dreamed of. In addition to the academic pressures, there was always the financial stress. I knew from early on that college wouldn’t be something my parents could easily afford. That reality could have discouraged me—but instead, it lit a fire in me. I started searching for scholarships, applying to every opportunity I could, and focusing hard on my grades. I became resourceful and determined because I knew that education was my pathway forward. Despite all the struggles, I never let go of my goals. I’ve remained committed to becoming a teacher so I can be the kind of support system I never had—especially for students who come from families like mine. I want to be the one who encourages them, guides them, and helps them believe in their potential. Overcoming adversity has taught me resilience, patience, and strength. It has shaped me into someone who knows how to keep pushing even when the odds aren’t in my favor. The Patrick Barron Scholarship would be life-changing for me. It wouldn’t just help relieve financial stress—it would be a reminder that everything I’ve worked for matters, and that I’m not alone in this journey. Like Patrick’s mother, my parents have always valued education, even when it felt out of reach. I’m proud to carry that legacy forward, and with your support, I’ll continue to rise—and help others do the same.

Growing up, school was always more than just a place to learn for me—it was a safe space, a second home, and where I began to understand the power a great teacher can have in a student’s life. As a first-generation Hispanic student, I didn’t always have someone who understood my background or spoke to my experiences. That’s one of the biggest reasons I want to become a teacher—I want to be that person for someone else. I want to be the kind of educator who not only teaches but listens, supports, and believes in the potential of every student who walks through my door. From a young age, I found myself naturally drawn to helping others, whether it was explaining homework to classmates or guiding my younger relatives through their schoolwork. I loved finding ways to make things “click” for someone, and I started to realize that teaching wasn’t just something I was good at—it was something I genuinely loved. I’ve seen how powerful education can be when students feel supported and understood, and I want to be the kind of teacher who creates that environment every single day. As a student myself, I’ve had the privilege of learning from a few truly inspiring teachers—people who took the time to understand me, pushed me to do my best, and helped me believe in myself even when I was unsure. Their words and encouragement have stayed with me through the years, and their example is what motivates me to follow the same path. I want to give back what was given to me—hope, support, and the belief that I can achieve anything I set my mind to. My background has shaped my perspective in a powerful way. I know what it feels like to be the only one in a room who’s navigating the college process for the first time or trying to explain school paperwork to family members. I understand how difficult it can be to stay motivated when the road ahead feels uncertain. That’s why I’m passionate about becoming a teacher who not only educates but uplifts and advocates for students like me. The classroom is where lives are changed, and I want to be part of that change. I want to create a space where students feel safe, challenged, and empowered to dream big. I believe every student deserves a teacher who sees them, hears them, and fights for their success—and I hope to be that kind of teacher one day. Being awarded the Lidia M. Wallace Memorial Scholarship would mean so much to me. It would not only help ease the financial burden of college but would also be a step forward in my journey toward making a difference in the lives of future students. I want to honor the legacy of Mrs. Wallace by dedicating myself to a career in education and giving my future students the same kind of support and inspiration that changed my life.

As a first-generation Hispanic college student, my background has shaped every part of my motivation to pursue higher education. I was raised in a hardworking family that taught me the value of effort, community, and perseverance. My parents came to this country with a dream—not just for themselves, but for me and my future. Watching them work tirelessly to provide for us, despite not having had the opportunity to pursue an education themselves, inspired me to take full advantage of the opportunities they've worked so hard to make possible. Growing up, I didn’t always see people who looked like me in positions of influence or in higher education, but that only fueled my desire to change that. I want to be someone younger girls in my community can look up to and say, “If she did it, so can I.” I chose to pursue education as my major because I believe change starts in the classroom. I want to create a welcoming space for students from all walks of life—especially those who feel overlooked or underestimated. Alongside my academic journey, I’ve also started my own small business, Fresitas DeBelen, where I handmake chocolate-covered strawberries and treats. This venture has taught me about responsibility, discipline, and community support. It’s been a way for me to contribute financially while pursuing my dreams, and I'm proud of it. With my education, I hope to become a teacher who teaches curriculum, uplifts, and inspires. I want to help close the opportunity gap for students like me and make a lasting difference in the lives of others. This scholarship would help lighten the financial load and allow me to focus more on my studies, my business, and giving back to the community that raised me.

One of the most meaningful community events I have ever participated in was organizing and running the Breakfast Club at a local elementary school. While it may not have looked like a traditional celebration or festival, to me, it was—and still is—a quiet but powerful community movement. It brought people together, uplifted students, and reminded me that positive change often starts with something small, something simple—like breakfast and conversation. I first started the Breakfast Club after noticing how many elementary school students were struggling with attendance and motivation. As a high school student who is passionate about education, I knew I wanted to do something—anything—to help. I reached out to school staff, spoke to students, and learned that many kids didn’t have consistent routines at home, which made it hard for them to start their day positively. Some were hungry. Some felt discouraged. Others just didn’t feel like they belonged. I created the Breakfast Club to be a space where students could come early to school, eat something nourishing, and talk about their goals and dreams. Every morning, I greeted them with a smile, asked about their day, and reminded them that showing up matters. Over time, I noticed that their attitudes began to shift. They came in excited. They stayed longer. They felt seen. It became more than breakfast—it became a community. This event was meaningful to me because it reminded me that we don’t have to wait to make a difference. We don’t have to be adults or have fancy titles or big platforms to lead. We can start right where we are, with what we have. And for me, that meant using my time, heart, and voice to support younger students who needed a boost. I saw myself in them—kids with potential, facing challenges, just needing someone to believe in them. As a result of this event, the positive change I hope to see in my community is a stronger focus on supporting students emotionally and mentally—not just academically. I want schools to build more programs that create safe spaces for students to feel encouraged, connected, and understood. I want there to be more conversations about the importance of showing up, even when it’s hard. And I hope others in my generation will feel inspired to step up and lead initiatives of their own, knowing that even small efforts can ripple into something much bigger. I also hope to continue this work as I pursue my goal of becoming an elementary school teacher. I want to carry the spirit of the Breakfast Club into my future classroom, always making sure that my students know they matter. The memory of Gregory Chase Carter—someone who loved his community, valued the arts, and gave his time to meaningful causes—is a reminder to me that what we give to others never disappears. It lives on in the joy, the growth, and the light we leave behind.

My name is Evelin Zelaya Sanchez, and I am currently a senior in high school with the dream of becoming an elementary school teacher. As a first-generation student, a proud daughter of immigrant parents, and an advocate for my community, I see education as much more than a career path—it is my way of creating a better future not only for myself, but for the many students and families I hope to serve one day. Academically, I have always pushed myself to stay committed and focused, even in moments of difficulty. I want to major in elementary education, because I believe the classroom can be a powerful space for healing, growth, and empowerment. I know firsthand how important it is for students—especially those from marginalized backgrounds—to feel seen and supported. I hope to be the kind of teacher who meets her students where they are, sees their potential before they see it in themselves, and encourages them to dream beyond their current circumstances. One of the most meaningful ways I’ve given back to my community has been through starting a Breakfast Club at a local elementary school. I noticed that many of the younger students were struggling with attendance, and after learning more, I realized that some of them lacked motivation, encouragement, or even a consistent meal to start the day. So I took the initiative to create a space where students could come in the mornings, eat breakfast, and talk about their goals. It became a safe, welcoming environment that helped students feel excited to come to school and reminded them that their futures matter. This experience taught me just how much of a difference one small act of care can make—and how important it is to reach people early with kindness and consistency. I’ve also been heavily involved with the TPS Alliance, a national immigrant advocacy group that supports families like mine. Through my involvement, I’ve attended rallies, spoken at events, and helped raise awareness about the issues that affect our community. Sharing my story and advocating for others has taught me the value of using my voice and the importance of creating space for people who are often left out of the conversation. It’s also deepened my commitment to serving others and building a world where opportunity is not limited by background, income, or immigration status. Everything I’ve experienced—whether it's the responsibility of navigating school systems as a first-gen student, or the joy of connecting with kids through the Breakfast Club—has fueled my desire to make a difference. I believe that education is a form of justice, and I want to be part of the movement that makes it more equitable, more inclusive, and more empowering for every child. This scholarship would be a meaningful step toward that goal. It would not only lighten the financial burden of college but also serve as a reminder that my dreams are possible. With continued support, I know I can use my education to uplift my community and become a teacher who changes lives, one student at a time.

My name is Evelin Zelaya Sanchez , and I am currently a high school senior preparing to take the next step toward my dream of becoming an elementary school teacher. As a first-generation student and the daughter of immigrant parents, I’ve learned that education is not just a pathway to a better life—it’s a source of strength, purpose, and healing. My journey has been filled with both challenges and meaningful moments, and I carry each of them with me as motivation to make a difference in the lives of others. Growing up in a household where English wasn’t the first language and financial resources were limited, I learned the importance of responsibility early on. I often served as a translator for my family and navigated many parts of the school system on my own. At times, it was overwhelming—but those experiences helped me understand the quiet struggles that many children go through, especially when they come from immigrant or low-income families. They also helped shape the kind of person and future educator I want to be: someone who sees every child, supports them where they are, and reminds them they’re never alone. Inspired by this, I started a Breakfast Club at a local elementary school. I noticed some students were consistently arriving late or missing school altogether. Many were just lacking the structure, encouragement, or even nourishment to start their day with confidence. I created the club as a warm and welcoming space where kids could grab a bite to eat, talk about their goals, and build community. It’s been one of the most fulfilling things I’ve ever done—watching them smile, open up, and slowly begin to believe in themselves. In addition to my work with younger students, I’m also a proud advocate through the TPS Alliance, where I help raise awareness and support for immigrant families. It’s deeply personal work, rooted in my own family’s experience, and it’s taught me how powerful it is to stand together and speak up for those who feel voiceless. Whether through community events, organizing, or simply sharing our stories, I’ve seen how small actions can lead to real change. While I’ve faced many hurdles—especially financial ones—I’ve never let them stop me. I see college as more than just a goal; it’s a promise to my family and a way to honor all of the sacrifices made on my behalf. It’s also how I plan to continue my mission of empowering children, creating safe spaces in classrooms, and encouraging students to dream beyond their circumstances. To me, this scholarship is more than financial assistance—it’s a reflection of the values I hold dear. Valerie Rabb’s legacy of uplifting students and believing in their potential speaks to my heart. I hope to carry that same spirit into my future as an educator: to help children feel seen, supported, and capable of anything. That’s the kind of impact I want to make—gentle, steady, and lasting.

To me, empowerment means finding your voice even when the world tells you to be silent—and then using that voice to lift others up with you. It’s about turning struggle into strength, and it’s about realizing that you have the power not just to survive, but to lead, to impact, and to inspire change. Empowerment isn’t something I was handed—it’s something I had to grow into, and it has become the foundation of who I am and who I hope to become. I am a first-generation high school senior, the daughter of immigrant parents who came to this country with little more than hope and an unshakable belief in a better future. From a young age, I witnessed my parents sacrifice everything to create a life for my siblings and me. They faced language barriers, discrimination, long hours of work, and the constant weight of uncertainty. There were times when money was tight, food was limited, and I had to step into roles that many kids my age never have to think about—translating, managing responsibilities at home, and navigating a system none of us fully understood. In those moments, I could have let fear or discouragement define me. But instead, I chose empowerment. Empowerment came when I realized that my story had value. That even though my path has been filled with challenges, I could use those experiences to make a difference. One of the most meaningful ways I’ve done that is by creating a Breakfast Club at a local elementary school. I noticed that many students were struggling with attendance and motivation—something I personally understood. I started the club to provide a safe space where students could get breakfast, feel supported, and talk about their goals. I wanted them to know they weren’t alone, and that their future mattered. Being there for those kids every morning taught me that even small acts of encouragement can spark big change. I also feel empowered through my work with the TPS Alliance, where I advocate for immigrant rights and support families who are often unheard. I’ve spoken at events, attended rallies, and helped educate others about the experiences of people living with Temporary Protected Status. Standing alongside my community and fighting for justice has shown me just how powerful collective voices can be. Empowerment has not only shaped how I view the world, but how I see my future. I plan to pursue a degree in elementary education so I can continue to empower the next generation—especially students who come from underserved and marginalized communities. I want to be the kind of teacher who sees every child’s potential, especially when they can’t see it yet themselves. In my life, empowerment is everything. It’s the fuel behind my dreams, the reason I keep going, and the way I turn every hardship into purpose. And through education and service, I hope to continue empowering others to rise just as I have.

Dr. Jack Terry once said, “My survival obligates me to speak for those who cannot speak. I have a responsibility to teach others what hatred can do—but also what hope and courage can overcome.” These words resonate deeply with me, not only because of the immense pain and strength they reflect but because they mirror the very mission I’ve set for myself. As a first-generation high school senior and the daughter of immigrant parents, I’ve grown up navigating the challenges of poverty, uncertainty, and systemic barriers. My parents came to this country with very little, sacrificing their own dreams so I could have a chance at mine. From a young age, I carried responsibilities that stretched beyond my years—translating at doctor’s appointments, helping pay bills, and learning to move through a system that wasn’t designed for families like mine. Like Dr. Terry, I’ve faced adversity that could have held me back. Instead, I’ve chosen to let it push me forward. His story reminds me that even in the face of tremendous loss, we can choose to be builders of hope and bridges for others. His resilience is a guiding light that has taught me that surviving is not enough—we must also give back, speak out, and lead with compassion. One way I’ve done this is by creating a Breakfast Club at a local elementary school. I started this initiative to help students struggling with attendance and motivation—many of whom come from immigrant or low-income families like mine. Each morning, I meet with them to share food, talk about their goals, and remind them that their future matters. Just as Dr. Terry used his experience to educate and uplift others, I am using mine to plant seeds of self-worth and ambition in the next generation. I also serve as an advocate through the TPS Alliance, using my voice to fight for immigrant families who often live in silence and fear. I’ve participated in rallies, community meetings, and educational events that aim to bring awareness and justice to those affected by Temporary Protected Status policies. Through this work, I’ve learned the power of courage—the kind Dr. Terry embodied when he told his story to help prevent history from repeating itself. I plan to major in elementary education because I believe that the classroom is one of the most powerful places to create change. I want to be the kind of teacher who recognizes every child’s worth, especially those who come from backgrounds of hardship. I want to teach them that who they are—where they come from, what they’ve been through—can be their greatest strength. Dr. Jack Terry’s story reminds me that while we don’t choose our struggles, we can choose how we rise from them. I choose to rise by lifting others with me. With the support of this scholarship, I will continue the work of building hope, just as Dr. Terry so powerfully did.

Growing up as the daughter of immigrant parents, I’ve faced challenges that have shaped me into a strong, determined, and compassionate individual. As a first-generation high school senior, I’ve often had to navigate the world of education on my own—learning how to apply for college, fill out financial aid forms, and advocate for myself without the guidance many of my peers take for granted. But every challenge I’ve faced has only made me more committed to paving a better path—not just for myself, but for others like me. One of the biggest challenges has been watching my parents struggle to make ends meet while working long hours just to provide the basics. Their sacrifices—working physically demanding jobs, giving up their own dreams, and living with the constant fear that immigration policies could change our lives overnight—have never gone unnoticed. Their resilience has inspired me to work even harder, but it has also meant facing financial obstacles at every turn. There have been times when we didn’t know how we were going to pay rent, when I had to pass on school trips or extracurriculars because we couldn’t afford the fees, and when I watched my parents skip meals so my siblings and I could eat. Despite this, I’ve always prioritized my education, juggling school, leadership roles, and community service while supporting my family however I can. These experiences have taught me how to be resourceful, responsible, and relentless in the pursuit of my goals. Financially, college is a significant hurdle. I want more than anything to earn a degree in elementary education so I can become a teacher and give back to my community, but the cost of tuition, books, and living expenses is daunting. My family simply does not have the means to support my education, and I refuse to let that be the reason I stop short of my dreams. This scholarship would ease that burden tremendously and allow me to focus on my studies and service without the constant stress of how I’m going to afford it. Beyond my academic goals, I’m deeply committed to advocacy and outreach. I’ve founded a Breakfast Club at a local elementary school to mentor younger students and encourage them to value their education and attend school regularly. I’m also actively involved in the TPS Alliance , where I advocate for immigrant families and use my voice to fight for justice and protection for our communities. These aren’t just activities—they’re part of my mission to be the change I want to see. This scholarship would not only help fund my education, but it would also be an investment in a future educator, community leader, and advocate who is determined to give back. I carry with me the stories, struggles, and dreams of my family and my community—and with your support, I will turn those into a future where we all rise together.

Earning a college degree would not just change my life—it would transform the future of my entire family and community. As a first-generation high school senior from immigrant parents, I carry the dreams and sacrifices of those who came before me. My parents left everything behind so I could have the opportunities they never did. A college degree would be proof that their hard work was not in vain—it would be a symbol of hope, strength, and possibility. Being the first in my family to attend college means I’m setting a new standard, not just for myself, but for my younger siblings, cousins, and the many students I mentor. I want them to know that success is not reserved for people who come from privilege—it is also for those of us who work tirelessly, who overcome barriers, and who dare to dream beyond our circumstances. For my family, a degree represents stability and pride. For me personally, it means freedom—the freedom to grow, to give back, and to lead with purpose. My passion is rooted in education and community advocacy. I want to become an elementary school teacher because I believe that every child deserves to be seen, supported, and believed in—especially those who come from marginalized backgrounds like mine. My goal is to create classrooms that feel like safe spaces, where students are encouraged to be curious, creative, and confident. To pursue this passion, I’ve taken every opportunity to lead and serve. One of my proudest achievements is founding a Breakfast Club at a local elementary school. I started this initiative to help motivate young students to improve their attendance and believe in their future. I meet with them before school to share breakfast, offer mentorship, and talk about the importance of education. For many of these children, I’m one of the few people reminding them they matter and that they are capable of achieving great things. This experience has only strengthened my desire to become a teacher who makes a lasting impact. I’m also a proud member of the TPS Alliance, where I advocate for immigrant rights and speak out on behalf of families like mine who live with uncertainty. My involvement in community activism has taught me how to use my voice not just for myself, but for others who may not yet feel empowered to use theirs. A college degree would be the key to unlocking everything I’ve worked toward. It would allow me to continue this journey—not just for me, but for every student I hope to teach, every family I hope to inspire, and every future generation in my family who will see that anything is possible when you believe in yourself and your roots. This degree isn’t just about a career—it’s about creating change, leading with love, and honoring the story that brought me here.

As a first-generation high school senior from immigrant parents, I’ve always been deeply connected to the needs of marginalized and underserved communities—because I am part of one. This personal connection has driven me to create and lead projects that not only uplift others but also create spaces where people like me feel seen, heard, and empowered. One of the most meaningful self-initiated projects I’ve led is the Breakfast Club at a local elementary school. I created this program after noticing a pattern in my community: Many young students struggle with attendance and motivation, not because they lack potential, but because they lack support and encouragement. I wanted to change that narrative, starting with the youngest members of our community. Every morning before school, I meet with a group of elementary students to share breakfast, talk about their goals, and encourage them to show up—not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. We have open conversations about the importance of education, setting goals, and believing in themselves. For some of these kids, it's the only time in the day when someone is focused solely on them. Many come from immigrant or low-income households, and I know from experience how easy it is to feel invisible in those circumstances. My goal is to make sure they feel seen and valued, and to plant the seeds of confidence early on. Another major part of my advocacy work involves being an active member of the TPS Alliance , where I use my voice to advocate for immigrant rights. I’ve participated in marches, educational campaigns, and community discussions centered on Temporary Protected Status and immigration justice. These efforts are especially important to me because my family and many others in my community rely on these protections to live and work in this country. Through this work, I’ve helped educate both immigrants and non-immigrants alike about the importance of policy, representation, and allyship. Both the Breakfast Club and my involvement with the TPS Alliance are rooted in the same mission: to serve, support, and uplift those who are often overlooked. These projects weren’t part of a school program or prompted by an adult—they were created because I saw a need, and I refused to stay silent or still. Looking ahead, I plan to major in elementary education and dedicate my career to helping underserved students thrive. I believe education is one of the most powerful tools for breaking cycles of poverty and marginalization, and I’m committed to being the kind of teacher who shows every child that they matter. I’ve learned that innovation doesn’t always mean big budgets or complex technology—it can also mean listening closely, caring deeply, and doing something when others don’t. That’s what I try to do with every project I take on, and it’s what I’ll continue to do in everything I pursue.

As a first-generation high school senior from immigrant parents, I’ve grown up understanding the value of hard work, sacrifice, and perseverance. My parents left everything behind in search of a better life, and their journey has become the foundation of my own. I carry their sacrifices with me in everything I do, especially in my commitment to education, advocacy, and community upliftment. I am Evelin Zelaya Sanchez and I currently attend Frederick High School , where I’m focused on academic success and leadership through service. One of my proudest accomplishments has been founding a Breakfast Club at a local elementary school. I started this initiative to motivate young students to care about their education, attendance, and future. Each morning, I spend time with them—sharing breakfast, building trust, and reminding them that their dreams matter. Many of these children come from underrepresented backgrounds like mine, and I want them to see that someone who looks like them, talks like them, and understands their challenges can succeed. My goal is to plant seeds of confidence early on, because I know how powerful it is when someone believes in you. Beyond the classroom, I’m an active member of the TPS Alliance, where I proudly advocate for immigrant rights. As someone directly impacted by immigration policies, I use my voice to speak up for my community. Whether it's organizing rallies, attending advocacy meetings, or educating others about TPS (Temporary Protected Status), I aim to be part of the movement that changes the narrative around immigrants. This work is deeply personal for me. I know the fear and uncertainty that many immigrant families face, and I am committed to fighting for a future where they feel safe, valued, and protected. My involvement doesn’t stop there—I actively participate in local service projects, mentor younger students, and help organize community events. I believe that real change starts at home, and that’s why I pour my energy into the people around me. Every time I give back, I feel like I’m honoring my parents and paving the way for those who will come after me. After high school, I plan to attend college and major in elementary education. My dream is to become a teacher and eventually a leader in education reform. I want to create inclusive, empowering classrooms where students—especially those from immigrant and low-income backgrounds—can thrive. My long-term goal is to become a principal or educational advocate focused on equity and access for all. If I had the opportunity to start my own charity, it would be called "Raíces Fuertes"(Strong Roots). Its mission would be to support immigrant youth and families by providing educational resources, mentorship programs, college and career counseling, and access to legal support. Volunteers would tutor students, assist with college and financial aid applications, provide language interpretation, and organize workshops on immigrant rights and resources. Most importantly, the charity would be a safe and affirming space for immigrant families to grow strong roots and feel a sense of belonging. Everything I do is driven by love for my community and the desire to be the person I needed when I was younger. I don’t just want to succeed—I want to bring others with me.

Being a first-generation Hispanic student, I’ve grown up balancing two worlds—the culture and traditions of my family’s roots and the unfamiliar systems and challenges that come with being raised in a country my parents were still learning to navigate. My immigrant experience is the foundation of who I am and has shaped the way I see my future. It’s not just a part of my identity—it’s the driving force behind my goals, passions, and the path I’m choosing to follow. Growing up, I had to become the bridge between my family and the world around us. I was often the translator at appointments, the one helping fill out forms, and the person explaining school processes that none of us fully understood. It was a lot of pressure at a young age, but it also helped me grow into someone who’s independent, dependable, and deeply aware of how hard it can be to navigate life without guidance. That’s part of why I’ve become so passionate about helping others—especially those who come from similar backgrounds. Being involved in the TPS Alliance has been one of the most meaningful parts of my journey so far. It gave me the chance to connect with other students who share similar immigrant stories and allowed me to take an active role in uplifting our Hispanic community. Whether it was through organizing events, advocating for student needs, or simply offering support to someone who felt out of place, I found a strong sense of purpose. That experience showed me how important it is to stand up for others, to be a voice when others feel unheard, and to use my experiences to help open doors for those coming after me. That desire to support and uplift others is also what inspired my career aspirations. I plan to pursue a degree in education and become a teacher—not just to teach academic subjects, but to be a role model and support system for students who need someone to believe in them. I want to be the teacher who creates a classroom where all students feel welcome, capable, and encouraged to dream big, no matter where they come from. Education changed my life, and I want to pass that gift on to others, especially students from underrepresented communities. In addition to my academic and community work, I also started my own small business, Fresitas DeBelen, where I make chocolate-covered strawberries and other sweet treats. What began as a small idea quickly became something I’m proud of. Through this business, I’ve learned time management, leadership, customer service, and how to take initiative—all skills that have helped me grow both personally and professionally. It’s taught me that even at a young age, I’m capable of creating something meaningful and making a positive impact in my own way. My immigrant experience has shaped me in every way. It has taught me compassion, perseverance, and the power of community. It’s what fuels my passion for education and inspires me to lead with purpose and heart. I know I still have a lot to learn, but I’m proud of where I’ve come from and excited about where I’m going. My goal is to use my story—not as a burden, but as a light—to guide others, open minds, and help build a future where every student feels like they belong and every voice matters.

As a first-generation Hispanic student, I carry my roots, my culture, and my family's sacrifices with me in everything I do. My parents came to this country with hope and courage, and their journey has shaped the way I see the world and approach every opportunity that comes my way. I’ve learned to work hard, stay grounded, and lead with heart—values that continue to guide me in all areas of my life, whether in school, in my community, or in my small business. I strive to embody academic excellence, personal and spiritual growth, and a deep commitment to uplifting others—values that I know Chidubè stood for and that I now strive to reflect in my own life. Education has always been a top priority in my family, even when access and resources were limited. Being a first-generation college-bound student hasn’t been easy—I’ve had to navigate everything on my own, from understanding applications and financial aid to balancing school with work and responsibilities at home. But it’s also been one of the most empowering experiences of my life. That’s what motivated me to pursue education as my major. I want to become the kind of educator who not only teaches, but uplifts. I want to create a classroom where students feel seen, safe, and inspired—especially those who come from communities like mine, where opportunities aren’t always easy to come by, but dreams are just as big. Through my involvement with the TPS Alliance, I’ve been able to connect more deeply with my Hispanic community and be part of something bigger than myself. This organization gave me the opportunity to advocate for my peers, build leadership skills, and use my voice to create positive change. It reminded me that community work isn’t just about showing up—it’s about listening, standing together, and creating space for others to thrive. Whether I was helping organize events, supporting fellow students, or simply being a voice of encouragement, I found so much purpose in giving back and being someone others could rely on. Alongside my academic and community work, I also started my own small business, Fresitas DeBelen, which focuses on chocolate-covered strawberries and other sweet treats. What started as a creative hobby quickly grew into a business that I’m incredibly proud of. Running Fresitas DeBelen has taught me more than I ever expected—how to manage my time, take initiative, handle responsibilities, communicate professionally, and build meaningful relationships with customers. Each order I create is a reflection of my passion, my culture, and my dedication to growth. It’s a reminder that even as a young person, I can take charge of my future and create something beautiful from scratch. Academic excellence, to me, is about more than just good grades—it’s about being curious, staying committed, and always striving to grow, even when things get hard. Personal and spiritual growth come from the lessons I’ve learned along the way—from the challenges, the setbacks, and the moments where I had to believe in myself even when things felt uncertain. And my dedication to uplifting others is what fuels everything I do—because I know what it feels like to need a hand, and I want to be that hand for someone else. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I do know this: I want to use my experiences, my voice, and my heart to make a difference. Whether it’s through teaching, mentoring, community work, or simply leading by example, I want to continue growing into the kind of person who helps others rise. That’s the legacy I hope to build—and the impact I hope to leave behind.