Family is everything. I recognize and acknowledge how truly blessed I have been to grow up with a true, loving family. I have been fortunate enough to grow up in a community where there are unbelievable family ties and stable homes...but for some, my reality doesn't exist. My grandmother, Alice Josephs, worked over 30 years as a social worker, mostly in Lawrence, MA, and in later years, in Lebanon, NH. Toward the end of her career, she went back to school to complete her Masters in Social Work and opened her own family therapy practice. She tirelessly fought to give troubled and neglected children a home. For most of my life, I was unaware of the massive impact that my grandmother had on others. To me, she was Gram...Queen of the strawberry rhubarb pie, hiking expert, bodyguard for her grandchildren, and the one with the best advice. But it was the legacy she created for others, while I was not watching nor aware, that impacts me the most today. My grandmother passed away suddenly on December 1, 2017. At the time, I thought I had lost a friend and an amazing family member, but for countless others, they lost a trusted social worker, an important friend, a mentor, and...a savior. This last role came to fruition the night of her Wake. My family was standing in the reception line being offered condolences and hugs. I was standing next to my mom when an older man approached her. He said, “Excuse me. Are you Alice’s daughter?” “I am, yes,” said my mom. The man said, “I am so sorry for your loss; I wanted to give this to you…” He handed her a small photo the size of an index card. However, this small Polaroid was enough to make my mom tear up. The man hugged my mom and said, “Your mother gave us our family. She helped us adopt our son and daughter. We would never have been able to have children without her help.” Family is a beautiful thing. I knew my grandmother to be the linchpin in our family; however, up until that moment, I hadn’t realized how pivotal she was in helping other people create their families. Some time before she passed, I remember asking my gram if she ever felt nervous working with troubled kids and families (as she would enter dangerous homes and even invite new clients into her home as a family therapist). Everytime I asked her these questions, I always got the same response: “No. I have never been scared of my clients, even when I enter rough homes which could be perceived as threatening. I always know, at the core, that these are people who want compassion and family. In many cases, my clients are people who were never taught life or parenting skills themselves. Honestly, they have much bigger problems than hurting me. I know I’ve made a difference in people’s lives.” I believe that more mental health legislation would make the most impact for people suffering either in poverty or with mental illness; therefore, I plan on supporting mental health programs in the future. My grandmother has always inspired me to be kind to younger kids as I helped them with math homework before school, when I give younger kids a ride to practice, or how I use power to help others when I am in positions of leadership. Thank you for offering this scholarship and for supporting higher education.

It is only in the heat of battle when our true character emerges; we either rise to the challenge or crumble beneath the pressure. The evening was brisk, and the chilly air hit the backs of the fielders on and around the baseball diamond—perfect weather for a defensive stand. Pittsfield vs. Sunapee. Sunapee vs. Pittsfield. Both teams fought through four extra innings; it was enough time for even enemies on the field to develop feelings of comradery towards one another. It was the semi-final championship game in the state tournament, and I was a sophomore pitching those four extra innings on the Sunapee varsity baseball team as the margin between victory and defeat attenuated. Every pitch was its own battle: Should I throw the fastball up-and-in to get a late swing? Should I tunnel a curveball into the bottom corner to simulate a fastball until the final nine feet, thus confusing the batter? Pitch after pitch, the back-and-forth dance continued until at last my fastball cut across the plate, and the batter sliced the worn, brown ball to the right-field corner thereby driving in the winning run. We lost, but I walked away with pride. My junior year in high school was, in many ways, the most challenging year of my life. Because I knew I was capable, I chose a rigorous academic course load that included three AP classes (calculus, U.S. history, and language), a fourth year of Spanish, and chemistry. I was accepted into the National Honor Society, I continued my role on Student Council, and I was a three-sport varsity athlete. In addition, my grandmother, whom I was very close with, passed away in November after a prolonged illness. Of course, the year was ultimately halted by COVID-19, and my junior year baseball season was canceled. However, two weeks into my junior year (and when the reality of my course load became apparent), my guidance counselor and family members asked—no, implored—me to alter my schedule. I did not want to show uncertainty just as I hadn’t shown fear towards the last batter the year before. Therefore, I firmly declined the well-meaning offers to make my junior year more manageable. Throughout that interminable year, an internal drive pushed me to achieve honor roll and ultimately score 5s and a 4 on my AP exams. The year was filled with countless late nights and early morning studying, going into school early for extra help while also balancing student council meetings and NHS volunteering. Homework still had to be completed even when my team had an away game the night before. However, I woke each day and envisioned myself being able to accomplish the challenge before me. Instead of capitulating to the mental exhaustion and physical aches that riddled my body, I listened to the persistent noise in my head urging me to rise to the challenge. It was the same noise that pushed me through the hours of fighting in that championship baseball game; it was also the noise that confirmed I could make my junior year successful through hard work. It may be cliché to write about a high school sports game or about facing academic pressure; however, it is evident through some of last year’s defining moments that one of my greatest characteristics is that I rise to the challenge, and I choose the challenge. I have confidence in myself and the desire to do more than what is put in front of me. It’s the rise to pitch one more fastball even when my arm is hanging; it is the rise to take on more than what is recommended, to take ownership over my choices, and to see my decisions through to the end. Reflecting back upon my junior year, I realize that without the strife, I would not now recognize, and therefore fully appreciate, one of my greatest strengths—I rise to the challenge thereby leading others by example.

It is only in the heat of battle when our true character emerges; we either rise to the challenge or crumble beneath the pressure. The evening was brisk, and the chilly air hit the backs of the fielders on and around the baseball diamond—perfect weather for a defensive stand. Pittsfield vs. Sunapee. Sunapee vs. Pittsfield. Both teams fought through four extra innings; it was enough time for even enemies on the field to develop feelings of comradery towards one another. It was the semi-final championship game in the state tournament, and I was a sophomore pitching those four extra innings on the Sunapee varsity baseball team as the margin between victory and defeat attenuated. Every pitch was its own battle: Should I throw the fastball up-and-in to get a late swing? Should I tunnel a curveball into the bottom corner to simulate a fastball until the final nine feet, thus confusing the batter? Pitch after pitch, the back-and-forth dance continued until at last my fastball cut across the plate, and the batter sliced the worn, brown ball to the right field corner thereby driving in the winning run. We lost, but I walked away with pride. My junior year in high school was, in many ways, the most challenging year of my life. Because I knew I was capable, I chose a rigorous academic course load that included three AP classes (calculus, U.S. history, and language), a fourth year of Spanish, and chemistry. I was accepted into the National Honor Society, I continued my role on Student Council, and I was a three-sport varsity athlete. In addition, my grandmother, whom I was very close with, passed away in November after a prolonged illness. Of course, the year was ultimately halted by COVID-19, and my junior year baseball season was canceled. However, two weeks into my junior year (and when the reality of my course load became apparent), my guidance counselor and family members asked—no, implored—me to alter my schedule. I did not want to show uncertainty just as I hadn’t shown fear towards the last batter the year before. Therefore, I firmly declined the well-meaning offers to make my junior year more manageable. Throughout that interminable year, an internal drive pushed me to achieve honor roll and ultimately score 5s and a 4 on my AP exams. The year was filled with countless late nights and early morning studying, going into school early for extra help while also balancing student council meetings and NHS volunteering. Homework still had to be completed even when my team had an away game the night before. However, I woke each day and envisioned myself being able to accomplish the challenge before me. Instead of capitulating to the mental exhaustion and physical aches that riddled my body, I listened to the persistent noise in my head urging me to rise to the challenge. It was the same noise that pushed me through the hours of fighting in that championship baseball game; it was also the noise that confirmed I could make my junior year successful through hard work. It may be cliché to write about a high school sports game or about facing academic pressure; however, it is evident through some of last year’s defining moments that one of my greatest characteristics is that I rise to the challenge, and I choose the challenge. I have confidence in myself and the desire to do more than what is put in front of me. It’s the rise to pitch one more fastball even when my arm is hanging; it is the rise to take on more than what is recommended, to take ownership over my choices, and to see my decisions through to the end. Reflecting back upon my junior year, I realize that without the strife, I would not now recognize, and therefore fully appreciate, one of my greatest strengths—I rise to the challenge.

It is only in the heat of battle when our true character emerges; we either rise to the challenge or crumble beneath the pressure. The evening was brisk, and the chilly air hit the backs of the fielders on and around the baseball diamond—perfect weather for a defensive stand. Pittsfield vs. Sunapee. Sunapee vs. Pittsfield. Both teams fought through four extra innings; it was enough time for even enemies on the field to develop feelings of comradery towards one another. It was the semi-final championship game in the state tournament, and I was a sophomore pitching those four extra innings on the Sunapee varsity baseball team as the margin between victory and defeat attenuated. Every pitch was its own battle: Should I throw the fastball up-and-in to get a late swing? Should I tunnel a curveball into the bottom corner to simulate a fastball until the final nine feet, thus confusing the batter? Pitch after pitch, the back-and-forth dance continued until at last my fastball cut across the plate, and the batter sliced the worn, brown ball to the right-field corner thereby driving in the winning run. We lost, but I walked away with pride. My junior year in high school was, in many ways, the most challenging year of my life. Because I knew I was capable, I chose a rigorous academic course load that included three AP classes (calculus, U.S. history, and language), a fourth year of Spanish, and chemistry. I was accepted into the National Honor Society, I continued my role on Student Council, and I was a three-sport varsity athlete. In addition, my grandmother, whom I was very close with, passed away in November after a prolonged illness. Of course, the year was ultimately halted by COVID-19, and my junior year baseball season was canceled. However, two weeks into my junior year (and when the reality of my course load became apparent), my guidance counselor and family members asked—no, implored—me to alter my schedule. I did not want to show uncertainty just as I hadn’t shown fear towards the last batter the year before. Therefore, I firmly declined the well-meaning offers to make my junior year more manageable. Throughout that interminable year, an internal drive pushed me to achieve honor roll and ultimately score 5s and a 4 on my AP exams. The year was filled with countless late nights and early morning studying, going into school early for extra help while also balancing student council meetings and NHS volunteering. Homework still had to be completed even when my team had an away game the night before. However, I woke each day and envisioned myself being able to accomplish the challenge before me. Instead of capitulating to the mental exhaustion and physical aches that riddled my body, I listened to the persistent noise in my head urging me to rise to the challenge. It was the same noise that pushed me through the hours of fighting in that championship baseball game; it was also the noise that confirmed I could make my junior year successful through hard work. It may be cliché to write about a high school sports game or about facing academic pressure; however, it is evident through some of last year’s defining moments that one of my greatest characteristics is that I rise to the challenge, and I choose the challenge. I have confidence in myself and the desire to do more than what is put in front of me. It’s the rise to pitch one more fastball even when my arm is hanging; it is the rise to take on more than what is recommended, to take ownership over my choices, and to see my decisions through to the end. Reflecting back upon my junior year, I realize that without the strife, I would not now recognize, and therefore fully appreciate, one of my greatest strengths—I rise to the challenge.

In Sunapee, NH, our community builders bring together generations, and one of the greatest local leaders I know is my former math teacher, Mrs. Sharon Parsons. Not only has she dedicated her life to being an educator, but she has also been an active member in a number of community service projects. She organizes the Empty Bowl Fundraiser and served as President of the historic Livery building. For 20 years, she organized our school’s Nature’s Classroom trip and recently became our school's representative for NEASC school accreditation. However, one of her most prominent roles is as the Senior Project Advisor at Sunapee Middle High School. This capstone project is completed in the senior year of high school and is meant to integrate all the skills acquired throughout middle and high school as well as community mentorship. The focus is on college and career readiness, and students are encouraged to develop meaningful and challenging projects based on his or her interests. Mrs. Parsons helped me shape a project which gives me experience in the business industry. I completed an internship with a local lending agency, I have conducted numerous interviews with high-ranking business leaders, and I have invested in the stock market while creating a portfolio of my investments. Mrs. Parsons' guidance and leadership have been inspirational and have shown me the value of striving for more--for myself and for my community. Due to an amazing experience with my Senior Project, I would like to focus my college experience on the business industry. I am extremely interested in entrepreneurship as well as finance, and I recently experienced both while interning at a local lending agency—Title Mortgage Inc.

In Sunapee, NH, our community builders bring together generations, and one of the greatest local leaders I know is my former math teacher, Mrs. Sharon Parsons. Not only has she dedicated her life to being an educator, she has also been an active member in a number of community service projects. She organizes the Empty Bowl Fundraiser and served as President of the historic Livery building. For 20 years, she organized our school’s Nature’s Classroom trip and recently became our school's representative for NEASC school accreditation. However, one of her most prominent roles is as the Senior Project Advisor at Sunapee Middle High School. This capstone project is completed in the senior year of high school and is meant to integrate all the skills acquired throughout middle and high school as well as community mentorship. The focus is on college and career readiness, and students are encouraged to develop meaningful and challenging projects based on his or her interests. Mrs. Parsons helped me shape a project which gives me experience in the business industry. I completed an internship with a local lending agency, I have conducted numerous interviews with high-ranking business leaders, and I have invested in the stock market while creating a portfolio of my investments. Mrs. Parsons' guidance and leadership have been inspirational and have shown me the value of striving for more--for myself and for my community. Due to an amazing experience with my Senior Project, I would like to focus my college experience on the business industry. I am extremely interested in entrepreneurship as well as finance, and I recently experienced both while interning at a local lending agency—Title Mortgage Inc. My mentor, Rob Messenger, who was the Vice President at Title Mortgage, inspired me when he decided to leave his successful position and pursue his dream of starting his own lending business. Local leaders, such as Rob, have shown me the benefits of earning a business degree as well as the opportunities it can afford.

Growing up in a small town such as Sunapee, NH has made me the person I am today. Sunapee is a special place where everyone knows everyone. It is a place where we know each other's grandparents and cousins because they are, in fact, our neighbors as well. Students at Sunapee Middle High School are regularly supported by generations of Sunapee community members who show up for sports events, graduations, championship parades, and in the voting booth. Due to our small school size, we have teachers and coaches for multiple years, and, very often, those educators are related to students in the school. Although this may sound awkward, it does allow students to develop true bonds with teachers and coaches, to develop trust and mentorship. It also makes alumni want to return to visit or, in some cases, raise their own families. In many ways growing up in a small town is difficult, as one’s personal life is often never that--personal. It often feels like mistakes are on display. Despite these challenges, being from a small town is something I am proud of, something that has taught me to work through differences because, at the end of the day, we share boundaries with each other. No matter where I travel in life, I will always know that there is a small corner of the world that will always be home, which is part of my identity. The most powerful and meaningful piece of myself is where I am from, and I would like to share that sense of community, that kindness with whomever I meet throughout my life.

Family is everything. I recognize and acknowledge how truly blessed I have been to grow up with a true, loving family. I have been fortunate enough to grow up in a community where there are unbelievable family ties and stable homes...but for some, my reality doesn't exist. My grandmother, Alice Josephs, worked for over 30 years as a social worker, mostly in Lawrence, MA, and in later years, in Lebanon, NH. Toward the end of her career, she went back to school to complete her Master's in Social Work and opened her own family therapy practice. She tirelessly fought to give troubled and neglected children a home. For most of my life, I was unaware of the massive impact that my grandmother had on others. To me, she was Gram...Queen of the strawberry rhubarb pie, hiking expert, bodyguard for her grandchildren, and the one with the best advice. But it was the legacy she created for others, while I was not watching nor aware, that impacts me the most today. My grandmother passed away suddenly on December 1, 2017. At the time, I thought I had lost a friend and an amazing family member, but for countless others, they lost a trusted social worker, an important friend, a mentor, and...a savior. This last role came to fruition the night of her Wake. My family was standing in the reception line being offered condolences and hugs. I was standing next to my mom when an older man approached her. He said, “Excuse me. Are you Alice’s daughter?” “I am, yes,” said my mom. The man said, “I am so sorry for your loss; I wanted to give this to you…” He handed her a small photo the size of an index card. However, this small Polaroid was enough to make my mom tear up. The man hugged my mom and said, “Your mother gave us our family. She helped us adopt our son and daughter. We would never have been able to have children without her help.” Family is a beautiful thing. I knew my grandmother to be the linchpin in our family; however, up until that moment, I hadn’t realized how pivotal she was in helping other people create their families. Sometime before she passed, I remember asking my gram if she ever felt nervous working with troubled kids and families (as she would enter dangerous homes and even invite new clients into her home as a family therapist). Every time I asked her these questions, I always got the same response: “No. I have never been scared of my clients, even when I enter rough homes that could be perceived as threatening. I always know, at the core, that these are people who want compassion and family. In many cases, my clients are people who were never taught life or parenting skills themselves. Honestly, they have much bigger problems than hurting me. I know I’ve made a difference in people’s lives.” The organization I find most meaningful is connected to my grandmother’s legacy: Waypoint, formerly known as Child and Family Services, in Lebanon, NH which is where she worked for several years. In their own words, Waypoint is: “a private, nonprofit agency, and [the] array of services includes-- adoption, prenatal support, parent education/family empowerment, services for children with developmental concerns or chronic health conditions, child care, mental health counseling, family preservation, supervised visitation, foster care, homeless youth continuum, home healthcare for older Americans and adults with disabilities, and advocacy.” In my grandmother’s words, it is a place that makes families stronger, protects children, and changes the trajectory of people’s lives. Her legacy is one I would like to emulate.

In Sunapee, NH, our community builders bring together generations, and one of the greatest local leaders I know is my former math teacher, Mrs. Sharon Parsons. Not only has she dedicated her life to being an educator, but she has also been an active member in a number of community service projects. She organizes the Empty Bowl Fundraiser and served as President of the historic Livery building. For 20 years, she organized our school’s Nature’s Classroom trip and recently became our school's representative for NEASC school accreditation. However, one of her most prominent roles is as the Senior Project Advisor at Sunapee Middle High School. This capstone project is completed in the senior year of high school and is meant to integrate all the skills acquired throughout middle and high school as well as community mentorship. The focus is on college and career readiness, and students are encouraged to develop meaningful and challenging projects based on his or her interests. Mrs. Parsons helped me shape a project which gives me experience in the business industry. I completed an internship with a local lending agency, I have conducted numerous interviews with high-ranking business leaders, and I have invested in the stock market while creating a portfolio of my investments. Mrs. Parsons' guidance and leadership have been inspirational and have shown me the value of striving for more--for myself and for my community. I would like to focus my college experience on the business industry. I am extremely interested in entrepreneurship as well as finance, and I recently experienced both while interning at a local lending agency—Title Mortgage Inc. My mentor, Rob Messenger, who was the Vice President at Title Mortgage, inspired me when he decided to leave his successful position and pursue his dream of starting his own lending business. Local leaders, such as Rob, have shown me the benefits of earning a business degree as well as the opportunities it can afford.

It is only in the heat of battle when our true character emerges; we either rise to the challenge or crumble beneath the pressure. The evening was brisk, and the chilly air hit the backs of the fielders on and around the baseball diamond—perfect weather for a defensive stand. Pittsfield vs. Sunapee. Sunapee vs. Pittsfield. Both teams fought through four extra innings; it was enough time for even enemies on the field to develop feelings of comradery towards one another. It was the semi-final championship game in the state tournament, and I was a sophomore pitching those four extra innings on the Sunapee varsity baseball team as the margin between victory and defeat attenuated. Every pitch was its own battle: Should I throw the fastball up-and-in to get a late swing? Should I tunnel a curveball into the bottom corner to simulate a fastball until the final nine feet, thus confusing the batter? Pitch after pitch, the back-and-forth dance continued until at last my fastball cut across the plate, and the batter sliced the worn, brown ball to the right-field corner thereby driving in the winning run. We lost, but I walked away with pride. My junior year in high school was, in many ways, the most challenging year of my life. Because I knew I was capable, I chose a rigorous academic course load that included three AP classes (calculus, U.S. history, and language), a fourth year of Spanish, and chemistry. I was accepted into the National Honor Society, I continued my role on Student Council, and I was a three-sport varsity athlete. In addition, my grandmother, whom I was very close with, passed away in November after a prolonged illness. Of course, the year was ultimately halted by COVID-19, and my junior year baseball season was canceled. However, two weeks into my junior year (and when the reality of my course load became apparent), my guidance counselor and family members asked—no, implored—me to alter my schedule. I did not want to show uncertainty just as I hadn’t shown fear towards the last batter the year before. Therefore, I firmly declined the well-meaning offers to make my junior year more manageable. Throughout that interminable year, an internal drive pushed me to achieve honor roll and ultimately score 5s and a 4 on my AP exams. The year was filled with countless late nights and early morning studying, going into school early for extra help while also balancing student council meetings and NHS volunteering. Homework still had to be completed even when my team had an away game the night before. However, I woke each day and envisioned myself being able to accomplish the challenge before me. Instead of capitulating to the mental exhaustion and physical aches that riddled my body, I listened to the persistent noise in my head urging me to rise to the challenge. It was the same noise that pushed me through the hours of fighting in that championship baseball game; it was also the noise that confirmed I could make my junior year successful through hard work. It may be cliché to write about a high school sports game or about facing academic pressure; however, it is evident through some of last year’s defining moments that one of my greatest characteristics is that I rise to the challenge, and I choose the challenge. I have confidence in myself and the desire to do more than what is put in front of me. It’s the rise to pitch one more fastball even when my arm is hanging; it is the rise to take on more than what is recommended, to take ownership over my choices, and to see my decisions through to the end. Reflecting back upon my junior year, I realize that without the strife, I would not now recognize, and therefore fully appreciate, one of my greatest strengths—I rise to the challenge.