“Kindness in Action” For the past three years, through my club’s partnership with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, I've volunteered and helped coordinate volunteers to South Bay Fishing in the City clinics, serving underserved youth from across the Bay. At one particular clinic, I worked with a kid named Angelo who had already decided the day wasn’t for him. He kept reeling in his line every few seconds, tangling it, and watching other kids instead of focusing. After a while, he said fishing was boring and stopped trying. He reminded me a lot of myself before I became passionate about fishing and developed patience. I could have moved on. There were other kids who needed help. Instead, I stayed with him. We stepped away from the group and reset everything. I retied his line, walked him through the basics again, and slowed the process down. I stopped worrying about whether he would catch a fish and focused on keeping him engaged. It took most of the morning. There were still moments where he wanted to quit, but we kept going. Eventually, he got a cast out that held. Then another. Not long after, he hooked his first fish. What mattered wasn’t just the catch. It was the shift. Someone who had already given up started asking questions, paying attention, and believing he could do it. That moment stuck with me because nothing about it was dramatic. I didn’t do anything extraordinary. I just gave him time and didn’t leave when it would have been easier to help someone else. Through working at these clinics, I’ve realized that kindness often looks like that. It’s not always visible or immediate, but it matters. Showing up for someone, especially when they’re ready to check out, can change how they see themselves. “Creating Connection” While researching plastic pollution along the East Bay shoreline, I discovered an alarming pattern: over half of the 1,000 pieces of trash I collected were bottle caps. Learning that Europe mandates tethered bottle caps, I founded StoptheCaps.org and launched a campaign to resurrect California Assembly Bill 2779 requiring single-use plastic water bottles to have tethered caps. My early work included lobbying state legislatures and contacting beverage manufacturers. When Senator Padilla introduced Senate Bill 45 in December 2024, I saw an opportunity to amplify my work. I built coalitions with organizations such as Californians Against Waste, Save the Albatross Coalition, and Zero Waste Youth San Diego. With their backing, I became a youth spokesperson, organizing coalition letters of support and keeping the public informed. I also organized a statewide letter-writing campaign targeting the CEOs of major beverage companies and lobbied at the State Capitol, advocating with lawmakers and delivering my research paper, Locking in Change: Senate Bill 45, to Senator Padilla’s office. What mattered most, though, was not just the legislation. It was the community that formed around it. People who had never been involved in environmental advocacy found a way in. Students, activists, and community members contributed in different ways, whether by writing letters, attending cleanups, or simply learning more about the issue. What began as individual research became a shared effort. Being invited to speak at the 12th Annual Zero Waste Symposium, where I presented to environmental leaders, policymakers, and industry professionals, reinforced that this work extended beyond me. It showed me that connection comes from giving people both a reason to care and a clear way to act. Through this experience, I learned that building change isn’t just about identifying problems. It is about creating a space where people feel like they belong in the solution.

While researching plastic pollution along the East Bay Area shoreline (my favorite fishing spot) back in 2023, I began to notice a pattern. Out of the 1,000 pieces of trash I collected, more than half were bottle caps. What initially seemed like small debris pointed to a larger issue: everyday waste, when unmanaged, accumulates into lasting environmental damage. That realization pushed me to act. After learning that European countries require tethered bottle caps, I founded StoptheCaps.org and began advocating for similar legislation in California. I worked to revive Assembly Bill 2779 and later supported Senate Bill 45 by building coalitions with organizations such as Californians Against Waste and Save the Albatross Coalition. Through statewide letter-writing campaigns, outreach to industry leaders, and direct lobbying at the State Capitol, I saw how meaningful environmental change depends not only on awareness, but on policy and collective action. Climate change and environmental degradation are urgent because their effects compound over time. Plastic pollution harms marine ecosystems, while broader climate impacts threaten food systems, economies, and vulnerable communities. These challenges cannot be solved by individual action alone. International cooperation is essential, as environmental issues cross borders and require coordinated standards, whether through emissions reductions or waste management policies. At the same time, individuals play a critical role in driving that change. My work showed me that small, tangible actions can build momentum when connected to larger systems. In the future, I hope to contribute by working at the intersection of environmental policy and economics, helping design solutions that align industry incentives with sustainability goals. Addressing climate change requires both systemic reform and personal responsibility. By connecting local action to broader policy, we can create lasting solutions that protect ecosystems and ensure a more sustainable future.

My education has never stayed in the classroom. For me, it has always been a starting point, something that pushes me to take what I learn and turn it into action. That shift began during my freshman year in Science and the Environment at Bishop O’Dowd. Before that class, I enjoyed being outdoors, but I had never fully understood the systems behind it. Learning about marine ecosystems and, in particular, the role of Coho salmon as a keystone species changed how I saw the environment around me. I was struck by how one species could influence an entire ecosystem, and how quickly that balance could be disrupted. More importantly, I realized that understanding these issues came with a responsibility to do something about them. That realization gave me direction. Instead of letting the information stop at notes and tests, I started looking for ways to engage with it beyond the classroom. I enrolled in AP Environmental Science and AP Biology, and I took Marine Science through Brigham Young University online to deepen my understanding of ecosystems and fisheries. At the same time, I actively sought out opportunities where I could apply what I was learning. That search led me to the Salmon Protection and Watershed Network, where I have now worked as a habitat restoration intern for the past two summers. At SPAWN, I have had the opportunity to work alongside professional naturalists on real conservation efforts. My days are often long and physically demanding. I have spent hours removing invasive species like star thistle and broom, replacing them with native plants such as willows and sagebrush that stabilize streambanks and support local ecosystems. During warmer periods, I have helped install shade cloth to protect Coho smolts from rising water temperatures and stream segmentation. I have also worked on San Geronimo Creek installing and monitoring fish traps, where I measure, tag, and record smolts as they migrate downstream. What makes this work meaningful is not just the effort, but the impact. In 2024, the DARR estimate, a model used to measure smolt outmigration, reached 2,811, nearly double the estimate from 2021. That number represents more than population growth. It reflects a broader ecological recovery. Small changes, like planting native vegetation, support insect populations, stabilize waterways, and create conditions where Coho can survive and thrive. Being part of that process showed me that environmental work is not abstract. It is tangible, measurable, and deeply interconnected. At the same time, my education has also shaped how I think about access and community. I recognized that many people, especially in urban areas, never get the opportunity to engage with the outdoors in the way I had begun to. Through my fishing club, I partnered with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife to support Fishing in the City clinics, where we teach underserved youth how to fish and connect with their local environment. I coordinated volunteers, led instruction, and worked to create an environment where every participant felt included. I also secured and donated twenty two fishing rods and tackle boxes to remove financial barriers and ensure that every child had the chance to participate. These experiences showed me that education is not just about gaining knowledge. It is about using that knowledge to create opportunities for others. Whether I am restoring habitats or teaching a child how to fish, I am applying what I have learned in a way that extends beyond myself. My work has not come without challenges. Balancing rigorous coursework with hands on fieldwork and leadership responsibilities has required discipline and time management. There have been long days spent in the field followed by late nights completing assignments. At times, it has been difficult to juggle these commitments, but those challenges have reinforced my motivation. They have shown me that meaningful work requires consistency and effort, and that growth often comes from pushing beyond what is comfortable. Looking forward, I plan to attend Duke University, where I will study public policy. I want to build on the foundation I have developed by combining scientific understanding with policy solutions. My goal is to address environmental challenges in a way that is both effective and equitable, ensuring that communities have access to resources and opportunities while also protecting the ecosystems they depend on. Education has given me more than knowledge. It has given me direction, purpose, and the confidence to act. It has shown me that learning is not complete until it is applied, and that even small actions can contribute to meaningful change. I intend to continue using my education in this way, not only to improve my own future, but to help create a better and more sustainable future for others.

John didn’t congratulate me after the clinic. He handed me responsibility. On a cold, foggy morning at Sandy Wool Lake, after we wrapped up teaching another group of kids how to fish, my club sat in a circle with the older volunteers. Their beige vests, worn and decorated with decades of fishing pins, stood in contrast to ours, still new and loosely fitted. I expected a quick debrief. Instead, John, one of the oldest and most experienced among them, quietly announced his retirement. Then he turned to me, handed me a small golden bass pin, and said, “You’re going to have to carry this now.” I clipped it onto my vest and felt the weight of it immediately. It was more than a symbol. It was a responsibility to continue something larger than myself. My faith has always pushed me toward action. From a young age, Pope Francis’s call to care for both people and our shared environment shaped how I understand service. He spoke of responsibility not as an idea, but as a duty. If you have the ability to do good, you are called to act. That belief has guided how I approach every opportunity to serve. I took John’s words seriously. I didn’t just continue showing up. I expanded the work. Through the fishing club I founded, I built a partnership with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife to support Fishing in the City clinics. There, I coordinated volunteers and led instruction for underserved youth, many of whom had never held a fishing rod or spent meaningful time outdoors. I also secured and provided twenty-two fishing rods and fully equipped tackle boxes so that access would never be limited by cost. At every clinic, I see the difference that opportunity makes. A child who starts the day unsure of themselves catches their first fish and leaves with confidence, patience, and a new connection to the outdoors. For me, that is what service looks like. It is not passive. It is creating opportunities and making sure others can step into them. John became more than a mentor to me. He became a friend. He often told me stories about salmon runs so thick they filled entire rivers and herring so abundant they broke nets in the San Francisco Bay. Those stories made it clear that the environment we depend on is changing, and not for the better. Hearing them pushed me to act beyond the local level. I founded Stop The Caps, an initiative focused on reducing plastic pollution and advancing policy solutions. Through this work, I have built coalitions, spoken at conferences, and met with legislators to advocate for change. Whether I am teaching a child how to fish or working to influence environmental policy, I approach both with the same sense of responsibility. If I am awarded this scholarship, I will use it to support my education at Duke University, where I plan to study public policy. I want to continue developing solutions that serve both people and the environment, always focused on the common good. Proverbs 3:27 teaches that we should not withhold good when it is in our power to act. I was given that responsibility in a quiet moment on a foggy morning. I accepted it, and I have been acting on it ever since.