I learnt about community service in a church basement in Ethiopia. I was maybe eight years old, helping my mom sort donated clothes for families who had less than maybe. She never made a speech about it, she was a type of person who just knelt on the concrete floor, folded shirts, and handed me a stack to sort. She taught me service is done, not talked about. This lesson followed me across three continents. I moved to the UAE, where I sat next to people who had everything. In Maryland, I sat next to people who had very little. I learned that showing up for someone constitutes a community more than simply where you are. When I founded The $10 Church Program at my school, I was thinking about my mother. I kept coming back to the idea that something small, if people are willing to give it consistently, can become something much bigger. The program was inspired by an Adventist story from the 1870s about people giving ten cents a month until they had raised enough money to build a church. I wanted to see if that same idea could work at my school. So I built it into a year-long campaign. We organized weekly dress-down fundraisers, monthly parent donation drives, class competitions, church appeals, and a gala that we are planning with the U.S. Senate Chaplain. So far, we're on track to build a whole church in East Africa. That experience changed the way I think about service. To me, service is not always about being asked to help. Sometimes it is noticing something that other people have gotten used to overlooking and deciding to do something about it. I think about the story of Lazarus. Jesus knew He was going to raise Lazarus, yet when He arrived and saw Mary and the others grieving, He wept with them. He did not rush past their pain simply because He already knew how the story would end. He showed up first. I learned that in a much more personal way through my mother's battle with cancer. When she became sick, I was at a boarding school about ninety minutes away. There were many things I wanted to do for her but simply could not. I could not be there every day. I could not fix what was happening. What I could do was visit when I could. I could sit with her. Sometimes, I would act like I did not know how serious her diagnosis was because I did not want her to worry about me on top of everything else. In college, I plan to study economics, and government. I know those subjects are often associated with money, markets, and power. For me, they are really about what those things can make possible. I want to become a venture capitalist and policy advocate focused on emerging markets, beginning with Ethiopia and the broader African continent. I want to help entrepreneurs build companies even when access to capital, strong institutions, and reliable legal systems cannot be taken for granted. I see that as another form of service. Instead of only helping one person at a time, I want to help build systems that give many people the opportunity to help themselves and others. Bishop Ron O. Beazer Sr. dedicated his life to that kind of service. He taught, preached, led, and most importantly, he showed up for people. I hope to honor his legacy in the same way, not simply by talking about service, but by making it part of how I live.

In my belief, extracurriculars should be more than just checkboxes on a college application. I think they should be fun. They should be meaningful, and maybe even a little crazy, in a good way. That's what happened when I started my small watch business, Grand Casio. I owned a G-Shock Casio watch for a while, and I was always disappointed when I had to take it off for any formal occasion. So I thought, why not make those exact rugged and practical timepieces into pieces of art people could wear both at a black-tie dinner and while hiking a mountain. I started by teaching myself how to take the watches apart and put them back together, experimenting with different materials and styles. But something didn't feel right; I wanted this phase of my life to stand for something bigger than just fashion and making some money. In 2025, I decided to end this gleeful period of my life to have more time for other extracurriculars. I saw the money I had and decided to take every dollar of revenue and donate it to help fund education for underprivileged kids in Ethiopia, where my parents and I are ethnically from. I've seen firsthand how much talent and potential there is that goes unnoticed and not cultivated for financial reasons. Through my project, I've helped multiple students to pay for tuition, uniform, books, stationery, etc... To me, that's where the real power of extracurriculars lies: they let us take something we love doing and turn it into something that helps others. This project taught me a ton about branding, marketing, and, at the end of the day, social impact. That's what makes it all worth it. Grand Casio is a reflection of the kind of impact I want to make in my life, where I can blend my passion, entrepreneurship, and purpose. It also shows that my belief in extracurriculars doesn't have to be traditional to be meaningful. I would advise all underclassmen to start projects that they want to do and have a passion for. This passion won't only drive the success of the project but also boost its impact on your community. Whether it be joining the cheerleading team, drama, student council, or in my case, customizing watches for a cause I came to discover, what matters is the heart behind it. I think Sammy would've appreciated that spirit of doing what you love, doing it boldly, and using it to make people's lives a little brighter.