Jared K. Bryce Using Connection to Combat Marginalization I always knew I wanted to teach, but after surviving liver failure and working with a support group to stay physically and mentally healthy afterwards, I discovered that teaching alone was not my dream or goal in life. As a person intimately familiar with recovery from substance use and those who still struggle with the affliction, I understood what it was like to be marginalized and judged for a perceived lack of worth. Having always valued compassion—shaped in part by my bond with my cousin Crystal, who lived with cerebral palsy—I returned to college in the fall of 2023 searching for that same empathy in the systems and broader society around me. What I found, far too often, was its absence. As a cis white male from one of the whitest states in the nation, I took courses that opened my eyes to how society treats those who don’t fit its mold. What began as a pursuit of knowledge became a deeper mission: to foster empathy and inclusion through connection between people, a goal that led me to major in Inclusive Secondary Education with a focus on History. Initially, one of my goals was to teach at the university level and design courses exploring the history of substance use and how societies have treated those who used alcohol and drugs. I still hope to accomplish that, but it now takes second place to a more immediate goal: learning to teach so that no student is excluded from my classroom except in the most extreme circumstances. Segregating students with different needs doesn’t just deny them access—it also robs their peers of the chance to witness how capable, brilliant, and inspiring those students can be. Teachers who do this unintentionally send a mixed message, preaching inclusion while practicing exclusion. Unsurprisingly, that gap often fuels marginalization rather than connection or understanding. To me, cultivating those connections is just as essential to education as learning math, composition, or science. Inclusion is about more than access—it’s about connection. By learning how to teach students with different learning needs, I hope to influence connections between those with different backgrounds, abilities, and beliefs. As classmates learn together, they build compassion from real, shared experiences, not from abstract concepts or lessons. I want my students to understand that diversity isn’t a problem to solve, equity isn’t a zero-sum game, and that they are stronger when united. Together, their connections can help to dismantle fear, foster empathy, and hold space for each other’s stories because all their stories matter, regardless of where they come from. Each of us has a unique perspective and voice, and if I can help others to see how important those perspectives and stories are, that they should not be ignored, but embraced as essential to shaping our world, I will have made a worthy contribution to this world. The compassionate, inclusive citizens our world needs today are born in compassionate, inclusive classrooms, through connection. Our society today is divided in a terrible way, and we are disconnected from one another, resulting in marginalization and exclusion. I plan to do my part to combat this divide by creating classrooms where no student is excluded because of a disability or other special need, but this isn’t far enough. Through inclusion, I will foster connection between my students and show them that their differences and their stories are not just important, but essential—to each other, and to the world they’ll help shape. Because connection is the opposite of marginalization.

Jared K. Bryce May 23, 2025 My Dream Career: Education and Illumination Substance use and addiction have shaped human history, yet society has long misunderstood those who suffer from it. I am passionate about dismantling the misconceptions surrounding substance use, and my dream job is to teach courses on the history of human substance use, substance use disorder (SUD), and the successes and failures of SUD treatment. I want to teach at the high school and college level, but I also want to teach those in the recovery community while sharing my love of music and nature with them. Nature, music, and the recovery community keep me sober, and I am committed to passing that gift on to others. As a Recovery Coach, I have seen firsthand how outdoor activities like backpacking, snowboarding—even a simple nature walk—can provide healing for the people I work with and myself as well. Nature offers a sense of peace, serenity, and renewal, grounding us in the present moment, something many with SUD struggle with. Music, too, is a powerful tool in recovery, allowing people to express emotions while developing patience, humility, and discipline—all key components of healthy coping strategies. These qualities are crucial to living a sober life, yet for those with SUD, they require practice. Many of us struggle with instant gratification and isolation, but learning to play music with others builds both resilience and strong connections. My dream of teaching extends these connections beyond recovery, helping bridge understanding between those in and outside the recovery community. Substance use and addiction have been part of human history since ancient Egypt, and historically, people with SUD have been treated as insane or criminal. Science shows SUD is not a moral failure, and medical intervention—not criminalization or imprisonment—is what prevents further substance use and related crimes. In recent years, social stigma has begun to lessen thanks to new discoveries, but further education on the history of substance use and how people have been successfully treated is necessary to reduce it further. Educating both the recovery community and the broader public—while fostering healthier communities and helping people seeking support—shows our neighbors and peers what we in the recovery field already know: it is impossible to change the past, but we can make a better future. This scholarship would help me further my mission of supporting recovery efforts locally and statewide. School is expensive but learning how to educate those with diverse learning needs is essential because a safer, healthier community requires inclusion for all. This scholarship money will enable me to continue my education while also increasing my ability to volunteer. Financial need has forced me to reduce my volunteer hours as a Recovery Coach, but additional scholarship support would help me devote even more energy to my goals, both in the classroom and in the local community. My dream job is to educate others about the history of substance use and addiction while also showing people new to recovery how healing music and being active outdoors can be. By working with those in and out of recovery, I can help to build a better, safer community for everybody. SUD nearly cost me my life, but recovery has given me another chance—an opportunity I feel obligated to pay forward. I have always wanted to teach, and I feel my purpose in life today is to demonstrate that people with substance use disorder can recover, and we are worth it.

The greatest thing to ever happen to me was complete liver failure, compounded by acute encephalopathy and a ruptured blood vessel in my throat. I didn't know this at the time, of course; I didn't even know it had happened until I woke up in a strange hospital and some doctors told me I needed a liver transplant. I had a choice to make: drink again and shuffle off the old mortal coil, or make one final attempt at leaving the bottle behind me for good. I chose the latter, and haven't had a drink since September 26, 2021. Alcohol isn't the problem: it's the solution, but it hadn't solved anything for me in years. Being without it frightened me, but soon, I discovered that I didn't need alcohol to enjoy my life. My first year sober proved me capable of immense resilience and perseverance, a lesson learned with difficulty. The liver controls one hundred tasks in the human body, and mine couldn't do several of them. This caused liters of fluid to accumulate inside my torso, rearranging my internal organs until I had a procedure to suck out the fluid. It was a great weight loss program, given that each liter weighed a little over two pounds and most sessions saw at least ten liters drained off, but having to go through this twice a week for months was trying and dangerous. Eventually I had surgery to place a TIPS (trans-jugular intrahepatic portosystemic shunt) through my liver to prevent the buildup. Before, I couldn't walk for more than ten minutes at a time before needing to rest. Working out was practically impossible, and just eating was a chore because I constantly felt like an overinflated beachball. After the surgery, however, everything changed. Within four months the fluid had stopped accumulating and only the fluid behind my right lung needed to be extracted. The doctor forced me to reinflate the lung myself, and the pain was excruciating, but I just kept reminding myself that this was the last one. When I left the hospital after that procedure, suddenly, I felt like I could run again. I went for a three mile walk that evening and didn't stop to rest once. I was able to play with the family dog again, and I felt like a new person. As long as I didn't drink and listened to my doctors, physically I would be fine, but something was missing: my dreams of teaching. I had given up on ever returning to college, but now, that dream seemed within reach once again, and I was more determined than ever to make it a reality. I got a part-time job, paid off all of my debts and bought a vehicle, and then I applied to CCV again. I was behind on credits, hadn't written an essay or done complicated math for years, and would be on academic probation, but I was enrolled. In all four semesters at CCV, my lowest grade was an A in Statistics, my weakest subject. I am just as determined today at VTSU, and have not persevered through everything to give up now. I will have end-stage liver disease and encephalopathy until I get a new liver, but I refuse to let it hold me back. Whether I get a transplant or not, I am still grateful to be disabled because it helped me see that I didn't have to waste my life. My dreams weren't as far away as I had thought, and every day I wake up, they are getting closer to fruition.