My goal is to become a social worker specializing in child welfare and trauma-informed care. I want to work with children and families who have experienced trauma, instability, or difficult circumstances and help them find safety, healing, and hope. This goal is deeply personal to me because I understand how much a person’s life can be changed by the support they receive during their hardest moments. My journey has taught me that people often carry struggles that others cannot see. During my senior year of high school in 2024, I lost my mother, who was my biggest supporter and the person who always encouraged me to pursue my dreams. Losing her was one of the most painful experiences of my life, but it also showed me how important compassion, understanding, and having someone in your corner can be. That experience strengthened my desire to become someone who provides that same support to children and families who feel overwhelmed or unheard. My first step toward achieving my goal is completing my undergraduate degree in social work. As a first-generation college student, I know I have to be intentional about creating my own path. I may not have someone at home who can guide me through every step of college, but I have learned how to seek resources, ask questions, and advocate for myself. I plan to continue using academic advising, tutoring services, mentorship opportunities, and connections with professors to help me succeed. I also plan to gain hands-on experience while completing my degree. My experience as a Torchbearer for the Upward Bound TRIO program showed me how meaningful it is to support others. I helped students navigate their summer program and continued encouraging them throughout the school year, including during my first year of college. I want to continue building those skills through internships, volunteer opportunities, and field experiences related to child welfare. Reaching my goals will also require financial planning. The cost of college includes tuition, books, technology, transportation, and professional expenses. My estimated yearly educational costs include: Tuition and fees: approximately $8,000–$12,000 Books and supplies: approximately $500–$1,000 Technology and internet needs: approximately $500–$1,000 Transportation and internship-related expenses: approximately $1,000–$2,000 To manage these expenses, I plan to apply for scholarships, complete financial aid applications, use campus resources, budget carefully, and work when possible while keeping my education as my priority. Receiving financial support would allow me to focus more on preparing for my future career instead of constantly worrying about how to cover educational expenses. My timeline is to complete my bachelor’s degree, gain experience through internships, and begin working in the child welfare field after graduation. As I grow professionally, I hope to continue my education and pursue additional training that will allow me to provide stronger support to children and families. The biggest resource I will bring with me is my determination. I know what it feels like to face challenges and still have to keep moving forward. I know what it means to need encouragement, guidance, and someone who believes in you. Those experiences are the reason I want to become a social worker. My dream is to help children understand that their circumstances do not define their future. I want to be the person who listens, advocates, and reminds them that they are worthy of love, support, and opportunity. My path has not always been easy, but every challenge has strengthened my purpose. Through education, dedication, and service, I hope to create a future where I can make a lasting difference in the lives of others.

Being a first-generation college student means carrying a dream that extends beyond myself. It means stepping into a world that my family has never navigated before and learning how to find my way while creating a path for those who come after me. It means being proud of where I come from while understanding that I have the responsibility to make the most of every opportunity I receive. My journey to higher education has been shaped by perseverance, uncertainty, and the determination to keep going even when life becomes difficult. As a first-generation student, I did not have someone at home who could explain every step of the college process. I had to learn how to advocate for myself, seek out resources, and believe that I belonged in spaces that once felt unfamiliar. Through that process, I discovered my strength and learned that asking for guidance is not a weakness—it is part of growth. One of the experiences that helped shape my purpose was my involvement with the Upward Bound TRIO program. As a student, I benefited from the support and encouragement the program provided, but I later became a Torchbearer who helped guide other students. I assisted students through our summer program and continued supporting them throughout the school year, even after I began my freshman year of college. Being able to encourage students who were also navigating unfamiliar paths reminded me how powerful it is to have someone believe in you. My passion for social work is also deeply connected to my personal experiences. During my senior year of high school in 2024, I lost my mother. She was my biggest supporter and always reminded me that I was capable of achieving my goals. Losing her was one of the hardest experiences I have faced, but it also strengthened my purpose. Her life taught me the importance of compassion, advocacy, and helping people through their most difficult moments. My dream is to become a social worker who supports children and families, especially those impacted by trauma and difficult circumstances. I want to provide the same type of encouragement and support that helped me continue moving forward. I want to be someone who reminds others that their challenges do not define their future. This scholarship would help me continue my education by reducing some of the financial barriers that come with being a first-generation college student. It would allow me to focus more on my studies, my growth, and preparing for the career I am passionate about pursuing. More importantly, it would remind me that my goals are possible and that my journey matters. I am driven by the desire to create change, honor my mother’s legacy, and become a source of hope for others. My education is not only about earning a degree—it is about building a future where I can give back, advocate for others, and open doors for the generations that come after me.

When people ask me why I am passionate about social work, I think about my mother. I often talk about her as my biggest supporter, my role model, and the person who taught me the meaning of strength. However, before I saw her strength, I witnessed her pain. Growing up, my brother and I watched my mother experience an abusive relationship that slowly changed the person we knew. We saw her smile become less frequent, her laughter become quieter, and her confidence fade. Watching someone I loved struggle in silence showed me how deeply abuse can affect not only survivors but also the families who stand beside them. In 2022, my mother was diagnosed with cancer and leukemia. I remember feeling helpless and afraid, but during that time, I saw a different side of her return. She was no longer trapped in an unhealthy relationship. She was surrounded by the people who loved her, her children, and her support system. Slowly, I began seeing my mother’s joy come back. I saw her laugh again. I saw her spirit return. Although she passed away in 2024 during my senior year of high school, she left behind a legacy of resilience that continues to guide me. Her journey taught me that survivors deserve compassion, resources, and someone who will remind them that they are worthy of healing. As an African American woman pursuing social work, I want to advocate for women impacted by domestic violence and trauma. I want to help create safe spaces where women feel heard, supported, and empowered to rebuild their lives. My mother’s story is not defined by what she endured—it is defined by the love, strength, and courage she carried. I hope to honor her by helping others find that same strength.

When I think about my journey to higher education, I do not just think about the classes I have taken or the degree I am working toward. I think about every person, every challenge, and every moment that shaped me into the person I am becoming. My journey has been built on resilience, faith, and the desire to create a better future—not only for myself but for the children and families I hope to serve one day. As a first-generation college student and a Black woman pursuing social work, I have had to learn how to navigate spaces that were not always designed with people like me in mind. There was no handbook telling me how to apply for college, choose a career path, or overcome the financial and emotional challenges that come with being the first in my family to pursue higher education. I had to learn how to advocate for myself, seek out opportunities, and believe that I belonged even when I felt uncertain. One of the greatest opportunities that helped shape me was my involvement with the Upward Bound TRIO program. As a student, I was once someone who needed guidance and encouragement, but eventually I became a Torchbearer who provided that same support to others. I helped students navigate our summer program, answered questions, encouraged them when they felt overwhelmed, and supported them throughout the school year. Many of these students were also first-generation students who were trying to understand a process that felt unfamiliar. Being able to guide students was more than just a leadership experience for me—it was personal. I knew what it felt like to need someone in my corner. I knew the difference it made when someone took the time to say, “You can do this.” Even after graduating high school and entering my freshman year of college, I continued supporting students because I understood that mentorship can change the way someone sees themselves and their future. My decision to pursue social work became even more meaningful after experiencing one of the hardest moments of my life. During my senior year of high school in 2024, I lost my mother. She was my biggest supporter, my source of encouragement, and the person who always reminded me that I was capable of achieving my dreams. Losing her during such an important transition in my life was a pain I had never experienced before. I was trying to finish school, prepare for college, and figure out how to move forward while grieving someone who meant everything to me. That experience changed the way I understand pain. I learned that many people are carrying struggles that others cannot see. A child may walk into a classroom, a social worker’s office, or a community space with a smile on their face while silently carrying trauma, fear, or uncertainty. I know what it feels like to need compassion during a difficult season of life, and that understanding has become one of the reasons I am passionate about child welfare. My goal is to become a social worker specializing in child welfare and trauma-informed care. I want to work with children who have experienced abuse, neglect, loss, instability, or other difficult circumstances. I want to be the person who helps them understand that their experiences do not determine their worth or their future. Children deserve someone who will listen to them, advocate for them, and remind them that they are capable of healing and growing. Since beginning my social work education, my understanding of the field has grown. At first, I thought social work was mainly about helping individuals through personal struggles. Now, I understand that social work is also about challenging the systems that create barriers for vulnerable communities. It is about recognizing that children and families are affected by larger issues such as poverty, limited resources, and unequal access to support. I want to be a social worker who does both: provide direct care while also advocating for meaningful change. The impact I hope to make extends beyond my career. I want to make my family proud, honor my mother’s memory, and become someone younger students and children can look up to. I want my story to show that difficult circumstances do not have to limit a person’s future. My education is not just an achievement for me—it is a way to create opportunities for others. I know this path will not always be easy, but I am willing to continue learning, growing, and pushing forward because the children and families I hope to serve deserve someone who is committed to standing beside them. My experiences have given me empathy, determination, and a deeper understanding of the importance of being seen and supported. I am pursuing social work because I want to become the person I once needed—the person who listens, encourages, protects, and reminds others that they are not defined by what they have been through. Through this career, I hope to help children find their voice, rebuild their confidence, and believe in the possibilities of their future.

When I first began college, I knew I wanted a career where I could make a meaningful difference in people's lives. As a first-generation, low-income Black woman, I have seen how difficult it can be to access opportunities, resources, and support. Growing up, I watched people in my community face challenges that often went beyond their control—financial hardship, educational barriers, mental health struggles, and a lack of guidance. Those experiences led me to social work because I realized that I didn't just want to help people; I wanted to advocate for them and work toward changing the systems that continue to hold so many communities back. My passion for serving others began long before college. As a Torchbearer for the Upward Bound TRIO program, I had the opportunity to mentor students who were navigating many of the same uncertainties I once faced. I welcomed new participants into the summer program, helped them adjust to college expectations, and continued supporting them throughout the school year. Even after graduating high school and entering my freshman year of college, I chose to stay involved because I understood how powerful it is to have someone who believes in you. Many of the students I mentored were first-generation and from underserved communities, and I wanted them to know they were never alone in their journey. When I first chose social work, I believed my role would simply be helping individuals overcome personal challenges. Since beginning my program, that perspective has expanded. I have learned that social work is not only about supporting individuals but also about addressing the larger systems that create inequality. Poverty, unequal access to healthcare, educational disparities, and discrimination are not challenges that people should have to face alone. Social workers have the opportunity to advocate for change while empowering individuals to recognize their own strength and resilience. My purpose became even more personal during my senior year of high school when I lost my mother. She was my biggest source of encouragement and always reminded me that education was something no one could ever take away from me. Losing her while preparing for graduation was heartbreaking, but it also reinforced why compassionate support matters. I experienced firsthand how life can change in an instant and how important it is to have people who genuinely care. That experience deepened my commitment to becoming someone others can turn to during difficult moments. In my future career, I hope to work with other under represented children, adolescents, and families, particularly within schools and community organizations. I want to help students who may be struggling with grief, mental health challenges, poverty, or unstable home environments because I understand how those experiences can affect every aspect of a person's life. Beyond providing resources, I want to create safe spaces where people feel heard, respected, and empowered to advocate for themselves. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to continue pursuing a career built on service, advocacy, and compassion. I want my legacy to be measured not by titles or accomplishments but by the lives I have helped improve. As a social worker, I hope to be the person who reminds others that their circumstances do not define them, their voice matters, and they deserve every opportunity to succeed.

Being a first-generation, low-income Black woman has taught me that success often requires creating opportunities that weren't handed to you. Growing up, I didn't have a road-map for college or a family member who could explain financial aid, admissions, or what life after high school would look like. Instead, I learned by asking questions, seeking mentors, and taking advantage of programs that believed in students like me. Those experiences shaped my dream of becoming an educator who helps students realize that where they come from should never determine where they can go. One of the most meaningful experiences in my life was serving as a Torchbearer for the Upward Bound TRIO program. I had once been the student looking for guidance, so becoming someone others could depend on was incredibly rewarding. I welcomed new participants into the summer program, helped them adjust to unfamiliar environments, answered questions, and continued encouraging them throughout the school year. Even after graduating high school and beginning college, I stayed involved because I understood how important it is to know someone believes in you. Watching students become more confident in themselves reminded me that sometimes encouragement can change the direction of a person's life. My determination to continue my education became even stronger after losing my mother during my senior year of high school in 2024. She had always encouraged me to dream bigger than my circumstances and reminded me that education was something no one could ever take away from me. Losing her was heartbreaking, but it also gave me a greater sense of purpose. I made a promise to myself that I would continue pursuing the future she envisioned for me, no matter how difficult the journey became. Today, my goal is to become an educator who creates classrooms where every child feels welcomed, challenged, and supported. I know what it feels like to question whether you belong, and I want my students—especially those from underrepresented and low-income backgrounds—to know that they do. I want to be the teacher who recognizes potential before students recognize it in themselves. As someone who comes from an underrepresented background, I also understand the importance of representation in education. Students deserve to see educators who reflect the diversity of their communities and who understand the challenges they may face. I hope to be more than a teacher; I want to be a mentor, an advocate, and a positive role model who encourages students to believe that their dreams are achievable. Receiving this scholarship would ease the financial burden of pursuing my degree and allow me to focus on becoming the educator I aspire to be. As a first-generation college student, every semester is an investment not only in my future but also in my family's future. Earning my degree represents breaking cycles, creating new opportunities, and proving that determination can overcome obstacles. My purpose extends far beyond earning a diploma. I want my career to be measured by the lives I impact, the confidence I inspire, and the doors I help open for others. If I can be the person who changes the trajectory of even one student's life, then I will know I have honored my mother's legacy and fulfilled the purpose that continues to drive me every day.

Growing up as a Black woman, I have seen how race, socioeconomic status, and access to resources can shape a person's opportunities. I have also experienced what it feels like to be underrepresented in spaces where decisions are made and where support is not always equally accessible. Those experiences have given me a deep understanding of why advocacy matters and inspired me to pursue a career in social work. I want to help ensure that people from underrepresented communities have someone who will listen to them, advocate for them, and empower them to overcome barriers that often seem impossible to navigate alone. One of the experiences that strengthened my passion for helping others was serving as a Torchbearer for the Upward Bound TRIO program. As a Torchbearer, I welcomed new students into the program, guided them through our summer experience, and continued mentoring them throughout the school year. Many of the students came from backgrounds where college felt out of reach or where they lacked the guidance needed to navigate higher education. I understood those feelings because I had experienced them myself. I wanted every student to know they belonged and that they were capable of achieving their goals. Even after graduating from high school and entering my freshman year of college, I continued supporting the program because I knew how much a mentor could change someone's confidence and future. My desire to become a social worker also comes from one of the most difficult experiences of my life. During my senior year of high school in 2024, I lost my mother. She was my biggest supporter, my greatest source of strength, and the person who always reminded me that I was capable of anything. Losing her while trying to finish high school forced me to navigate overwhelming grief while still meeting the expectations of school and preparing for college. It taught me that many people carry pain that others cannot see. It also showed me how life-changing compassion and support can be during the hardest moments of someone's life. As a future Black social worker, I understand the importance of representation. Many individuals, especially in underserved communities, have experienced systems that made them feel unheard or misunderstood. I want to be someone who not only understands those experiences but also helps build trust by meeting people where they are. Representation alone does not solve inequities, but it can help people feel seen, respected, and understood. I want to use my voice and my education to advocate for equitable access to mental health care, education, housing, and other essential resources. What motivates me most is knowing that systemic barriers should never determine someone's future. I believe my responsibility as a social worker is not to speak for communities but to work alongside them. That means listening first, respecting their lived experiences, connecting them with resources, and advocating for policies that create lasting change. My role is to empower people, not to define their potential. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to continue pursuing a career dedicated to service and advocacy. My experiences—as a Black woman, a mentor, a student leader, and someone who has endured personal loss—have shaped my commitment to helping others. I hope to become the kind of social worker who makes people feel heard, valued, and empowered. By combining empathy with action, I want to help build stronger communities where everyone, regardless of their background, has the opportunity to thrive.

There was a time when school felt like my safe place. It was where I laughed with friends, dreamed about my future, and believed anything was possible. Then, during my senior year of high school in 2024, my world changed forever. My mom passed away. She was my biggest supporter, my loudest cheerleader, and the person who always reminded me that I was capable of achieving my dreams. Losing her just months before graduation left me feeling broken. I was expected to finish assignments, study for exams, and prepare for one of the biggest milestones of my life while carrying a grief that felt impossible to explain. There were days I walked into school smiling because I didn't want anyone to worry, but inside I was struggling just to make it through each class. During that time, I realized how much teachers matter. Some of my teachers saw beyond my grades. They noticed when I was quiet, asked if I was okay, gave me grace when I needed it, and reminded me that I wasn't alone. They couldn't take away my pain, but they gave me something just as valuable—hope. Their compassion taught me that education is about so much more than teaching math, reading, or science. It's about showing students they are seen, valued, and supported, especially during the hardest moments of their lives. Growing up, my background taught me that every child carries a story that others may never know. Some students walk into the classroom worrying about homework, while others are carrying grief, family struggles, or responsibilities far beyond their years. After losing my mom, I became one of those students. That experience changed how I see people. It taught me to lead with empathy instead of assumptions and to understand that sometimes a simple act of kindness can change someone's entire day. Those experiences are what inspired me to pursue a career in K–12 education. I want to be the teacher who notices when a student seems different. I want to create a classroom where children feel safe enough to ask questions, make mistakes, and express their emotions without fear of judgment. I want every student to know that they matter, not just because of the grades they earn, but because of who they are. My mom always believed I was meant to make a difference in the lives of others. Even though she isn't here to see me become an educator, I carry her encouragement with me every day. Every step I take toward earning my degree is a promise that I will honor her by helping children believe in themselves the way she always believed in me. Receiving this scholarship would bring me one step closer to that dream. It would allow me to continue my education while honoring the woman who inspired me to never give up. My life experiences have taught me that the greatest teachers don't just educate minds—they heal hearts, inspire confidence, and change lives. That is the kind of educator I hope to become.

My name is Jamaya Pelcher, I'm from a small city called Knoxville Tennessee and before my senior year, mental health was something I knew was important, but I never truly understood how much it could affect every part of a person's life. That changed in 2024 when my mom passed away. Losing her was the most painful experience I have ever faced, and it completely changed the person I am today. My mom was my biggest supporter. She believed in me even when I doubted myself and constantly reminded me that I was capable of accomplishing anything I set my mind to. She was supposed to be there to watch me graduate, celebrate my accomplishments, and help me prepare for my future. Instead, during what should have been one of the happiest years of my life, I was trying to figure out how to keep going without the person who had always been my safe place. Grief doesn't just make you sad—it changes everything. There were mornings when getting out of bed felt impossible. I would sit in class physically present but emotionally somewhere else, trying to hold back tears while pretending I was okay. My assignments became harder to focus on, and my motivation disappeared. I smiled when people expected me to, but inside I was carrying a pain that words couldn't fully describe. I learned that some of the hardest battles people fight are the ones no one else can see. For a long time, I thought I had to be strong by hiding how I felt. Eventually, I realized that real strength meant allowing myself to grieve. I began leaning on the people who loved me, talking about my feelings instead of burying them, and accepting that healing doesn't happen all at once. Some days are still harder than others. There are moments when I wish I could call my mom just to hear her voice or tell her about something exciting that happened. The pain of losing her hasn't disappeared, but I have learned how to carry it without letting it define me. Because of my own experience, I have become much more aware of the silent struggles others may be facing. I make an effort to check on my friends, listen without judgment, and remind people that asking for help is never something to be ashamed of. Sometimes the most meaningful thing you can do for someone is simply let them know they don't have to go through their pain alone. I understand how much a kind word, a listening ear, or a simple "How are you really doing?" can mean. Receiving this scholarship would help me continue pursuing the education that my mom always dreamed I would achieve. Every class I take and every goal I reach is a way of honoring her memory. Although she is no longer here to see the person I am becoming, her love continues to guide me every day. Mental health is important to me because I know what it feels like to have your world change in an instant. My journey has taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of supporting others through their darkest moments. I cannot change what happened, but I can use my experience to remind others that healing is possible, hope can return, and no one should ever feel like they have to struggle alone.

My name is Jamaya Pelcher, and cancer didn’t just affect my family—it changed how I understand strength, and what it really means to carry it forward. My mom, Serita Carter, battled leukemia for two years. She was only 43. For most of that time, I believed she was going to beat it, because she carried herself like she would. Even on her hardest days, she didn’t let cancer define how she treated us. She still asked me about school, still checked in on how I was doing, like nothing had changed. Sometimes I would catch myself answering like everything was normal too, even though we both knew it wasn’t. Looking back, I realize that was our way of holding onto each other without saying it out loud. During my senior year of high school, she spent two straight months in the hospital while her immune system was at its weakest. Visiting her became part of my routine, even though it never really felt normal. I would sit there for hours, and somehow it still felt like I never had enough time with her. So when we heard the word “remission,” it felt like we could finally breathe again. After everything she had been through, she was able to come home. For a moment, it felt like life was giving us something back. I remember thinking, we made it through the worst part. But we didn’t. After coming home, she got food poisoning. Because her immune system was still so weak, her body couldn’t recover the way it should have. What seemed small quickly became something serious. She developed pneumonia, and within weeks, everything changed. We went from relief to hearing the word “hospice.” Two weeks later, everything we thought we had gotten back was gone. Losing her during my senior year felt like everything around me just stopped. I didn’t want to go to school. I didn’t care about assignments, graduation, or anything people kept telling me was important. It felt meaningless compared to what I had just lost. There were days I couldn’t see past the next few hours. But somehow, I kept going—sometimes not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know what else to do. What cancer taught me wasn’t just about loss—it taught me what real strength looks like. Before, I thought strength meant staying positive or pushing through without breaking. Now I know it can look like getting out of bed when you don’t want to. It can look like showing up, even when you feel empty. It can look like taking life one day at a time and deciding, even quietly, not to give up. It also taught me how quickly life can change. Watching my mom go from fighting, to remission, to gone in such a short time changed the way I see everything. I don’t take time for granted anymore. I value the people in my life more deeply, and I carry the way she lived with me—always giving, always putting others first. I’m still healing, but I keep going. Today, as a freshman at East Tennessee State University, I carry her with me in everything I do. Her strength is the reason I continue working toward my goal of becoming a social worker, so I can be there for others during the hardest moments of their lives—just like she was for me. Cancer took my mom, Serita Carter, from me at 43—but it left me with her strength, and I carry it with me every day.

My name is Jamaya Pelcher, and cancer didn’t just affect my family—it changed how I understand strength, and what it really means to carry it forward. My mom, Serita Carter, battled leukemia for two years. She was only 43. For most of that time, I believed she was going to beat it, because she carried herself like she would. Even on her hardest days, she didn’t let cancer define how she treated us. She still asked me about school, still checked in on how I was doing, like nothing had changed. Sometimes I would catch myself answering like everything was normal too, even though we both knew it wasn’t. Looking back, I realize that was our way of holding onto each other without saying it out loud. During my senior year of high school, she spent two straight months in the hospital while her immune system was at its weakest. Visiting her became part of my routine, even though it never really felt normal. I would sit there for hours, and somehow it still felt like I never had enough time with her. So when we heard the word “remission,” it felt like we could finally breathe again. After everything she had been through, she was able to come home. For a moment, it felt like life was giving us something back. I remember thinking, we made it through the worst part. But we didn’t. After coming home, she got food poisoning. Because her immune system was still so weak, her body couldn’t recover the way it should have. What seemed small quickly became something serious. She developed pneumonia, and within weeks, everything changed. We went from relief to hearing the word “hospice.” Two weeks later, everything we thought we had gotten back was gone. Losing her during my senior year felt like everything around me just stopped. I didn’t want to go to school. I didn’t care about assignments, graduation, or anything people kept telling me was important. It felt meaningless compared to what I had just lost. There were days I couldn’t see past the next few hours. But somehow, I kept going—sometimes not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know what else to do. What cancer taught me wasn’t just about loss—it taught me what real strength looks like. Before, I thought strength meant staying positive or pushing through without breaking. Now I know it can look like getting out of bed when you don’t want to. It can look like showing up, even when you feel empty. It can look like taking life one day at a time and deciding, even quietly, not to give up. It also taught me how quickly life can change. Watching my mom go from fighting, to remission, to gone in such a short time changed the way I see everything. I don’t take time for granted anymore. I value the people in my life more deeply, and I carry the way she lived with me—always giving, always putting others first. I’m still healing, but I keep going. Today, as a freshman at East Tennessee State University, I carry her with me in everything I do. Her strength is the reason I continue working toward my goal of becoming a social worker, so I can be there for others during the hardest moments of their lives—just like she was for me. Cancer took my mom, Serita Carter, from me at 43—but it left me with her strength, and I carry it with me every day.

My name is Jamaya Pelcher, and faith has always been a part of my life—but the moment I needed it most was the moment I struggled with it the hardest. Growing up, I learned early that stability wasn’t something we could always count on. There were nights when the house went dark, and I remember pretending it was normal—like we had just chosen not to turn the lights on. Some days, I didn’t know what we were going to eat. But somehow, my mom always made sure we did. Even if that meant she didn’t. What stayed with me the most wasn’t just what she gave—it was what she gave up. Before she passed, she carried a quiet regret about never going to college, never applying for scholarships, never choosing herself. She spent her life putting others first, making sure we had opportunities she never did. I didn’t fully understand it then, but I do now. And I carry that with me every day. When I lost her in high school, everything I believed in felt shaken. I had grown up in the church, surrounded by faith—singing in choir, praying, believing without question. But grief changed that. I remember praying and feeling like my words weren’t going anywhere. I didn’t understand how someone who gave so much could be taken away. For the first time in my life, my faith didn’t feel strong—it felt distant. And that scared me. But even in that doubt, I didn’t walk away. I kept showing up. I kept singing in choir, even on days my voice felt heavy. I kept going to school, even when it felt like I was carrying more than I knew how to handle. I started to realize that faith isn’t always about feeling strong or having all the answers. Sometimes, it’s just about choosing not to give up—even when you don’t understand. That choice shaped everything that came next. As a first-generation college student, I knew I had to build my future from the ground up. I worked throughout high school, saving everything I could to make college possible. I became involved in programs like TRIO Upward Bound at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, where I was later chosen to mentor other students who were trying to find their way, just like I was. I stayed active in my school community through organizations like the National Black Association and choir, continuing to stay connected to both my culture and my faith—even when it wasn’t easy. Through it all, I realized something: my faith didn’t remove my struggles—it gave me the strength to move through them. Today, as a 19-year-old freshman at East Tennessee State University, I carry both my faith and my mom’s sacrifices with me. She is the reason I refuse to let opportunities pass me by. She is the reason I push myself to keep going, even when things feel uncertain. And she is the reason I want to become a social worker—to be a source of support for others the way she was for me. I still have moments where I question, where I don’t fully understand. But my faith looks different now. It’s not perfect or effortless—it’s resilient. Because in the hardest moment of my life, when everything felt uncertain, my faith didn’t disappear. It stayed. And so did I.

I found TXT around 2020 when I was just starting to get into K-pop, and at first it was honestly just random clips that kept popping up on TikTok and YouTube. I wasn’t sitting there like “I’m going to be a fan today,” it just kind of happened. One minute I’m scrolling, next minute I’ve watched like 10 videos and somehow know all their names. After that, I started watching their music videos, performances, and content more consistently, and it naturally turned into me actually following them instead of just casually watching. Being a MOA, in my opinion, is about keeping things real and positive. It’s easy for fandoms to get competitive or overly serious, but I think one of the most important things is just supporting TXT in a genuine way and not losing the fun in it. Also not acting like the fandom is a battlefield over everything. At the end of the day, we’re all here because we enjoy their music, their personalities, and the energy they bring. My bias is Yeonjun, and he’s also my ult. He stood out to me immediately because of his stage presence. Like, he performs as if the stage is actually his space, not just something he’s standing on. It’s hard not to watch him when he’s on stage because he naturally draws attention without even trying too hard. Off stage, he’s more playful and relaxed, which makes him feel more relatable instead of just “idol mode” all the time. My favorite TXT song is “0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You)” because it feels very emotional but also powerful at the same time. It’s one of those songs where the vocals, the beat, and the message all hit together. Depending on your mood, it can feel comforting or intense, and I think that’s why I keep going back to it. I haven’t seen TXT in concert yet, which is honestly kind of painful to admit as a MOA, but it’s on my list. Watching concert clips is fun, but it also makes me realize how different it must feel in person compared to sitting there watching my phone like it’s a mini concert with buffering issues. My favorite album concept is The Chaos Chapter: FREEZE because it shows a mix of emotions and a more mature storyline. The visuals and themes connect really well with the music, and it feels like they put thought into how everything ties together instead of just focusing on individual songs. I am currently paying for school through financial aid and support from my family. School costs add up more than people expect, so even when things are covered, there’s still a level of stress that comes with managing everything and staying on track. This scholarship would help ease that pressure a lot. It would allow me to focus more on my education instead of constantly thinking about expenses in the background. Even something that seems small financially can make a big difference when you’re trying to stay focused long-term. TXT has influenced me in a very real way, not just as artists I listen to but as something that helped me mentally during a low period. There was a time when I wasn’t feeling motivated or like myself, and their music gave me something consistent to turn to. It sounds simple, but having that kind of comfort actually mattered. I also think about my mom a lot during those times, because she always pushed me to keep going and not give up on myself. Between her encouragement and TXT’s messages about growth and not giving up, it helped me get through that period in a way that stuck with me. Because of that, I approach my education more seriously now. I want to build something stable for my future, not just for the sake of having a career, but so I can also be in a position where I can support others and give back in some way.

Losing my mom was the most significant loss I have experienced, and it is something that has shaped who I am in ways I am still learning to understand. She was not only a parent to me, but also someone I looked up to for strength, perseverance, and determination. One of the things that has stayed with me most is knowing that she once wanted to go back to school but never had the chance to complete her degree. She carried that as a regret throughout her life, and even though she did not get to accomplish that goal, she never stopped pushing forward in other ways. Watching her resilience, even in the face of challenges, left a lasting impression on me. After her passing, I had to learn how to navigate life without someone who had always been such a central part of it. In the beginning, it was difficult to find motivation and structure. Everyday routines felt different, and goals that once seemed simple suddenly felt overwhelming. Over time, however, I began to reflect on what she would have wanted for me. That reflection slowly shifted my mindset from feeling stuck to realizing that I had to keep moving forward, not only for myself but also in a way that honors her memory. This experience changed how I approach my goals. I no longer take opportunities for granted, especially when it comes to education. Seeing that my mom was unable to complete her degree made me more aware of how valuable it is to have access to higher education. It pushed me to become more focused and intentional with my academic path. Instead of putting things off, I try to stay committed and consistent, even when it is challenging. I understand now that every step I take is something that builds toward a future I want to create. Losing my mom also influenced my outlook on life. It taught me that time is not guaranteed and that it is important to appreciate both the big and small moments. I have become more mindful of how I spend my time and who I choose to surround myself with. It also gave me a stronger sense of purpose. I want to succeed not just for myself, but to reflect the values she instilled in me. Her strength continues to motivate me to keep going, even when things feel difficult or uncertain. Overall, this loss has shaped me into someone who values perseverance, education, and growth. It has taught me to turn pain into motivation and to keep pushing toward my goals no matter the obstacles. While losing my mom was incredibly difficult, it also gave me a deeper sense of direction and responsibility. I carry her memory with me in everything I do, and it continues to guide the way I live my life and pursue my future.

Adversity has been a part of my life in different ways, but the moment that impacted me the most was losing my mom during my senior year of high school. She had been diagnosed with leukemia in 2022, and I watched her fight every day with strength. Even knowing what she was going through, nothing could truly prepare me for her passing in November of 2024. At the time, I was trying to finish high school, make plans for college, and hold myself together while everything around me felt like it was falling apart. In the middle of that, I didn’t really have the option to stop. I had responsibilities, goals, and expectations to meet. Some days were harder than others, especially when it felt like the world kept moving forward while I was still trying to process everything. But I kept reminding myself of what my mom wanted for me. She always encouraged me to go to school and build a better future, even when she didn’t get the chance to finish her own education. That became my motivation to keep going. I overcame that adversity by taking things one day at a time. I allowed myself to feel what I needed to feel, but I didn’t let it stop me from continuing forward. I leaned on the support of my Mimi, who stepped in and kept a promise to my mom to take care of me and my brother. I also found strength in knowing that everything I was doing was bigger than just me—it was about honoring my mom and continuing what she started. This experience shaped me into someone who is more resilient, focused, and understanding of others. It taught me that strength doesn’t always look like having everything together—it can look like showing up even when it’s hard. It also gave me a deeper sense of empathy, which is a big reason why I want to pursue a career in social work. I want to be there for others who are going through difficult situations, just like I did. If I could give advice to someone facing a similar situation, I would tell them that it’s okay to not be okay all the time. You don’t have to have everything figured out, and you don’t have to go through it alone. Take things one step at a time, and don’t lose sight of your goals, even when life feels overwhelming. Most importantly, hold on to the people and the reasons that keep you going. Adversity changed my life, but it also gave me purpose. It showed me my strength, even when I didn’t realize I had it. And because of that, I know I can continue moving forward and turn what I’ve been through into something meaningful by the help of this scholarship.

Adversity has been a part of my life in different ways, but the moment that impacted me the most was losing my mom during my senior year of high school. She had been diagnosed with leukemia in 2022, and I watched her fight every day with strength. Even knowing what she was going through, nothing could truly prepare me for her passing in November of 2024. At the time, I was trying to finish high school, make plans for college, and hold myself together while everything around me felt like it was falling apart. In the middle of that, I didn’t really have the option to stop. I had responsibilities, goals, and expectations to meet. Some days were harder than others, especially when it felt like the world kept moving forward while I was still trying to process everything. But I kept reminding myself of what my mom wanted for me. She always encouraged me to go to school and build a better future, even when she didn’t get the chance to finish her own education. That became my motivation to keep going. I overcame that adversity by taking things one day at a time. I allowed myself to feel what I needed to feel, but I didn’t let it stop me from continuing forward. I leaned on the support of my Mimi, who stepped in and kept a promise to my mom to take care of me and my brother. I also found strength in knowing that everything I was doing was bigger than just me—it was about honoring my mom and continuing what she started. This experience shaped me into someone who is more resilient, focused, and understanding of others. It taught me that strength doesn’t always look like having everything together—it can look like showing up even when it’s hard. It also gave me a deeper sense of empathy, which is a big reason why I want to pursue a career in social work. I want to be there for others who are going through difficult situations, just like I did. If I could give advice to someone facing a similar situation, I would tell them that it’s okay to not be okay all the time. You don’t have to have everything figured out, and you don’t have to go through it alone. Take things one step at a time, and don’t lose sight of your goals, even when life feels overwhelming. Most importantly, hold on to the people and the reasons that keep you going. Adversity changed my life, but it also gave me purpose. It showed me my strength, even when I didn’t realize I had it. And because of that, I know I can continue moving forward and turn what I’ve been through into something meaningful.

I am a first-generation college student currently attending East Tennessee State University, and my journey to higher education is deeply personal. Growing up, I watched my mom carry the responsibilities of life without a college degree. One of her biggest regrets was not being able to finish school, but she never let that stop her from encouraging me and my brother to pursue an education. Before she passed, she even tried to go back to school herself, which showed me how much it meant to her. Seeing that effort made a lasting impact on me. When my mom passed away during my senior year of high school, continuing my education became even more important. I knew I wasn’t just doing it for myself anymore—I was doing it for her too. Being a first-generation student already comes with challenges, like figuring things out on your own and stepping into spaces that feel unfamiliar. Losing my mom during that time made it even harder, but it also gave me a stronger sense of purpose. Because of my experiences, I understand how overwhelming college can feel, especially for first-generation students who may not have guidance or support. That’s why I want to inspire others by being honest about my journey. I want people to see that it’s okay to struggle, to not have all the answers, and to still keep going. Sometimes motivation doesn’t come from having everything figured out—it comes from having a reason not to give up. I plan to inspire and motivate other first-generation students by leading through my actions. By staying committed to my education, pushing through challenges, and continuing to grow, I hope to show others that success is possible. I also want to be someone people can come to for support, whether that’s through sharing advice, helping them find resources, or simply listening. I know how much of a difference it makes to feel like someone understands what you’re going through. As someone pursuing a degree in social work, I plan to continue that impact in my career by advocating for students and individuals from backgrounds like mine. I want to help create opportunities and support systems for those who may feel like higher education isn’t meant for them. Representation matters, and I want others to see that someone like them can succeed. My journey is about more than just earning a degree—it’s about fulfilling a dream that my mom didn’t get to finish and turning it into something meaningful. Every step I take forward is a way of honoring her and everything she wanted for me. By continuing to push myself and stay focused on my goals, I hope to inspire other first-generation students to believe in themselves and pursue their education, no matter what obstacles they face.

Mental health has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, even before I fully understood what I was experiencing. Growing up, I faced pressure from different areas of my life—academics, home responsibilities, and work. On top of that, being a Black student in a predominantly white environment came with its own challenges. There were times I felt like I had to work twice as hard, carry myself a certain way, and handle things on my own. Over time, all of that began to take a toll on my mental health. The most difficult moment in my life came when I lost my mother in November of 2024 during my senior year of high school. When she passed, it felt like I lost not only her, but also a part of myself. Grief affected me in ways I didn’t always know how to express, especially while still trying to finish school and move forward into college. Some days, it felt like I was expected to keep going as if everything was normal, even when it wasn’t. That experience opened my eyes to how often people struggle in silence, especially within communities where mental health is not always openly talked about. Because of what I’ve been through, I’ve developed a deep understanding of the importance of mental health support, especially in marginalized communities. I’ve seen how stigma, lack of access, and cultural expectations can make it harder for people to ask for help. As a Black woman, I know how important it is to have spaces where you feel seen, understood, and not judged. That understanding has shaped my beliefs and inspired me to be more open, more aware, and more supportive of others. I plan to use my degree in social work to make a positive impact by providing that kind of support to others. I want to work with individuals who may feel overlooked, unheard, or unsure of where to turn. I want to advocate for better access to mental health resources and be someone who encourages open conversations about mental health, especially in communities where it has often been pushed aside. My goal is not only to help people navigate their struggles, but also to remind them that they are not alone. Outside of my career, I also plan to continue speaking up for what is right. Whether that is through supporting others, raising awareness, or simply being someone people can come to, I want to use my voice in a way that creates change. My experiences have taught me that even small actions—checking on someone, listening, or offering support—can make a bigger difference than we realize. My journey with mental health has shaped who I am, but it has also given me purpose. It has made me more empathetic, more aware, and more determined to help others. Through social work, I want to turn my experiences into something meaningful and use them to create a positive impact in the lives of others, especially those who need it most.

.What makes me different is not just what I’ve been through, but how I choose to show up because of it. As a Black woman who grew up in a single-parent household and experienced the loss of my mother during my senior year of high school, I’ve learned how to carry strength in quiet ways. I don’t always have to say a lot for people to feel my presence—sometimes, it’s in how I keep going, how I treat others, and how I use my voice. Singing has always been a part of who I am. I’ve been singing my whole life—at my church, Foster Chapel Baptist Church, at school, and in groups like women’s choir and ensemble at Gibbs High School. I also had the opportunity to sing in All East during my freshman and senior year. Music has been more than just something I enjoy—it’s been a way for me to express emotions that I don’t always have words for. It’s also how I connect with people, even when I don’t realize it. There have been moments where people have told me that my voice made them feel something—peace, comfort, or even just seen—and those are the moments that remind me that impact doesn’t always have to be loud or obvious. Sometimes, the smallest things, like showing up, being kind, or sharing your gift, can mean everything to someone else who is watching quietly. Losing my mom changed me, but it also made me more aware of how people carry things you can’t always see. Because of that, I try to be intentional with how I treat others. I try to be someone who brings positive energy, who listens, and who creates a space where people feel comfortable. Even when I don’t realize it, I know that the way I carry myself can influence someone else who might be going through something similar. I plan to leverage my uniqueness through my future career in social work. I want to combine my lived experiences, my ability to connect with others, and my understanding of resilience to support people in my community. I know what it feels like to need support, and I want to be someone who can provide that for others—whether through my words, my presence, or simply being there. At the end of the day, I’ve learned that you don’t always know who is watching you or who you’re impacting. But by staying true to who I am, using my voice, and continuing to grow, I know that I can make a difference—sometimes in ways I may never even see.

I didn’t choose social work just as a career—I chose it because of what I’ve lived through. When my mom was diagnosed with leukemia in 2022, my life changed in ways I couldn’t control. I watched her fight every day with strength and resilience, even when things got hard. When she passed away in November of 2024 during my senior year of high school, I was forced to face a level of loss and responsibility that most people my age haven’t experienced. That moment didn’t just shape me—it gave me purpose. Now, as a freshman at East Tennessee State University, I am pursuing a degree in social work because I want to be there for others the way my family and community were there for me. Going through my mom’s illness and loss showed me how important it is to have support, guidance, and someone who truly understands what you’re going through. It also showed me that not everyone has that kind of support, and I want to help change that. My passion for social work comes from understanding what it feels like to struggle and still have to keep moving forward. Some days, it still feels like the world has moved on from my mom’s passing while I’m still learning how to adjust. That feeling has made me more aware of how people carry things that others don’t always see. Because of that, I want to be someone who listens without judgment and supports people through their hardest moments. In my career, I plan to work with families who are dealing with grief, single-parent households, and young people who feel like they have to grow up too fast. I want to create safe spaces where people feel heard, respected, and understood. I also want to advocate for better access to resources in communities that may not always receive the support they need. Whether it’s helping someone navigate loss, connecting them to services, or simply being a consistent source of support, I want my work to make a real difference. Cultural humility is especially important to me because I understand that everyone’s experience is different. No two families go through loss the same way, and no two people cope in the same way. I want to approach every person I work with by listening first, learning from them, and respecting their background, their values, and their story. I believe that being open and willing to learn from others is what allows you to truly help them. Advocacy is also a big part of the impact I want to make. I want to stand up for individuals and families who may not always have a voice, especially in moments when they feel overlooked or unsupported. My own experiences have shown me how important it is to have someone who is willing to speak up and make sure you’re not alone in what you’re going through. I also carry a strong sense of responsibility to my family. My Mimi made a promise to my mom that she would take care of me and my brother, and she has done that every day. Because of that, I feel a responsibility to succeed—not just for myself, but for them. By staying focused on my education and working toward my goals, I’m honoring my mom’s strength and doing my part to make my Mimi proud. To me, embodying a legacy of service means turning my experiences into something that helps others. It means using what I’ve been through not as something that holds me back, but as something that pushes me forward. My goal is to be the kind of social worker who shows up, listens, and makes people feel like they matter. I want my work to reflect compassion, understanding, and strength—because those are the same qualities my mom showed me every day. Through social work, I plan to carry that legacy forward and use it to make a lasting impact in my community.

I didn’t choose my path in social work from a textbook—I chose it from real life. When my mom was diagnosed with leukemia in 2022, everything changed. I watched her fight every day with strength, even when things got hard. She passed away in November of 2024 during my senior year of high school, and that moment forced me to grow up in ways I wasn’t ready for. But it also gave me a clear sense of purpose whether I was ready or not. Now, as a freshman at East Tennessee State University pursuing a degree in social work, my goal is to use my education to support people in my community who are going through the same kinds of challenges I’ve faced. I understand what it feels like to deal with grief, responsibility, and the pressure of moving forward when life doesn’t even feel normal anymore. Some days, it still feels like the world has moved on from my mom while I’m still adjusting, and that perspective is something I carry with me. I want to work with families experiencing loss, single-parent households, and young people who feel like they have to figure everything out on their own. I know how important it is to have someone who listens, understands, and shows up when it matters most. My experiences have given me a level of empathy that goes beyond what can be taught—I’ve lived it. Through my degree, I plan to turn that empathy into action. I want to connect people with resources, provide emotional support, and advocate for those who may not always have a voice. I want to create a space where people feel seen, heard, and supported during some of the hardest times in their lives. I’m also motivated by my family. My Mimi(grandmother) stepped in and kept a promise to my mom to take care of me and my brother, and that kind of love has inspired me to give back. By working hard and staying committed to my goals, I’m not only building my future—I’m honoring my mom and continuing her legacy through the way I help others. My goal is to use my degree to make a real impact in my community. I want to be the person I once needed in my life, and through social work, I know that I can turn my experiences into something that helps others heal and move forward.

My biggest source of support in my educational journey has been my late mother and my Mimi. My mom was diagnosed with leukemia in 2022, and from that moment on, I watched her fight with a kind of strength I will never forget. Even when things were hard, she kept going, and that stayed with me. She passed away in November of 2024 during my senior year of high school, and that loss changed my life. Still, I knew I had to keep going—not just for myself, but for her. I finished high school and continued my education as a freshman at East Tennessee State University, carrying her strength with me every day. My Mimi has been my support system through it all. She made a promise to my mom that she would take care of me and my brother, and she has truly lived up to that. I honor my mom by the way I continue to push forward. She always wanted me to succeed, and that is what drives me, especially on the days when it feels overwhelming. Some days are harder than others, especially when it feels like the world has moved on from her being gone while I’m still learning how to live without her. In those moments, I remind myself that everything I’m doing is part of continuing her legacy. I also honor her by trying to ease the weight on my Mimi. I know she carries a lot, and I want her to be proud and at peace knowing that I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. In a way, working toward my goals is how I take care of her too. By staying focused, doing well in school, and continuing my path, I’m fulfilling not only my own dreams, but my mom’s as well. Her support shaped me into someone who is resilient, determined, and more understanding of others. Going through her illness and loss at such a young age forced me to grow up quickly, but it also gave me a deeper sense of purpose. It showed me how important it is to be there for people during their hardest moments. That is a big reason why I want to go into social work. I want to support others the way my family supported me, and the way I saw people show up for my mom. As I continue working toward my goals, I build on their support by staying consistent and reminding myself why I started. I want to make my mom proud in everything I do, and I want my Mimi to feel secure knowing she kept her promise. Their love and belief in me have been instrumental in shaping who I am. Even though my mom is no longer here, everything she poured into me still lives on. At the end of the day, my success is bigger than just me. It’s for my mom, who fought so hard, and for my Mimi, who continues to hold everything together. That is what drives me to keep going, no matter what, and to become the person they always believed I could be.