I am deeply committed to helping others through emotional and mental health support, a commitment shaped by my personal experiences, service work, and academic path. I have learned that mental health support does not always begin in clinical settings—it often begins with patience, understanding, and the willingness to truly listen. Through education and service, I have made it my goal to be a source of stability and encouragement for others. I have supported others’ mental health primarily through educational and mentoring roles. As an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I worked closely with young children from low-income families who faced emotional, behavioral, and environmental challenges. Many struggled with attention, self-regulation, or confidence. By creating consistent routines, adapting activities to individual needs, and offering encouragement, I helped foster safe environments where children felt supported and valued. These small but meaningful interactions reinforced the importance of emotional safety as a foundation for learning and well-being. I also supported mental health through my experience teaching English virtually to students in El Salvador. Many students entered the class feeling anxious, hesitant to speak, or unsure of their abilities. By providing constructive feedback, celebrating progress, and creating a respectful learning space, I helped students build confidence and reduce fear around making mistakes. Emotional support became just as important as academic instruction, and I saw firsthand how validation and patience could positively affect motivation and self-esteem. My academic work has further strengthened this commitment. Through interdisciplinary research on youth homelessness in Seattle, I examined how instability, trauma, and lack of access affect mental health outcomes. This research deepened my understanding of how emotional well-being is shaped by systemic factors and reinforced my desire to pursue a career focused on mental health and education. In my future career, I plan to use my studies in psychology and education to emotionally support others through trauma-informed, culturally responsive practices. I hope to work with individuals who feel overlooked or misunderstood, helping them build resilience, self-awareness, and confidence. Whether through direct support, education, or advocacy, my goal is to make mental health care more accessible and human-centered. Receiving the ADHDAdvisor Scholarship is urgently important to me. My family depends heavily on financial aid, including Parent PLUS loans, and ongoing financial strain threatens my ability to continue my studies. This support would allow me to remain focused on my education and my commitment to supporting others’ mental health.

Faith as Foundation and Guide This scholarship opportunity is deeply meaningful to me because it reflects the values that have sustained me through change, uncertainty, and growth. My story is one shaped by transition, perseverance, and faith—a faith that has not removed hardship from my life, but has given me the strength and direction to move through it with purpose. My family’s journey began far from where I am today. We left our native home when I was very young and lived across different countries before I ultimately came to the United States as a permanent resident. Each move required rebuilding—new languages, new systems, and new ways of belonging. During times when everything around me felt unfamiliar, faith became my constant. It gave me a sense of grounding when stability felt out of reach and reminded me that my worth and direction were not defined by circumstance alone. As I navigated school in unfamiliar environments, faith helped me develop patience and resilience. I learned to trust that growth often happens quietly and that perseverance matters even when progress is not immediately visible. This mindset carried me through moments of self-doubt and isolation, especially when adapting academically and socially. Rather than seeing challenges as barriers, I began to view them as opportunities to grow in discipline, humility, and compassion. My faith also shaped how I chose to serve others. As an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I worked with young children from low-income families, many of whom faced emotional, developmental, or environmental challenges. There were days when progress felt slow and exhaustion was real, but my faith reminded me of the importance of consistency and care. Serving these children taught me that success is not always measured by immediate results, but by showing up with patience and love. This experience strengthened my calling toward education and mental health, fields where compassion and endurance are essential. Another triumph rooted in faith was my decision to teach English virtually to students in El Salvador as part of an academic challenge. Balancing this unpaid commitment with coursework required sacrifice and trust. I relied on faith to manage uncertainty and to believe that investing in others—even when difficult—was worthwhile. Seeing students gain confidence and envision broader futures reaffirmed my belief that faith, when paired with action, can create meaningful change. My journey has not been without financial strain. My family relies heavily on financial aid, including Parent PLUS loans, to support my education, and recent financial pressures have made continuing my studies increasingly difficult. Receiving this scholarship is urgently important, as it would ease that burden and allow me to remain focused on my academic and service commitments rather than financial uncertainty. Looking ahead, I plan to continue using faith as a guiding force in my career in education and mental health. My faith calls me to serve with integrity, advocate for those who feel unseen, and approach my work with humility and responsibility. It reminds me that success is not only about personal achievement, but about lifting others and acting with purpose. Faith has shaped who I am, how I respond to challenges, and why I pursue my goals. With unwavering faith as my foundation, I am committed to reaching greater heights—not for recognition, but to serve, support, and make a meaningful difference in the lives of others.

Education as Direction: Dreaming Big and Rising Higher Education has been the most consistent source of direction in my life. While environments, countries, and circumstances have changed, learning has remained the anchor that helped me understand who I am and where I want to go. Through education, I have learned not only academic content, but also resilience, responsibility, and the belief that my experiences—no matter how challenging—can be transformed into purpose. My relationship with education was shaped early by change. My family left our native country when I was very young, and over time we lived across different cultures before I ultimately came to the United States as a permanent resident. Adapting to new languages, expectations, and systems was often disorienting. I experienced moments of isolation and self-doubt, especially when I struggled to feel fully understood or represented in academic spaces. Yet education offered something powerful: stability. School became the place where effort mattered, where growth was visible, and where I could regain a sense of control over my future. As I grew older, education began to shape not only my confidence, but my goals. I realized that learning was not simply a personal achievement—it was a tool that could be used to support others. This understanding deepened through hands-on experience. As an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I worked with young children from low-income families at the Denise Louise Day Care. Many of these children faced challenges related to limited resources, emotional regulation, or learning differences. I learned quickly that academic success depends on more than curriculum; it depends on whether students feel safe, seen, and supported. Through this experience, I saw how adaptive teaching methods—especially creative and hands-on activities—could unlock engagement and confidence. A child who struggled to participate verbally could thrive through art or structured play. These moments reshaped my understanding of education as an inclusive process rather than a rigid system. They gave me a sense of direction: I wanted to pursue a career that combined education, mental health awareness, and advocacy for students who are often overlooked. That direction continued to develop when I taught English virtually to students in El Salvador as part of an academic challenge. Over ten weeks, I independently designed curriculum focused on résumé writing, professional language, and workplace communication. Teaching students who were navigating language barriers and aspiring toward broader opportunities was both challenging and deeply rewarding. It required discipline, time management, and emotional resilience. More importantly, it reinforced my belief that education can expand not only knowledge, but possibility. Watching students grow more confident in their abilities strengthened my commitment to using education as a means of empowerment. Education has also shaped my sense of responsibility through research and reflection. I spent four months conducting interdisciplinary research on youth homelessness in Seattle, examining how instability, trauma, and systemic barriers affect access to education and mental health support. This work challenged me intellectually and emotionally. It forced me to confront uncomfortable truths about inequality and access, while also showing me how education and informed advocacy can contribute to meaningful change. The challenges I have overcome—immigration, adaptation, financial strain, and emotional endurance—have not disappeared as I pursue higher education. Balancing academic responsibilities with service work, unpaid teaching, and family obligations has required sacrifice and discipline. There have been moments when exhaustion and uncertainty made my goals feel distant. During those times, I relied on structure, reflection, and support to continue moving forward. I learned that resilience is not about never struggling; it is about continuing despite struggle. Education has given me clarity about the future I want to build. I hope to use my education to work in teaching and mental health, supporting students who face academic, emotional, or systemic challenges—particularly those from immigrant or underserved backgrounds. I want to help create learning environments where students feel recognized and capable, and where education becomes a source of stability rather than pressure. My goal is to use my knowledge not only to advance my own career, but to contribute to systems that are more inclusive, compassionate, and responsive. At this stage of my journey, financial barriers pose a serious challenge. My family relies heavily on financial aid, including Parent PLUS loans, to cover a significant portion of my cost of attendance, and recent financial constraints have created urgency and uncertainty. This scholarship would directly ease that burden and allow me to continue my education without interruption, maintaining focus on my academic and service commitments. To me, dreaming big and rising higher does not mean striving for individual success alone. It means using education as a foundation for impact—for lifting others, creating opportunity, and contributing meaningfully to the world around me. Education has shaped my direction by turning challenge into purpose and ambition into responsibility. With continued support, I am committed to using what I learn to help build a better future for myself and for those whose paths may be shaped, as mine has been, by resilience and hope.

Choosing Courage in the Face of Adversity Adversity has been a constant presence in my life, not always dramatic or visible, but persistent enough to shape how I pursue my goals. As an immigrant student navigating unfamiliar systems, cultural transitions, and financial uncertainty, I have learned that bravery is not the absence of fear—it is the decision to continue moving forward despite it. When confronted with mental and emotional challenges, I have relied on resilience, discipline, and purpose to stay committed to my career aspirations in education and mental health. One of the earliest challenges I faced was adapting to new environments at a young age. My family moved across countries before I ultimately came to the United States as a permanent resident. Each transition required adjusting to new languages, expectations, and social norms. These changes often brought feelings of isolation and self-doubt, particularly in academic settings where confidence and participation felt intimidating. Rather than allowing these challenges to limit me, I focused on education as a stabilizing force. I developed strong study habits, sought out mentors, and learned to ask for help when I needed it—steps that allowed me to regain a sense of control and direction. My commitment to my career aspirations was tested further through service-based work that demanded both emotional endurance and consistency. As an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I worked with young children from low-income families who faced learning, emotional, and environmental challenges. The work required patience, adaptability, and the ability to remain present even when progress was slow. There were days when exhaustion and self-doubt crept in, but I reminded myself why I chose this path. I reflected regularly, adjusted my approach, and leaned into creative strategies—such as art and hands-on learning—to stay engaged and effective. These steps helped me grow not only as an educator, but as someone capable of handling emotional demands without losing purpose. Another significant challenge was balancing academic responsibilities with unpaid teaching and research commitments. Teaching English virtually to students in El Salvador and conducting research on youth homelessness in Seattle required long hours and careful time management. The mental strain of juggling responsibilities sometimes felt overwhelming. To continue moving forward, I established routines, broke goals into manageable steps, and prioritized self-reflection. I learned that sustaining ambition requires structure and self-awareness, not constant pressure. Financial adversity has also tested my resolve. My family relies heavily on financial aid, including Parent PLUS loans, to cover a substantial portion of my education. The stress of knowing that my education places a burden on my family has been emotionally difficult, yet it has strengthened my determination to succeed. Rather than retreating, I have taken on responsibilities with intention, viewing education not as an entitlement but as a responsibility I must honor through service and impact. These experiences have shaped my understanding of bravery. When confronted with adversity—whether emotional, academic, or financial—I have responded by adapting, seeking support, and recommitting to my goals. I aspire to work in education and mental health because I understand how deeply challenges can affect confidence and opportunity. My career goal is rooted in helping others navigate their own obstacles. Bravery, to me, is persistence with purpose. Each challenge I have faced has reinforced my commitment to a career dedicated to understanding, support, and positive change—and I continue to move forward, even when the path is difficult.

Personal Background, Purpose, and Impact I am an immigrant student whose identity has been shaped by movement, adaptation, and a deep belief in education as a tool for stability and opportunity. From an early age, I learned that learning does not only happen in classrooms—it happens through transition, responsibility, and resilience. These experiences have guided my decision to pursue a career in education, where I hope to make a positive and lasting impact on individuals and communities. My family’s journey took us across countries before I ultimately came to the United States as a permanent resident. Adjusting to new cultures, systems, and expectations taught me flexibility and perseverance. In unfamiliar environments, education became my anchor—a place where effort could translate into growth and belonging. Over time, I came to see educators as more than instructors; they were guides who helped students find confidence and direction amid uncertainty. This perspective was reinforced through hands-on experience. As an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I spent two years working with young children from low-income families at the Denise Louise Day Care. I helped design and implement enrichment activities that supported early literacy, creativity, and emotional development. Many of the children faced challenges related to limited resources or learning differences, and I learned that meaningful progress often came from patience, adaptability, and meeting students where they were. These experiences confirmed my desire to pursue teaching as a career rooted in equity and care. My commitment to education expanded when I taught English virtually to students in El Salvador as part of an academic challenge. I independently created curriculum focused on résumé writing and professional communication, led weekly classes, and provided individualized feedback. Teaching students who were navigating language barriers and aspiring toward global opportunities helped me understand how education can broaden not only skills, but self-belief. Seeing students grow more confident in their abilities was deeply motivating and solidified my goal of becoming an educator. In addition to teaching, I have engaged in academic research on youth homelessness in Seattle, examining how instability and systemic barriers affect access to education and long-term outcomes. This work strengthened my understanding of how social conditions intersect with learning and reinforced my belief that educators play a critical role in creating inclusive, supportive environments. Through my career, I plan to make a positive impact by becoming an educator who advocates for students who may feel overlooked—particularly those from immigrant, low-income, or marginalized backgrounds. I want to create learning spaces where students feel seen, supported, and empowered to recognize their own potential. Whether through classroom teaching, curriculum development, or mentorship, my goal is to use education as a means of fostering confidence, opportunity, and social responsibility. Receiving the Robert F. Lawson Scholarship is especially important to me at this stage of my education. My family relies heavily on financial aid, including Parent PLUS loans, to cover a significant portion of my cost of attendance, and recent changes to loan repayment options have created financial strain and uncertainty. This scholarship would directly reduce that burden and allow me to continue my education with greater focus and stability. I am committed to using my education not only to build a career, but to give back meaningfully. With support, I hope to continue transforming personal experience into purposeful action—using teaching as a way to create opportunity for others, just as education has done for me.

Giving Back Now and Creating Lasting Impact Giving back has been a central part of my education and personal growth. I believe that service is not something reserved for the future, but a responsibility that begins wherever you are and with whatever skills you have. Through my work in education, community engagement, and mentorship, I have sought to contribute meaningfully to the lives of others while preparing for a future career dedicated to positive social impact. Currently, I give back through service in educational settings that support underserved communities. As an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I worked for two years with young children from low-income families at the Denise Louise Day Care. Alongside a small team, I helped design and lead enrichment activities and developmentally appropriate lessons that supported early literacy, social development, and confidence-building. Many of the children faced challenges related to limited resources, attention, or emotional regulation. By adapting activities to individual needs and incorporating creative outlets such as art and hands-on learning, I helped create a classroom environment where students felt encouraged to participate and express themselves. I also give back by sharing my knowledge beyond traditional classrooms. During a ten-week virtual teaching project, I taught English to students in El Salvador, focusing on résumé writing, professional language, and workplace communication. I independently designed the curriculum, created interactive activities, assigned and graded homework, and provided individualized feedback. This project was unpaid and required balancing academic responsibilities with teaching commitments, but it was deeply rewarding. Helping students build confidence in their abilities and expand their career opportunities reinforced my belief that education can be a powerful tool for empowerment. In addition to teaching, I have contributed through academic research focused on social issues. I spent four months conducting interdisciplinary research on youth homelessness in Seattle, examining how systemic barriers affect education, stability, and long-term outcomes. This work strengthened my commitment to addressing inequity through informed action and reinforced the importance of education as both a preventative and transformative force. Looking toward the future, I plan to positively impact the world by pursuing a career in education, with a focus on supporting students who face academic, social, or systemic challenges. As an immigrant and future educator, I understand how easily students can feel overlooked or disconnected within educational systems. My goal is to create inclusive learning environments where students feel seen, supported, and capable of success. I plan to continue giving back by advocating for equitable access to education, developing adaptive teaching methods, and mentoring students who may lack guidance or representation. Whether through classroom teaching, curriculum development, or community-based programs, I want my work to reflect compassion, consistency, and a belief in every student’s potential. Giving back, to me, means using my education to uplift others. The service I engage in today is the foundation for the educator and advocate I hope to become—someone committed to making opportunity more accessible and learning more human for future generations.

My Definition of the American Dream My definition of the American Dream is not centered on wealth or status, but on access—access to education, opportunity, and the ability for families to move forward together through hard work and sacrifice. As an immigrant and a first-generation college student, I have grown up believing that the American Dream means that effort matters, that education opens doors, and that parents’ sacrifices can lead to greater stability and possibility for their children. Today, however, that dream feels increasingly fragile. My family’s journey to the United States was shaped by perseverance and hope. We left our native country when I was very young, lived across different cultures, and eventually arrived in the U.S. as permanent residents. Like many immigrant families, we believed deeply in education as the most reliable path toward security and contribution. School was not just preparation for a career—it was a promise that our struggles had purpose. For me, the American Dream means being able to pursue higher education with the understanding that while it may require sacrifice, it will not permanently endanger my family’s financial future. That balance is essential. My father currently borrows Parent PLUS loans to cover approximately 35% of my cost of attendance. This decision was not made lightly. It reflects trust in the idea that the U.S. education system provides fair repayment pathways for families who invest in their children’s futures. Recent legislative changes called the “Big Beautiful Bill” have placed that belief in jeopardy by restricting repayment options for Parent PLUS loans. These changes threaten to limit flexibility for families like mine—families who are doing exactly what the American Dream encourages: working hard, planning responsibly, and prioritizing education. When repayment options are narrowed, the burden of higher education no longer feels shared or manageable; instead, it becomes a long-term risk that can destabilize the very families striving to succeed. What makes this especially painful is that my educational path has been guided by service and responsibility. I have committed myself to education and community engagement through AmeriCorps service, unpaid teaching initiatives, and research focused on social issues. My goal is not to extract value from the system, but to give back—to become an educator who supports students facing the same uncertainty and barriers I have experienced. Yet policies that reduce repayment protections make it harder for families like mine to believe that dedication and service are rewarded rather than punished. To me, the American Dream should include safeguards for families who invest in education with good faith and long-term intention. It should recognize that immigrant families often take on greater risks because they believe in the promise of opportunity. When that promise is weakened, the dream does not disappear—but it becomes harder to reach. I still believe in the American Dream. I believe in education as a pathway to contribution, stability, and belonging. But that dream depends on systems that support—not undermine—families striving to move forward together. Protecting fair and flexible repayment options is not just financial policy; it is a commitment to the idea that opportunity should remain attainable for those willing to work for it.

Relating to Malgorzata’s Challenges and Legacy I relate to Malgorzata “Maggie” Kwiecien not because my life mirrors hers exactly, but because many of the values that defined her journey—bravery, determination, independence, and devotion to learning—have also shaped my own path as an immigrant and a student in the United States. Like Maggie, my life has been shaped by movement across borders and the challenge of building a sense of belonging in unfamiliar places. My family left our native country when I was very young, and over time we lived in different countries before I ultimately came to the United States as a permanent resident. Although I was not alone in the same way Maggie was when she moved to the U.S. independently, I still experienced the emotional and cultural challenges that come with adapting to new systems, languages, and expectations. Learning how to navigate unfamiliar environments required resilience, flexibility, and self-motivation—qualities that Maggie embodied so clearly. One of the ways I feel most connected to Maggie’s story is through her determination to grow intellectually and challenge herself. Maggie was described as intellectually bold and deeply committed to education, always striving to become an expert in whatever she pursued. I share this drive through my interdisciplinary academic path and my commitment to learning beyond formal requirements. Whether conducting research on youth homelessness in Seattle, teaching English virtually to students in El Salvador, or designing curriculum independently, I have consistently sought opportunities that challenge me to think critically and apply knowledge in meaningful ways. Maggie’s courage in facing physical challenges also resonates with me, even if expressed differently. While I am not a mountain climber or extreme athlete, I have embraced challenges that required emotional endurance and long-term commitment. Serving as an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart for two years demanded consistency, adaptability, and perseverance, especially when the program lost funding and was ultimately discontinued nationwide. Rather than discouraging me, this experience strengthened my resolve to pursue a career in education and advocacy. Another way I am like Maggie is in my belief that education is transformative. Maggie’s devotion to knowledge and mastery reflects my own desire to use education as a tool for empowerment—both for myself and for others. As an immigrant and future educator, I understand how access to learning can shape identity, confidence, and opportunity. Education has helped me build stability across changing environments, just as it supported Maggie’s professional growth after relocating to the United States. Finally, I relate to Maggie’s bravery—not only in how she lived, but in how she pursued her goals without waiting for ideal circumstances. Her story reminds me that courage often means moving forward without certainty, trusting one’s abilities, and committing fully to growth. As a female immigrant student building an academic and professional future in the U.S., I strive to carry that same determination. Maggie’s life represents resilience, curiosity, and fearless pursuit of excellence. In honoring her legacy, I see my own journey reflected—and I am inspired to continue challenging myself, learning deeply, and contributing meaningfully to the communities I serve.

I am the second child from my family who is a student at Seattle University. My older sister recently graduated, and I am currently a third-year student in the College of Arts and Sciences. You may already be aware of the significant and unexpected consequences of the “Big Beautiful Bill,” which was enacted in June 2025. Unfortunately, this legislation has made it impossible for my family to continue using Parent PLUS loans to support me in completing my bachelor’s degree. I am scheduled to enter my final year in the 2026–2027 academic year, but under the new regulations, my father will no longer qualify to borrow the funds needed to bridge the remaining cost of attendance, only because of the restriction on the parent plus loans for repayment options. I am a dedicated and motivated student with a GPA of 3.765. She is deeply engaged in leadership, service, and community-focused work. Over the past two years, I have served as an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart, providing critical educational support to low-income families in Seattle. In this role, I worked directly with children at the Denise Louise Day Care, offering enrichment activities and developmentally appropriate learning resources. Additionally, I spent 10 weeks teaching English virtually to students in El Salvador, focusing on résumé writing, professional communication, and other essential skills for improving employment opportunities. I developed my own curriculum, assignments, and memory activities—an unpaid project she undertook as an extra academic challenge through my Geography class. I also completed a rigorous four-month interdisciplinary research project on youth homelessness in Seattle, resulting in my paper titled “The Resolution Framework: A Holistic Approach to Addressing Youth Homelessness.” Through this work, I gained a comprehensive understanding of the structural causes of youth homelessness, identified the populations most at risk, and proposed adaptations of existing policies—including the Family Unification Program (FUP) and strategies inspired by the Geelong Project. My father is a federal employee raising three children on a single income. Seattle University has been extraordinarily generous in supporting both my sister, and I am profoundly grateful for the scholarships that have made their education possible. Currently, Seattle University scholarships cover approximately 65% of my tuition, and my father has been covering the remaining 35% through Parent PLUS loans. However, due to the upcoming regulatory changes taking effect on July 1, 2026, this will no longer be possible. My parents have exhausted their personal and retirement savings over the past several years to support the education of my sister, my brother, and me. As a result, we are now facing a situation in which my father is unable to provide the financial support I need for my final year. Thank you very much for your time, understanding, and care. Sincerely, Gular

Career Choice, Passion, and Sacrifice My career of choice is teaching, with a focus on working with students who require additional academic, emotional, or social support. I am passionate about this path because I have seen firsthand how education can either limit or empower a student’s sense of possibility. Through service, teaching, and personal experience as an immigrant, I have come to believe that educators play a critical role in shaping not only academic outcomes, but confidence, identity, and opportunity. My interest in teaching developed through hands-on experience rather than theory alone. As an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I worked with young children from low-income families at the Denise Louise Day Care. Many of these students faced challenges such as limited resources, learning differences, or unstable home environments. I learned quickly that progress did not come from rigid instruction, but from patience, creativity, and adaptability. When lessons were adjusted to fit individual needs—through art, hands-on activities, or individualized encouragement—students became more engaged and confident. Witnessing this transformation solidified my desire to pursue teaching as a career. This passion grew stronger when I later taught English virtually to students in El Salvador. Over ten weeks, I independently designed and taught a curriculum focused on résumé writing, professional language, and workplace communication. This project was unpaid and required balancing academic coursework with lesson planning, grading, and providing individualized feedback. Despite the additional workload, I found the experience deeply fulfilling. Helping students gain confidence in their skills and envision broader career opportunities reinforced my belief in the transformative power of education. Pursuing my educational goals has required meaningful sacrifices. As an immigrant who came to the United States as a permanent resident, I have navigated cultural transitions, uncertainty, and the pressure to succeed in unfamiliar systems. I have taken on unpaid and volunteer roles to gain experience, often choosing long-term growth over immediate financial benefit. Balancing service commitments, academic responsibilities, and research—such as my interdisciplinary study on youth homelessness in Seattle—has required careful time management and personal discipline. I have also made sacrifices in comfort and certainty. Choosing a career in teaching means committing to a profession that is demanding and often undervalued, yet I remain motivated because of the impact educators have on students’ lives. I have chosen this path knowing it will require resilience, advocacy, and continuous learning. I am passionate about becoming a teacher because I believe education should be inclusive, responsive, and humane. My experiences have taught me that when students feel seen and supported, they are capable of extraordinary growth. The sacrifices I have made—time, financial comfort, and personal ease—have strengthened my commitment rather than diminished it. Teaching is not simply my career choice; it is the way I hope to give meaning to my education and contribute positively to the lives of others.

Immigration, Identity, and the Path to Education My immigrant story began before I was old enough to understand it, but it has shaped nearly every part of who I am today. When I was three years old, my family left our native country and relocated to Chechnya, leaving behind extended family, familiar language, and a sense of stability. That early experience of movement and uncertainty became the foundation of my understanding of resilience, adaptability, and the importance of support—values that later drew me toward a career in education. As my family continued navigating life across borders, education became one of the few constants. My parent later became a United States citizen while completing foreign public service in Prague, and eventually, my family obtained permanent residency. I came to the United States as a green card holder, stepping into a new culture, new expectations, and a new education system. Like many immigrant children, I had to learn how to belong while still holding onto where I came from. Entering school in the United States, I quickly realized that classrooms can either be places of isolation or belonging. Language differences, cultural unfamiliarity, and the pressure to adapt made learning feel overwhelming at times. What made the difference were teachers who showed patience, curiosity, and understanding—educators who recognized that learning does not happen in a vacuum, and that students carry their histories with them into the classroom. Through them, I saw how education could become a bridge rather than a barrier. This understanding deepened through my own experiences working in education. As an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I supported young children from low-income families, many of whom faced challenges similar to those I had experienced—instability, limited resources, and learning differences. I learned that when students feel unseen or misunderstood, they disengage. But when they feel recognized and supported, they flourish. These moments reinforced my belief that educators play a critical role not just in academic development, but in shaping students’ sense of identity and belonging. My immigrant background also influenced my experience teaching English virtually to students in El Salvador. Teaching professional communication to students who hoped to expand their opportunities abroad felt deeply personal. I understood what it meant to navigate unfamiliar systems and imagine a future shaped by education and mobility. Helping students build confidence in their skills reminded me that education has the power to expand not only knowledge, but possibility. As an immigrant, I learned early that adapting to new environments requires patience, empathy, and perseverance. These are the same qualities I want to bring into my future classroom. I want to become an educator who understands that students arrive with different languages, histories, and challenges—and that these differences are strengths, not obstacles. My desire to become an educator is rooted in my family’s journey and my own experiences of transition. Education helped me find stability and purpose in unfamiliar places. Now, I hope to offer that same sense of support and belonging to future students, especially those navigating lives shaped by change.

Why I Want to Become a Teacher My interest in pursuing a career in teaching grew from experience rather than a single defining moment. Over time, through service, instruction, and mentorship, I came to understand that teaching is not simply about delivering content—it is about creating the conditions in which students feel capable, valued, and motivated to learn. I want to become a teacher because I have seen how thoughtful guidance can shape confidence, open opportunities, and change how students view themselves. My first meaningful exposure to teaching came through my work as an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle. I spent two years supporting young children from low-income families at the Denise Louise Day Care, working alongside a small team to design enrichment activities and developmentally appropriate lessons. Many of the children struggled with attention, communication, or emotional regulation, and some needed additional support to participate fully in group learning. What stood out to me was how much students’ engagement changed when lessons were adapted to their needs. When children were given creative outlets such as drawing, hands-on activities, or individualized encouragement, they became more confident and willing to participate. These experiences taught me that teaching is not about enforcing one standard method of learning, but about recognizing that every student learns differently and deserves to be met with patience and understanding. The importance of adaptability and encouragement became even clearer when I later taught English virtually to students in El Salvador. For ten weeks, I created and taught a curriculum focused on résumé writing, professional communication, and workplace vocabulary. Many students were initially hesitant to speak or unsure of their abilities. By providing consistent feedback and creating a supportive learning environment, I watched them grow more confident—not only in their English skills, but in their belief that they belonged in professional spaces. Teaching became an act of empowerment, and I found that deeply fulfilling. While these experiences motivated my interest in teaching, one teacher played a crucial role in shaping how I approach education. During my Geography course, my professor encouraged students to take on an optional, unpaid teaching project that required initiative, creativity, and responsibility. Rather than focusing solely on grades, they emphasized curiosity, real-world impact, and reflection. Their trust in my ability to design curriculum, lead a class, and take ownership of my learning changed how I viewed myself—not just as a student, but as an educator. That encouragement mattered. It showed me what effective teaching looks like: a balance of high expectations and genuine support. A teacher who believes in their students can help them recognize their own potential, often before they see it themselves. I want to become a teacher because I believe education has the power to transform lives when it is inclusive, flexible, and compassionate. I hope to be the kind of educator who notices students who feel overlooked, adapts instruction to meet diverse needs, and fosters confidence alongside academic growth. Teaching, to me, is both a responsibility and a privilege—and it is the path I am committed to pursuing.

Chain Reaction of Purpose One experience that profoundly shaped my perspective and motivated my chosen field of study was my service as an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle. What began as a two-year commitment to provide educational support for children from low-income families became the catalyst for my desire to pursue a career in education, particularly with students who need additional support to thrive. At the Denise Louise Day Care, I worked with a small team to design and lead enrichment activities and developmentally appropriate crafts for young children. Many of these children faced challenges beyond the classroom—economic instability, limited access to resources, and learning differences that made traditional instruction difficult. Early on, I noticed that success was not determined by intelligence or effort alone, but by whether a child felt supported, understood, and encouraged to engage. One moment stands out clearly. A child who consistently avoided group activities was invited to participate in an art-based project instead of a verbal task. Given the freedom to draw and create, they became focused and confident, proudly sharing their work with others. That moment reshaped how I viewed learning. I realized that education is not about forcing students into one method of understanding, but about adapting teaching to meet students where they are. When funding for Jumpstart was cut and the program was removed nationwide, the experience did not end—it evolved. The loss reinforced how fragile educational support systems can be and how deeply students rely on committed educators. Rather than discouraging me, this challenge strengthened my resolve to work in a field where advocacy, adaptability, and compassion are essential. This chain reaction continued when I later taught English virtually to students in El Salvador and conducted research on youth homelessness in Seattle. Each experience reinforced the same lesson: access to education can change how individuals see themselves and their futures. Teaching, researching, and creating curriculum showed me that learning environments shape not only academic outcomes, but confidence, identity, and opportunity. That initial experience with Jumpstart transformed my understanding of education from a system into a responsibility. It motivated my interdisciplinary studies and my goal to become an educator who recognizes diverse learning needs and believes in the potential of every student. One opportunity led to another, but all began with the realization that education, when done thoughtfully, can be life-changing.

Why I Am Passionate About Becoming a Special Education Teacher My passion for becoming a special education teacher comes from moments of quiet connection—moments when a child feels seen, understood, and capable, often for the first time. Over the past several years, through service work, teaching, research, and creative expression, I have learned that education is not simply the delivery of information. It is an act of recognition. It is the process of helping a student understand that they exist meaningfully in the world and that their presence matters. While serving as an AmeriCorps member with Jumpstart in Seattle, I worked closely with young children from low-income families at the Denise Louise Day Care. Alongside three other team members, I helped design enrichment activities and developmentally appropriate crafts intended not only to teach academic skills, but to build confidence, curiosity, and self-expression. Many of the children we worked with struggled with attention, communication, or emotional regulation. Some required additional support beyond what traditional classroom settings typically provide. What struck me most was how quickly children responded when they felt genuinely understood. A child who had been quiet all morning would suddenly engage when given a task that allowed them to draw, build, or express themselves creatively. Another child who struggled to follow instructions flourished when lessons were broken into smaller, more manageable steps. These moments taught me that learning happens best when students feel present—when they feel safe, valued, and capable of participating as themselves. This understanding connects deeply with Professor Harold Bloom’s statement: “The purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” To me, a student’s “sense of presence” means self-awareness, dignity, and agency. It is the feeling that one’s thoughts, emotions, and abilities are valid and worthy of attention. For students with special needs, achieving this sense of presence can be particularly challenging in systems that too often emphasize deficits rather than strengths. To guide special needs students toward experiencing their own presence, I believe the first step is recognition. As an educator, I must see the student not as a problem to be solved, but as a whole person with unique ways of thinking, learning, and expressing themselves. Presence begins when a student realizes that who they are—exactly as they are—is acceptable. During my time teaching English virtually to students in El Salvador, I saw how powerful this recognition can be. For ten weeks, I taught weekly classes focused on English résumé writing, professional communication, and workplace vocabulary. I created the curriculum independently, designed memory-based activities, assigned and graded homework, and provided individualized feedback. This project was unpaid and part of an extra challenge in my Geography course, yet it became one of the most meaningful educational experiences I have had. Many of my students were initially hesitant to speak or participate. English was not their first language, and professional topics felt intimidating. By structuring lessons around encouragement, creativity, and consistent feedback, I watched students grow more confident—not just in their language skills, but in their belief that they belonged in professional spaces. Their sense of presence emerged when they realized their voices were worth hearing and their futures were worth imagining. As a special education teacher, my mission is to create classrooms where this realization is possible for every student. I would guide students toward a sense of presence by meeting them where they are, adapting instruction to their needs, and celebrating progress in all its forms. This includes using visual art, drawing, and hands-on activities—areas where I personally excel—to help students communicate ideas that may be difficult to express through words alone. Art allows students to externalize their inner worlds, making their presence visible to themselves and others. My academic work has further shaped this mission. I spent four months researching youth homelessness in Seattle through an interdisciplinary lens. This project deepened my understanding of how systemic instability affects learning, mental health, and self-identity. Many unhoused youth struggle with disabilities, trauma, or unmet educational needs. What became clear to me is that education can either reinforce feelings of invisibility—or become a lifeline that restores a sense of presence and possibility. In special education, restoring presence often requires patience, creativity, and empathy. It may mean allowing a student extra time to respond, offering alternative ways to demonstrate understanding, or simply listening without judgment. Presence is cultivated when students are empowered to advocate for themselves, recognize their strengths, and understand that learning is not a race but a personal journey. Ultimately, I am passionate about special education because it embodies the deepest purpose of teaching: helping students recognize themselves as capable, valuable individuals. I want to be the teacher who notices the quiet child in the corner, who adapts lessons so that every student can succeed, and who believes fiercely in the potential of students who have been overlooked or underestimated. Fairy Tale: A Brief Allegory Once, in a classroom hidden at the edge of a crowded city, there lived children who believed they were invisible. Their voices echoed softly, unheard, and their ideas faded before they could take shape. One day, a teacher arrived carrying not answers, but mirrors. Instead of telling the children who to be, she asked them to show her. Some painted their thoughts. Others built them. A few spoke slowly, carefully, finding their words one by one. With each reflection, the children began to see themselves more clearly. They realized they were not invisible after all—they had simply needed someone to help them recognize their own presence. And in that classroom, learning finally began.