I stood eye to eye with the superintendent of Oldham County Schools, surrounded by members of the school board. This was not exactly how I thought I would spend my first Christmas break at home after going away to college. I held notecards in my hand and determination in my soul. My heart beat faster, but my cause was stronger than any fear. I was there to save a class after realizing how much this class had served me. I had just completed a four-year engineering program at the Arvin Center, a magnet school in our public school district. I also completed Calculus AB and BC with a teacher who changed how I saw math. Not only did she teach us to love math, but she also taught us community, support, and the importance of continuing to show up and problem-solve even when the solution was elusive. This program prepared me to succeed in Purdue’s College of Engineering alongside students who had come from some of the country’s top preparatory and private schools. It was also a pivotal influence in helping me earn admission to Purdue’s competitive engineering program. The county planned to move core classes such as Calculus AB and BC back to the local high schools in favor of hands-on career and technical education programs. This shift would cost skilled teachers like mine their jobs and take motivated STEM students away from the collaborative and challenging environment that had helped shape me. Calculus was more than a class. It had practical value through learning mathematical principles such as limits, derivatives, and integrals, but more importantly, it taught us to think in terms of thresholds, trends, and cumulative effects rather than how things remain static. I remember the hours we spent working through problems together, struggling to find the right approach and refusing to move on until everyone understood. It taught us grit through the hours spent studying, struggling, lamenting, falling, and pushing forward with a community that refused to let one another give up. It taught us perseverance, which will continue to contribute to innovation as we move forward in our respective fields. How many times can we fail, stand back up, and continue pushing until we reach success? The core classes would not remain at the Arvin Center. The decision had already been made before I stepped onto the floor. But the board heard me. They truly listened and committed to finding a new way to strengthen our STEM program for future generations. My teacher was grateful, even though I did not achieve the outcome I had wanted for her. She would have stood up for me and had demonstrated that time and time again, so there I stood for her. That is what calculus actually gave me. It gave me so much more than a theory or formula for change. It gave me the courage to fight for change, no matter the outcome. It gave me the determination to fight for positive cumulative effects rather than allowing things to remain static. This is a lesson I will carry with me into engineering as I continue to show up and solve the problem in front of me, regardless of the outcome. This is why calculus is vital to STEM education. It shapes the people within the field in ways that go much deeper than any mathematical formula ever will.

As I stood before Northeast Youth in Louisville, Kentucky last summer, I told them, “God doesn’t ask for what you don’t have. He multiplies what you’re willing to give.” Preaching on the feeding of the 5,000, I focused on the boy whose offering mattered not for its size, but for his willingness to surrender it. I challenged the room to consider what they were withholding from God and whether fear had convinced them it was insignificant. At that point, those words felt grounded in experience. In high school, I served on my youth leadership team and the teaching and theology team, which forced me to think deeply about my faith. My identity felt aligned because faith was not just a convenient accessory, but a foundation. That alignment shifted quickly in college. Entering a nationally top ranked engineering program and being surrounded by students at the highest echelon of academic performance, I immediately became overwhelmed by comparison. For the first time, homework was constant and monotonous, and productivity became my metric for self-worth. I began attending my campus ministry community group less and less, showing up to only two of the first nine meetings. Skipping Thursday worship nights and Sundays at my local church, The Chapel, became easy justification in the desire for efficiency. Faith based commitments were the easiest to sacrifice under pressure. What made that season unsettling was not that I stopped believing, but that thinking about God became more niche. My schedule was packed, yet spiritually thin. For the first time, I failed a couple of exams, and the disappointment unsettled me more than it should have, exposing how tightly my identity had wrapped itself around performance. In the quiet that followed, I finally slowed down long enough to see what my sadness revealed. I remembered my sermon, which suddenly felt deeply convincing. I had preached dependence on Jesus, yet I was living as if my worth depended on outcomes rather than faithfulness. That realization did not call for a new version of myself, but for renewed discipline. I chose consistency over convenience and intentionally re-centered my life on Jesus. I returned to Monday small groups, Thursday Salt worship nights, Sundays at The Chapel, and BYX devotional nights. That same mindset led me to register for the Salt College Ministry Conference in Iowa from January 2 to 4 over Christmas break. I don’t have any friends going, but I am eager to learn and deepen my faith. It was not comfortable, but it was obedient. Looking back, the line I spoke at the beginning of my sermon now speaks back to me. God was never waiting for my excellence; he was waiting for my trust. Re-centering my worth in being a child of God, rather than a student chasing validation, has reshaped how I approach both faith and engineering. It is a lesson I will carry forward, long after the problem sets end.

The idea of “Just One More” intrigues me. I have always been driven, motivated, and purposeful, but I have not labeled these characteristics as “Just One More. “ My soul feels the connection. I see possibilities in the world. I ask the question “why” instead of “why not,” and choose to see through the lens of “I can.” I want my days to be full and those around me to be better because they know me. As I reflect on Jake’s life and legacy, I love the characteristics he modeled - the outdoors - art - creativity - entrepreneurship. He made an incredible impact on others, and I am inspired to continue the “Just One More” legacy. Without knowing, I have actively engaged in “Just One More” footprint including academics, sports, outdoors, gathering people, and entrepreneurship. I would like to focus on three: running, gathering others, and entrepreneurship. First, I am always game for one more run. I have been running since second grade starting for fun with my family, then becoming more disciplined in eighth grade joining the high school track team. Since then, I have improved my 5k time from a 21:20 to a 16:39, placed second in the state in the 4x800 and won the Louisville 10k. Most importantly, I have found a sport that I love, gained lifelong friendships, discipline, perseverance, and passion. Not only has running been a “Just One More” experience, but gathering people has become a passion. Our modest home has been a hub for multiple communities - college kids my mom has mentored, family gatherings, and bible studies, And my parents have taught me to continue this legacy. Beyond our home this passion continues whether through gathering teams for pickleball matches, inviting others to my local church youth group or connecting teammates for mutual encouragement. I know what it feels like to want community, so I intentionally bring it wherever I go. How we treat others may be one of the most important legacies we leave. Finally, I understand “Just One More” in entrepreneurship. I want to own my own business one day. I started small with owning my own dog sitting business but have bigger dreams. I love the opportunity to create. I want to go into engineering - not for the field of engineering itself but for problem solving and lifelong creativity. In my current engineering class we are creating a product that could revolutionize relay timing and it brings me joy to innovate in the running world I love. Life is a gift. Day by day, friend by friend, opportunity by opportunity is meant to be experienced and valued. I recognize the moments in front of me and want to value each one of them whether it be a daily run, gathering of those around me or by creating in an area I am passionate about. I love the idea of “Just One More.” It gives me a mindset to make the most of the experiences in front of me daily and face them with love, excitement and excellence.