All I have ever known is how to be a military kid. I have the clearest memories of being on base, playing in those military-grade play rooms with the big televisions and tall slides. I can still picture the Navy base in Georgia that always had the cutest sunglasses and Nike shoes. Most of all, I remember when my parents sat me down for the first time and told me the military was moving us to Georgia; we would move to a new place with a new house, new people, new school, new everything. We soon moved into a smaller house in St. Marys, and it felt like my world was turned upside down. It was then that my mom began receiving deployment orders to the submarine, usually for two to five months at a time. She missed Christmases, birthdays, and anniversaries, but every day she was away felt like an important moment missing from our lives, because everything felt emptier without her. I did not think it could get much harder until 2019, when she received orders to deploy to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba for nine months. For the better part of those nine months, I lived with a family friend and choked down tears any time anyone asked how I was doing; that was my reality as a military child. As difficult as those moments were, they changed the way I saw my parents; I began to understand that they were sacrificing, too. This realization deepened my respect for them as I acknowledged that I wasn't the only one suffering. Despite the challenges, being a military child has also been incredibly rewarding. I vividly remember when my dad returned home from Iraq. I was four years old at the time, and I had not a clue in the world what he was doing, where he was, or the sacrifices he was making for America and for me. He walked through the door late at night and stood in full uniform with a duffel bag in his hand. The next thing I remember, I was wrapped up in the biggest hug I had ever felt. Deployments are by far the most difficult journey as a child of military parents, but when they return, all those late nights spent worrying, crying, and praying for your parents to come home safely suddenly do not feel so wasted. Moving from place to place also gave me the chance to form meaningful friendships. Even though I often had to leave those friends behind, I learned to appreciate the time I was given in different places, and see it not as an inconvenience, but rather as a blessing that I had the opportunity to bring more love into my life. In fact, I could not be prouder to be a military kid, because to me, being a military kid means that I am the child of a hero. Two heroes, actually. I wouldn't have it any other way. Most importantly, growing up a military child has taught me to realize that it does not take some outstanding achievement or major wound on the battlefield to make a hero. It is not a status that can be attained through medals or special recognitions. Being a hero takes hard work, courage, sacrifice, and ultimately, it takes selfless love. Overall, being a military child has impacted my drive and ambition because I want to be exactly like my mom and dad; I want to be selfless, courageous, and hardworking just like them, and later in life, I strive to become even half the heroes they are to me.

My name is Isabella Aguirre, I am 18 years old, and I am a senior at Whitesburg Christian Academy. I love to spend time with my friends and family, play sports, listen to music, and try new things. But ahead of everything, I love God and loving others as myself by serving in my local and global community. Over the years, I have gotten to serve with amazing organizations that support a number of worthy causes. I have served with the National Children's Advocacy Center, global missions to spread the gospel in Guatemala, the Huntsville Pregnancy Resource Center, the Isaiah 41:10 Foundation, Clearwater Cancer Research Center, Manna House, and Lincoln Village. Currently, I serve with the children's ministry at Rivertree Church. I also serve my community through my membership of the World Language Honor Society, National Honor Society, and the Chick-fil-A Leadership Club. These clubs provide even more opportunities for me to support my local community by coordinating and assisting in group service projects. Through these clubs, I have gathered supplies to ship to the less fortunate in third world countries, volunteered at numerous block parties, fundraisers including 5Ks, and annual events, served dinner at homeless shelters, served food to the impoverished population in my community, and so much more. I am currently organizing a service project through Sleep in Heavenly Peace for our club to build beds for the less fortunate in my community. If awarded this scholarship, I would put it towards donating and funding more service projects that would impact my community. I would most likely buy supplies for a shelter or needs-based provider in my community that serves those living in poverty.

My passion in STEM is the medical field; specifically, I want to be a physician assistant. I have always been enamored with anatomy and physiology, and the complex machine that is the human body. I love memorizing long lists of muscles, learning about skin infections, and even dissecting formaldehyde-soaked animals. For me, the best part is that there is always something new to learn. I could learn everything I think there is to know about a body part, yet somehow there is a new corner to turn and another process that affects something that affects something else. My passion started in the ninth grade; I took honors biology and dove into the study of life and all it encompasses. It is safe to say I was in way over my head, having previously been a star student of life sciences and physical sciences. Everything was new and difficult; not only was the material complicated to understand, but there were pages and pages of it. Generally, a course like my ninth grade honors biology class would make a student want to never see a plant cell ever again; however, for me, it only fueled my passion for learning about life and the body. In eleventh grade, I took an honors anatomy and physiology class, and that was when it was solidified for me: I wanted this to be my career. I knew I wanted to spend more time exhausting every part of the body until I could recite notes in my sleep. Moreover, I have been able to feed my passion for science and technology through computer science and robotics classes. I have enjoyed learning codes, computer processes, and how to make animations. Adding on to that, the way the medical field and technology coincide is a truly overwhelming thing. It never fails to fascinate me that science, technology, engineering, and math can work together to save lives. Countless operations, processes, and research are done thanks to STEM subjects, the essential component to all of it. Above all, My passion is to help people. More than the learning and memorizing, the most satisfactory thing is solving someone's longterm problems. There is no better feeling than earning someone's trust, and subsequently helping to make their life better one health problem solved at a time. After I receive my STEM education, I will be helping people on the daily basis as a physician assistant. I will be able to use what I've learned to positively impact someone's life, and for that I am truly delighted.

I still hold a grudge against that dancing alligator. My brother, a member of the U.S. Air Force, 25 years old, black belt in karate, and human garbage disposal at dinnertime, was somehow insanely good at the Wii game "Just Dance". I could practice for hours and hours, beat my previous high scores, and have every dance committed to memory down to the head nods and hair flips, but he would still manage to beat me by extraordinary measures. I specifically remember one instance: it was the summer that I was five years old and he was 12 years old. I begged him to play Just Dance, and he obliged. He chose "Crocodile Rock" by Elton John, which featured the most talented dancing crocodile I have ever seen. I was so determined to beat my brother that I initiated laser focus and even looked at the bottom right corner of the screen where the movement prompts explained the upcoming dance move. This video game was no longer for fun, but for total domination and bragging rights. I knew I was lagging behind, but I felt empowered by the urge to stick it to him just once. I kept going and got into a rhythm of the repetitive and, now that I reflect on it, ridiculously simple dance moves. Sweat in my eyes and perseverance in my heart, I looked over at him, hoping to see exhaust and defeat. However, much to my disappointment, he was killing it. He made that silly, dancing crocodile look like a reptile-printed handbag when compared to his superior moves. My jaw must have dropped at his quick and exact mirroring of the jive on the screen because the next thing I remember, he muttered some trash-talking comment that only fueled my little-sister-who-can't-beat-her-brother rage. He muttered something about my slow comprehension of the dance moves or being little and ridiculous, if I had to guess, and he was definitely right. At the conclusion of the game, he had four stars, and I had triumphantly earned two; ouch. To make it worse, he practically shrugged it off and strolled away as if it wasn't the end-all-be-all showdown that I had chalked it up to be. This loss may have damaged my little sister ego and chipped away at my soul a tiny bit, but in the end, our mom made him sit still while I painted his nails every shade of pink and purple later. So if I look at it that way, I was the real winner in this scenario. I may have lost the epic Just Dance battle of 2012, but I did win something else. A memory I would never forget with my best friend that I will forever cherish. Looking back on it, some brothers might have let their short-tempered little sister win a friendly game of Just Dance, but not my brother, and I'm happy he didn't. He taught me the importance of determination and perseverance that day, and to this day, that mentality is something I carry with me in my everyday life. Sometimes life will feel like we can't keep up with that dancing crocodile. For him it may be difficult orders or another deployment. For me, it may be my grades slipping or trouble with my friends. No matter what I am going through, I think of my brother and his sacrifice, and I pray we are both fighting as hard as I did when we danced our hearts out to "Crocodile Rock" so many years ago.