Every student has that one teacher who leaves a mark, and I'm not just talking about the ones they leave on the report cards, but on your heart and your potential for the future. The teacher for comes to mind for me is Ms. Conteh, my high school culinary teacher. Her class wasn't just where I learned to cook with better technique, but where I learned to believe in myself, love who I am and what I want to do, and take on the culinary world with confidence and determination. When I initially entered Ms. Conteh's kitchen classroom, I was a little unsure where I belonged, and it didn't help that I didn't know anyone there. I knew that I enjoyed cooking at home, but I wasn't sure if it was something more than a hobby, or a career that I could even achieve my goals in. I doubted my capabilities, especially with the challenges that I faced, like food allergies and outside opinions that were not always supportive of my desire to cook. But, Ms. Conteh saw something in me that I, at the time, wouldn't have pursued on my own. Passion, potential, and purpose in the kitchen. She didn't just show us how to dice an onion, make sauces, or whip up a good meal in what seemed like record time. She showed us how to respect the kitchen, how to behave with discipline and purpose, and how to serve with professionalism and pride. She made each student feel special, regardless of the level of experience. Her enthusiasm inspired me to do what I would not otherwise have done, like volunteering to be the team lead on team cooking exercises or presenting my own dish to the class. Yet what truly changed my life was the way she believed in my dream. She would say to me, often and with sincere earnestness, that I had a gift, and that it had to be shared. Her words lit a fire in me, one that continues to drive my path today. She taught me that food is not merely about flavor; it's about love, creativity, and connection. It's a way to express who you are and to make others feel something authentic. I owe it to Ms. Conteh that I approach every kitchen with purpose now. I've chosen to make culinary arts my career, not just as a chef, but as someone who wants to make a difference with food, whether it's creating inclusive menus, educating others, or opening a space where everyone feels welcome.

Being in JROTC has taught me many things like leadership and discipline, but it also taught me the value of service. The most effective part of my experience has probably been doing things that are community-oriented and serve the people around us. From helping with local food drives and donating yard cleanup for the parks to providing sponsorship for veteran ceremonies and school events, I came to find that acts of service can create long-term impacts. JROTC taught me discipline and gave me the chance to be part of something greater than myself, and that state of mind has had an influence on how I would rather give back today and throughout the years ahead. One of the things I am most proud of in terms of volunteering was helping coordinate and hand out meals for food drives locally. It truly gave me an eye-opening experience about the amount of families in our very own neighborhoods who struggle to be food secure. As a lover of the culinary arts, these experiences weren't just service—these were sources of inspiration for me. I knew that I could use my skills in the kitchen not only for my own betterment but to help others significantly. In JROTC, we always talk about leaving things in better condition than we found them. I would like to carry that same mindset with me into the culinary field. One day, I dream of having my own community kitchen or café where individuals and families with allergies, dietary restrictions, or limited incomes can obtain healthy, safe, and delicious meals. In the future, I’d love the opportunity to host cooking classes focused on affordable, yet also nutritious recipes, especially for people who may not have access to this kind of knowledge at home. Another dream I have for the future is mentoring teens with a passion for culinary careers, that are in underprivileged or underrepresented communities, as well as people just looking to expand their culinary horizons. By reaching out to local schools, culinary schools, or even farmer's markets, I would like to pay back the same way others have invested in me through JROTC, guidance, support, and purpose. Ultimately, the goal is not just to be a great chef. It's to be someone who uses food as a way of lifting up, bringing people together, and nourishing my community. Through JROTC, I now know that leadership is a responsibility, and I'm excited to carry that mindset with me into the culinary field and beyond.

Empowerment to me means finding something you love with a passion and saying, "Okay, I am going to do this, whether or not someone else understands, supports, or even roots for it." Empowerment means standing up for what brings joy to you even if it makes others unhappy, too. Empowerment is personal. Empowerment doesn't mean placating the many or fitting the mold. It means believing in your purpose and using that to push you despite hate, criticism, and skepticism. For me, that empowerment has grown because I love the food industry. Cooking isn't something that I just do for pleasure, it's where I feel like myself the most. If I'm experimenting with new ingredients, learning timeless techniques, or crafting allergen-free recipes from scratch, the kitchen has always been, and will always be just like home. Opting to make it a career, however, hasn't always been easy. Others criticized my choice, especially considering the extent of food allergies that I have to suffer. Others were not serious about it, viewing culinary arts as a hobby and not a vocation. That doubt previously made me second-guess myself, now I use it to drive me past barriers I didn't know I could break. Empowerment has also taught me that I don't need anyone's approval to do something that brings me happiness. Every time I experiment with something new in the kitchen, modify a recipe, or plate something that makes someone feel included, I'm reminded of the why. Why I took an interest in the first place. It's not about praise or approval, it's about spreading people happiness, creativity, and connection through food. My own journey in the culinary industry will continue to unfold over time, but empowerment has shaped my every step along the way. It motivates me to push through the difficult days, the all-nighters, and the internal and external doubters that aim to discourage me from knowing my worth and the worth of what I'm happy with doing. It reminds me that I am not limited by what the world desires of me, but rather by how far I stay grounded in myself. In the end, being empowered means creating a life that feels good on the inside, not just one that looks good on the outside. I’ve found that in cooking. I’ve found it in flavor, in resilience, and in passion. And through that, I’ve found the courage to keep chasing my dream—one recipe, one challenge, and one plate at a time.

I learned as a child that the kitchen wasn't a mere food preparation area, it was an artistic room, a comfort room, and a social room. The kitchen is my place of joy and my passion. I enjoyed experimenting with new foods or preparing traditional family recipes, savoring the experience of taking raw food and transforming it into something beautiful. With time, I realized that culinary arts is not just a hobby; it's a profession. Venturing into this profession as a career appeared to be the most rational step to turning my passion into a lifelong career. The aspect of culinary arts that I am attracted to is the deep way food brings people together. Eating can be a way to bridge cultural divides, to commemorate heritage, and to forge long-lasting memories. I am specifically interested to learn about the cuisines of the world and where different cooking techniques originated. I would like to develop my craft in a professional kitchen, gain knowledge on plating food, and understand taste chemistry. But beyond technique and art, I think culinary arts can be used as a source of making a positive difference in other people's lives. In the future, I hope to provide my community with food education and outreach. My dream for the future is to establish a self-owned kitchen that, along with providing good, wholesome food, also incorporates cooking instruction and employment skills training for young and old. I see myself being able to take people into a cozy and welcoming setting where they can learn to cook for themselves and their families, acquire tangible skills, and be self-sufficient in the kitchen. I also see myself collaborating with community schools and non-profit agencies to teach kids about proper nutrition and why whole, unprocessed foods are essential to their health. I would like to see the next generation hungry for food, not only as a source to fuel us throughout the day, but as a form of empowerment. By becoming a professional in culinary arts, I am not only chasing my dream, I'm making an investment in having a future in which I'm able to create a positive influence on the lives of others through the universal language of food. I will try my best to find my own way of returning the favors given to me by the community that helped me along the way and giving back the love and creativity brought into my life through cooking.

I've been a Sabrina Carpenter fan since I watched her play Maya Hart on Girl Meets World. Maya wasn't the straight-A student or the quiet friend, she was spontaneous, artsy, and unapologetically herself, without letting anyone get under her "Skin". Watching Sabrina bring that character to life inspired me to be a bolder version of myself in going after slightly unconventional dreams, such as trying to make a career for myself in the culinary world despite food allergies and complications. As I got older, I started following Sabrina's musical career and it felt like she was growing up along with her fans. Her songs are intelligent, raw, and emotive. From her startup songs like "Thumbs" to newer radio singles like "Espresso", and more reflective tracks on her "Emails I Can't Send" album, she writes in a way that you can relate to, that makes you feel seen. She's not afraid to be vulnerable, which is something that has encouraged me to show more of myself in the kitchen. Just as Sabrina tells her stories through song, I want to tell mine through food with flavors that embody culture, emotion, and creativity in every dish. What impresses me most about Sabrina is her professional growth and her development as a person. She didn't stop at acting. She dipped into music, fashion, and live performances, never stopping to find new ways to express herself. That's something that inspires me and reminds me that "You Can't Blame a Girl for Trying", and that anything you want do is possible. The food industry can be tough and hard to break into, but seeing someone like her constantly challenge herself reminds me that with plenty of passion and persistence, you can go beyond in any industry with fewer worries, feeling as light as a "Feather". Sabrina Carpenter has shown me that it's alright to start small, not always be the "Sharpest Tool", to grow at your own pace, and to stay true to yourself. She's made me believe that I can also make my own mark in the culinary world, not despite my challenges, but because of them.

Jack Terry's existence is one of unimaginable hardships faced with resilience, courage, and a deep desire to give back. Having survived the Holocaust as a young child, losing his whole family, and enduring the horrors of Nazi concentration camps, it would have broken anyone. The difference is, that Jack didn't let his suffering define him. He built a life of purpose, became an engineer, a doctor, a soldier, and a teacher who gives hope. His story has given me motivation, especially when I am struggling with my own challenges in attempting to pursue a career in the culinary arts despite having plenty of food allergies. Unlike most of the great or aspiring chefs, I’ve had to grow up reading labels, asking questions, and sometimes sitting out of meals with my health at risk. Living with food allergies is more than just a common inconvenience, it’s often isolating, frustrating, and at times it can be very dangerous. One of the greatest things that brings people together, has always been something I’ve had to approach with caution. Still, like Jack Terry, I’ve learned that hardship can be a foundation, not a limit. What Jack's experience taught me is that adversity does not mean defeat. Just as he learned to speak English, get an exceled education, and redefine himself in a new country, I've worked to take my allergies and use them as a source of education and knowledge. So, instead of being hindered by my limitations, I want to allow them to fuel my desire to learn more about food, even the ones I can't eat. I study culinary techniques, nutrition, and safer ingredient alternatives. I've discovered how to adapt recipes to be allergen-safe without sacrificing flavor. My struggle has made me not only a more innovative chef, but a more compassionate one. I've also learned, from Jack's example, that the strongest thing is what we share with others. He didn't keep his story a secret. He used it to educate and motivate children and adults alike for many years to come. I want to walk in his light in the way of food. In the future, I hope to one day own a kitchen of some sort where those with allergies, dietary restrictions, or medical needs feel completely secure and welcomed. I wish to create a setting where no one will ever need to ask, "Can I eat this?" because everything that is prepared will be meticulously labeled there will have been careful consideration while making it. With my future studies in the culinary arts, I hope to use my knowledge of science, nutrition, and creativity not to simply prepare meals that keep us alive, but to bridge divides that have kept people apart. I hope to write cookbooks, instruct allergy-friendly cooking classes, and advocate for better labeling of food in places all over the world. Like Jack, I hope to turn private suffering into public purpose. Jack Terry's story reminds me that there is no obstacle too big if you choose hope, determination, and service. If he could build a life out of ruins, then I can surely overcome food allergies. And like Jack, I intend to use my journey to lead others to discover joy, security, and belonging-one bite at a time.

When I first watched Hamilton on Disney+, I believed I was just going to have fun watching a musical, maybe something to aid me in killing some time. Something I did not expect was that it would alter how I perceive leadership, work ethic, and how I go about life, especially with my career in the kitchen. Lin-Manuel Miranda's expert narration, driven by the unstoppable force of Alexander Hamilton himself, set a fire within me. It instilled in me the value of leaving your mark before you are no longer able to, and it's had a profound effect on me as a person. When the second song begins, Hamilton vows he's "not throwing away [his] shot." This lyric spoke to me heavily. His passion, his drive, and his refusal to settle for the simple things life has to offer sent me to stop for a moment and consider my own life: Am I giving it my very best? My all? Am I coming at things like I have only one chance? It made me take improving my leadership in earnest interest, not just barking commands at others, but stepping up, being responsible, and bringing others along with me. Whether it's on group projects, family tasks, or the kitchen, I try to lead by example and with pride, just like Hamilton did, even when the odds were against him. The musical also showed me the value of being hungry and working hard. Hamilton wasn't born rich or privileged. He started from the ground up with hustle, grit, and perseverance. Watching him do it reminded me that talent alone doesn't matter. You have to put in the effort. Being someone who loves the food community, that was true for me. Behind each beautifully plated dish is practice, failure, and repetition. Now, when I'm preparing a dish or learning a new technique, I remind myself that greatness is not in shortcuts but in the accumulation of effort and consistency. And perhaps the most valuable lesson learned was how fleeting time really is. "Why do you write like you're running out of time?" was more than a lyric to me. It was a mindset. Hamilton's urgency was fueled by his understanding that life is not guaranteed to be as long as you hope for it to be. Having realized that made me crave enjoying each experience, every recipe, and every second spent in the kitchen. To take every opportunity I can. To think that food isn't just for sustenance, food is memory, food is culture, food is connection. I don't just want to cook to keep living. I want to cook to truly live. To live life fully, for love of people and of flavor, like it's the last time I ever have to create something beautiful. Hamilton did not just entertain me, in a way, it woke me up. It empowered me to lead boldly, work hard, and live large, especially through my career exploration of food. I might not write as if I am running out of time, but I cook as if I know that the time I have now is precious.

When my parents split up, I didn't quite understand what it meant. It just seemed as though Dad was moving a little farther away to somewhere else and Mom was more uptight than usual. As I got older though, I realized that my life was now divided into two separate worlds. While there were some silver linings, especially when vacations and holidays rolled around, being trapped in the middle of two people who once loved each other but now could barely say two words without having some conflict was much more difficult than I would ever have imagined. One of the best advantages of having parents who were divorced, at least when I was a kid, was celebrating twice as much for every holiday. Christmas was two trees, two sets of gifts, and two dinners. Birthdays were two trips, often with the different sides of the family, and sometimes even two cakes. Summer vacations sometimes consisted of back-to-back vacations maybe a beach vacation with Mom and an amusement park with Dad. To the outside world, it might have looked like I was living large, and in many ways, I was. I got more attention, more gifts, and more time to have fun. But those perks came with an array of complicated drawbacks. While I was getting two of everything, I was also splitting myself in two. I became the messenger, the middle-man, and sometimes the emotional shield. If my dad didn't know something about events or school, my mom would nudge me to tell him instead of telling him herself. I wasn't just their kid anymore. I was also the bridge that could hardly keep them together. Eventually, that role started to hurt my relationship with my dad. The weekend visits started to feel like check-ins rather than real quality time. Our talks grew shorter, and we felt like we no longer knew how to communicate with each other. I cut back on initiating contact and he didn't always realize I was absent. We started gradually to drift apart, and it hurt more than I could accept at the time, and pains me now even though I'm older. With my mom, a lot of things changed too. As the eldest, I'd entered into the position of playing so much more than being a big sister. I started helping with homework, walking my brother and sister to and from school bus stops, and making sure my little sister and brother were doing better emotionally than I was. This wasn't just limited to my siblings, when my mom became overwhelmed, I was often the one she leaned on. I became nearly like a second parent, caring for their feelings, checking on their needs, and doing my best to keep the house running semi-smooth. No doubt, I love them so much, and I wouldn't give up being close to them for the world, but sometimes I felt I lost out on simply being a child myself. Nonetheless, as I grew older, I tried to see things through their eyes. I knew that both my parents were human, with their hurt, they were doing the best they could. The divorce could have shattered our family, but it didn't take away from the love that they had for me and my siblings. It simply changed the way that love showed itself. In the end, my parents' divorce affected me more than I had expected, but this change taught me resilience, compassion, and accountability, along with many other traits that will help me as I progress through life. I will always have two families that love me, and the skills to carry more than my share, and somehow stay strengthened by it.

I learned as a child that the kitchen wasn't a mere food preparation area, it was an artistic room, a comfort room, and a social room. The kitchen is my place of joy and my passion. I enjoyed experimenting with new foods or preparing traditional family recipes, savoring the experience of taking raw food and transforming it into something beautiful. With time, I realized that culinary arts is not just a hobby; it's a profession. Venturing into this profession as a career appeared to be the most rational step to turning my passion into a lifelong career. The aspect of culinary arts that I am attracted to is the deep way food brings people together. Eating can be a way to bridge cultural divides, to commemorate heritage, and to forge long-lasting memories. I am specifically interested to learn about the cuisines of the world and where different cooking techniques originated. I would like to develop my craft in a professional kitchen, gain knowledge on plating food, and understand taste chemistry. But beyond technique and art, I think culinary arts can be used as a source of making a positive difference in other people's lives. In the future, I hope to provide my community with food education and outreach. My dream for the future is to establish a self-owned kitchen that, along with providing good, wholesome food, also incorporates cooking instruction and employment skills training for young and old. I see myself being able to take people into a cozy and welcoming setting where they can learn to cook for themselves and their families, acquire tangible skills, and be self-sufficient in the kitchen. I also see myself collaborating with community schools and non-profit agencies to teach kids about proper nutrition and why whole, unprocessed foods are essential to their health. I would like to see the next generation hungry for food, not only as a source to fuel us throughout the day, but as a form of empowerment. By becoming a professional in culinary arts, I am not only chasing my dream, I'm making an investment in having a future in which I'm able to create a positive influence on the lives of others through the universal language of food. I will try my best to find my own way of returning the favors given to me by the community that helped me along the way and giving back the love and creativity brought into my life through cooking.