There is a photo somewhere of my mom and me curled up on the couch watching High School Musical: The Musical: The Series. Long before Olivia Rodrigo was filling stadiums, she was simply Nini to us. Back then, I admired her acting and music, but I never imagined that years later one of her songs would perfectly capture one of the biggest transitions of my life. In “making the bed,” Olivia sings, “I got the things I wanted, it’s just not what I imagined.” At first, that lyric sounded sad. As I’ve grown older, though, I’ve realized it’s incredibly honest. Sometimes your dreams come true exactly as you hoped, but they also ask you to let go of the life you’ve always known. Throughout high school, I spent years working toward one goal: attending University. I challenged myself with thirteen AP classes, devoted countless hours to marching band and wind ensemble, served in student leadership, and worked hard at my job at the after-school kids club in my school district to save money for college. Every late night studying and every rehearsal felt like another step toward the future I had imagined since I was young. Now that future is finally here. Instead of feeling only excitement, I’ve found myself feeling something much more complicated. Leaving for college means saying goodbye to my family, the friends who helped shape me, and the routines that have made Arizona feel like home. Even relationships that once seemed certain have become uncertain as everyone begins following different paths. I’ve learned that growing up isn’t simply opening one new door; it often means quietly closing several others. Olivia’s lyric helped me realize that this doesn’t mean I chose the wrong dream. It means I am experiencing the reality of achieving it. Success is rarely as simple as we picture it when we’re younger. The goals we work so hard to reach often require courage, sacrifice, and trust that the life waiting ahead is worth the things we’re leaving behind. That lesson has changed the way I approach challenges. Rather than expecting every accomplishment to feel perfect, I’ve learned to embrace mixed emotions. I can be grateful for the opportunities ahead while still mourning the chapters that are ending. Those feelings don’t cancel each other out, but prove that what I’m leaving mattered. Looking back, I’m grateful that I grew up listening to Olivia Rodrigo’s music because it never pretended that growing up was easy. Her songs acknowledge the messy emotions that accompany change while quietly reminding listeners that those emotions are normal. As I prepare to leave home and begin college, I still have moments where the future feels overwhelming. But now, when I hear, “I got the things I wanted, it’s just not what I imagined,” I don’t hear disappointment anymore. I hear a reminder that real growth is rarely picture perfect. Sometimes the life you’ve dreamed about begins with uncertainty, and that’s okay. It simply means you’re brave enough to keep moving forward.

One of my favorite ideas in science is the butterfly effect, the idea that one tiny action can create enormous consequences. It reminds me of relationships. A single compliment, an honest conversation, or even one careless comment can completely change where a relationship goes. Love isn’t usually built through grand gestures, but through hundreds of small choices. That’s why my dream Love Island challenge would be called The Butterfly Effect. For the challenge, the villa would transform into a beautiful butterfly garden filled with flowers, vines, and glowing butterfly sculptures. Each couple would stand in front of a blank butterfly display with transparent wings. Throughout the challenge, every answer they give slowly fills in their butterfly, creating a visual picture of their relationship. Round One: Little Things Matter Partners are separated so they can’t see each other’s answers. The host asks questions like: “What’s something your partner does that always makes you smile?” “What’s one habit of yours that annoys your partner?” “What’s one thing you wish your partner did more often?” “What’s something they’ve told you that you never forgot?” The questions aren’t about facts, but about how well the Islanders truly know one another. Whenever the couple gives matching or thoughtful answers, another section of their butterfly fills with vibrant color. If their answers don’t match, that section remains transparent. The audience watches each butterfly slowly come to life. Round Two: One Small Choice Now each partner is secretly presented with the same three relationship situations. For example: “Your partner accidentally embarrasses you in front of everyone. Do you call them out immediately, wait until later to talk privately, or let it go?” Or: “A bombshell asks you on a date. Do you immediately tell your partner, wait until after the date, or only mention it if they ask?” The Islanders make their decisions independently. There isn’t a “correct” answer. The point is to reveal how similarly they approach trust, communication, and conflict. Every time their instincts align, another piece of their butterfly gains color. The Final Reveal At the end of the challenge, all of the couples gather around a giant illuminated butterfly sculpture in the center of the villa. One by one, their completed butterflies appear on a large screen. Some butterflies are almost completely colorful, showing couples who consistently understood one another. Others still have transparent sections that reveal areas where they may see relationships differently. No one “wins” because they have the prettiest butterfly. Instead, each couple talks about the sections that never filled in. Those empty spaces could reveal insecurities, communication problems, or show that two people still have more to learn about each other. Why I Chose This Challenge I’ve always been fascinated by genetics and how one tiny change in DNA can completely alter an organism. That’s one reason I’m planning to study bioinformatics in college. The more I’ve learned about science, the more I’ve realized relationships work similarly. Lasting love isn’t usually determined by one dramatic moment, but it grows from hundreds of small decisions made every day: listening instead of interrupting, telling the truth even when it’s uncomfortable, remembering the little things, or simply choosing kindness. I think Love Island is at its best when it mixes entertaining challenges with genuine conversations, and The Butterfly Effect would do exactly that. It would create beautiful visuals, spark honest discussions, and remind both the Islanders and the audience that sometimes the smallest moments are the ones that change everything.

When my cousin was diagnosed with DiGeorge syndrome, I was too young to understand the science behind her condition. What I did understand was the uncertainty. I watched my family search for answers, learn unfamiliar medical terms, and rely on healthcare professionals who could explain complex information with patience and compassion. As I grew older, that experience sparked a curiosity that never faded. I wanted to understand genetics, but even more importantly, I wanted to help families navigate those moments with confidence and hope. That goal has shaped nearly every decision I have made throughout high school. To make sure genetic counseling was truly the right career for me, I sought firsthand experience. Through the Gilbert Chamber Foundation Mentorship Program, I completed a semester-long internship at Banner MD Anderson Cancer Center, where I shadowed certified genetic counselors working with cancer patients. I watched them explain hereditary cancer risks, interpret genetic testing, and support families through life-changing conversations. Seeing science and compassion work hand in hand confirmed that this is exactly the career I want to pursue. This fall, I will begin studying Bioinformatics at Brigham Young University. I intentionally chose bioinformatics because it provides a strong foundation in genetics while developing computational skills that are becoming increasingly important in modern medicine. Because I earned credit through twelve AP courses in high school, I have already completed many of my general education requirements. This allows me to efficiently add minors in Psychology and Computer Science without significantly extending my graduation timeline. Psychology will strengthen my counseling skills, while computer science will prepare me to analyze complex genetic data and contribute to advances in personalized medicine. After earning my bachelor’s degree, I plan to attend the University of Arizona to complete a master’s degree in Genetic Counseling. Between now and then, I plan to continue building my experience through research opportunities, additional internships, volunteer work in healthcare settings, and networking with practicing genetic counselors. Every opportunity will help me become a stronger scientist and more compassionate counselor. Planning for my education also means planning financially. Since high school, I have worked to save money for college, and I plan to continue working throughout my undergraduate education while balancing internships and academic opportunities. The estimated cost of completing my bachelor’s degree at BYU is approximately $93,872. I estimate my master’s degree in Genetic Counseling at the University of Arizona will cost an additional $35,600. I expect $35,000 to be covered through scholarships already earned and anticipated institutional aid, $40,000 through my personal savings and employment, leaving approximately $54,472 that I hope to cover through outside scholarships such as this one. Every scholarship I receive allows me to spend less time worrying about finances and more time gaining the experiences that will prepare me to serve future patients. Of course, I know that not every step will unfold exactly as planned. New opportunities and mentors may shape my journey, but my purpose remains constant: to combine science with compassion and help families facing uncertainty find answers and hope. Joe Gilroy believed in the motto, “Plan Your Work, Work Your Plan.” I have spent years planning my future with that same mindset by challenging myself academically, seeking meaningful clinical experience, working to finance my education, and preparing for each next step long before I reach it. While my plan will continue to evolve, my commitment will not. Each step brings me closer to becoming the kind of genetic counselor who made such a difference for families like mine, and I intend to keep planning my work and working my plan until I get there.

When I was younger, I thought science was simply about finding the right answer. As I’ve grown, I’ve realized that the most meaningful scientific discoveries are not just about data, but about people. That realization has shaped both my academic goals and the career I hope to build in biotechnology. My fascination with genetics began with one of my cousins, who has DiGeorge syndrome, a rare chromosomal deletion. Watching her family navigate diagnoses, medical appointments, and uncertainty made me curious about the science behind genetic conditions. I wanted to understand how something so small within our DNA could have such a profound impact on a person’s life. More importantly, I wanted to understand how research and technology could improve outcomes for families like hers. That curiosity led me to apply for the Gilbert Chamber Foundation Mentorship Program, where I interned at Banner MD Anderson Cancer Center. During my internship, I shadowed genetic counselors who worked with patients facing hereditary cancer concerns. I observed the counselors analyze family histories, discuss genetic testing, and explain complex concepts in ways patients could understand. They combined scientific expertise with genuine compassion, helping people replace fear with knowledge and uncertainty with a plan. Those experiences confirmed that I wanted to continue into biotechnology because of how it directly changes lives. This fall, I will begin studying bioinformatics, a field that combines biology, genetics, mathematics, and computer science to analyze biological data and accelerate medical discoveries. I am excited by the opportunity to use computational tools to better understand genetic variation, identify disease-causing mutations, and contribute to advances in personalized medicine. As genomic technology continues to evolve, bioinformatics will play an increasingly important role in developing targeted treatments and improving patient care. My long-term goal is to work in cancer genetics, either as a genetic counselor or in a role that combines clinical genetics with bioinformatics research. I hope to help families understand hereditary cancer risks while also contributing to the technologies that enable earlier diagnoses and more personalized treatments. I want to be someone who not only understands the science but can also communicate it with empathy, giving patients confidence during some of the most difficult moments of their lives. Outside the classroom, I’ve developed leadership and communication skills that I know will serve me well in biotechnology. As a clarinet section leader, president of Tri-M Music Honor Society, and treasurer for my school’s band organizations, I’ve learned how to collaborate with others, solve problems, and lead with patience. Working with elementary students in an after-school program has further strengthened my ability to listen, adapt, and build trust with people from different backgrounds. These experiences have taught me that meaningful innovation is always a team effort. Receiving the James N Iademarco Scholarship would help make my education more affordable while allowing me to focus on the undergraduate research, internships, and professional development opportunities that will prepare me for a career in biotechnology. More importantly, it would bring me one step closer to using biotechnology to improve lives through both scientific innovation and compassionate patient care.

I still remember looking around my AP Physics C classroom and realizing I was the only girl. At first, it was intimidating. I worried that if I answered a question incorrectly, I would reinforce the stereotype that girls don’t belong in advanced STEM classes. There were moments when concepts were “mansplained” to me before I had the chance to work through them myself. But over time, I stopped seeing my differences as a disadvantage. Instead, I realized that STEM needs people with different perspectives, experiences, and ways of thinking. Being the only woman in the room strengthened my confidence rather than diminishing it, and it confirmed that I wanted to help create a future where more young women see themselves belonging in science. My love for genetics began much earlier. My cousin was born with DiGeorge syndrome, a rare chromosomal deletion. Growing up, I watched her family navigate countless medical appointments, difficult questions, and uncertainty about the future. I was fascinated by the science behind genetics, but I was even more inspired by the professionals who could explain complex information with empathy and compassion. They didn’t simply interpret DNA; they helped families find understanding during some of the most overwhelming moments of their lives. That curiosity led me to pursue a semester-long internship at Banner MD Anderson Cancer Center through the Gilbert Chamber Mentorship Program. There, I shadowed certified genetic counselors as they met with patients concerned about hereditary cancer risks. I watched them explain genes like BRCA1, interpret family pedigrees, and translate complicated genetic information into language patients could understand. What impressed me most wasn’t only their scientific expertise, but also their ability to replace fear with clarity. Patients often arrived anxious and uncertain, but many left feeling empowered because someone had taken the time to listen, educate, and guide them. Those experiences showed me that STEM is about far more than research or technology. It is about improving lives. Science becomes most meaningful when it is paired with compassion. As a woman pursuing STEM, I hope to make a difference in two ways. First, I want to become a genetic counselor who helps families make informed decisions with confidence and hope. Every patient deserves someone who can explain complex science with both accuracy and empathy, especially during life’s most difficult moments. Second, I want to encourage other young women to pursue STEM without feeling like they have to prove they belong. Representation matters. When girls see women succeeding in science, engineering, and medicine, they begin to imagine themselves there too. I hope to mentor students, participate in outreach programs, and demonstrate that curiosity, resilience, and kindness are just as valuable in STEM as technical knowledge. Innovation depends on diverse perspectives. Every new voice brings different questions, ideas, and solutions that move science forward. I am pursuing STEM not simply because I love genetics, but because I believe scientific knowledge has the power to change lives. As a woman in the field, I hope to combine curiosity with compassion, helping families find answers while opening doors for the next generation of women who dream of doing the same.

I first became a fan of Sabrina Carpenter when I watched her as Maya Hart on Girl Meets World. Maya was funny, creative, and confidently herself, and I loved watching a character who was not afraid to be different. At that time, I never imagined that years later I would still be following Sabrina’s journey as she grew into a successful singer, performer, and storyteller. What inspires me most about Sabrina is the way she has embraced change while staying true to who she is. Watching her career evolve has reminded me that growing up does not mean leaving behind the person you were; it means building on the experiences that shaped you. Sabrina has shown that every chapter of life can teach you something new and that it is okay to continue discovering yourself. One song that especially connects with me is “Skinny Dipping.” Its message about appreciating memories while moving forward feels especially meaningful as I graduated high school and begin a new chapter of my life. Leaving behind familiar places, friends, and routines can be bittersweet, but Sabrina’s music reminds me to appreciate the moments that made me who I am while looking forward to the experiences ahead. As a musician myself, I also admire Sabrina’s ability to connect with an audience through performance. Through years of playing clarinet in marching band and wind ensemble, I have experienced the joy of creating something that brings people together. Watching Sabrina perform reminds me that music is not just about talent; it is about sharing a piece of yourself and creating memories with others. Sabrina Carpenter’s journey has inspired me to embrace growth, creativity, and authenticity. From Maya Hart’s humor and confidence to the honesty of her music, she has shown me that the best version of yourself is always evolving. As I enter this next stage of my life, I hope to carry that same courage to grow while staying true to who I am.

The Taylor Swift performance that has impacted me most is one that may seem small compared to her record-breaking stadium tours: her appearance in the “You Belong With Me” music video, where she plays the clarinet with a marching band. When I first watched that music video as a young girl, I was fascinated by the excitement of the marching band scene. I remember seeing Taylor’s character, a girl with glasses holding a clarinet, and feeling drawn to the idea that music could be a place where someone could belong. Looking back, it almost feels like I was seeing a glimpse of a future version of myself. A few years later, I picked up a clarinet of my own in fifth grade. What started as a small interest quickly became one of the most meaningful parts of my life. While Taylor’s performance introduced me to the possibility of playing, my own journey with music became something far greater than I could have imagined. Clarinet became my way of expressing myself, connecting with others, and discovering who I was. Throughout high school, marching band and wind ensemble became my communities. Some of my most cherished memories come from long rehearsals, performances under stadium lights, and the friendships formed while working toward a shared goal. Band taught me that music is not just about individual talent; it is about listening, supporting one another, and creating something together that none of us could create alone. Through my experiences in band, I also discovered my ability to lead. As a clarinet section leader and a member of my band’s leadership councils, I learned how meaningful it is to encourage others and help create a welcoming environment. I have seen younger musicians gain confidence, watched friendships form through music, and experienced the incredible feeling of being part of a group where everyone has a role. The message behind “You Belong With Me” has become especially meaningful to me because that is exactly what the band gave me: a place where I belonged. The girl I saw years ago playing clarinet in a marching band became a reflection of the person I would eventually become, not because I became Taylor Swift, but because I discovered my own passion through a moment of inspiration. Taylor Swift’s artistry is powerful because she turns ordinary moments into stories that people can see themselves in. Her performance in “You Belong With Me” reminded me that sometimes the smallest moments can have the greatest impact. A simple image of a girl with a clarinet led me to a community, a passion, and an identity that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

When most students hear the word 'calculus', they think of a class that’s difficult, intimidating, and filled with endless derivatives and integrals. I understand why. I have stared at problems for hours, wondered if I would ever figure them out, and have cried over many difficult homework assignments. But calculus isn’t valuable because it teaches derivatives. It is valuable because it teaches students how to think. Calculus provides a way of understanding change, growth, and optimization, all ideas that form the foundation of nearly every STEM discipline. Throughout high school, I intentionally challenged myself by progressing from Honors Algebra II and Honors Precalculus to AP Calculus AB and AP Calculus BC, earning a 5 on both AP exams. I did not continue into BC because I needed another math credit. I continued because I genuinely loved learning calculus. Concepts like limits and infinite series fascinated me because they challenged the way I thought about mathematics and the world around me. Every new concept reminded me that there was always another layer to discover. Perhaps the most important lesson calculus teaches is resilience. Rarely does a difficult problem have an immediate solution. Instead, you learn to break a challenge into smaller pieces, reconsider your approach, and keep trying until everything finally clicks. Some of my best memories involve sitting at the kitchen table with my dad, covering page after page with scratch work until we finally reached the solution together. Those evenings taught me that difficult problems are worth solving, not avoiding. They also prepared me for STEM, where progress often comes as much from persistence as from intelligence. That mindset is one of the reasons I plan to study bioinformatics. I have always been fascinated by DNA and genetics, and I want to combine biology, mathematics, and computer science to improve healthcare. During my internship with Banner Health and the MD Anderson Cancer Center, I saw firsthand how healthcare depends on technology, data, and thoughtful analysis to improve patient outcomes. It reinforced my desire to pursue a career where I can use mathematics and computing to uncover patterns hidden within genetic data, patterns that can lead to earlier diagnoses, more personalized treatments, and better care for patients. While I may not solve derivatives by hand every day, the logical thinking and problem-solving skills calculus develops will remain at the heart of the work I hope to do. Calculus is important because STEM is not about memorizing answers. It is about asking better questions, thinking logically, and refusing to give up when the solution is not immediately obvious. Those are the lessons calculus has taught me, and the ones I hope to carry into a career where mathematics, computer science, and genetics come together to improve people’s lives.

Whenever I got stuck on a math problem, my dad never solved it for me. Instead, he would pull out another sheet of paper, sit beside me, and patiently help me think through each step until everything clicked. Some nights we stayed up far later than either of us planned, but he never let me quit simply because a problem was difficult. He taught me that struggling with math wasn’t a sign I wasn’t good at it; it was part of learning. Eventually, everything would click, and we’d celebrate together. Somewhere between erased pencil marks and crumpled scratch paper, I fell in love with mathematics. I don’t love math because it’s easy. I’ve definitely cried over challenging math homework, but I’ve also learned that the struggle is what makes the breakthrough so rewarding. There is nothing quite like the moment when a page full of confusing symbols suddenly becomes a solution. Few subjects reward patience, persistence, and careful reasoning as clearly as math does. Throughout high school, I intentionally challenged myself by taking the most rigorous math courses available, progressing from Honors Algebra II and Honors Precalculus to AP Calculus AB and AP Calculus BC. Those classes strengthened far more than my mathematical knowledge. They taught me that difficult problems aren’t solved all at once, but one thoughtful step at a time. Success in mathematics isn’t about being naturally gifted, but about being willing to wrestle with difficult ideas until they finally make sense. One of the greatest gifts math has given me is the opportunity to share it with others. Whether I’m helping my younger siblings with homework or assisting elementary-aged students at my job, I love watching the moment frustration turns into confidence. Seeing someone realize, “I can do this,” is just as rewarding as solving the problem myself. Math isn’t just my favorite subject because I enjoy finding the right answer. I love it because every problem teaches me something new about perseverance, curiosity, and the joy of discovering that I can solve something I once believed was impossible. Thanks to my dad, a stack of scratch paper, and countless moments of trial and error, I’ve learned that the best answers aren’t simply found; they’re earned.