Hello to whoever might be reading this. My name is Jedidiah Akaya, and I come from a small town in the Southwest Region of a country called Cameroon. Although I was born in the United States, I moved to Cameroon at the age of two and spent the next eleven years of my life there. I returned to the U.S. at thirteen and have been living here ever since. Growing up in an African household, I was raised with the mindset that hard work, discipline, and perseverance are key to success. That mindset has shaped who I am today. When I grow up, I aspire to become an anesthesiologist. Pursuing a career in healthcare honestly intimidates me at times—especially the thought of being around blood or witnessing surgeries. But I believe courage isn’t the absence of fear, it’s the willingness to keep going despite it. I’m committed to this path because I want to help people and contribute to something that truly matters. In addition to medicine, I’m also passionate about entrepreneurship and creativity. One day, I hope to start my own lemon-based deodorant company. After doing research, I discovered that many commercial deodorants contain harmful chemicals such as aluminum compounds, parabens, and synthetic fragrances—substances that may disrupt hormones, irritate the skin, or even pose long-term health risks. In contrast, lemon-based deodorants rely on natural antibacterial properties, essential oils, and gentle ingredients that support both physical and mental well-being. Using natural products near sensitive areas like the underarms—which are close to lymph nodes—could potentially improve immune health and reduce toxic buildup over time. The refreshing scent of lemon may even help reduce stress, which is also tied to longer life expectancy. Alongside my career goals in healthcare and business, I’d also love to pursue my passion for art. I especially enjoy realistic drawing, and I dream of attending a drawing school after completing my master’s in anesthesiology to further develop my skills as an artist. Art allows me to express what words often cannot, and I believe it will always be part of who I am. I believe I’m a strong candidate for this scholarship because of my unique background, determination, and strong work ethic. Growing up between two cultures has taught me resilience, adaptability, and the importance of education. I’m not only focused on one path—I’m committed to using all my talents to make a difference in people’s lives. If awarded this scholarship, I will use it to further my education and bring myself closer to the future I envision. Your support would not only help fund my studies but also fuel my ambition to serve others, build something meaningful, and live a life filled with purpose. My goal is to achieve success that brings me true happiness, have a meaningful career, and raise exceptional children, and most importantly, a beautiful motherly wife

My name is Jedidah Akaya, and I’m a senior at Hiram High School. Although I was born in the United States, I spent most of my childhood in Cameroon. At the age of two, I moved there and remained until I turned thirteen. Those formative years in Cameroon shaped my values, my understanding of the world, and my vision for the future. In Cameroon, life felt slower—but in the best way. There was time to connect with people, to talk with neighbors, to play outside, and to fully grasp what we were being taught in school. My family, especially my grandmother and aunt, played a huge role in shaping who I am. They taught me to read and write by patiently helping me spell my name on a piece of paper while sitting on our cement veranda. Their love and discipline built a foundation of confidence and self-respect that I carry with me to this day. One thing I value most about my upbringing is the sense of community. In Cameroon, people looked out for one another. Whether it was sharing food, gathering around the fire during power outages, or telling stories at night, there was always a feeling of togetherness. That environment taught me the importance of empathy, communication, and connection. These lessons have influenced the way I treat others and how I want to live my life—always with integrity, humility, and compassion. Moving back to the U.S. at thirteen was a culture shock. Life here felt fast-paced, and school often seemed more focused on deadlines than understanding. I struggled to adjust, but my Cameroonian background had already instilled in me a deep respect for education. I stayed grounded by focusing on what I love—drawing, editing videos, writing music, and watching stories unfold in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Characters like Doctor Strange inspired me not just for their powers, but for their personal growth and wisdom, traits I try to reflect in my own journey. I believe my family’s story has given me a unique lens through which I view the world. I’ve experienced life in two very different cultures, and I’ve learned how to blend them into one identity. I value peace, purpose, and strong relationships. My career aspirations aren’t just about making money—they’re about building a life of meaning. I want to be successful, but more importantly, I want to be a good father, a loving husband, and someone who uplifts others, just as my family has uplifted me. Receiving this scholarship would be an investment in that future. It would help me continue my education, grow as a leader, and honor the sacrifices my family has made. I am determined, hardworking, and fueled by a story that stretches across continents. With your support, I will keep moving forward—rooted in culture, driven by purpose, and inspired by the belief that I can build a better future not just for myself, but for those around me.

When I was three years old, I sat on a cool cement veranda in Cameroon, holding a pen for the first time. My grandmother and aunt were by my side, patiently teaching me how to spell my name. I didn’t know it then, but that small moment—filled with mistakes, repetition, and encouragement—was the beginning of my relationship with reading and writing. That moment taught me that learning takes patience, and success often begins with failure. As I grew older, I faced many challenges, but one of the hardest came when I moved to the United States. Adjusting to a completely new environment—new people, new culture, and a new education system—felt like starting over. I left behind the community I’d always known, and suddenly, I found myself quiet, withdrawn, and uncertain. For the first time in years, I didn’t know how to express myself. I stopped writing songs, lost interest in reading, and questioned where I fit in. But one day, during a quiet afternoon, I picked up Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. The story of a girl navigating her voice under the weight of her father’s control mirrored my own silent struggle. Page by page, I felt my passion return. I began journaling again, not for school, but for myself. I reconnected with the joy of writing gospel music, including a piece I wrote back home called Struggling, about holding onto faith during hard times. The more I wrote, the more I healed. That period taught me that obstacles are not just things to “get through.” They shape who you become. Moving to a new country made me question everything I knew about myself—but it also pushed me to rediscover what truly matters to me: my voice, my faith, and my creativity. I learned that even when I feel lost, I can find my way back through words. I also learned that growth often begins in the most uncomfortable moments. Now, as I pursue higher education, I carry those lessons with me. I’m no longer just writing to get a grade—I’m writing to tell my story, to inspire others, and to create a space where my voice, and the voices of others like me, are heard. My ambition isn’t only to earn a degree; it’s to use my education to empower underrepresented communities through storytelling and service. I know the path ahead won’t always be easy. But I also know that each obstacle is a chance to learn, grow, and rise stronger. Just like I did on that veranda all those years ago.

Drawing Life Into Art: My Journey With Realism and Color Art, for me, drawing is more than just a talent or a pastime—it’s a way of seeing the world, of slowing down long enough to capture the beauty that often goes unnoticed. I’ve chosen to pursue art because it allows me to tell stories that words can’t quite reach. My medium of choice is realistic colored pencil drawing, where I find power in precision, detail, and emotion. From a young age, I was drawn to realism. While other kids doodled cartoons, I found myself obsessed with drawing eyes—trying to get the reflection just right, to make them look like they were truly seeing you. That early fascination grew into a passion for capturing the real world through a lens of emotion. I love working with colored pencils because they allow me to layer, blend, and create intricate textures. Every stroke is intentional. Whether I’m drawing the delicate wrinkles in a grandparent’s smile or the vibrant sheen of light hitting a glass of water, I strive to give my subjects life and depth. My art is inspired by the ordinary made extraordinary. I often draw portraits of people in my community—family, friends, neighbors—because I believe every face tells a story worth sharing. These are people whose stories may never be in museums or magazines, but through my drawings, I hope to honor their presence and importance. I also draw objects from nature or daily life, finding quiet power in things we pass by every day. My goal is to slow people down—to make them look again, more carefully. Being a young African American artist, I also feel a deep responsibility to reflect the richness of my culture. Representation matters, and realistic drawing lets me show the beauty, complexity, and resilience of Black life in a raw and honest way. It’s not just about technique—it’s about identity and visibility. Pursuing a degree in art or art history will allow me to develop my skills further, while learning about the legacy of artists who came before me. I want to refine my technique, expand my creative vision, and gain the academic foundation to potentially teach or curate in the future. But most of all, I want to keep making art that connects—emotionally, culturally, and visually. Financially, the road to college has its challenges. My family supports my dream, but resources are limited. Receiving this scholarship would mean more time focused on developing my craft and less time worrying about whether I can afford to keep going. Mcristle Ross’s legacy—her love for art despite not being a practicing artist herself—deeply resonates with me. Like her, I see art as something vital to our spirit, something that deserves to be preserved, celebrated, and supported. If I’m selected for this scholarship, I’ll carry her memory forward with every drawing I create.

Scholarship Essay: Jedidah Akaya My name is Jedidah Akaya, and I am a senior at Hiram High School. I was born in the United States, but I spent most of my early years living in Cameroon. I moved there when I was just two years old and stayed until I turned thirteen. Growing up in Cameroon had a big impact on me and helped shape the person I am today. I often say I liked life in Cameroon more than life here in the U.S. because things felt more peaceful, and people cared more about each other. Everyone looked out for their neighbors, and there was a strong sense of respect in the community. School in Cameroon was also different. It moved at a slower pace, which gave me time to really understand what I was learning. I especially enjoyed math, and I built a strong foundation in it because we were allowed to take our time. When I moved back to the U.S., school was much faster, and I had to adjust quickly. Sometimes it feels like school here focuses more on completing assignments than making sure students really understand the material. Even though the transition was hard, I worked very hard and have done well in school. Outside of class, I enjoy doing things that let me be creative. I love playing soccer, drawing, and editing videos. Video editing is one of my favorite hobbies because I can use music, pictures, and effects to tell a story. I also enjoy watching Marvel movies. My favorite character is Doctor Strange because of how much he grows throughout his journey. He starts off proud and selfish but becomes wiser, more selfless, and focused on helping others. I also enjoy listening to music, especially songs by Tyla. Her music reminds me of my life in Cameroon and helps me feel close to home. I believe I’m a strong candidate for the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship because of my background, values, and goals. Growing up between two cultures has made me stronger, more adaptable, and more understanding of others. It has also helped me see how important education is—not just for getting a job, but for growing as a person. I’ve faced challenges, but I’ve always stayed focused and tried to be the best version of myself. My dream is to go to college, have a career that I love, and build a happy, meaningful life. I hope to one day start a family where love, respect, and kindness are the foundation. I also want to give back to my community and help other young people—especially those who feel like they don’t have many opportunities. If I am chosen for this scholarship, I will use it to help pay for college and take one step closer to reaching my goals. Your support would mean a lot to me. It would not only help me financially but also show that someone believes in my future. Thank you for taking the time to read my story and for considering me for the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship.

My love for math didn’t begin in a classroom with a textbook—it started in Cameroon, sitting at a wooden table while my uncle, whom I called Dad, carefully walked me through exercises he wrote on the board himself. I spent most of my childhood in Africa, where the teaching pace was thoughtful and deliberate, focused on helping students truly understand each concept. This was very different from what I later experienced in the U.S., where teaching often feels rushed, with teachers racing through packets just to assign more, regardless of whether students actually grasp the material. What made math special was the way my uncle taught it. From Form 1 to Form 3, he used a very structured and engaging approach. He would begin by writing several exercises on the board and giving us time to carefully observe and think about them. Then, with patience and clarity, he would explain how to solve each problem step by step, always making sure the lesson was easy to follow. After walking us through the examples, he would assign us about ten exercises. The first few questions would be very similar to what we had just learned, but the rest were challenging problems related to the topic—ones that required us to think harder and apply our knowledge creatively. This method pushed us not only to study but to understand deeply. It made math feel like an adventure, and that’s where my love began. Living with him meant that if I ever didn’t understand something, I could always go back and ask. He would explain it again, calmly and thoroughly, until I got it. In contrast, his wife—whom I respectfully called Mom—had a very different way of helping. She was intense. When my cousin and I brought her our math homework, she would start out calm, but when we struggled, she would explode: “Jedidiah, when you multiply x by 2x, what do you get?!” I’d say, “I don’t know,” and she’d scream, “When the teacher is teaching, where do you keep your brain, ehhh?!” I often cried, while my cousin pretended to go to the bathroom just to cry privately. Even though she was tough, I still learned a lot. My uncle’s calm teaching and her strictness helped me improve and enjoy math. That’s why I love math—not just because I’m good at it, but because of how it taught me to grow.

“I’m sorry that I’m not enough, maybe I’m just not as tough.” – Olivia Rodrigo, “Logical” This lyric from Olivia Rodrigo’s song “Logical” really speaks to me. The first time I heard it, I felt like she was talking about my life. Sometimes, being a teenager feels really hard. You’re expected to be strong and have everything figured out, but inside, you might feel confused, sad, or not good enough. Olivia’s words made me feel seen and understood. I’ve had many moments when I felt like I wasn’t enough—like I wasn’t smart enough, brave enough, or good enough to handle what life threw at me. I’ve tried to keep smiling and pushing forward, but deep down, I’ve struggled with self-doubt. Hearing Olivia sing that she also feels like this made me feel less alone. Teenagers today deal with a lot of pressure. We’re expected to do well in school, be involved in activities, look a certain way, and still be happy. But sometimes, we’re just tired or overwhelmed. And that’s okay. Olivia’s song reminded me that it’s okay to feel things deeply and to admit when you’re hurting. Her album GUTS helped me realize that emotions aren’t something to be ashamed of. Being sensitive and emotional isn’t a weakness—it’s part of growing up. The line “maybe I’m just not as tough” hits me hard because I’ve felt that way too. But now I know that you don’t always have to be tough. It’s okay to ask for help or to take a break. Olivia Rodrigo’s music helped me understand that I don’t have to pretend to be perfect. She sings about real feelings—jealousy, sadness, anger, heartbreak—and she doesn’t hide any of it. That honesty is powerful. It taught me that it’s okay to be real about what you’re feeling. As a teenager, I’ve faced moments of rejection and disappointment. I’ve doubted myself and compared myself to others. But songs like “Logical” helped me through it. I felt like I had a friend in the music—someone who got what I was going through. Olivia’s music gave me the strength to accept my feelings and believe that I can grow through them. I also think this lyric shows what many teens feel but don’t always say out loud. We try to be strong all the time, but sometimes we’re just doing our best to get through the day. That doesn’t mean we’re weak. It just means we’re human. Listening to GUTS helped me become more confident in who I am. It taught me that I don’t need to be “enough” for everyone—I just need to be myself. It reminded me that even when life feels confusing, I’m not alone. That’s why I love GUTS and why this lyric means so much to me. It captures the truth about growing up: it’s messy, emotional, and sometimes really hard. But it’s also full of learning and finding out who you are. Olivia Rodrigo showed me that it’s okay to not have all the answers. What matters is being true to yourself and being kind to yourself, even when things are tough. Her music helped me feel stronger in my own way—and that’s something I’ll always be thankful for.

Why I’m a Fan of Wicked: Embracing My Own Gravity The first time I listened to “Defying Gravity” from Wicked, I was stunned. It wasn’t just a song—it was a declaration, a cry of selfhood, and a challenge to everything that said “you can’t.” As the powerful voice of Elphaba soared, I felt something shift inside me. Since then, Wicked has been more than just a musical to me. It’s a mirror, a mentor, and a message I carry with me every day. At its heart, Wicked is about what happens when people dare to be different in a world that demands sameness. Elphaba’s journey resonates deeply with me. As someone who has often felt out of place because of my interests, values, and even how I look, I’ve been inspired by how she stays true to herself even when misunderstood or judged. She doesn’t change to fit in—she rises above it. Her strength and resilience helped me embrace the parts of myself I once tried to hide. But it’s not just Elphaba. Wicked also showed me that growth can come from the most unlikely places—like Glinda, whose journey from popularity to purpose is just as powerful. Her transformation reminded me that who we are isn’t set in stone. We’re allowed to change, to become better, to open our eyes. The friendship between Elphaba and Glinda is one of my favorite parts of the show because it shows that true connection transcends appearances, opinions, and even fate. One of the most moving songs for me is “For Good.” It captures what I hope all of my friendships can be—impactful, meaningful, and life-changing. That line, “Because I knew you, I have been changed for good,” reminds me of the people in my life who’ve helped shape who I am—and it makes me want to be that person for someone else. It’s a song about legacy, about choosing love over bitterness, even when paths diverge. Wicked’s music is unforgettable, yes—but it’s what the music says that truly stays with me. Every lyric is a lesson. Every character arc is a journey I feel part of. As I prepare for college and adulthood, I carry Wicked’s core themes with me: the courage to be myself, the importance of empathy, and the power of standing up for what’s right—even when it’s unpopular. The upcoming movie starring Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande has only deepened my excitement. Seeing these talented women bring Elphaba and Glinda to the big screen will introduce Wicked to a new generation, and I’m thrilled to be part of the community that keeps its magic alive. It’s a reminder that stories like this never grow old—they just find new voices to sing them. I love Wicked because it tells me what the world sometimes forgets: that being different isn’t wrong. That friendship can transform lives. And that no one, no matter how “wicked” they’re labeled, is beyond understanding. It taught me that I don’t need to be perfect to be powerful. I just need to believe in my own gravity.

Creating Safe Spaces—Online and Off My name is [Your Name], and I am a proud member of the graduating class of 2026. I have always believed that the true measure of a person is not what they achieve alone, but how they lift others along the way. That belief has shaped both my involvement in my community and my efforts to combat bullying—whether it’s happening in school hallways or through digital screens. Growing up, I witnessed classmates suffer silently due to bullying. In middle school, I had a friend who was targeted online in group chats and anonymous social media posts. Seeing the toll it took on him deeply affected me, and it made me determined to become part of the solution. That’s why I’ve taken active roles in both peer leadership and digital advocacy at my school. As a member of our school’s Student Leadership Council, I’ve helped organize anti-bullying assemblies, “kindness week” campaigns, and peer mentorship programs. I’ve also worked with our school counselor to launch a student-run Instagram page focused on promoting positive mental health, digital safety tips, and anonymous stories of overcoming bullying. The goal is to give students tools to navigate the digital world safely—and to let anyone struggling know they’re not alone. Outside of school, I volunteer at our local youth center where I mentor younger kids through after-school programs. I help them with homework, organize games, and most importantly, build their confidence. Many of them look up to high school students, and I use that influence to show what leadership and kindness look like in action. I teach them how to stand up for themselves, report inappropriate behavior online, and support friends who may be going through tough times. When it comes to financial need, my family has always done their best to support my education, but the road ahead is challenging. My parents work hard—my mother is a home health aide, and my father is a warehouse worker—but with rising tuition costs, my dream of attending college and majoring in psychology or social work is a financial stretch. This scholarship would ease a significant burden and allow me to focus fully on pursuing a career where I can continue protecting and supporting young people. The Matthew E. Minor Awareness Foundation’s mission mirrors my own values. Like Matthew, I want to bring light to the hidden dangers that face youth in today’s world and help prevent more pain. By continuing to mentor, advocate, and educate, I hope to create a ripple effect—one kind act, one conversation, one safe space at a time. I am committed to being a leader who protects, uplifts, and defends my peers. Whether it’s by speaking up in a classroom, responding to a harmful comment online, or comforting someone who feels invisible, I will always stand on the side of compassion—and action.

A Legacy of Service and a Future of Impact Service is not something I do occasionally—it’s a fundamental part of who I am. Inspired by the strong men in my life who have dedicated themselves to uplifting others, I have always believed in using my time and energy to make a difference in my community. Whether volunteering at local food drives, mentoring younger students, or participating in mental health awareness campaigns, I aim to be present where I’m needed most. These experiences have taught me that small acts of kindness, done consistently, can create lasting change. One of the most meaningful ways I serve is through mentoring younger Black male students in my school and neighborhood. Many of them face challenges I understand firsthand—pressure, limited resources, and the need for guidance in a world that often overlooks us. I meet with them weekly, helping with homework, talking through personal struggles, or just offering an ear. It’s a responsibility I take seriously, and one that fuels my desire to pursue a career that allows me to serve on an even larger scale. I am currently pursuing a degree in human services, with a focus on mental health and substance abuse counseling. My ultimate goal is to become a licensed clinical social worker who specializes in helping underserved communities—particularly Black youth and men who are dealing with trauma, addiction, or systemic barriers. I believe that healing begins with being heard, and I want to be the voice of support and strength for those who feel silenced by their circumstances. Education is my pathway to expanding the reach of the work I already do. With the training, knowledge, and credentials that higher education will give me, I’ll be equipped not only to counsel individuals, but also to build programs and initiatives that address root causes—poverty, mental illness, and lack of opportunity. I plan to open a community-based center that offers both mental health services and mentorship programs, providing safe spaces for growth and healing. Michael Pride, Jr.’s legacy deeply resonates with me. His commitment to being there for others, even during his own struggles, is the kind of selflessness I aspire to. This scholarship in his name is more than a financial opportunity—it’s an affirmation of the path I’ve chosen and the purpose that drives me. With this support, I will be one step closer to achieving my educational and professional goals. More importantly, I’ll be one step closer to returning that support to others who need it most. I want to help build a future where young Black men know they are seen, valued, and capable of greatness—just as I was fortunate enough to discover for myself.

Making a Positive Impact as an Educator As an aspiring educator, I see teaching not just as a profession but as a powerful platform for transformation. I believe education is one of the most effective ways to shape a better future—by inspiring critical thinking, empathy, and resilience in young people. My goal is to create a classroom where every student feels seen, heard, and valued, regardless of their background or learning style. To make a lasting, positive impact, I plan to focus on three core strategies: building strong relationships, creating a safe and inclusive environment, and encouraging critical thinking that connects learning to real-world issues. First, I believe that strong relationships are the foundation of effective teaching. I will take the time to get to know my students—their interests, strengths, and challenges—so I can personalize my approach to help each of them thrive. When students feel respected and understood, they are more likely to engage deeply with the material and take ownership of their learning. Second, I am committed to cultivating a safe and inclusive environment. In my classroom, every student will be encouraged to express themselves and explore new ideas without fear of judgment. I plan to use diverse learning materials that reflect a variety of cultures, perspectives, and experiences. By encouraging respectful discussion and collaboration, I hope to help students build empathy and learn how to work together across differences. Finally, I want my students to be more than just good test-takers—I want them to become thoughtful, curious, and active participants in the world around them. I will design lessons that challenge them to think critically, ask questions, and connect what they learn to real-life situations. Whether we’re analyzing a historical event, a literary theme, or a social issue, I want my students to understand how their education empowers them to make a difference. Ultimately, I will strive to lead by example—modeling curiosity, compassion, and integrity in everything I do. I believe that teaching is not just about imparting knowledge, but about shaping character and creating opportunities. Through meaningful connections, inclusive practices, and thought-provoking learning experiences, I hope to empower my students not only to succeed in school, but to grow into kind, confident, and capable individuals. Education is more than a career to me—it’s a calling. I am excited to dedicate my life to helping young people become the best versions of themselves, and in doing so, contribute to a brighter and more just future for all.

Why am I the most Gen Z person alive? Let’s start with the fact that I’ve written this in my Notes app at 2:07 a.m., mid-anxiety spiral, while simultaneously scrolling TikTok, replying to 3 different Snap streaks, and wondering if I should start a podcast no one asked for. I speak fluent meme. My primary love language is sending oddly specific TikToks with captions like “us fr” and “this is literally me.” I could be sobbing about existential dread one minute and laughing at a capybara wearing sunglasses the next—emotional whiplash is my cardio. I’ve got 32 Chrome tabs open, 17 unread messages, and a camera roll filled with blurry sunsets and screenshots of tweets that made me feel something. My BeReal notifications are like a siren call—I will drop everything, even if I’m just laying in bed pretending to be productive, which is 90% of the time. I romanticize my life with Spotify playlists that have titles like “main character energy but delusional” and “crying in a cool way,” and yes, I do communicate exclusively through them. If my music taste doesn’t scream “identity crisis,” am I even Gen Z? In the end, being Gen Z means embracing chaos, humor, vulnerability, and finding meaning in the most random corners of the internet. So yeah, I might not have it all figured out, but if there’s one thing I do know—it’s that I’m unapologetically, undeniably, chronically online Gen Z.