My journey into Christianity wasn’t sudden or tied to a single defining moment. Instead, it unfolded gradually—through hardship, reflection, and quiet transformation. Like many, I didn’t find faith when life made sense; I found it when nothing did. Born with a rare facial malformation, I encountered adversity at a young age. I looked different from my peers, which often made me feel unseen or misunderstood. I asked God difficult questions: Why me? Why this? I didn’t yet realize that these questions were the foundation of a deeper relationship with Him—one that would eventually anchor my values, leadership, and life’s calling. My faith deepened during a time of profound loss. I nearly lost my father and later said goodbye to one of my dearest friends, Margaret Romph. Margaret became a quadriplegic after a tragic accident at age four. Despite her physical limitations, she radiated joy, resilience, and light. Together with her mother, I helped co-found a cheerleading team for children with special needs. That experience reshaped my view of leadership—no longer just about direction, but about empathy, humility, and lifting others up. When Margaret passed in 2019, I turned to prayer more intentionally. Through prayer and community, I found peace—not in the absence of pain, but in its purpose. I began to understand that healing doesn’t always mean curing. Sometimes it’s found in a smile, a listening ear, or simply being present with someone in their struggle. This is where my faith and leadership intersect: in showing up with compassion, even when answers are unclear. That support—the strength of a faith community—became essential to how I lead today. I’ve learned that leadership rooted in faith means showing up even when it’s hard, being the first to extend grace, and leading from service. It means offering a kind word, a steady presence, and a reminder that healing can be physical, emotional, or spiritual—and that every kind of healing matters. This foundation is what led me to pursue a Doctorate in Physical Therapy. For me, physical therapy isn’t just a career; it’s a calling. It’s where my passion for healing meets my desire to serve. Like our cheer practices with children of all abilities, my therapy sessions will be guided by compassion, creativity, and Christ-like care. I want every patient to feel seen, safe, and supported. My faith also inspires my long-term vision. I hope to one day open or work in an inclusive therapy and recreation center that merges clinical care with adaptive play, family support, and faith-based encouragement. I want to create a place where children with disabilities—and their caregivers—feel understood, valued, and empowered. I’m especially passionate about serving families navigating rare or complex conditions. Through watching the unwavering love and advocacy of Margaret’s mother, I came to understand that healing extends beyond the patient. Supporting caregivers, uplifting families, and building trust through shared faith are essential to the kind of healthcare I want to provide. Receiving this scholarship would be a blessing that supports more than just my education—it would strengthen the foundation of my faith-led mission. I am committed to becoming a physical therapist who leads with empathy, who reflects the love of Christ in my work, and who brings people together through service and compassion. In a world often filled with hardship and division, I believe faith-driven leadership and community support are more important than ever. With your support, I will continue striving to uplift others, one step at a time—through healing hands, a humble heart, and a life led by faith.

From the moment I was born, I’ve lived with something that sets me apart—a rare lymphatic malformation on my forehead. It’s not subtle, and it never has been. Growing up with a visible difference meant I was often met with stares, whispers, and sometimes even fear. While other kids enjoyed a carefree childhood, I was navigating a world filled with doctor visits, confusing medical terms, and an aching sense of being different. The physical and emotional toll became especially hard when my condition hemorrhaged—in 2008, 2019, and most recently, in 2023. During those times, I didn’t just deal with medical pain—I dealt with public stares that lingered, cruel comments, and the kind of bullying that made me question my worth. I remember classmates looking at me like I didn’t belong, like I was something to avoid or mock. That kind of rejection burrows deep inside, especially when you’re young and just trying to fit in. For years, I felt defined by my condition, like my identity started and ended with how I looked. Eventually, I stopped shrinking into the background. I stopped feeling sorry for not fitting in. I stopped apologizing for being different. I realized that what made me “stand out” wasn’t a flaw—it was a narrative waiting to be told. It was my story of resilience, perseverance, and quiet strength. Instead of letting others’ opinions tear me down, I began to listen to my own voice—and for the first time, I heard courage. It didn’t happen all at once. It was small choices: showing up to school after a painful surgery, looking someone in the eye despite their stare, or finally sharing my story with others. Prioritizing my mental and emotional health became nonnegotiable. I started practicing gratitude—not just for what I had, but for who I was becoming. I reminded myself of what I knew to be true: that we are more than our appearances, and that strength is often silent but unshakable. With that mindset, I began to heal—not just physically, but mentally. I discovered a powerful lesson: courage and gratitude go hand in hand. It takes courage to face adversity, and gratitude to recognize the growth it brings. These experiences have shaped the future I’m building. I’m currently pursuing a Doctorate in Physical Therapy, not only because I want to help others heal physically, but because I know how deeply emotional and mental recovery are tied to overall wellness. I’ve been the patient who needed someone to look past a diagnosis and see the person. Now, I want to be the provider who offers that kind of care—grounded in compassion, fueled by purpose. My journey has also opened my eyes to the isolation people with rare conditions often face—not just medically, but emotionally. That’s why I believe in a holistic approach to healthcare, one that treats the whole person, not just the symptoms. I want to create spaces where people feel safe, seen, and supported—where no one feels like they’re walking their path alone. Receiving this scholarship would be more than financial support—it would be an affirmation of everything I’ve overcome and everything I hope to give. I’m not just studying to be a Physical Therapist—I’m preparing to be a light in someone else’s darkest moment. My story may have started with difference, but it continues with purpose. And I believe that by showing up—fully, compassionately, and courageously—I can help others find their strength too.

My name is Hannah Bates, and I am currently pursuing a Doctorate in Physical Therapy at the University of South Dakota. My ultimate goal is to build a career that transforms lives—not just by helping people recover from injuries, but by creating a space where every patient feels safe, seen, and valued. I was born with a rare lymphatic malformation on my forehead that has become more prominent over time. Growing up, I didn’t look like my peers. No one else around me had a visible bump on their forehead or asymmetrical eyes. I became familiar with stares, questions, and comments—some rooted in concern, others in insensitivity. I also became very familiar with doctor’s offices, hospitals, and specialists. Because of this, I often struggled to find a place where I felt like I truly belonged—where I wasn’t seen only for what made me different. But those early challenges also gave me something powerful: the ability to truly empathize with others. I know what it feels like to be vulnerable, to walk into a clinic or hospital unsure if you’ll be treated with compassion or just as another case. That’s why I’m so passionate about becoming a physical therapist. I want to help others feel whole again—not just physically, but emotionally. I want every person who walks through my clinic doors to know they matter, that they belong, and that their story is worthy of care and respect. I believe that gratitude and courage go hand in hand. Gratitude for the blessings and opportunities I’ve been given, and courage to face life’s challenges with strength and purpose. My own perseverance through personal and physical obstacles has only deepened my commitment to helping others live fuller, more empowered lives. Physical therapy is not just about rehabilitation; it’s about offering kindness on hard days, listening deeply, and building meaningful relationships. It’s about walking with people—step by step—as they rediscover their strength and confidence. Education has been the key that unlocked this purpose for me. Through my studies, I’m gaining the tools and knowledge to serve others in ways that are impactful and lasting. But it’s not just the clinical skills that matter—it’s the heart behind the work. I want to be the kind of healthcare provider who motivates and uplifts every patient I meet. Who turns moments of pain into moments of progress. Who helps people grow into who they’re meant to be, one day and one step at a time. Receiving the Charlene K. Howard Scholarship would not only help ease the financial burden of graduate school—it would also affirm my belief that I’m on the right path. More than that, it would allow me to pay it forward. I want to honor this support by becoming the kind of physical therapist who, like Charlene Howard herself, dedicates her life to lifting others through education, empathy, and service. I hope to change lives for the better—starting with my own story, and extending to every patient I will one day have the privilege to serve.

My dream is to build a fulfilling and impactful career in physical therapy—one that goes beyond helping patients recover from injury. I want to walk alongside people in their toughest moments and help them rebuild from the inside out. Physical therapy isn’t just a healthcare profession; it’s a platform to bring hope, healing, strength, and connection to people’s lives—physically, mentally, and emotionally. This dream is deeply personal. I was born with a rare facial deformity that made me painfully aware of how people perceive difference. For years, I struggled with confidence, often feeling defined by my appearance. But over time, something shifted. I began to understand that surviving unseen battles gave me a strength few could see—but many needed. I realized my pain could be transformed into purpose. I couldn’t always find courage in myself, but I could give it to others—and doing so helped me heal, too. That’s why I’m passionate about physical therapy. It’s more than treatment plans or exercises—it’s about empathy, connection, and transformation. It means offering a kind smile on someone’s hardest day, listening without judgment, and creating a space where people feel truly seen and supported. It’s about helping someone believe in their body—and themselves—again. I believe gratitude and courage are deeply connected. Through my own experiences, I’ve learned that every patient has a story—often shaped by physical, emotional, or mental challenges that aren’t always visible. My goal is to meet each person where they are, with empathy, respect, and a genuine belief in their capacity to heal. Earning my Doctorate in Physical Therapy is the next step toward making this dream a reality. It will equip me with the knowledge and tools to provide excellent care, while also allowing me to grow into a compassionate and capable healthcare provider. I want to spend my life helping others move better, feel better, and live more confident, meaningful lives. This scholarship would not only support my education—it would be an investment in someone determined to pay it forward. My goal is not just to treat pain, but to help restore joy, purpose, and confidence. I want to be someone who strengthens others in both body and spirit. Someone who walks with patients through pain and progress—and reminds them they’re never alone in their fight. I know what it feels like to carry invisible burdens and wonder if you’ll ever feel whole. I also know the life-changing power of having someone beside you—someone who sees your strength even when you can’t. I want to be that person. I want to help people rediscover their worth, their confidence, and their ability to heal not just physically, but as whole human beings. The most powerful victories in physical therapy aren’t always dramatic. Sometimes, they’re found in a patient’s first step after surgery, or the moment they smile after weeks of struggle. These moments may seem small, but they reflect resilience, courage, and hope. I want to help create those moments. I want to be the steady presence who reminds someone that progress is possible, even when it feels out of reach. That is why I am worth the dreams I aspire to achieve. Because my dream isn’t just about my journey—it’s about building a future where others can rise, heal, and thrive. This scholarship will not just support my education; it will help me live out my purpose: to become a physical therapist who heals with skill, leads with heart, and makes a lasting difference in the lives of others.

When I was eight years old, I watched out the window as my father was loaded onto a stretcher and taken away by ambulance. He had suffered a serious cardiac event, and for a while, we weren’t sure he would make it. Doctors later said he was incredibly lucky to survive. He was diagnosed with heart disease and dangerously narrowed cardiac vessels, and his recovery required the help of healthcare professionals, physical therapy, and major lifestyle changes. That day changed everything. At an age when most kids focused on cartoons and playgrounds, I was introduced to the harsh reality of chronic illness. I didn’t understand all the medical terms, but I understood fear—and how powerless I felt. From that moment on, I knew I didn’t want to just stand by. I wanted to help. That’s when my passion for healthcare began. Because heart disease hit my family so personally, I’ve spent time thinking about how to prevent it—not just treat it. Heart disease, obesity, and diabetes aren’t separate issues. They often stem from the same causes: poor nutrition, lack of exercise, chronic stress, and limited access to preventive care. We already know the solutions—healthy food, regular activity, and mental wellness—but putting those into action is the real challenge. That’s why I believe so strongly in proactive healthcare, especially physical therapy. Preventative care should be a standard, not a luxury. Just like going to the dentist to avoid cavities, physical therapy and wellness programs can prevent injury, improve mobility, and support long-term health. If I could shape policy, I’d begin with education. We need to teach wellness early—starting in elementary school—and reinforce it throughout life. Mental health, nutrition, and the long-term effects of daily habits should be part of every student’s learning. In high school and college, this education can evolve into more personalized health planning that encourages lifelong ownership of physical and emotional well-being. I also support workplace wellness programs that reward healthy choices. Incentives like reduced insurance premiums and regular screenings could encourage better habits. These programs shouldn’t be extras—they should be expected. Just as companies invest in training and development, they should also invest in their employees’ health. Real-life stories are another tool for change. My dad’s story reminds people that heart disease doesn’t just affect strangers. It can happen to someone you love. His recovery showed me what’s possible with the right support—and what’s at stake without it. That experience taught me how deeply healthcare can impact not only one person, but an entire family. It’s what motivates me every single day. Still, many people live in areas without access to healthy food, safe spaces to move, or basic care. Prevention must include fixing those gaps: building parks, supporting food access, and expanding mental health services. Public policy must address these inequities head-on if we want to see real change. My generation has the chance—and the responsibility—to lead this shift. We must lead by example, hold ourselves accountable, and show that prevention truly is the best medicine. As a future physical therapist, I want to be part of that change—helping people feel stronger and healthier throughout their lives. I plan to be more than just a healthcare provider; I want to be a motivator, an advocate, and a partner in lifelong wellness. What happened to my dad could’ve ended in tragedy. Instead, it lit a fire in me that hasn’t gone out. I’m ready to turn that spark into action and help others live longer, healthier lives.

My journey into Christianity was not sudden, nor was it one singular moment. Rather, it unfolded over time—quietly, profoundly, and often in the midst of hardship. Like many, I didn’t find faith when everything in life made sense; I found it when nothing did. As someone born with a facial malformation, I was introduced to adversity from a young age. I had to learn to face the world with visible differences that, at times, made me feel unseen. I struggled with my self-worth, asking God questions I didn’t yet have the wisdom to answer. Why me? Why this? Why now? But what I didn’t realize then was that God was using these questions as the starting point of a deeper journey toward faith, purpose, and service. That journey became more personal and pressing during a season of great loss. I nearly lost my father and did lose one of my dearest friends—Margaret Romph, a young cheerleader who became a quadriplegic after a tragic car accident at the age of four. Margaret was a light, despite her physical limitations. Her resilience, joy, and ability to connect with others—without even needing words—was something I’ve never forgotten. Together with her mother, I helped co-found a cheerleading team for children with special needs. That experience shaped not only my sense of empathy and leadership but also cemented my calling to serve others through healthcare. Margaret’s passing in 2019 shook me deeply. But even in that pain, God was speaking. I started leaning more into prayer—not just in moments of desperation, but in gratitude and trust. Slowly, I came to understand that faith doesn’t always remove pain, but it gives it purpose. And in that purpose, I found peace. I began reading Scripture more regularly and seeking God’s presence not just on Sundays but in everyday moments: in service, in friendships, and in the silence where He speaks most clearly. One of the most powerful aspects of my journey has been learning that healing doesn’t always look like a cure. Sometimes healing is emotional, relational, or spiritual. Sometimes it’s simply about being there—offering a warm smile, a listening ear, or a moment of connection that reminds someone they are not alone. That, to me, is the heart of both ministry and medicine: presence. The more I learned about Jesus—His compassion, His strength, His sacrifice—the more I understood that I was not defined by my challenges, but by how I respond to them. I realized that the love and hope I had found in my faith were gifts meant to be shared. That’s why I’m pursuing a Doctorate in Physical Therapy, with a focus in pediatrics and potentially a specialization in neurology. Physical therapy is more than a profession for me—it is a ministry. It is a way to meet people where they are, often in pain, fear, or frustration, and walk alongside them as they reclaim strength and joy. Through pediatric physical therapy, I want to help children like Margaret—those with complex needs, rare diagnoses, or neurological injuries—live full, meaningful lives. My approach to therapy is rooted in love, patience, and creativity. Much like our cheer practices were tailored to meet each child where they were, my therapy sessions will be just as personalized, hopeful, and empowering. I also think often about the role caregivers play—many of whom are parents, siblings, or loved ones providing full-time support. Watching Margaret’s mother selflessly advocate for her daughter taught me how crucial it is for medical professionals to support not only the patient but the entire family. This is something I saw in Jesus’s ministry as well—how He noticed the outcast, uplifted the weary, and comforted those carrying invisible burdens. I want to follow that example. Pastor Thomas Rorie Jr.'s legacy—his devotion to faith, his service, his generosity—mirrors the kind of impact I hope to make in my own life and career. Although I did not know him personally, I am inspired by the way he lived: committed to God and to others. He understood that Christianity is not a one-size-fits-all journey. It’s personal, complex, and beautiful in its uniqueness. Like Pastor Thomas, I want to be someone who meets people with compassion, regardless of their circumstances, and who helps them feel the love of Christ through simple acts of care and kindness. That’s also why this scholarship means so much to me. As I pursue my doctorate, the financial demands of graduate school are significant. Between tuition, books, and clinical fees, the pressure can feel overwhelming. Receiving the Pastor Thomas Rorie Jr. Memorial Scholarship would not only ease that burden—it would be a blessing that reinforces the spiritual and professional path I’ve chosen. It would allow me to focus more fully on my training and clinical experiences, ultimately preparing me to serve others with excellence, compassion, and humility. In addition to my academic goals, I also have a vision for the future. I hope to one day open or work within an inclusive therapy and recreation center that blends physical therapy with adaptive play, faith-based encouragement, and family support. I want to offer a place where children with disabilities and their families feel valued, understood, and loved—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. In the long term, I’d also love to be involved in policy advocacy, ensuring that children with rare and complex conditions have access to the care, equipment, and resources they need to thrive. But more than any title or career achievement, I simply want to be remembered as someone who made people feel seen. Someone who, like Pastor Thomas, lived a life of purpose, rooted in service and overflowing with love. My faith has taught me that our trials do not diminish us—they shape us. They prepare us for the exact work God has planned. In my case, those early questions—Why me? Why this?—have found their answer: because God knew I would turn pain into purpose, fear into courage, and gratitude into action. In today’s world, where challenges and uncertainty can feel overwhelming, I believe that healthcare professionals with both clinical expertise and a deep sense of spiritual calling are more important than ever. My goal is not just to help people heal physically, but to walk with them in their emotional and spiritual healing as well. To remind them that they are not alone. That their story matters. And that even in their weakness, they are deeply worthy of love, care, and dignity. I will carry Margaret’s memory, my faith journey, and the values this scholarship represents into every patient interaction. I am committed to making a lasting impact, one life at a time—through hands-on healing, listening ears, and a heart that reflects the kindness and service that Pastor Thomas modeled so well. In closing, I want to express my deepest gratitude for the opportunity to apply for this scholarship. Thank you for honoring the legacy of Pastor Thomas Rorie Jr. by supporting students like me, who are committed to living out their faith through service. This scholarship is not just financial assistance—it’s a blessing that will help me become the kind of physical therapist, and person, I believe God is calling me to be.

I was born with a rare lymphatic malformation on my forehead that has been part of me for as long as I can remember. Growing up, I never looked like other kids—my eyes were asymmetrical, and the mass often drew unwanted attention. Over the years, I’ve dealt with people staring, whispering, and openly judging me. I’ve also experienced hemorrhaging multiple times, which made the reactions worse. Those moments were difficult—not just physically, but emotionally. Often, I felt like I didn’t belong. But something changed. I stopped focusing on how people looked at me and started thinking about how I could use my experience to help others. That’s when I knew I wanted to pursue a career in healthcare—specifically, physical therapy. For me, it’s not just about helping someone recover from injury or surgery. It’s about walking alongside them—physically, emotionally, and mentally—on their journey back to feeling whole. Healthcare has played a major role in my life. I’ve spent more time in hospitals and specialist offices than most kids my age. Instead of discouraging me, it lit a fire. It made me want to be the kind of provider who helps people heal and feel seen. I want to be the person who reminds patients they’re more than a diagnosis and that they matter. I envision a woman in healthcare as someone who uses her voice to uplift others, stands firm in her values, and leads with empathy and integrity. I aim to be that kind of leader by showing up authentically and using my story to inspire change. Our struggles don’t define us; how we rise from them does. As a woman entering the healthcare field, I know I have a unique opportunity. I feel called not only to help others heal, but to fulfill a greater purpose. I hope to create a space where every patient feels safe, valued, and understood. Because I’ve experienced judgment firsthand, I know how deeply it can affect someone’s confidence and willingness to seek care. I want to be a provider who sees the whole person. I want to empower patients to believe in their ability to heal, grow, and thrive. My goal is to show people that their differences are not something to hide but to embrace. Whether it’s offering reassurance, listening, or helping someone regain independence, I believe every interaction is a chance to make a difference. Beyond individual care, I hope to help shift healthcare culture—toward greater inclusion, respect, and equity. I want to speak up for those who may not feel seen and lead by example through compassion. I also hope to mentor young women entering healthcare—especially those who feel they don’t fit the mold. Our stories are what make us powerful—not what hold us back. Healthcare needs more women in leadership—women who lead with strength and heart. I intend to be one of them. I want to challenge outdated perceptions, break barriers, and encourage others to do the same. Change doesn’t always happen at once. It starts with one person willing to speak up, care deeply, and lead with purpose. I want to be that person. This scholarship would support me in earning my Doctorate in Physical Therapy and allow me to continue paying it forward. I want to create a safe, welcoming space for patients to feel empowered in their healing. By combining gratitude, courage, and compassion, I believe we can make healthcare more inclusive and impactful. My goal is not just to help people walk again—but to walk with them as they rebuild strength, hope, and confidence.

When I think about working with a child who has a rare disorder like Rebecca Lynn Seto, I think of Margaret Romph. Margaret was a bright, spirited young girl who became a quadriplegic at the age of four after a devastating car accident. Despite her physical limitations, she radiated joy and determination. I had the privilege of coaching a cheerleading team for individuals with special needs, a program her mother and I started to help Margaret continue doing what she loved most—cheering. At first, I didn’t know exactly how to support someone with such complex needs. But I quickly learned that what mattered most was being present, patient, and creative. I discovered that connection comes before correction, and that true impact begins with understanding—not just the diagnosis, but the person behind it. Margaret and I built a deep friendship through shared laughs, adapted routines, and a whole lot of heart. She taught me that communication doesn’t always require words, and that movement—even when limited—can still be a source of freedom, joy, and progress. If I were to work with a child like Rebecca, I would begin the same way I did with Margaret: by getting to know them beyond their medical chart. I’d observe their expressions, reactions, preferences, and quirks. I’d learn what excites them, calms them, and makes them feel seen. With children who are non-verbal or have complex communication needs, establishing trust and finding ways to "speak their language"—whether through eye gaze, facial cues, assistive technology, or rhythmic movement—is absolutely essential. As a future pediatric physical therapist, I plan to use a “play-based” and relationship-centered approach, much like we did on our cheer team. Games, music, obstacle courses, and interactive activities provide opportunities not only for physical improvement, but also for cognitive and social growth. These strategies allow therapy to feel less clinical and more joyful, especially for children with rare or misunderstood conditions. My goal is always to help children reach their fullest potential—not just physically, but emotionally and socially as well. Family involvement is also vital. Rebecca’s story reminded me of Margaret’s mother—tireless, loving, and devoted to her daughter’s quality of life. Families often know their child’s needs better than anyone else. Their insights can help shape the most effective and personalized care plan. I would ensure that the child’s family feels included, respected, and supported every step of the way. I believe education should extend to caregivers as well, so they feel confident continuing therapy strategies at home and empowered as advocates for their child’s success. In Margaret’s case, the collaborative work of her physical, occupational, and speech therapists allowed her to accomplish things that once seemed impossible—walking with assistance, communicating through facial cues, and eating independently. Watching that progress unfold was life-changing for me. It’s what inspired me to pursue a Doctorate in Physical Therapy with future specialization in pediatrics or neurology. My dream is to one day help children like Margaret and Rebecca not only survive, but thrive. I’ve come to believe that physical therapy is much more than restoring function. It’s about being a consistent source of joy, trust, and belief in someone’s potential. It’s about helping a child feel seen, heard, and celebrated, no matter how rare or complex their condition may be. Though Margaret passed away in 2019 and Rebecca in 2024, their spirits continue to inspire. I carry their stories with me into every classroom, clinical rotation, and eventually, treatment session. They remind me that behind every diagnosis is a human heart—and it’s our job as healthcare professionals to treat that heart with dignity, creativity, and endless compassion.

My name is Hannah Bates, and I’m currently pursuing a Doctorate in Physical Therapy at the University of South Dakota. From a young age, I felt drawn to working with children and individuals with disabilities—what began as a simple interest has grown into a lifelong calling to serve in pediatric medicine, particularly pediatric physical therapy. One extraordinary child, Margaret Romph, helped me fully understand what it means to care for others. Margaret became a quadriplegic after a traumatic spinal injury in a car accident at the age of four. Despite her physical limitations, she had an infectious love for life and an unshakable passion for cheerleading. Together with her mother, I co-founded a cheer team for individuals with special needs. We designed obstacle courses, choreographed inclusive routines, and found creative ways to promote movement, joy, and connection. Margaret’s laughter and light transformed every practice into something bigger than sport—it became a celebration of resilience and possibility. Margaret passed away in 2019, a loss that shook me deeply but also shaped my purpose. I came to understand that my role was not just about facilitating movement or therapy—it was about creating dignity, connection, and happiness during life’s most fragile moments. Her legacy continues to guide me every day, as I work toward becoming a healthcare professional who brings comfort, strength, and joy to the children and families I serve. My involvement with the Special Olympics, Unified Sports, and the PEOPEL PE (Physical Education Opportunity Program for Exceptional Learners) has further solidified this mission. These experiences have given me the chance to build lasting relationships with individuals of all abilities, helping them develop not just physical skills but confidence and community. Through adaptive sports and therapy-based activities, I’ve seen firsthand how the right support can transform challenges into achievements. These programs have also helped me develop key skills—creative problem solving, active listening, empathy, and adaptability—all of which are essential in pediatric physical therapy. Whether I'm using a game to help a child improve motor function or encouraging a family through a difficult diagnosis, I want to be someone they can rely on. I’m especially interested in specializing in neurology or oncology, fields where physical therapy can be an essential source of hope and healing during prolonged medical journeys. To me, physical therapy is not just a profession—it’s a chance to make a meaningful impact every single day. It’s about being there when someone needs you most, lifting them up in their lowest moments, and celebrating every small victory together. I want to help children reach their full potential, not just physically, but emotionally and socially. Looking forward, I plan to make a broader social impact by helping expand access to pediatric therapy services in underserved communities. I hope to one day start or contribute to an inclusive therapy and recreation center where children with special needs can receive not just clinical care, but also opportunities for social growth, play, and creativity. I envision working with schools, nonprofits, and healthcare providers to build more inclusive programming and family education initiatives. My goal is to be a voice for those who are often overlooked—advocating for policies, resources, and environments that give every child a chance to thrive. Margaret’s story, and those of the many children I’ve worked with since, have shaped not just the kind of professional I want to be—but the kind of person. I hope to honor their strength by dedicating my career to helping others live full, meaningful lives, regardless of the challenges they face.

From an early age, I discovered a deep passion for working with children and individuals with disabilities—one that has steadily grown into a calling to serve in pediatric medicine, specifically pediatric physical therapy. My experiences as a cheer coach, community volunteer, and caregiver have helped shape the person I am today and the healthcare professional I strive to become. But it was one extraordinary child, Margaret Romph, who showed me what it truly means to care for others, and why pediatric healthcare is such a powerful, purpose-driven path. Margaret suffered a traumatic cervical spinal injury in a car accident at age four, leaving her a quadriplegic. Yet, she remained full of life, joy, and a deep love for cheerleading. Her mother and I co-founded a cheer team for individuals with special needs, where we designed obstacle courses, choreographed routines, and created playful ways to encourage movement, social interaction, and joy. Despite Margaret’s physical limitations, she radiated happiness in every practice. We developed a deep friendship—filled with laughter, love, and resilience. Her passing in 2019 marked a turning point in my life, solidifying my desire to pursue a career helping children like her and gave me a deeper appreciation for the fragility of life. Margaret's story reminds me deeply of Noah’s, and the compassionate professionals who gave his family the priceless gift of adventure, dignity, and love during his hardest moments. Like the caregivers who made such a meaningful impact on Noah’s life, I want to be the person who brings comfort and strength to children and families when they need it most. Pediatric medicine, especially physical therapy with a potential focus in neurology or oncology, gives me the opportunity to do just that. Through years of nannying, coaching, and volunteering with Special Olympics and Unified Sports, I’ve been entrusted with the growth and wellbeing of many children—each one unique, each one teaching me something new about resilience, empathy, and hope. I’ve learned that being a part of a child’s journey, especially through illness or adversity, is both a great responsibility and an incredible gift. All of these experiences have affirmed my desire to pursue a career in pediatric physical therapy, with potential specializations in neurology or play-based intervention. Pediatric physical therapy aligns perfectly with my strengths—creativity, compassion, and a genuine love for helping kids reach their full potential. Whether I'm leading a child through therapeutic exercises disguised as games or supporting a family during a difficult diagnosis, I want to be their source of encouragement and healing. Noah’s story is a powerful reminder of why pediatric care matters so deeply. It isn’t just about medicine—it’s about people. It’s about building relationships, creating joy in difficult moments, and being a constant source of hope and support. I hope to continue Noah’s legacy by dedicating my career to helping children facing challenges—whether physical, neurological, or oncological—live full, meaningful lives, regardless of the diagnosis. Margaret inspired me to pursue pediatric physical therapy. Children like Noah inspire me to never forget why this work matters. Their courage and spirit live on through the people who cared for them—and now, through people like me, who are honored to follow in those caregivers’ footsteps. I am committed to carrying that legacy forward, one child, one family, and one heartfelt connection at a time.

From the moment I was born, I’ve lived with something that sets me apart—a lymphatic malformation on my forehead. Growing up with a visible difference meant I was often met with stares, whispers, and sometimes even fear. While other kids enjoyed a carefree childhood, I was trying to make sense of a world filled with doctor visits, confusing medical terms, and a constant ache of feeling out of place. My condition hemorrhaged multiple times, which only amplified the physical and emotional pain. People didn’t just see me; they saw what made me different, and too often, they didn’t bother to look beyond that. Living with a rare facial deformity has been incredibly difficult. The way people looked at me—as if I were somehow broken or didn’t quite belong—left a lasting impact on how I saw myself. There were moments when I wished I could hide—when I thought I’d never be seen for anything beyond the bump on my forehead. For years, I struggled to find confidence and courage, feeling like my life was defined by my appearance. But over time, something began to shift. I realized I’d been fighting silent battles most people couldn’t see, and surviving them gave me a strength I didn’t know I had. I’ve spent much of my life searching for courage within myself, but I’ve also found incredible strength in giving that courage to others. My greatest motivation comes from watching people rediscover hope—watching pain turn into progress, fear into resilience, and uncertainty into pride. I started to see my experience as more than just something to endure—it became something that shaped me. I’ve learned to lead with empathy and live with purpose. Lessons like “you’re more than what people see” and “let others come with curiosity but leave with compassion” have stayed with me. I no longer see my condition as a limitation; I see it as a reason to be the kind of person who shows up for others. That realization sparked a deeper purpose in me. I want to help others find hope, healing, and confidence, just as I’ve had to find within myself. That’s why I’ve decided to pursue a Doctorate in Physical Therapy. This career path feels incredibly personal to me. I know what it’s like to feel vulnerable in a healthcare setting, to want someone to treat you like a whole person—not just a diagnosis. Physical therapy, to me, is about helping people find confidence and strength in their own bodies and believe in themselves again. It’s about showing up not just with clinical skills, but with empathy, patience, and a deep understanding of what someone might be going through. I’ve come to believe that our differences aren’t setbacks—they’re sources of strength. My own journey has given me a deeper ability to connect with others, and I want to bring that perspective into every patient interaction. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial support—it would be a meaningful acknowledgment of everything I’ve overcome and the kind of compassionate, thoughtful healthcare provider I’m striving to become. I know how transformative it is to feel truly seen and supported—because I’ve lived the difference it can make, and that’s the kind of care I’m committing to providing. Everyone has a story, often filled with silent battles the world may never see. My goal is to be a light in the midst of those struggles, to walk with people through their pain, and to leave behind more than just a treatment plan—but hope, healing, and the courage to keep going.

When reflecting on my life and the experiences that have shaped my path, one of the most impactful moments was witnessing my grandmother’s battle with breast cancer. Though I couldn’t be there for her in the way I wanted, her journey opened my eyes to the profound realities of hereditary breast cancer, the importance of regular checkups, and the true value of life itself. Growing up, I always admired my grandmother for her strength and resilience, but seeing her face this disease was a wake-up call. I hadn’t fully grasped the emotional and physical impact cancer would have, not just on my grandmother, but on our entire family. It made me realize how unpredictable life can be and how fragile health is. Watching her fight, and ultimately lose, her battle with cancer taught me that life is precious, and we should never take our time or our health for granted. One of the most significant lessons I learned from her experience was the importance of prevention and early detection. Her diagnosis emphasized the need for regular checkups and understanding our family’s health history. This awareness shifted my perspective on healthcare, motivating me to learn more about cancer, genetics, and the role preventative measures can play in saving lives. I became increasingly passionate about helping others avoid similar struggles and navigate their own health journeys with the same care and proactive approach I wish I could’ve had with my grandmother. Though I didn’t have the chance to help my grandmother directly through her cancer journey, her struggle profoundly influenced my decision to pursue a healthcare career in helping others lead happy, meaningful, and purposeful lives. The experience deepened my desire to contribute to the well-being of others, not just physically but emotionally and mentally as well. I realized that by working in healthcare, I could not only help individuals during their most vulnerable moments but also educate them on the importance of prevention and support them in maintaining a fulfilling life despite the challenges they may face. My academic and professional goals are now focused on empowering others through education, compassion, and support, in ways I wish I could have provided for my grandmother. I aspire to work in a field where I can make a tangible impact, whether through healthcare, counseling, or advocacy, to ensure others understand their health and have the resources they need to live life to its fullest. Cancer, while deeply painful, gave me a purpose — to prevent, support, and uplift those who face similar challenges. Ultimately, my grandmother’s journey with cancer transformed my outlook on life, and her memory continues to drive my passion for helping others. Though I cannot undo the pain she experienced, I hope to honor her by dedicating my life’s work to preventing suffering and improving the quality of life for others facing health challenges.

My name is Hannah Bates, and I’m working toward my Doctorate in Physical Therapy at the University of South Dakota. I was born with a rare lymphatic malformation on my forehead that’s become more noticeable as I’ve gotten older. Growing up, I often felt different—people stared, and I struggled with self-esteem. Over time, I’ve learned to lean into resilience and find strength in who I am. Those experiences have shaped the way I view others and fueled my passion for physical therapy. I know how much it means to feel seen, heard, and supported. That’s what I want to give my patients. For me, physical therapy isn’t just about recovery—it’s about connection, trust, and helping people move forward, even through the hard times. When reflecting on my life and the experiences that have shaped my path, one of the most impactful moments was witnessing my grandmother’s battle with breast cancer. Though I couldn’t be there for her in the way I wanted, her journey opened my eyes to the profound realities of hereditary breast cancer, the importance of regular checkups, and the true value of life itself. Growing up, I always admired my grandmother for her strength and resilience, but seeing her face this disease was a wake-up call. I hadn’t fully grasped the emotional and physical impact cancer would have, not just on my grandmother, but on our entire family. It made me realize how unpredictable life can be and how fragile health is. Watching her fight, and ultimately lose, her battle with cancer taught me that life is precious, and we should never take our time or our health for granted. One of the most significant lessons I learned from her experience was the importance of prevention and early detection. Her diagnosis emphasized the need for regular checkups and understanding our family’s health history. This awareness shifted my perspective on healthcare, motivating me to learn more about cancer, genetics, and the role preventative measures can play in saving lives. I became increasingly passionate about helping others avoid similar struggles and navigate their own health journeys with the same care and proactive approach I wish I could’ve had with my grandmother. Though I didn’t have the chance to help my grandmother directly through her cancer journey, her struggle profoundly influenced my decision to pursue a healthcare career in helping others lead happy, meaningful, and purposeful lives. The experience deepened my desire to contribute to the well-being of others, not just physically but emotionally and mentally as well. I realized that by working in healthcare, I could not only help individuals during their most vulnerable moments but also educate them on the importance of prevention and support them in maintaining a fulfilling life despite the challenges they may face. My academic and professional goals are now focused on empowering others through education, compassion, and support, in ways I wish I could have provided for my grandmother. I aspire to work in a field where I can make a tangible impact, whether through healthcare, counseling, or advocacy, to ensure others understand their health and have the resources they need to live life to its fullest. Cancer, while deeply painful, gave me a purpose — to prevent, support, and uplift those who face similar challenges. Ultimately, my grandmother’s journey with cancer transformed my outlook on life, and her memory continues to drive my passion for helping others. Though I cannot undo the pain she experienced, I hope to honor her by dedicating my life’s work to preventing suffering and improving the quality of life for others facing health challenges.