Growing up in a small studio apartment in Downtown Los Angeles with my mother and three sisters, college did not always feel like something that was meant for someone like me. My mother worked incredibly hard to provide for four daughters, and although we did not have much financially, she taught me the value of perseverance. I carry those lessons with me today as a first-generation Mexican-American student at UCLA, a mother, and a community advocate. Getting to UCLA was never a straight path. I am a nontraditional student, which means I did not have the opportunity to organize my life entirely around school. I have pursued my education while raising my children, managing financial hardship, finding childcare, caring for my family, and handling responsibilities that do not disappear when I have an assignment or exam. There have been many moments when continuing my education felt overwhelming, but I have never lost sight of what graduating could mean for my family. My immediate goal is to earn my bachelor's degree in Sociology from UCLA. After graduation, I plan to pursue a Master of Social Work and become a social worker serving children, families, parenting students, and underserved communities. This goal is deeply personal to me because I understand what it feels like to navigate systems that were not necessarily created with families like mine in mind. I do not want to simply earn a degree and move forward with my own life. I want to use what I learn to make those systems easier to navigate for the people coming behind me. I have already started doing that work at UCLA. I currently serve as Chair of Bruin Parenting Scholars, where I advocate for student parents and help build community and connect families with resources. I understand their experiences because many of them are also my experiences. I know what it is like to worry about childcare, food, finances, and your children's needs while trying to remain focused academically. Serving this community has confirmed that advocacy is not simply something I am interested in, it is what I want to dedicate my future to. Receiving this scholarship would bring me closer to that future by relieving some of the financial pressure I carry as a parenting student. When resources are limited, even relatively small educational expenses matter because that money is also competing with groceries, transportation, childcare, and household necessities. Financial support gives me more than money toward college; it gives me breathing room to focus on succeeding academically and preparing for graduate school. I came from a small studio apartment where my mother worked tirelessly to give four daughters everything she could. Today, I walk across UCLA's campus carrying her sacrifices with me. Tomorrow, I hope to walk across the graduation stage carrying those sacrifices, my children, and an entire community in my heart. My goal is not simply to change my own future. It is to use my education to help change what is possible for other families too.

I grew up in a small studio apartment in Downtown Los Angeles with my mother and three sisters. There was not much space, privacy, or money, but it was home. Four girls shared what little space we had while my mother worked incredibly hard to keep our family going. Some of my earliest lessons about perseverance did not come from a classroom. They came from watching my mother figure out how to make something out of very little. Financial hardship was simply part of our reality. Growing up low-income meant understanding from a young age that money affected nearly every decision our family made. My mother could not give us everything, but I watched her work and sacrifice to make sure we had what we needed. Looking back, I understand how much she carried and how often she probably went without so her daughters would not have to. Those experiences shaped the woman and mother I am today. My road to higher education has not been straight or traditional. As a first-generation Mexican-American student, I have had to learn how to navigate college while simultaneously navigating adulthood, motherhood, financial responsibilities, and family. There was never a moment when life stopped so I could simply focus on school. I learned to pursue my education alongside everything else. In 2025, I experienced one of my greatest triumphs when I was accepted to UCLA as a transfer student. I thought about the little girl growing up with her three sisters in that studio apartment in Downtown Los Angeles. I thought about my mother and everything she sacrificed. Most importantly, I thought about my own children and what it would mean for them to watch their mother become a UCLA graduate. Today, I am not only a student at UCLA; I serve as Chair of Bruin Parenting Scholars, where I advocate for parenting students and their families. This work is personal to me. I understand what it means to pursue an education while worrying about childcare, groceries, bills, and whether there will be enough money to make it through another month. My circumstances have made me determined not only to succeed, but to reach back and help others succeed with me. My dream is to earn my bachelor's degree in Sociology and continue my education by pursuing a Master of Social Work. I want to dedicate my career to children, families, parenting students, and underserved communities because I come from the communities I hope to serve. Receiving this scholarship would provide financial relief, but its impact would extend far beyond me. It would allow me to continue pursuing my education with greater stability while caring for my children and serving my UCLA community. My mother worked incredibly hard so her four daughters could have opportunities beyond the circumstances we were born into. Now, my children are watching me do the same. I cannot change the financial hardships that shaped my childhood, but I can change what comes next. I want my children to understand that we can honor where we came from without allowing it to determine how far we can go. My journey from that small studio in Downtown Los Angeles to UCLA is proof of that.

That timeline makes the story much stronger. Your daughter was born in 2023, and when you were accepted to UCLA in 2025, you were still in the thick of postpartum depression. So UCLA wasn't something that happened after everything got better—you achieved that milestone while actively struggling. I’d make that the emotional center. When I gave birth to my youngest daughter in 2023, I expected the exhaustion and challenges that come with having a new baby. What I was not prepared for was postpartum depression. During a time that was supposed to be filled with happiness, I found myself struggling internally while still having to be everything my family needed me to be. As a mother, life did not stop because I was struggling. My children still needed meals, affection, appointments, clean clothes, and a present mother. My family still had responsibilities, and I still had dreams of my own. From the outside, I was functioning. Inside, there were days when simply getting through everything expected of me required more strength than anyone around me could see. What makes my story especially meaningful to me is that I did not wait until my mental health was perfect to continue pursuing my education. In 2025, while still in the thick of my postpartum experience, I received my acceptance to UCLA as a transfer student. I will never forget what that acceptance represented. I was a first-generation, Mexican-American mother who had continued working toward higher education while experiencing one of the most emotionally difficult periods of my life. UCLA did not accept a version of me who had everything figured out. I earned my place there while raising my children, managing responsibilities at home, attending school, and quietly learning how to take care of my mental health. Since transferring, those responsibilities have not disappeared. I have had to balance motherhood, childcare, finances, family responsibilities, assignments, exams, and my mental well-being. There are nights when my schoolwork begins after my responsibilities as a mother are finished. There are mornings when I have to show up academically regardless of what happened at home the night before. Through this experience, I have learned that resilience does not always look extraordinary. Sometimes it simply looks like continuing. My experience with postpartum depression has also shaped my future. I am pursuing my bachelor's degree in Sociology, and my goal is to earn a Master of Social Work. I want to advocate for children, parents, and families who are navigating systems that do not always understand the complexity of their lives. I especially understand how easily mothers can become invisible while everyone focuses on whether the children and household are okay. Receiving the Elizabeth Schalk Memorial Scholarship would relieve some of the financial pressure of pursuing higher education while raising my children, allowing me to continue moving toward my degree and graduate education. Most importantly, my experience has taught me that mental illness does not erase a person's dreams, abilities, or potential. In one of the hardest seasons of my life, I was still capable of becoming a UCLA student. Postpartum depression will always be part of my story, but so will perseverance. I want my children to someday understand that their mother struggled, sought a better future anyway, and kept going. I hope to use everything I have experienced to become the kind of social worker who sees the person behind the struggle and reminds families that they deserve support.

Being a first-generation college student means learning how to navigate a road while I am already walking on it. There was no blueprint handed to me for higher education and no straight and narrow path that I could simply follow. My journey has had many layers. I am a Mexican-American mother, a nontraditional student, and someone who has had to pursue an education while raising children, managing financial responsibilities, and handling the everyday challenges of life. Through all of it, I have remained determined to finish what I started. My children are at the center of that determination. They are watching me navigate a system that was not necessarily designed for students like me—students who cannot separate being a student from being a parent, provider, and advocate. They see the late nights, the assignments, the stress, and the moments when I have to figure things out as I go. They also see me get back up and continue. There have been times when balancing motherhood and college has felt almost impossible. Childcare does not always align with class schedules. Financial responsibilities do not disappear because I have an exam. My children still need their mother when I have deadlines, and life does not stop when a paper is due. I have learned to study around my children's schedules, advocate for myself, ask questions, seek resources, and keep moving even when I am exhausted. Those experiences have taught me that resilience is not about having everything together. Sometimes resilience is opening your laptop after everyone has gone to sleep because that is the only quiet time you have. It is showing up when quitting would be easier. Being first-generation also means my education will not end with me. Every system I learn to navigate becomes knowledge I can pass down to my children. When it is their turn to apply to college, understand financial aid, choose classes, or question whether they belong, they will have something I did not always have: someone who can say, “I have been through this. Let me help you.” My dream is to earn my bachelor's degree in Sociology and pursue a Master of Social Work. I want to dedicate my career to advocating for children, families, parenting students, and underserved communities. My own experiences have shown me how powerful it can be when someone feels seen and supported rather than forgotten by a system. This scholarship would help relieve some of the financial pressure that comes with pursuing higher education while raising a family. It would allow me to focus more of my energy on completing my education and creating stability for my children. When I graduate, I will not walk across that stage alone. My children will be walking with me in everything that moment represents. I want them to know that we can be the first without being the last. I am building a path that I hope will be easier for them to walk someday.

Being a first-generation Mexican-American college graduate means so much more to me than earning a degree. It represents hard work, sacrifice, resilience, and the decision to keep moving forward even when the path has never been straight or simple. As a first-generation and nontraditional college student, I have learned that there is no perfectly built path for students like me. There are many layers we have to overcome while still living our everyday lives. We do not get to put everything else on pause while we pursue an education. Life continues, and somehow, we learn to continue with it. For me, pursuing higher education has meant being a student while also being a mother, wife, advocate, and provider. I have children who depend on me and, more importantly, children who are watching me. They see the long nights, the homework, the stress, the moments when I am exhausted, and the mornings when I still get up and keep going. They may not completely understand what it takes for me to be in college right now, but one day they will. I hope they will look back and understand that everything I did was also for them. Being Mexican-American adds another layer of meaning to this journey. I come from a community where our families are incredibly hardworking, yet higher education has not always felt accessible or designed with us in mind. Being the first means entering spaces without always knowing the language of those spaces or having someone in your immediate family who can tell you exactly what to do next. Sometimes you learn through mistakes. Sometimes you have to ask questions you are embarrassed to ask. Sometimes you have to advocate for yourself when it would be easier to stay quiet. You learn how to navigate systems while simultaneously trying to succeed within them. That experience has made me passionate about graduating because I know my education will not end with me. My children are growing up watching their mother navigate a system that was not necessarily built with parenting students or families like ours at the center. Because I am going through it first, I am learning things that I will someday be able to teach them. When it is their turn to apply to college, understand financial aid, choose classes, communicate with professors, seek resources, or simply question whether they belong, I want to be there. I want to tell them, “I have been here before. Let me help you.” That may be one of the greatest gifts my education can give my children. There have been many moments when finishing college would have been easier to postpone. As a nontraditional student, there are responsibilities that do not disappear because I have an assignment due or an exam the next morning. My children still need their mother. Bills still have to be paid. Family responsibilities still exist. Life still happens. I have had to learn how to carry multiple responsibilities at once without losing sight of why I started. Being a first-generation Mexican-American college graduate means becoming the person I once needed. It means changing what is possible within my family and showing my children that their circumstances do not determine the limits of their future. Most importantly, it means that when it is their turn, they will not have to navigate higher education completely on their own.

At 18 years old, I began community college with dreams of earning a degree and building a better future. Like many first-generation students, I entered higher education without a roadmap. I carried ambition, but I also carried responsibilities that made pursuing college far more complicated than I had imagined. Shortly after beginning college, life forced me to make difficult choices. My family faced severe financial hardship, housing instability, and food insecurity. As the oldest daughter, I felt a deep responsibility to help support my family as we worked to overcome homelessness. Survival became the priority, and my education was placed on hold. Eventually, I flunked out of college, not because I lacked ability, but because I was navigating circumstances much larger than myself. For years, I carried the weight of that experience. I questioned whether higher education was still possible for someone like me. Over time, life brought new responsibilities, including motherhood. Becoming a parent transformed my perspective and strengthened my determination. I knew I wanted to create a different future not only for myself, but for my children. In 2023, after a significant educational gap, I made the decision to return to community college. Returning was not easy. I was balancing academics, parenting, financial hardship, and the responsibilities of everyday life. But this time, I returned with purpose, resilience, and a clear vision of what education meant for me. Education became more than personal achievement, it became a tool for advocacy, empowerment, and generational change. Today, I am a transfer student at University of California, Los Angeles pursuing a degree in Sociology. As Chair of Bruin Parenting Scholars, I advocate for parenting students and work to create spaces rooted in equity, belonging, and support. My leadership and community involvement have shown me that student success requires more than determination; it also requires access, mentorship, and systems that recognize students’ lived realities. I plan to inspire other first-generation students by being honest about my journey. Too often, students believe setbacks mean failure or that delayed paths are lesser paths. My story challenges that belief. I want first-generation students, especially student parents, low-income students, and nontraditional students, to understand that their struggles do not define their potential. I hope to show others that resilience can coexist with hardship, and success does not require a perfect path. Sometimes the most meaningful journeys are the ones built through perseverance. My long-term goal is to pursue a Master of Social Work and build a career serving children and families through advocacy, community care, and systems change. I want to continue uplifting underserved communities and proving that higher education can transform not only individual lives, but entire generations.