The future of human connection lies in the hands of each individual's relationship with oneself. Without one another, there would be nothing; Without a world of technology, there would be everything. Living in a world driven by technology has dulled our authenticity as a whole, as a species. The most valuable thing we can offer as humans is our word. Nowadays, it has lost value not because of the lack of communication, but because of the lack of connection. I do not have to list a series of examples of the different technologies because they're in our day-to-day lives. To the point that we deal with more technology in our day rather than with an actual human. I find this ironic because we are the ones who created such a device. We are the ones who spent years trying to make life easier externally, physically. Looking for an outside source of good. See, before technology, we looked for other humans for guidance. We yearned for connection to better our lives, which in turn bettered everybody. So the question is, how can we revert to depending upon each other again as a whole? Technology has divided us into many different worlds, pushing us away from the real world we all live in together. I believe what you have within will produce outwards. I say this because many have forgotten that we as humans are the creators. We are unique beings with capabilities that are meant to help ourselves and others naturally. Imagine if everyone found their spark within, the world would prosper beautifully. And not to say it hasn't, but to say if we looked at each other as blessings and gifts to one another, there would be no need for a man-made device to give its opinion or "guide" us. Similar to being in high school, you yearn for a community, a place to relate and feel safe. At a young age, it is important to make connections; they're essential to your personal growth. Growing up as the only child, communication didn't come easily to me. Though as I got older and attended high school, I noticed that communication varied. Meaning there was no right way to communicate, but only to simply listen, and that's when I knew how to bring people together, no matter their differences. The challenging truth of this realization is that technology is quick to answer any prompt we ask, and it'll shape it in a form just for you. This is dramatically different compared to human conversation and connection. It is the eye contact, facial expressions, and connection that one is missing when relying on technology. These small but meaningful details make conversations feel authentic. When we use AI, we lessen our intrapersonal and interpersonal skills. A simple answer on a screen is nothing compared to another person's presence and energy, and being felt rather than just heard. With technology, we only search for the answers we want, while with conversations, we learn and truly engage with the information given to us. With this, I decided to create a space where high school students can freely express themselves while benefiting their future and those of others, the Open Studio Club Organization, an official nonprofit in the state of North Carolina. I help my peers by mentoring them in three areas: academic, mental health, and business. Doing this for two years has built a community of strong, resilient students, all made with pure human connection. My theory isn't just a theory; I tested it on my nonprofit, and it was true. Listening is the key; The key to doors that we closed when we accepted technology in our day-to-day lives. Don't get me wrong, there are benefits to using technology. Though I have to ask, is it worth losing our human authenticity to it? It is ironic that, as humans, we create things to take the place of others that we can do simply with natural, pure will ourselves. We choose to create something to replace others rather than strengthening and listening to each other. To this day, I wonder which is stronger, human connection or human evolution; this thought circles my head because the principle still stands, without each other, there would be nothing.

My name is Jalia Blocker, and I am a high school senior who believes that what you carry within yourself eventually reveals itself outward. That belief has shaped my academic journey, my leadership, and the way I show up for my community. Throughout high school, I’ve been deeply involved in academic enrichment, nonprofit leadership, and peer support. I’ve always been drawn to understanding people—how they think, how they grow, and what they need to feel seen. That curiosity led me to study psychology and neuroscience on my own time, long before I ever stepped into an advanced class. It also led me to recognize a gap in my school community: students were struggling silently, unsure of how to navigate their goals, their emotions, or their futures. During my freshman year, I felt that silence myself. I was book smart but socially unsure, and I didn’t know where to go for guidance. Everything changed the day my English teacher read my writing and said, “I am speechless.” It was the first time I realized that my voice had power—and that other students might be waiting for someone to help them find theirs. That moment inspired me to create The Open Studio Club, a nonprofit initiative I launched to support students academically, entrepreneurially, and mentally. I wanted to build a space where students could be honest about their struggles and ambitious about their dreams. At first, reaching out to others felt like talking to a wall. Many students focused only on the end goal—money, success, recognition—without understanding the discipline and consistency required to get there. Growing up with my grandmother working 12‑hour shifts taught me the truth behind success: it’s not glamorous, but it’s possible with the right support. So I built that support. I learned how to communicate with my peers in a way that felt real and relatable. I didn’t push my club on anyone; I offered a solution, a release, a community. Today, over 25 students consistently attend our meetings, and many have earned jobs, opportunities, and scholarships through the guidance we provide. Leading this organization has taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of creating spaces where young people feel heard. If I could start a full charity beyond my school, I would expand the mission of The Open Studio Club into a nonprofit dedicated to youth empowerment through academic support, mental wellness, and entrepreneurial education. My charity would serve middle and high school students—especially those from low‑income or single‑guardian households who often feel overlooked. Volunteers would mentor students, host workshops on goal‑setting and financial literacy, provide tutoring, and lead mental‑wellness circles where students can speak freely without judgment. We would partner with schools, libraries, and community centers to make these services accessible and consistent. My goal is simple: to give students the guidance I once needed, the community I built, and the belief that their voice matters. Just as Aserina Hill uplifted others through quiet acts of generosity, I hope to uplift my generation through intentional acts of service, support, and empowerment.

I grew up around people who quit. They ran away before anything could challenge them and could even improve their lives. My parents specifically are whom I am speaking of, and they ran away from me; Left to be taken care of by my mom's mother, my grandmother. This moment in my life showed me how easy it was to quit, even if you had started it. Growing up, I attended a charter school with only 200 kids. My art teacher was my math and history teacher, while my principal was my English teacher. At the age of 13, I knew it was time for something to change. I wanted to move schools for better education, but with my grandmother working all the time, it was hard to find time to do anything about it on my own. I ended up staying at the school until my second year of middle school and studying on my own free time. The education provided was redundant and, honestly, too easy for me. So, I took matters into my own hands and started teaching myself. Studied philosophy, psychology, and general neuroscience when I got home from school. Then, 8th grade came, and something changed in the air. I knew I wanted to go to an Ivy League school, but with my background, I felt hopeless. My grandmother always told me, "There is always a solution, never quit because on the third try, you could have it all." I can now comprehend each part of her advice, which has strengthened my devotion to furthering my education not only for myself, but for her specifically. “There is always a solution...” taught me to look toward the light, even when life feels heavy. My grandmother works tirelessly, often to the point of exhaustion, because she believes that’s what survival requires. She never had the chance to attend college, to pause, or to imagine a different kind of life. I want to honor her sacrifices by choosing a path she never had access to. "Never quit because on the third try..." This pushes me to keep going, literally. As you try, you grow each time, which gets you closer to your solution. Back to the first words, "There is always a solution." "You can have it all." Ever since I was young, I have believed that what you have within will produce outwards. So if you do the work, you are bound for success. I knew I wanted to go to college since I was 9, and hearing this was inspirational, and it stuck with me. So when you ask what attending a university means to my family and me, the answer is simple: it means everything. It represents breaking a cycle of quitting. It represents my grandmother’s sacrifices finally being met with opportunity. It represents the future I’ve been working toward since I was nine years old—a future rooted in psychology, purpose, and the belief that I can build a life brighter than the one I was born into.

I am not a fan of close-minded people. Here in America, if you do not speak English, then you are automatically viewed differently. An English person could hear a foreign tongue and lose respect and individuality for them. This stems from feeling confused and frustrated with the lack of clear communication, but it's deeper than that; it's clear in our body language. For this sole reason, I chose to learn Spanish at the age of 14. I remember the first time I saw someone of positive authority discriminate and become more aggressive with a Spanish speaker. That right there is contradicting, and the horrible thing about it was that nobody could speak (translate) for them. I could see the fear in their face when they drove off, away from the school parking lot. Yes, this happened at a school during a fundraiser. Now, I have seen it more in the actual school building. I was sick and tired of people not trying to communicate with foreign speakers. They would avoid them, as if they didn't deserve a chance to be spoken to, a chance to be acknowledged. Growing up with my grandmother, she made sure to smile and wave to anyone, no matter their language. I picked this up as a child, and it has stuck with me ever since. But I wanted to do more than wave and smile; I wanted to speak to them to understand. At the age of 16, I was able to have a conversation with my Spanish teacher, and this was just the beginning. I wanted to use my voice, to speak for the people who don't or are afraid to in my community. As I grew older, I realized that learning Spanish wasn’t just about vocabulary or grammar. It was about reclaiming the humanity that so many people lose when others decide they aren’t worth the effort of communication. The first time I used my voice to help someone was during a community service event. They didn't understand where to go for their bag of goods. Adults yelled at him in English, students avoided direct them, and I saw the same fear I had witnessed years earlier in that parking lot. This time, I didn’t stay silent. I walked up to the car, greeted him in Spanish, "Hola, Señor", as I heard them speak in Spanish, saying, "What are we doing wrong?" "Qué estamos haciendo mal?" - When I greeted them, I watched their entire posture soften, and an upcoming smile. They were happy someone was communicating with them politely, acknowledging that they deserve to be given a chance too, to be shown dignity and patience just like the others. I replied with a warm smile and said "nada, por favor, pardon mis personas, aqui" as I gave them their bag of food goods. They drove off, and everyone acted as if I, myself, were a foreigner. In that moment, I understood that confidence isn’t loud, it’s intentional. It’s choosing to speak when silence would be easier. It is choosing to be the stronger person. Since that day, I've pushed my studies of the Spanish language itself and psychology, of course. It shaped how I communicate. Being direct can only help sometimes, but most of the time, people want genuineness. They want to feel seen and heard - That's all. People forget that it is the little things that matter because it eventually adds up to a positive result. See, Americans are used to fast gratification, but the downside to this is that they lose patience quickly - and OH, do not let it be a person who doesn't understand fast enough, because then that's when aggression comes in, and we all see this in our everyday lives. I took Spanish 1,2, IB I Spanish. My exam score was extremely high, and I was able to skip Spanish 3. I say this as proof of my dedication, but the confidence that came with this took me far in life. Running the Open Studio Club, where my team and I help students academically, mentally, and entrepreneurially regarding their personal journey to success, has allowed me to connect with other Spanish speakers and make connections with them. One thing I love about my journey of becoming fluent in Spanish is that it is not only beneficial for me, but it is for the person I am speaking to. The act of naturally putting a smile on their face, not because I just spoke their language, but because I gave them the same respect I would to an English speaker. This journey has shaped the way I communicate, not just in Spanish, but in how I approach people as human beings. I’ve learned that using your voice isn’t always about volume; sometimes it’s about slowing down, listening, and choosing compassion when others choose impatience. As I continue studying psychology and expanding Open Studio Club, I plan to use my voice to create spaces where students feel seen, understood, and valued, no matter their background or language. I want to be the person who bridges gaps instead of widening them, who speaks up when others stay silent, and who reminds people that dignity is not earned—it is owed. My voice has grown from a quiet frustration into a tool for connection, and I intend to carry that forward into college and beyond, using it to advocate for those who simply need someone willing to meet them halfway.

I didn’t think I would have made it this far, but it ended up with me saving people, which saved me. Growing up, my parents were the definition of what I did not want to become. This later shaped me into a resilient young woman saving teenagers, like how my parents should’ve been. I was sixteen when I started my first nonprofit, the Open Studio Club, a student-led organization built to support any student academically, entrepreneurially, and mentally. Being an only child, I understand the feeling of being alone and not having somewhere or someone to go to for help. So, I decided to create a space I needed, and I know others needed too. Communicating came easily to me, from helping my parents understand emotional regulation to students understanding how to deal with anger issues, I was only nine when I wrote my first philosophy on life. How my family treated me made me question why some get treated better than others – and why the ones used for the backhanded jokes were never apologized to. I then concluded that it’s because, as humans, we like connecting to titles to make us feel anything but our actual true selves individually. Using this realization, I was able to help my peers understand their sole purpose and how to help others. Organizing the club, planning, and executing it made me see I was fit for Industrial Organizational Psychology. Figuring this out was the beginning of my career, just as a teenager, seventeen years old. I’m aware of my generation being the future, which is why it’s important for me to take action now – Not just for myself, but for my peers and future ones. I knew it was time for me to take it up a notch. I started making my nonprofit official in the state of North Carolina. Started with creating and finalizing my board of directors. Then I created my bylaws and provisions with research and without the help of a law firm. I tried to seek out help regarding building a nonprofit and the legal filings, but I came to the quick realization that a “FREE CONSULTATION” is just a cover for “WE WANT YOUR MONEY”. I successfully filed the articles of incorporation and got them approved by the Secretary of State. Now that I had the legal proceedings, it was time to expand my club. My goal is to start a chapter at West Mecklenburg High School, the school my parents went to, to break generational curses. As a student who goes to school on the west side of Charlotte, I understand the concerns one may have for their child and general education, but this doesn’t mean it’s the kids' fault in the school; it is the environment. One bad apple can turn the ripe red ones rotten. I’ve seen it happen with my mother, and if I were there for her at her age, I would’ve guided her on a better path than she's on. You ask how I plan on making a positive impact in the world through my future career, and my answer is … being true to myself and my origins. If it wasn't for my hardships growing up, I wouldn’t be as passionate as I am today about helping my generation see that we are the future. What you have within will produce outwards, and that is what I want to show the world. Individualism is the start of a successful community.

I believe what you carry within yourself eventually reveals itself outward. My freshman year at West Charlotte, I felt lost. I didn't know where to go for help on a personal level; I wanted a peer to talk to, someone who could truly relate to me. I was book smart, not social smart, and up until high school, being recognized for my hard work was rare. One day, I finally asked my English teacher how she felt about my writing draft. She replied word for word, " I am speechless." In that moment, I understood why I felt invisible when I got to high school. It wasn't because I lacked ability; it was because I never allowed my voice to be heard. My sophomore year came, and I felt like my frontal lobe was developing. I started to wonder if anyone else felt lost like I did or still does. By this time, getting good grades was the bare minimum for me; I wanted more to show and be proud of. That question kept circling my head. It didn't sit right with me, so I decided to take action. I started brainstorming how to bring students together with the idea of personal success in mind. My goal was to create a space where students can benefit academically, entrepreneurially, and mentally. Being an only child didn't help; reaching out to students regarding their interests was like me talking to a wall at West Charlotte. All their responses surrounded making money and generally being rich. These results didn't help much, but it directed me to another perspective: why do students automatically jump to the results instead of the actual steps to get the results? I realized it was because of the lack of honesty behind success. When encountering successful people, at times, they make it seem like a breeze, and we students truly take it as it is. I grew up with my grandmother working 12-hour shifts to simply keep a roof over our heads. So, I knew the hard work behind the actual results, and I wanted to use that as my starting point for helping my peers understand the hardships of one's own success. I knew everyone's path can look different, but two principles fit all paths - discipline and consistency. Understanding this has helped me create my nonprofit, the Open Studio Club. I've learned that not everyone knows the principles behind success, so I used that as my starting point. On January 14th, 2025, I presented my club to students all over the school. I was determined to spread the word of my club to reach as many students as possible. Not to just have my club be popular, but to help as many of my peers as I can. When it came down to advertising, I learned how to communicate with my peers on a relatable level. I didn't push my club on others; I offered them a release, a solution to their personal problems. This route has helped me gain over 25 + club members consistently attending our meetings. Reaching this milestone has brought me great gratitude and unity towards my high school community, West Charlotte High School. As I continue to work on my nonprofit helping students academically, entrepreneurially, and mentally, I continuously learn something new about myself and my community. The Open Studio Club has brought my peers and me great enlightenment and a microphone to use our voices with.