Ever since I was young, I've always had an inkling that I would be a teacher one day. While in school, I often watched the teachers instructing and wondered, "What if I did that?" Even when I was telling myself that I would pursue a different field, I still had that urge in the back of my mind, and eventually, I decided to go into college with a major in Secondary Education - English. Now that I'm older and working for my degree, a new desire has blossomed in me; the desire to build the best possible classroom I can. My vision for the classroom I hope to build is productive and welcoming to all students. Every student deserves to feel valued, supported, and empowered. As an autistic woman, I understand feeling out of place. My top priority is fostering a sense of community and understanding within the classroom, where open communication, collaboration, and respect for diverse perspectives will be encouraged. I will also do everything I can to promote diverse voices in my material to show my students that all backgrounds are valid and important, all the while making sure that work is being done and lessons are being learned. However, building an amazing classroom isn't just about promoting diversity and pushing the evolution of the curriculum; it's also about promoting the skills that my future students need. Teaching is not just about imparting knowledge; it's also about fostering critical thinking skills and problem-solving abilities. Teaching English is more important than people think - it is not solely about reading and answering pointless questions. It's about speaking, listening, self-expression, and media literacy, which is more important than ever. I will challenge my students to think deeply about the media they consume, question assumptions, and explore different viewpoints. Building a productive and welcoming classroom is not just a goal for me; it is a lifelong commitment. I want to spend the rest of my life growing as a teacher and learning from my mistakes. I want to raise the bar, surpass it, and repeat that cycle. I believe that self-improvement is a must in any and every career one can think of, and I want to find ways to educate the next generation to the best of my ability to help my students become expressive, media-literate young adults with great critical thinking skills. My future career isn't just a chance for me to talk about a topic I love all day, it's a chance to build something completely of my own. It's an opportunity for me to grow personally, improve my own life, and contribute positively to my community. The classroom that I look forward to building will make students feel valued, supported, and recognized, and will assist them in becoming intelligent young adults who are ready to take on the world. Through my future career in education, I hope to make a positive impact on my students, their families, and my community as a whole.

The foundation of my life is mental health, which cannot be neglected. Strong mental health positively affects my education and personal life. Being in a positive mental state makes me feel capable of taking on any challenge, but negative experiences and struggles with autism, anxiety, and self-doubt have negatively impacted my ability to live my best life. I remember my late middle school and early high school years as if they were yesterday. That time in my life was the most anxiety-inducing period I have ever experienced. Every single day felt like an uphill battle. What's worse, I couldn't confide in anyone about it. I feared that people would dismiss my anxiety as irrational – as if that was news to me. Due to my autism, I found it challenging to express myself to others, which made it even harder to seek support. This led me to suffer in silence, constantly reassuring myself that things would get better one day. My anxiety made me feel isolated, lonely, and even depressed. I wasn't behaving like my usual self. My personal life took a turn for the worse – communicating with my family became difficult, I felt like a fraud around my friends, and I struggled to engage in activities I once loved. Furthermore, my academic performance, something I had always excelled in, began to suffer as well. My anxiety was so severe that it affected my ability to focus in class. While the teacher was speaking, all I could think about was my fear and nervousness. When given assignments and tests, I would freeze. I had always excelled academically and received praise for it, but now I struggled, which damaged my self-esteem further. Dealing with autism, low self-esteem, and crippling anxiety, caused my personal and academic life to suffer. Over time, I overcame my anxiety through perseverance and distraction and learned a great deal about mental health and myself. The main takeaway from that difficult time in my life was that strong mental health isn't something that one gains in an instant; it takes commitment. Maintaining this well-being requires a commitment to self-care with multiple methods. One practice I find valuable is daily affirmations. Repeating positive statements grounds me and fosters a more optimistic mindset. I also prioritize self-compassion. Allowing myself to make mistakes without harsh self-criticism creates a safe space for personal growth. Adopting a growth mindset over a fixed one helps me to understand that making mistakes is human and opens the door for development and improvement. This kindness towards myself fuels my motivation and prevents negative thoughts from spiraling. Seeking familiar and unfamiliar sources to talk to is also a part of my life; talking openly with trusted friends and family provides a safe space free of judgment and fear to share challenges and receive encouragement. I also actively seek therapy. The check-ins allow me to explore deeper emotions, identify unhealthy thought patterns, and develop coping mechanisms for stressful situations that my loved ones can't provide. The benefits of prioritizing mental health are immeasurable. It empowers me to have the best personal life and academic record possible. Mental health not only contributes to my physical well-being, but it also has a priceless connection to my educational pursuits and personal life. I firmly believe that if I hadn't stood up for myself and tried my absolute hardest to persevere through the roughest patch of my life, and find ways to stay mentally healthy afterward, I don't know where I would be. Thank you so much for reading and considering me as a potential winner.

The world is like a beautiful symphony of sights, sounds, and sensations for many, but for me, as someone on the autism spectrum, it can feel like a chaotic cacophony. Autism isn't the same for everyone; it's a spectrum of differences that affect how we interact, communicate, and process the world around us. Each person's experience is unique. My autism has truly shaped how I understand the world, sometimes making it overwhelming, but ultimately leading me to a deeper understanding of mental health in myself and others. There have been times when I've felt like nobody could understand me, but I'm learning and growing every day despite my struggles growing up. As I was growing up, social interactions were a mystery to me. Whenever I made a joke, I was often met with glares and confused looks instead of laughter or smiles. Even though I used sarcasm like everyone else, it was looked down upon, despite others using it too. Although I was able to make friends, I couldn't shake the feeling of being strangely isolated from everyone else. It often felt like I was being punished for just being myself. For instance, I was one of only two girls in my whole grade who went to counseling. When I was young, I couldn't understand why I had to see a counselor when no one else did, and it felt unfair. The kids around me would innocently laugh and talk about how weird I was and how funny they found it. My tic disorder was labeled as just me being "weird old Jenna." As I got older and was diagnosed, some kids started calling me "screwed up" or "psychopath" even though I didn't demonstrate traits of either. Although they were just joking, I still found it to be rude towards those who struggle with disorders. Back then, I didn't mind much, and I still don't, but it's interesting to reflect on these experiences. All of these encounters ingrained in me a profound sense of "otherness." The revelation of my autism diagnosis in late childhood brought an unexpected sense of relief. The term "Asperger's Syndrome," though outdated, provided an explanation for the way I perceived the world compared to others. While I dislike hearing that term now, it at least helped me at the time. It gave me a deeper understanding of myself and allowed me to make sense of my tics, impulsive tendencies, unique humor, attention to detail, varied passions, struggles with eye contact, and need for routine. Conversations with my mom about my condition turned into a game of recognizing which quirks were just my autism being displayed. However, this journey of self-discovery didn't just benefit me; it also cultivated empathy for others. I've experienced moments in my life when I resented my condition. I used to feel like nobody could truly understand what I was going through, and that others didn't have to deal with the same challenges I faced. I would have thoughts of "no one understands" or "these people should be happy for their minds. They don't have to deal with what I have." It was hard for me to see people carry on happily without having to go through counseling or being singled out in public for saying the wrong thing. But as I got older, I began to hear about other people's experiences. I realized that mental health challenges aren't unique to autism; many people deal with anxiety, depression, and other conditions. Although the details differ, the struggle for peace of mind and mental stability is something we all share. This new understanding allowed me to approach situations with more compassion. I learned to see tearful confessions about anxiety or tough times in life not as overreactions but as relatable experiences. When I noticed a classmate's bouncing leg, I didn't see it as disruptive behavior anymore, but rather as a sign of a struggle with ADD. My journey with autism has opened my eyes to the invisible battles many people face every day. The change in my perspective has really motivated me to prioritize creating a sense of belonging in my future classroom. As I pursue my dream of becoming a teacher, I am committed to ensuring that students feel heard and validated, rather than ignored or ridiculed, when they face challenges. My aim is to foster an environment where everyone feels safe to open up about their struggles. By introducing stories that showcase characters with disabilities or those facing difficulties, I hope to help students empathize with others' experiences and perhaps even recognize themselves in these characters. My heart goes out to those who, like me, have experienced the ups and downs of living with autism. It's presented its fair share of obstacles and social complexities, but it's also granted me a profound understanding of the intricate nature of human existence and fostered within me a deep sense of compassion and individuality. What was once a struggle to accept has become a part of me that I wholeheartedly embrace. I am autistic, and I wouldn't change that for anything. My personal journey has inspired me to dedicate myself to supporting others who share similar experiences, striving to build a bridge between comprehension and inclusion. While the world may appear serene to some and chaotic to others, I believe that with representation and empathy, we can all learn to navigate life's challenges together and share in the laughter along the way.

If you can believe it, I only just went to my first concert yesterday. Weird, I know, especially considering I turn twenty this year, but living in a rural area for most of my life makes it hard to find concerts to attend, especially since it seems like my favorites never seem to turn up near me. However, back in January, my favorite female musician, Avril Lavigne, posted something on Instagram - she was coming to Darien Lake in August, which is only an hour and a half away from me! Words couldn't describe how excited I was, and I got even more excited when my mom agreed to take me. When the day finally arrived, I was a bit nervous, but one thing was for sure - I knew I would have fun and make memories, and boy, did I ever. The first unforgettable memory from yesterday was during the opening act, where two bands, "girlfriends" and "Simple Plan," performed (Scooby-Doo intro, anyone?). I wasn't familiar with these acts, but I was enjoying the atmosphere along with 20,000 other attendees. However, my sensitive ears were bothering me, probably due to my autism. I didn't have anything to block out the loud noise; I had earbuds, but I didn't want to drain their battery as I needed them for the journey back home. So, whenever the fans cheered loudly and the music was blasting, I had to plug my ears. After doing this a few times, someone asked me if I wanted some earplugs. It was a woman next to me, and she offered me green earplugs. I was astonished by her kindness. I accepted the earplugs and wore them, and they were a lifesaver! I could still hear the music just fine, and my ears didn't hurt for the rest of the night. This act of kindness will always stay with me. It's truly heartwarming how someone can go out of their way to help a stranger. Fortunately, that wasn't the only great memory from that night. After an hour for the opening act, Avril finally took the stage, and it was truly amazing. I adored all the songs she performed, and the atmosphere was electric. I sang and danced to "Girlfriend", "Smile", "Complicated", "Don't Tell Me", and "My Happy Ending" along with everyone, creating unforgettable memories. When "Sk8r Boi" played, everyone joined in, and as the final chorus hit, red and white confetti rained down, adding a magical touch to the already sensational performance. I tried to catch as much confetti as I could during this memorable moment, cherishing the carefree and joyous environment. This whimsical and fun moment remains my favorite memory from that concert. Avril's performance at Darien Lake was my first-ever concert, and I don't regret it. I had so much fun listening to my favorite female singer, hearing the band play, and enjoying the fun, carefree atmosphere around me. I had enjoyable and endearing memories, with the confetti raining down and the woman offering me her earplugs. It was a night I will never forget, and I'm so thankful for that experience. Attending a concert may have taken a long time for me to do, but it was definitely worth the wait.

Teaching is undeniably one of the most crucial professions in the modern world. It requires dedication, passion, and knowledge to effectively educate a group of individuals about a particular subject, whether it be solving a math problem or, in my case, expressing the themes and purpose of a story. Most teachers are driven not only by their love for teaching but also by their deep affection for the subject matter. I can personally relate to this sentiment. I vividly recall possessing a well-worn copy of "Wonder" by R.J. Palacio during my time in elementary school. The story deeply resonated with me, particularly as an individual on the autism spectrum. I read a lot of stories as a child because I found it difficult to make friends; so, instead of finding companionship in real people, I sought that in fictional characters. I found kinship with the main character, Auggie, and his journey towards self-acceptance. The story taught me that Being different from most around you can be hard, but the people who matter will see you for you, not your disability. Despite the challenges of being different, "Wonder" served as an important book for many individuals like me. Through the guidance of some of my teachers, I have come to notice the limited diversity in the literature included in current English classes. America is such a diverse place, if you look around, you can see it becoming more diverse by the day. While classic works by old white male authors are undoubtedly valuable, I believe it's important to also include authors from diverse backgrounds such as women, the LGBT+ community, and non-white individuals. This culminates in my main goal when becoming an educator. Aspiring to be an educator, my aim is to expose my students to a wide range of viewpoints and stories so they can appreciate and learn from individuals of varied backgrounds. Ideally, all voices regardless of background should be given due consideration. I believe that students should be given the opportunity to read stories that they need to hear, which is what helped me as a child. While perfection in this world may be unattainable, I strongly believe that introducing students to an array of diverse stories and experiences can greatly enrich their perspectives and contribute to a better world.

The world was a labyrinth of social rules for me as a child, a code that I couldn't seem to crack, no matter how hard I tried or who I asked for help. Diagnosed with what was called "Asperger's Syndrome" at the time, my brain functioned differently, making conversations akin to figuring out which wire to cut on a time bomb - one mistake, and I would blow it, figuratively and literally. However, if I managed to say what was "right", I was safe. Every social interaction was a potential explosion of awkwardness, and these early struggles forged an iron grip of anxiety that would hold onto my hand for years. My attempts at connecting with peers often ended in misfires. Jokes fell flat, topics were foreign to those I conversed with, and conversations resulted in glares of confusion and awkwardness. After these social slip-ups, I felt like a failure. After these mistakes, socializing didn't seem fun, it seemed scary. The fear of these social faux pas influenced my behavior, making it increasingly difficult to open up. It felt like I was a foreigner in a country where the language was one I didn't speak - every time I tried to communicate with others, it would mostly end with me being reminded that no one got me. It was around this time that I was diagnosed with social anxiety by my school's counselor, who had already seen me for anxiety before for different reasons. While I was able to make some friends, the feeling of "otherness" made me more shut-off than others, and my hobbies reflected that. Within this isolation, a love for stories blossomed. Stories became my solace, a world where communication flowed effortlessly. It felt like I was experiencing the stories alongside the characters, and the best part was that I never had to worry about saying something wrong. I found escape in the words, the intricate plots, and the complex and lovable characters. Through books, I discovered the power of language to connect, inspire, and heal. Even though the stories and characters were fictitious, they felt so real to me. This passion ignited a desire to share storytelling with others, especially those who might be struggling as I once did. Becoming a high school English teacher is not just about imparting knowledge; it's about creating a safe space where students can explore their voices and find solace in the world of fiction. When I was in middle school, my anxiety was the worst it had ever been, and I want to be the teacher I desperately needed, someone who understands the challenges of anxiety and can offer guidance and support. Lots of students suffer silently, and while teachers aren't trained in psychology, I think being an emotional pillar to students is highly important. Pursuing a college degree is the first step towards realizing this dream. It will equip me with the knowledge and skills to become an effective educator. But more importantly, it represents a personal journey of growth and resilience. By facing my fears and pursuing my passions, I hope to inspire others to overcome their own challenges and find their voices. The labyrinth of anxiety may have once defined me, but it no longer controls my life, and the time bombs that I once dealt with have been put under control after many years. Through education and perseverance, I am determined to transform my experiences into change for others, empowering students to embrace themselves and take control of their lives, one step at a time.

The world is a vibrant symphony of sights, sounds, and sensations. Most people find it a harmonious blend, but for someone on the autism spectrum like me, it can be a cacophony. Autism isn't a one-size-fits-all experience; it's a spectrum of differences that can affect social interaction, communication, and sensory processing. My autism has shaped the way I perceive the world, sometimes making it overwhelming, but ultimately leading me to a deeper understanding of mental health in myself and others. Growing up, social interactions felt like solving a mystery. I would crack a joke, and instead of laughter, I was met with puzzled looks. Sarcasm, which everyone else seemed to use effortlessly, was often misunderstood when I used it. While I made some friends, I couldn't shake off the feeling of being isolated. It seemed like I was being penalized for just being myself. The kids around me would innocently label me as weird and laugh about it. My tic disorder was simply brushed off as me being "weird old Jenna." These experiences planted a seed of "otherness" in me. When I was diagnosed with autism in late childhood, it brought a strange sense of relief. It wasn't a cure, but an explanation. It helped me understand why I saw the world differently compared to others, and it opened the door to understanding myself. My tics, impulsive remarks, quirky humor, attention to detail, unusual passions, poor eye contact, and need for routine were all signs of my condition. Discussing my condition with my mom and recognizing all my quirks became an intriguing game for me: “Guess Which Trait of Mine is My Autism Being Displayed.” This journey wasn't just about self-discovery; it also contributed to a newfound motivation of mine. I used to resent my condition to some extent, feeling like no one understood me. But as I grew up, I learned about other people's stories. I realized that mental health challenges aren't limited to autism. Many people grapple with anxiety, depression, and various other conditions. While the specifics may differ, the struggle for peace of mind was something I could relate to. This newfound understanding fostered compassion. As I got older, I realized that I wanted to become a teacher. I also realized that, while lots of my teachers were good people, they didn't seem to understand mental health struggles in their students and how exactly to help or accommodate them. With these two revelations, a new resolve blossomed within me. This shift in perspective ignited my passion to create a sense of belonging in my future classroom. As a future educator, I want students to know that their struggles deserve to be heard, not dismissed or ridiculed. I aim to cultivate spaces where people feel at ease discussing their challenges. Perhaps with the introduction of stories featuring characters with disabilities or undergoing hardships, students can grasp different perspectives and maybe even see themselves reflected in those characters. My journey with autism has been a rollercoaster ride. It has presented challenges and social hurdles, but it has also opened my eyes to the intricacies of human experience and instilled a sense of empathy within me. What used to be a condition I resented has transformed into one that I accept. My experiences have shaped my ambition to aid those who are like me, acting as a bridge between understanding and acceptance. While the world may be a harmonious symphony for some and a cacophony for others, with representation and empathy, we can all learn to navigate the noise together, and laugh along the way.

The world often perceives me as something like a Yorkie - somewhat shy upon the first meeting, but bubbly and cheerful after warming up to someone. Yet, beneath this vibrant facade lies a history of quiet battles. Since elementary school, anxiety has been an uninvited, unwanted guest, casting dark, persistent shadows over my life. It was a silent tormentor, a tempestuous sea within, capable of transforming the sunniest day into a stormy night in a matter of seconds. Initially, anxiety manifested as a timid reluctance to speak in class or a knot in my stomach before tests started. One day, I was called into the counseling office to speak with the counselor for elementary students. I was wondered why but got my answer when the counselor told me that my teacher was concerned for me, as she noticed I was getting anxious before tests. I hadn't really noticed that this was a problem, I thought it was normal. While I still got good grades and it didn't interfere too much, as I grew older and reached seventh grade, anxiety's grip tightened. Living became a daunting challenge. The fear of judgment, of becoming someone I didn't want to be, consumed me. I became a silent sufferer, a prisoner in my own mind. However, if one wants to shine like a diamond, they have to be cut like one. With each wave of anxiety, a counterforce emerged—a determination to conquer. Hope that somehow, some way, someday, things would be different, and I could return to normalcy. I began to understand that courage isn't the absence of fear, but the ability to act despite it. I sought help, delving into the world of therapy and mindfulness techniques. These tools, combined with unwavering support from family and friends, became my arsenal in my battle. Slowly but surely, I learned to navigate the tempest within. I discovered the power of vulnerability, realizing that sharing my struggles fostered connection rather than disrespect. Fear became fuel, propelling me towards new experiences. Public speaking, once a nightmare, became a platform to express myself. I joined clubs and immersed myself in activities that took my mind off of everything. With each step outside my comfort zone, I felt a surge of triumph, a testament to my resilience. Agape love, an unconditional, selfless form of affection, has been my guide. It's the love I've received from those who stood by me, and the love I aspire to radiate towards others. By sharing my experiences, I hope to offer solace and encouragement to those grappling with similar challenges and assure them that if I can overcome anxious thoughts, so can they. I believe that everyone carries their own storms, and extending a hand of compassion can be a lifeline. My journey has instilled in me the qualities of persistence and outspokenness. During the times I was experiencing anxious and obsessive thoughts, I was convinced that I would be suffering forever, and wondered what the point in living was, but I learned that rainbows always come after rain. My experiences have helped me to help others who have also suffered. I am grateful for the adversity that has shaped me. It has transformed me from a timid child into a resilient individual, eager to make a difference. I envision a future where I can use my voice to advocate for mental health awareness and to empower others to find their own inner strength. With each step forward, I am not merely overcoming anxiety; I am becoming an example of the human spirit's ability for growth, success, and transformation.

Ever since I was a child, I've always felt a bit like an alien. Not because of the way I look or anything silly, but because of the way I am naturally. Like an actual alien coming to the planet Earth interacting with humans, my childhood was often filled with strange looks from my peers, leaving me with confusion. "What did I say?", I thought to myself. "I thought I was being funny." My life, a complex interplay of neurodivergence and resilience, has been a journey of self-discovery and adaptation. Autism, an invisible thread woven into the fabric of my life, has shaped my perspective from the earliest days. It's the lens through which I view the world, a unique filter that colors my experiences that comes with its own pros and cons. However, that's not the only mental-based struggle I have dealt with - far from it. "Why are you doing that?" a classmate asked innocently after watching me flap my hands around as we stood in line. "I don't know," I answered. "It's just something I do." My childhood was marked by the rhythmic tics that pulsed through my body, a manifestation of a tic disorder that emerged in the early years of my life. The curious stares of first-grade classmates were a harsh introduction to my "otherness". At this time, I had just moved from Ocean City, Maryland, to Avoca, New York. It was a time of isolation and culture shock, a young mind grappling with the dissonance between internal rhythm and external judgment. It was weird to me - back in Maryland, no one thought anything of my tics. Amidst the confusion, however, I found solace in the rhythm itself, a constant in a world that often felt chaotic. Maybe no one understood me, but at least I did, and that had to be good enough for me. As I navigated the tumultuous waters of adolescence, anxiety and obsessive thoughts became unwelcome companions. My experience was like slaying a three-headed dragon; I slayed the "tic" head off by being able to control it despite its presence in my life, but obsession and anxiety grew in its place. Suddenly, for whatever reason, anxious thoughts invaded my head in seventh grade, and I couldn't escape myself. Life became a battleground, each day a test of endurance. The fear of judgment, of falling short, of becoming someone I didn't want to be, cast a long shadow over my teenage years. Yet, even in the darkest hours, I clung to the belief that there was more to life than these challenges. That somehow, someday, things would get better. Luckily, life did get better. Through therapy, persistence, and the unwavering support of my family, I began to garner strength. I learned to manage my anxiety, to challenge the obsessive thoughts, and to embrace the uniqueness of my autistic perspective. The journey has been filled with setbacks and triumphs. However, it has also been a catalyst for growth, for developing resilience, empathy, and a deep understanding of others. Today, I stand at the beginning of a new chapter, armed with knowledge and hope. Have these challenges completely gone away? No, but they have shaped me into a compassionate and determined individual, and I can tackle them better than I ever have before. While I am still learning to navigate the world with mental health challenges, I am also learning to embrace it as a part of who I am. It may be hard, but it's a part of who I am, and I wouldn't want to be anyone but me.

Growing up as a child with autism, the world often felt like an intricate puzzle with missing pieces. Social cues were cryptic codes, and understanding the nuances of human interaction was a daunting challenge, often leaving me confused or wondering "what's wrong with me?" Yet, within this labyrinth of confusion, I found solace in the realm of books - an interest that was especially powerful when I was young. Among the countless stories I devoured, one stands out as a beacon of hope and understanding: R.J. Palacio's "Wonder." Auggie Pullman, the protagonist of "Wonder," is a boy with a facial difference who navigates the complexities of middle school, a feat that is especially difficult considering that he's never even gone to school before. His journey mirrored my own struggles with isolation and misunderstanding. While we don't have the same disability, I saw myself in Auggie's eyes, brimming with a desire to connect but hindered by a world that often seemed preoccupied with differences rather than similarities. The novel was a mirror reflecting my own experiences, validating my feelings and confirming that I was not alone. Seeing Auggie manage to make the most of his life while disabled, making friends and creating beautiful life experiences encouraged me, and what I assume as well, lots of other disabled youths. Palacio's masterful storytelling unveiled the profound impact of perspective. Through Auggie's eyes, I learned to look beyond the surface, to see the world through a lens of empathy. The story also shifted perspectives to other characters - Auggie's friends and family, which taught me what it must be like for my own family and friends to have me in their lives, and what those who love someone with a disability must go through as well. The novel taught me that kindness is a universal language, transcending differences. Auggie's unwavering spirit, despite the challenges he faced, instilled in me a resilience that has shaped my character. It was a powerful reminder that true beauty lies within, and that our differences are what make us unique and extraordinary. Said differences are meant to be celebrated, not mocked. This newfound understanding has ignited a passion within me to create a more inclusive and accepting world. My aspiration to become an English teacher is rooted in the belief that I can use the power of literature and representation to foster empathy, present new voices, and challenge stereotypes and assumptions. I envision a classroom where every student feels valued and heard, where diversity is celebrated, and where literature becomes a catalyst for personal growth and perspective. I aspire to create a space where students, like Auggie, can find solace and representation in the books they read. By incorporating diverse voices and perspectives into my curriculum, I hope to cultivate a generation of compassionate and open-minded individuals. I want to teach students to question their assumptions, to embrace differences, and to treat everyone with dignity and respect no matter what they look like or how they act. "Wonder" has not only shaped my personal journey but has also ignited a fire within me to make a difference. It is a testament to the power of storytelling to transform lives and touch hearts. As I embark on my educational path, I am determined to carry the lessons learned from Auggie Pullman with me. I believe that by fostering a culture of inclusivity and empathy, we can create a world where everyone feels like they truly belong.

Many people believe that environmental problems are only for the rich and famous to solve, and while I agree to an extent, I think that most people should at least try a little bit to as sustainable as they can to keep the planet safe. The weight of our actions on the world is a responsibility I take seriously. In a world grappling with the consequences of unchecked overconsumption, I believe it is imperative to make conscious choices that minimize our environmental impact. While I understand the scale of the climate crisis can feel overwhelming, I firmly believe that even small, incremental changes can contribute to a more sustainable future. One of the most tangible ways I strive to reduce my carbon footprint is through mindful consumption of everyday goods. Fast fashion, with its rampant waste and harmful production processes, has become a global issue. It's one of the highest contributors to pollution. To counter this, I have made a conscious effort to shift my shopping habits. Thrift stores have become my go-to destinations for clothing, particularly on Depop and ThredUp. Not only does this practice reduce demand for new garments and protect clothes from being thrown out when their owners no longer want them, but it also allows me to save money on clothes. By extending the lifespan of clothing and reducing the need for new production, I hope to contribute to a more sustainable fashion industry and reduce waste.   Recycling is another cornerstone of my sustainability efforts. The simple act of separating recyclables from general waste has become a routine in my household. From aluminum cans to glass bottles, I take pride in ensuring these materials are diverted from landfills and given a second life. Every single grocery store trip starts out with my mother and I stopping by the recycling machines. While it may seem like a small gesture, I believe it is a crucial step in reducing our reliance on virgin resources and the waste that plastic and aluminum can create. Energy conservation is another area where I focus my attention. Simple habits like turning off lights when leaving a room and adjusting the thermostat can make a significant difference in energy consumption. These actions not only help to reduce my carbon footprint but also contribute to lower energy bills. By being mindful of my energy usage, I hope to inspire others to adopt similar practices. While these actions may seem modest and potentially even frivolous, I believe they are essential building blocks for a more sustainable lifestyle. They represent a commitment to living in harmony with our planet and acknowledging our role in preserving it for future generations. It is important to remember that sustainability is a journey, not a destination. There is always room for improvement and new ways to reduce our impact. Ultimately, the decision to live sustainably is a personal one. It requires conscious effort, a willingness to change habits, a commitment to change, and a deep-rooted respect for the environment. By making small yet impactful choices in our daily lives, we can collectively contribute to a healthier planet and a brighter future, little by little.

"Imagine human beings living in an underground cave-like dwelling, with an entrance open to the light and a long passage stretching all the way through the cave. In this dwelling are men who have been there since childhood, their legs and necks immobilized by chains so that they can only look straight ahead, unable to turn their heads. Light is provided by a fire burning behind them at a distance. Between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised walkway, and along it a low wall built like the screens puppet-masters use to show their puppets to an audience. Imagine that behind the wall people are carrying all sorts of artifacts, including figures of men and animals made of wood and stone and raised above life size. And imagine that these people are talking as they carry the artifacts." - Plato, "Republic" This paragraph, mainly known as Plato's Allegory of the Cave, through the image and situation of the freed prisoner, illuminates the human condition as a journey of intellectual and spiritual liberation from the confines of perceived reality - said confines which can be broken through the pursuit of education. Plato's Republic offers a profound exploration of the human condition through vivid imagery and philosophical inquiry. His allegory of the cave is a quintessential example of this, presenting a representation of society and the individual's journey toward enlightenment. The chosen paragraph paints a stark picture of human existence as a state of enforced ignorance. Prisoners, chained from birth, are confined to a world where reality is nothing more than shadows. Their perception is limited to the artificial constructs projected on the cave wall, a distorted and incomplete representation of the world and the way it truly works. This imagery powerfully encapsulates the idea that our understanding of the world is often shaped by external influences, rather than by direct experiences and facts. Plato’s cave is a meticulously crafted image that is the foundation for a profound exploration of human knowledge and reality. It is a corrupted world, where perception is distorted, and truth is obscured. The prisoners, chained from birth, exist in perpetual darkness, their understanding confined to the flickering shadows cast upon the cave wall, thus dooming them to unawareness. The imagery of the cave itself is symbolic of the limitations imposed on human consciousness. It is a dark, enclosed space, suggesting a world devoid of the light that leads one to a higher intellect and understanding. The chains that bind the prisoners represent the constraints of societal norms, conditioning, and preconceived notions. The line "their legs and necks immobilized by chains so that they can only look straight ahead, unable to turn their heads" demonstrates this. These bonds prevent them from metaphorically symbolizing their inability to question the status quo, gain new, valuable knowledge, or seek alternative perspectives, thus leading them down the road of listlessness and ignorance. Moreover, the prisoners' confinement to a low-level realm underscores the idea that human existence is often rooted in ignorance and illusion. The fire, casting its artificial light on the cave wall, represents the sources of knowledge and information available to the prisoners. While it illuminates their world, it also creates distorted shadows, suggesting that even the most seemingly reliable sources of information can be misleading. It can also indicate that, while information should be readily available to all, certain interpretations of facts and figures can be misinterpreted when a lack of explanation or reasoning is present. The artifacts carried behind the wall and their projected shadows further complicate and stain the prisoners' perception of reality. These shadows are the only objects of their knowledge, and they mistake them for the true forms of reality and the world. The artifacts are simply animals and men made of stone and wood, but with no one to explain what they are or what they mean, the prisoners are forced to remain in the dark about the truth. This highlights the deceptive nature of appearances and how easily people can be misled by what they see - the prisoners' lack of knowledge being exploited to push them further into the depths of inexperience. By establishing this stark and oppressive environment, Plato sets the stage for a powerful exploration of the human condition, the pursuit of knowledge, and the high importance of education. The cave and its inhabitants serve as a poignant metaphor for the human condition, bound by the limitations of perception and experience. Plato states that our understanding of the world is fundamentally flawed, a mere reflection of the shadows cast by reality. The prisoners, content in their foolishness, are a stark representation of those who accept the world as it appears without questioning its underlying structures and seeking knowledge about themselves and the world they inhabit. The shadows on the cave wall can be seen as symbols of societal constructs, cultural norms, and traditional ideas. These artificial creations shape our worldview, limiting our ability to perceive the true nature of reality. Just as the prisoners mistake shadows for real objects, we often conflate our interpretations with objective truth, leading to confusion and ignorance. Plato’s allegory implies that true knowledge is not gained through living passively in the world, but rather through a conscious effort to break free from the chains of unawareness. The cave, in this sense, represents the comfort zone of the mind, a place where it is easy to remain complacent and safe. To truly understand the world, one must emerge from the cave, just as the prisoner must eventually be freed. This act of self-liberation symbolizes the pursuit of knowledge, the desire to question the norms of one's environment, and the courage to confront the unknown. It is a journey from the realm of lies to the realm of clarity, from the world of appearances to the world of essence. Plato’s Allegory of the Cave offers a profound and enduring exploration of human knowledge and reality that can only be truly achieved through crushing the chains that bind one to stupidity and pursuing the truth. Through the vivid imagery of the dark prison, he invites us to question the nature of our perceptions and the extent to which we are truly aware of the world around us. The prisoners, chained and confined to a world of shadows, may believe that they are aware of their lives and situations, but in reality, they represent humanity's tendency to accept appearances and the world at face value, without delving deeper into the underlying truths. Ultimately, Plato's allegory is a call to intellectual courage and the importance of searching for the truth. It urges us to break free from the chains of conformity and to seek knowledge beyond the superficial, lest we all end up like ignorant, foolish prisoners. By questioning our presumptions and challenging the status quo, we can begin to glimpse the true nature of reality and fulfill our human potential. The cave may be a dark and confining place, but the path to enlightenment lies in daring to step into the light and fully embracing the truth, and it starts by taking the first step toward education and learning.

Leadership, to me, is not a title or a position; it is a mindset, a drive to guide and uplift those around you as the group accomplishes a task, big or small. It's not about being a dictator or a boss, finding ways to say "no" or "that's not what I want." It's about finding a goal to achieve and utilizing everybody's strengths to work towards said goal. It's about dedicating yourself to saying "yes" or "we can use that." From elementary school to college, I have consistently gravitated toward the helm, overseeing collaborative efforts and orchestrating the discussions and plans of groups in which I find myself. My journey as a leader began in my childhood. Group projects were not merely assignments to get done by the end of the week; they were opportunities for me to galvanize my peers toward a common goal. I discovered a peculiar satisfaction in structuring work, delegating responsibilities, and looking at diverse perspectives. I always found that whenever discussions started, my peers seemed to be anxious over what to do and what to say, which is why I thrived in this role. This inclination to take charge was nurtured further during my formative years. Classroom discussions became my stage, where I would eagerly contribute, challenge assumptions, and facilitate meaningful dialogue. My teachers often remarked on my ability to articulate complex ideas in a manner that resonated with my classmates, inspiring them to delve deeper into the subject matter. "Jenna excels in leadership positions" was a part of the text on my "Student of the Month" award, even. This trajectory continued seamlessly into my college experience. The academic discourse, while more sophisticated and mature, has only amplified my leadership instincts. I find myself naturally assuming the role of a facilitator in class discussions that seem to always include everyone, usually answering at least one question per class and responding to other people's viewpoints. My peers often seek me out for clarification, guidance, and support, recognizing my ability to reflect on information and offer constructive feedback. However, leadership is not merely about commanding attention or wielding influence. It is about empowering others to reach their full potential. I believe in the power of collective intelligence and strive to create spaces where everyone feels valued and heard. By fostering a culture of collaboration and respect, I aim to inspire those around me to become leaders in their own right. This will be instrumental in my future career as a high school English teacher; instead of being the one asked questions, I will be commanding the questions asked. With this leadership experience, I can guide my future students in the right direction and encourage them to share their thoughts in the best way possible, hopefully stirring the desire to lead within them as well, if they're so inclined. Leadership, for me, is a continuous journey of learning and growth. It is about recognizing one's strengths and weaknesses, seeking feedback, and adapting to new challenges. It is about serving others with humility and compassion, but also seriousness and objectivity. As I embark on the next chapter of my academic and professional life, I am eager to apply my leadership skills to create a positive impact on the world. I am confident that the experiences I have gained, both inside and outside the classroom, have equipped me with the necessary tools to excel as a leader.

The world is a symphony of sights, sounds, and sensations. For most people, it's a harmonious blend, but for me, as someone on the autism spectrum, it can be a cacophony. Autism isn't a singular experience; it's a spectrum of differences that affect social interaction, communication, and sensory processing. My autism has shaped the way I perceive the world, sometimes making it overwhelming, but ultimately leading me to a deeper understanding of mental health in myself and others. Growing up, social interactions were a mystery. I would make a joke, and instead of laughter, I was met with confused looks. I would use sarcasm like everyone else did, but it was looked down on. While I was able to make friends, I couldn't help but feel isolation from everyone else. It felt like I was being punished for just being myself. The kids around me would innocently laugh about how weird I was and how funny they found it. My tic disorder was just me being weird old Jenna. These experiences instilled in me a sense of "otherness." My diagnosis of autism in late childhood brought a strange sense of relief: I would overhear my mom using that outdated term “Asperger's Syndrome”. It wasn't a cure, but an explanation. It helped me understand why I saw the world differently compared to others, and it opened the door to understanding myself. My tics, impulsive mouth, strange humor, weird sense of detail, random passions, bad eye contact, and routine were all signs of my disorder. Talking about my condition to my mom and noticing all of my quirks became a strange game to me: “Guess Which Trait of Mine is Just My Autism Being Displayed”. However, this journey wasn't just about self-discovery; it fostered empathy for others. Throughout my life, I would somewhat resent my condition. I would have thoughts of “no one understands”. However, I learned of other people's stories as I grew up. I began to understand that mental health challenges aren't limited to autism. Many people experience anxiety, depression, and other conditions. While the specifics might differ, the struggle for peace of mind was relatable to me. This newfound understanding fostered compassion. Hearing a tearful confession about anxiety or a rough time in life no longer seemed like an overreaction to be met with a “you think you have it rough?”, but an "I understand." My classmate's bouncing leg wasn't them being disruptive, but rather a sign of ADD. My autism has opened my eyes to the invisible struggles many people face. This shift in perspective fueled my desire to incorporate a sense of belonging in my future classroom. As someone who is studying to become a teacher, I want students to understand that their struggles are to be listened to, not dismissed or mocked. I want to create spaces where people feel comfortable discussing their struggles. Perhaps with the introduction of stories featuring disabled and/or struggling characters, students can understand other perspectives and even see themselves in these characters. My experience with autism has been a hot-and-cold one. It's brought challenges and social issues, but it's also opened my eyes to the complexities of human experience and instilled a deep sense of empathy. What was once a condition I resented has become one that I accept. My journey has shaped my goals to help those who are like me, one who bridges the gap between understanding and acceptance. The world might be harmonious to some and a cacophony to others, but with representation and empathy, we can all learn to navigate the noise together.

The prospect of shaping young minds, igniting a passion for language and storytelling, helping the next generation and my community, and fostering critical thinking has resonated deeply. Since I was young, I have imagined myself teaching in a classroom, going on and on about grammar, linguistics, spelling, themes, etc. invigorated me. Even when I told myself that I wanted to go into another profession, I still had the desire to become a teacher resting in the back of my mind. Eventually, I decided to become an English teacher to express my passion and help my community, and looking at my experiences, skills, and interests, it's easy to see why. My aspiration to become a high school English Language Arts teacher is rooted in a lifelong love of storytelling, coupled with a profound understanding of the challenges faced by those who may feel marginalized or misunderstood. Growing up autistic, I developed a unique perspective on the world. The intricacies of social interaction and communication, often strange for neurotypical individuals, became an area of interest. My ability to find patterns and delve deep into subjects, common traits of autism, translated into an insatiable curiosity about language and its power to connect or isolate. Looking back on my childhood, books, and stories have always been a passion of mine that would sometimes take over my life. My love for literature connects to my career path, but my autism will also benefit my choice. I've realized that my experiences have equipped me with an extraordinary capacity for empathy, allowing me to connect with others on a profound level. Beyond the classroom, I am actively seeking opportunities to develop my teaching skills. I have volunteered as a tutor at a local middle school, where I have had the chance to work with students from diverse backgrounds. This experience has reinforced my belief in the transformative power of education and has helped me develop effective communication and instructional strategies. It has also reinforced my want to showcase diverse authors in my future classroom, to help students celebrate their differences along with others'. My ultimate goal as a high school ELA teacher is to create a classroom environment where all students feel valued, respected, and empowered, no matter where they come from, how their brain works, or what they look like. I envision a space where students can freely express their ideas, challenge their perspectives, constructively discuss experiences and beliefs, and develop a lifelong love of learning. With this work, I can encourage students to become productive and great people both inside and outside of the classroom. By sharing my own experiences and fostering open dialogue, I hope to create a community of learners who are both academically successful, confident in their knowledge, and emotionally resilient. My life has shaped me into the person I am today. My autism has fueled my passions and given me a unique perspective on the world which drives me to promote diversity, and my love for literature is vital to anyone who wishes to teach ELA to the next generation. My empathy, passion, and inclusive attitude will become a must once I graduate college and begin my teaching career. I believe that my experiences, skills, and interests align perfectly with the demands of the teaching profession. I am eager to embark on this journey and make a positive impact on the lives of my students through literature, which will positively affect my community at large.

The prospect of shaping young minds, igniting a passion for language and storytelling, and fostering critical thinking has resonated deeply. Since I was young, I have imagined myself teaching in a classroom, going on and on about grammar, linguistics, spelling, themes, etc. invigorated me. Even when I told myself that I wanted to go into another profession, I still had the desire to become a teacher resting in the back of my mind. Eventually, I decided to become an English teacher, and looking at my experiences, skills, and interests, it's easy to see why. My aspiration to become a high school English Language Arts teacher is rooted in a lifelong love of storytelling, coupled with a profound understanding of the challenges faced by those who may feel marginalized or misunderstood. Growing up autistic, I developed a unique perspective on the world. The intricacies of social interaction and communication, often strange for neurotypical individuals, became an area of interest. My ability to find patterns and delve deep into subjects, common traits of autism, translated into an insatiable curiosity about language and its power to connect or isolate. Looking back on my childhood, books, and stories have always been a passion of mine that would sometimes take over my life. My love for literature connects to my career path, but my autism will also benefit my choice. I've realized that my experiences have equipped me with an extraordinary capacity for empathy, allowing me to connect with others on a profound level. Beyond the classroom, I am actively seeking opportunities to develop my teaching skills. I have volunteered as a tutor at a local middle school, where I have had the chance to work with students from diverse backgrounds. This experience has reinforced my belief in the transformative power of education and has helped me develop effective communication and instructional strategies. It has also reinforced my want to showcase diverse authors in my future classroom, to help students celebrate their differences along with others'. My ultimate goal as a high school ELA teacher is to create a classroom environment where all students feel valued, respected, and empowered, no matter where they come from, how their brain works, or what they look like. I envision a space where students can freely express their ideas, challenge their perspectives, constructively discuss experiences and beliefs, and develop a lifelong love of learning. By sharing my own experiences and fostering open dialogue, I hope to create a community of learners who are both academically successful, confident in their knowledge, and emotionally resilient. My life has shaped me into the person I am today. My autism has fueled my passions and given me a unique perspective on the world which drives me to promote diversity, and my love for literature is vital to anyone who wishes to teach ELA to the next generation. My empathy, passion, and inclusive attitude will become a must once I graduate college and begin my teaching career. I believe that my experiences, skills, and interests align perfectly with the demands of the teaching profession. I am eager to embark on this journey and make a positive impact on the lives of my students through literature.

The crisp air carried the scent of fallen leaves, a contrast to the sweetness of a recently ended summer. Huddled in my blue hoodie, I shuffled across campus. It was early fall, my first semester as a freshman, and everything felt overwhelming – the labyrinth-like buildings, the sea of unfamiliar faces, and the pressure to navigate this new world. Yet, amidst the chaos, a comforting ritual emerged – a weekly pilgrimage to the campus Starbucks for a Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino. This wasn't your average sugary indulgence. The Double Chocolaty Frappuccino became a character in my fall narrative, a silent companion through the exhilarating journey of freshman year. Its rich, chocolatey swirl held more than just caffeine and flavor; it represented a moment of solace amidst the whirlwind of deadlines, new friendships, and the overwhelming sense of being lost. The first few weeks were a blur. Lectures flew by in a torrent of new information, social gatherings felt stifling, not at all helped by my ASD, and homesickness gnawed at me. One day, my life changed. I was in the school newspaper club at the time, and I gazed around the room. Something caught my eye: a girl with a brown, cold drink. I wondered what it was, and asked her after the meeting, to which she told me its name. I remembered it, and promised myself I would get it soon. Once I did, the ritual was set. The familiar routine of ordering a Double Chocolaty Frappuccino became an anchor. As the barista blended the concoction, I would wait in anticipation. The first sip – a burst of icy sweetness and rich chocolate – was a pause, a quiet moment for me to gather my thoughts and relax. The drink itself mirrored the season. Just like fall's vibrant hues, the Frappuccino boasted a contrast between the white whipped cream and the deep chocolate color. The coldness mirrored the crisp autumn air, while the sweetness provided a welcome comfort against the anxieties of a new environment. Adding onto this, as someone born in the season of fall, the sweet chocolate put me in the mood for a rich birthday cake, exciting a then 18 year old me for my 19th birthday. As the weeks progressed, the Frappuccino became a social lubricant. It facilitated awkward introductions with classmates – "Hey, what's your drink?" – sparking conversations about shared preferences and the debate of pumpkin spice versus classic chocolate. Sometimes, it was a shared experience with newfound friends, huddled around a table outside the college Starbucks, sipping our Frappuccinos and discussing professors and difficult assignments. The drink became a symbol of shared experiences, a way to connect with others navigating the same uncharted territory. The Double Chocolaty Frappuccino wasn't just a drink; it was a symbol of resilience and self-discovery. Every sip served as a reminder that amidst the chaos, there were moments of joy, of community, and of finding myself in this unfamiliar landscape. It fueled late-night study sessions, fueled the knowledge that even if I felt lost, I could still find comfort in this simple ritual. Fall turned to winter, the Frappuccino replaced by steaming hot chocolates; but the memories remained, a testament to the power of a simple beverage to weave itself into the fabric of an experience. Today, the Double Chocolaty Frappuccino still holds a special place in my heart. It's a reminder of that transformative fall, of the challenges faced and friendships forged. It's a reminder that sometimes, the sweetest moments are found in the most unexpected places, like a chocolatey Frappuccino on a crisp autumn day.

I don't see travel as just an opportunity to relax on a familiar beach; for me, it's a way to grow personally. Each trip, whether it's to the rocky shores of Maine or the lively boardwalks of Myrtle Beach, has pushed me out of my comfort zone, exposing me to a world full of diverse cultures, perspectives, and ways of life. These experiences have deeply contributed to my personal growth and development. My childhood summers were spent in the lovely coastal town of Ocean City, a place I lived very close to. The sound of waves and the smell of salty air provided a sense of security. However, years later, I had been living in New York for a long time, and summer came along. Traveling north at that time to Maine on a family vacation broke this comfortable routine. Boothbay Harbor, with its striking coastline and charming lobster shacks, offered a stark contrast to Ocean City's wide beaches and amusement piers. This exposure to a different coastal environment sparked my curiosity for diverse landscapes, a quality that continues to fuel my desire to explore new places. Later, my family's move took me further south to Myrtle Beach. Here, the beach was not just a place to relax, but a vibrant center of activity. Parasailors filled the sky, lively performers entertained on the boardwalk, and the sheer number of people brought a different kind of energy. This bustling atmosphere pushed me to step outside my comfort zone and engage with the lively surroundings, challenging my introverted nature. It was a small step, but a significant one in fostering my confidence and adaptability. The transformative power of travel goes beyond the physical environment. Immersing myself in different cultures broadens my perspective and nurtures empathy. In Maine, I learned about the lives of lobstermen, their deep reverence for the ocean a stark contrast to the carefree beachgoers. In Myrtle Beach, I encountered families from all walks of life, each with their own stories and dreams. While these locations were seemingly samey, these interactions challenged my preconceived notions and reminded me of the diverse human experience. Travel is not always easy. Dealing with missed connections, language barriers, and unfamiliar customs can be frustrating. However, these challenges are opportunities to develop resourcefulness and resilience. Learning to navigate these situations fosters independence and problem-solving skills, valuable assets that extend beyond the realm of travel. The world is a vast and vibrant classroom, and travel is the ultimate field trip. Each journey, whether familiar or foreign, pushes me to step out of my comfort zone, broadening my perspective and fostering my personal growth. The lessons learned – from the ebb and flow of the tides to the stories written on the faces of strangers – continue to shape who I am, making travel an invaluable tool for personal transformation.

The world is a vibrant symphony of sights, sounds, and sensations. Most people find it a harmonious blend, but for someone on the autism spectrum like me, it can be a cacophony. Autism isn't a one-size-fits-all experience; it's a spectrum of differences that can affect social interaction, communication, and sensory processing. My autism has shaped the way I perceive the world, sometimes making it overwhelming, but ultimately leading me to a deeper understanding of mental health in myself and others. Growing up, social interactions felt like solving a mystery. I would crack a joke, and instead of laughter, I was met with puzzled looks. Sarcasm, which everyone else seemed to use effortlessly, was often misunderstood when I used it. While I made some friends, I couldn't shake off a feeling of being isolated. It seemed like I was being penalized for just being myself. The kids around me would innocently label me as weird and laugh about it. My tic disorder was simply brushed off as "weird old Jenna being Jenna." These experiences planted a seed of "otherness" in me. When I was diagnosed with autism in late childhood, it brought a strange sense of relief. It wasn't a cure, but an explanation. It helped me understand why I saw the world differently compared to others, and it opened the door to understanding myself. My tics, impulsive remarks, quirky humor, attention to detail, unusual passions, poor eye contact, and need for routine were all signs of my condition. Discussing my condition with my mom and recognizing all my quirks became an intriguing game for me: “Guess Which Trait of Mine is Just My Autism Being Displayed.” This journey wasn't just about self-discovery; it also nurtured empathy for others. I used to resent my condition to some extent, feeling like no one understood me. But as I grew up, I learned about other people's stories. I realized that mental health challenges aren't limited to autism. Many people grapple with anxiety, depression, and various other conditions. While the specifics may differ, the struggle for peace of mind was something I could relate to. This newfound understanding fostered compassion. Hearing someone confide about their anxiety or a tough time in their life no longer felt like an overreaction to be brushed off; it felt like an opportunity to say, "I understand." My classmate's fidgety leg wasn't just disruptive behavior, but a sign of ADD. My autism has opened my eyes to the concealed battles many people face. This shift in perspective ignited my passion to create a sense of belonging in my future classroom. As a future educator, I want students to know that their struggles deserve to be heard, not dismissed or ridiculed. I aim to cultivate spaces where people feel at ease discussing their challenges. Perhaps with the introduction of stories featuring characters with disabilities or undergoing hardships, students can grasp different perspectives and maybe even see themselves reflected in those characters. My journey with autism has been a rollercoaster ride. It has presented challenges and social hurdles, but it has also opened my eyes to the intricacies of human experience and instilled a profound sense of empathy within me. What used to be a condition I resented has transformed into one that I accept. My experiences have shaped my ambition to aid those who are like me, acting as a bridge between understanding and acceptance. While the world may be a harmonious symphony for some and a cacophony for others, with representation and empathy, we can all learn to navigate the noise together.

Teaching is, without a doubt, one of the most important professions in the modern world. Lots of people overlook it and act like anyone can do it, but that's not true. It takes an admirable and enviable amount of dedication, passion, and knowledge to be able to teach a group of people about something, whether it be solving a math problem or, in my case, expressing the themes and purpose of a story. However, most teachers do what they do not just because they like teaching, but it's also due to the love that they have for their subject. This is something I relate to quite a bit; I remember being in elementary school, having the most beat-up copy of "Wonder" by R.J. Palacio that you can imagine. It was tattered so badly because you couldn't get my hands off of that story; something about it really connected with me. As someone on the autism spectrum, I can definitely relate to the main character, Auggie, and his journey towards confidence and self-acceptance. Being different from most around you can be hard, but at the end of the day, the ones that matter most will see you for you, not your disability. Not only was it a well-written and engaging story, it was also a book that many young people like me needed. Something I've come to notice with the help of some of my teachers is just how one-note representation is when it comes to the literature that we teach students nowadays. One of my professors in college, Dr. Lint, has especially helped me see this. Something I deeply admire about him is his dedication to showing diverse voices in the material he teaches and represents; instead of just giving us all white, male authors to read, he gave us that and so much more. We read Sylvia Plath, John Steinbeck, Zitkala-Ša, Booker T Washington, among others, with all of them being different in their own ways - their writing styles, philosophies, and subjects were all unique. This is a teaching style that I want to adopt when I become an educator. America is such a diverse place, and if you look around, you can see it becoming more and more diverse by the day. So, I find it strange how lots of stories being taught in ELA classes are the same old classics, all written by old white men, with little to no diversity. Make no mistake, I'm not saying by any means that a person's voice is null and void because they are white and male, that's completely untrue. Their voices and stories deserve a spotlight and are important for a reason, but the problem is that other types of authors get no attention despite the world's progression. The lack of female, LGBT+, non-white, overall non-traditional authors is, in my opinion, unfair to modern students. Due to all of this, my goal of teaching is to open the eyes of my students to all different viewpoints, exposing them to all kinds of lives and stories, so that we can appreciate and learn from all different types of people, not just the same people over and over again. In a perfect world, all voices matter, whether they come from a woman, someone LGBT, someone from a small country, or anything else one could think of. While a perfect world isn't possible, I believe that giving all types of people exposure in their stories and experiences can help bolden young people's perspectives on the world, and make the world a better place for it.

The world is a symphony of sights, sounds, and sensations. For most people, it's a harmonious blend, but for me, as someone on the autism spectrum, it can be a cacophony. Autism isn't a singular experience; it's a spectrum of differences that affect social interaction, communication, and sensory processing. My autism has shaped the way I perceive the world, sometimes making it overwhelming, but ultimately leading me to a deeper understanding of mental health in myself and others. Growing up, social interactions were a mystery. I would make a joke, and instead of laughter, I was met with confused looks. I would use sarcasm like everyone else did, but it was looked down on. While I was able to make friends, I couldn't help but feel isolation from everyone else. It felt like I was being punished for just being myself. The kids around me would innocently laugh about how weird I was and how funny they found it. My tic disorder was just me being weird old Jenna. These experiences instilled in me a sense of "otherness." My diagnosis of autism in late childhood brought a strange sense of relief: I would overhear my mom using that outdated term “Asperger's Syndrome”. It wasn't a cure, but an explanation. It helped me understand why I saw the world differently compared to others, and it opened the door to understanding myself. My tics, impulsive mouth, strange humor, weird sense of detail, random passions, bad eye contact, and routine were all signs of my disorder. Talking about my condition to my mom and noticing all of my quirks became a strange game to me: “Guess Which Trait of Mine is Just My Autism Being Displayed”. However, this journey wasn't just about self-discovery; it fostered empathy for others. Throughout my life, I would somewhat resent my condition. I would have thoughts of “no one understands”. However, I learned of other people's stories as I grew up. I began to understand that mental health challenges aren't limited to autism. Many people experience anxiety, depression, and other conditions. While the specifics might differ, the struggle for peace of mind was relatable to me. This newfound understanding fostered compassion. Hearing a tearful confession about anxiety or a rough time in life no longer seemed like an overreaction to be met with a “come on, it's no big deal”, but an "I understand." My classmate's bouncing leg wasn't them being disruptive, but rather a sign of ADD. My autism has opened my eyes to the invisible struggles many people face. This shift in perspective fueled my desire to incorporate a sense of belonging in my future classroom. As someone who is studying to become a teacher, I want students to understand that their struggles are to be listened to, not dismissed or mocked. I want to create spaces where people feel comfortable discussing their struggles. Perhaps with the introduction of stories featuring disabled and/or struggling characters, students can understand other perspectives and even see themselves in these characters. My experience with autism has been a hot-and-cold one. It's brought challenges and social issues, but it's also opened my eyes to the complexities of human experience and instilled a deep sense of empathy. What was once a condition I resented has become one that I accept. My journey has shaped my goals to help those who are like me, one who bridges the gap between understanding and acceptance. The world might be harmonious to some and a cacophony to others, but with representation and empathy, we can all learn to navigate the noise together.

Teaching is, without a doubt, one of the most important professions in the modern world. Lots of people overlook it and act like anyone can do it, but that's not true. It takes an admirable amount of dedication, passion, and knowledge to be able to teach a group of people about something, whether it be solving a math problem or, in my case, expressing the themes and purpose of a story. Most teachers do what they do not just because they like teaching, but it's also due to the love they have for their subject. This is something I relate to; I remember being in elementary school, having the most beat-up copy of "Wonder" by R.J. Palacio. It was tattered so badly because I was always reading it; it really connected with me. As someone on the autism spectrum, I can definitely relate to the main character, Auggie, and his journey towards self-acceptance. Being different from most around you can be hard, but at the end of the day, the ones that matter will see you for you, not your disability. Not only was it a well-written and engaging story, it was also a book that many young people like me needed. Something I've noticed with the help of some of my teachers is just how one-note representation is when it comes to the literature that we teach students nowadays. America is such a diverse place, if you look around, you can see it becoming more and more diverse by the day. So, I find it strange how lots of stories being taught in ELA classes are the same old classics, all written by old white men, with little to no diversity. Make no mistake, I'm not saying by any means that a person's voice is null and void because they are white and male, that's completely untrue. Their voices and stories deserve a spotlight and are important for a reason, but the problem is that other types of authors get no attention despite the world's progression. The lack of female, LGBT+, non-white, overall non-traditional authors is, in my opinion, unfair to modern students. Due to all of this, my goal of teaching is to open the eyes of my students to all different viewpoints, exposing them to all kinds of lives and stories, so that we can appreciate and learn from all different types of people, not just the same people over and over again. In a perfect world, all voices matter, whether they come from a woman, someone LGBT, someone from a small country, or anything else one could think of. While a perfect world isn't possible, I believe that giving all types of people exposure in their stories and experiences can help bolden young people's perspectives on the world, and make the world a better place for it.

The world is a symphony of sights, sounds, and sensations. For most people, it's a harmonious blend, but for me, as someone on the autism spectrum, it can be a cacophony. Autism isn't a singular experience; it's a spectrum of differences that affect social interaction, communication, and sensory processing. My autism has shaped the way I perceive the world, sometimes making it overwhelming, but ultimately leading me to a deeper understanding of mental health in myself and others. Growing up, social interactions were a mystery. I would make a joke, and instead of laughter, I was met with confused looks. I would use sarcasm like everyone else did, but it was looked down on. While I was able to make friends, I couldn't help but feel isolation from everyone else. It felt like I was being punished for just being myself. The kids around me would innocently laugh about how weird I was and how funny they found it. My tic disorder was just me being weird old Jenna. These experiences instilled in me a sense of "otherness." My diagnosis of autism in late childhood brought a strange sense of relief: I would overhear my mom using that outdated term “Asperger's Syndrome”. It wasn't a cure, but an explanation. It helped me understand why I saw the world differently compared to others, and it opened the door to understanding myself. My tics, impulsive mouth, strange humor, weird sense of detail, random passions, bad eye contact, and routine were all signs of my disorder. Talking about my condition to my mom and noticing all of my quirks became a strange game to me: “Guess Which Trait of Mine is Just My Autism Being Displayed”. However, this journey wasn't just about self-discovery; it fostered empathy for others. Throughout my life, I would somewhat resent my condition. I would have thoughts of “no one understands”. However, I learned of other people's stories as I grew up. I began to understand that mental health challenges aren't limited to autism. Many people experience anxiety, depression, and other conditions. While the specifics might differ, the struggle for peace of mind was relatable to me. This newfound understanding fostered compassion. Hearing a tearful confession about anxiety or a rough time in life no longer seemed like an overreaction to be met with a “come on, it's no big deal”, but an "I understand." My classmate's bouncing leg wasn't them being disruptive, but rather a sign of ADD. My autism has opened my eyes to the invisible struggles many people face. This shift in perspective fueled my desire to incorporate a sense of belonging in my future classroom. As someone who is studying to become a teacher, I want students to understand that their struggles are to be listened to, not dismissed or mocked. I want to create spaces where people feel comfortable discussing their struggles. Perhaps with the introduction of stories featuring disabled and/or struggling characters, students can understand other perspectives and even see themselves in these characters. My experience with autism has been a hot-and-cold one. It's brought challenges and social issues, but it's also opened my eyes to the complexities of human experience and instilled a deep sense of empathy. What was once a condition I resented has become one that I accept. My journey has shaped my goals to help those who are like me, one who bridges the gap between understanding and acceptance. The world might be harmonious to some and a cacophony to others, but with representation and empathy, we can all learn to navigate the noise together.

Mental health isn't a luxury; it's the foundation upon which all other aspects of my life are built. Without strong mental health, physical and social health are affected. When my mental well-being is strong, I can navigate challenges with resilience, build meaningful relationships, and gather even more motivation for looking after my physical health. However, neglecting mental health can have a domino effect, negatively impacting my physical health, academic performance, and overall sense of self, which is why looking after it is a must. When my mental well-being is balanced, I experience a sense of clarity, contentment, and focus. I'm able to manage stress effectively, navigate challenges with confidence, and approach tasks with an optimistic outlook and attitude. This becomes the foundation into stronger academic performance. I can absorb information more readily, stay motivated while studying and completing tasks, and approach problem-solving with a clear mind. Additionally, a healthy mental state fosters positive relationships with friends and family. I'm more present in conversations, have a happier disposition around those I care for, more patient with loved ones, and better equipped to offer support when needed. However, mental health isn't just something that one gains in an instant. It's not just putting on a smile and saying “I got this”, it's much more. Maintaining this well-being requires a commitment to self-care. One practice I find invaluable is daily affirmations. Repeating positive statements about my capabilities and self-worth grounds me and fosters a more optimistic mindset. Similarly, I prioritize self-compassion. Allowing myself to make mistakes without harsh self-criticism creates a safe space for personal growth. Adopting a growth mindset over a fixed one helps me to understand that making mistakes is human, and that it opens the door for growth and improvement. This kindness towards myself fuels my motivation and prevents negative thoughts from spiraling. However, navigating life's complexities sometimes demands more support than self-care practices alone can offer. That's where open communication comes in. Talking openly with trusted friends and family provides a safe space free of judgment and fear to share challenges and receive encouragement. Their perspectives and support are an invaluable resource. However, an unbiased source can also be helpful; I actively seek professional help from a therapist. This regular check-in allows me to explore deeper emotions, identify unhealthy thought patterns, and develop coping mechanisms for stressful situations. The benefits of prioritizing mental health extend far beyond personal well-being. It empowers me to be a more empathetic and supportive classmate, a patient and engaged friend, a kinder and more open relative, and a resilient and productive individual overall. It allows me to be healthier both physically and socially. By seeking to understand myself better and taking steps every day to nurture my mental health, I invest in my ability to contribute positively to the world around me.

Anime is a topic that I have been passionate about since I was twelve years old. I grew up a gigantic Pokémon fan, and I watched the anime along with playing the games. As I got older, I found out what kind of show Pokémon was - an "anime." Of course, I mispronounced it as "ann-iym", and didn't really know much about it, other than it being Japanese animation. However, upon watching lots of YouTube videos about the topic, my intrigue couldn't be contained. I watched videos of people talking about their favorite shows, and I had a strong desire to be in on the conversation. So, I downloaded Crunchyroll and started scrolling through the gigantic anime catalogue. One anime I came across was one that I had heard of before - one with an insanely catchy opening, and one with a protagonist that lots could identify with. That one anime was "Lucky Star", produced by Kyoto Animation, and it's a show that I still rewatch years after completing it. "Lucky Star" is known as a "slice-of-life" anime, a genre that is categorized by the mundane occurrences of each episode. They're episodic and often have very plain premises. Usually, slice-of-life shows will feature teenage protagonist in high school, often talking about random topics every episode with not much happening. While other animes features haw-dropping action scenes or heartfelt confessions, "Lucky Star" is a show that has a good chunk of the first episode featuring the main character, Konata Izumi, talking about how she eats certain food with her friends. Now, as someone who loves a good action scene or a dramatic reveal, it may strike some as strange that this is an anime I rewatch a lot. To be honest, "Lucky Star" isn't even in my top ten favorites. So, why do I rewatch it so frequently? Well, it's easy; it's just a chill, relatable show that I can watch at any time, no matter what I'm doing. As I stated before, Konata Izumi is a character known for being relatable. The reason why is because she's a total geek: like most of the audience, she's an anime fan who loves to shop for manga, go to conventions, and gush about her favorite shows. It's no surprise that I relate to her so much. Seeing a character that acts similarly to me in a show that is just relaxing and enjoyable to watch was a beeath of fresh air when I was twelve, and is still at age nineteen. "Lucky Star" is a show I can rewatch so much because the show is just a sweet, chill show featuring a character that I relate to deeply. As I've gotten older, it seems like I relate to the show more and more. As I've gotten older, I've been able to go to an anime convention, and since getting a job, I've been able to get my own money to spend on games, manga, and other kinds of merchandise. My brother pays for our Crunchyroll subscription, though. I think the fact that the show has become even more relatable to me as I've gotten older is part of why it's so endlessly captivating to me. It's a show that has managed to hit me in one way growing up, and now that I'm older, it hits me differently. The specific way that "Lucky Star" has captivated me is something I haven't experienced with any other show, why is why I keep coming back to it, and why it continues to captivate me.

For many, college represents a launchpad into the future, a place to acquire skills, chase dreams, and meet new people. For me, a young autistic woman with a passion for storytelling, college signifies a sanctuary for stories – not just the ones I read for class, but the ones I yearn to tell. My path leads me to a degree in Secondary Education - English, a choice fueled by a dual desire to learn how to become the best educator I can be, and to learn how to create a more inclusive space for autistic students like myself within the education system. Growing up autistic presented a unique set of challenges. Social interactions felt like navigating a foreign language, my tic disorder was on full display for my fellow confused students, and sensory overload was a constant hurdle. Through all of this, there was one friend I could always rely on - books. As I read through everything I could get my hands on, I discovered a sense of belonging. With books, I could observe interactions without feeling like I was put under scrutiny. I became attached to the characters, and imagined them being my friends. Literature wasn't just entertainment; it was a key that unlocked doors to empathy and understanding. This love for language blossomed into a desire to share the magic of stories. I see myself not just as an educator, but as a translator. Translating the nuances of the English language for students of all kinds, but also translating the autistic experience for my students. Having navigated the challenges of a traditional classroom myself, I understand the importance of fostering a learning environment that caters to diverse needs and advocates for diversity and tolerance. While I was never really picked on for my disorder, I can say that many of my classmates were ignorant, and I can't recall a time when my teachers taught any of us about autism. My goal isn't simply to teach students grammar and composition; it's to equip them with the tools to express themselves without shame, and understand others who may not be like them. As you can tell from what I've said before, for many autistic students, the current education system falls short. Traditional teaching methods often fail to consider sensory sensitivities, and many stories taught in English class don't feature any disabled or neurodivergent characters. As a result, autistic students can feel ostracized and alienated, and their feelings of isolation are strengthened. Through my education, I aim to bridge this gap. I want to learn evidence-based strategies for creating inclusive classrooms that not only feature, but celebrate neurodiversity. I want to develop lesson plans that cater to different learning styles, incorporating visual aids, technology, and activities to cater to sensory needs. My mission at large extends beyond the classroom walls. I envision myself advocating for autistic students on a broader scale. I want to work with administrators to develop and implement programs that address the specific needs of autistic learners, and I want teachers to educate themselves on autism with facts and real-life examples, not caricatures from hateful, hurtful people. I believe in a future where autistic students are empowered to thrive, their unique perspectives valued, recognized, and celebrated. College, for me, is not just an academic pursuit, or a box I check off in my life; it's the beginning of a pipeline to making a difference. It's an opportunity to refine my skills as an educator, learn to advocate for a marginalized community, and ultimately, create a world where stories, like classrooms, are diverse and welcoming to all.

Teaching is, without a doubt, one of the most important professions in the modern world. Lots of people overlook it and act like anyone can do it, but that's not true. It takes an admirable and enviable amount of dedication, passion, and knowledge to be able to teach a group of people about something, whether it be solving a math problem or, in my case, expressing the themes and purpose of a story. However, most teachers do what they do not just because they like teaching, but it's also due to the love that they have for their subject. This is something I relate to quite a bit; I remember being in elementary school, having the most beat-up copy of "Wonder" by R.J. Palacio that you can imagine. It was tattered so badly because you couldn't get my hands off of that story; something about it really connected with me. As someone on the autism spectrum, I can definitely relate to the main character, Auggie, and his journey towards confidence and self-acceptance. Being different from most around you can be hard, but at the end of the day, the ones that matter most will see you for you, not your disability. Not only was it a well-written and engaging story, it was also a book that many young people like me needed. Something I've come to notice with the help of some of my teachers is just how one-note representation is when it comes to the literature that we teach students nowadays. One of my professors in college, Dr. Lint, has especially helped me see this. Something I deeply admire about him is his dedication to showing diverse voices in the material he teaches and represents; instead of just giving us all white, male authors to read, he gave us that and so much more. We read Sylvia Plath, John Steinbeck, Zitkala-Ša, Booker T Washington, among others, with all of them being different in their own ways - their writing styles, philosophies, and subjects were all unique. This is a teaching style that I want to adopt when I become an educator. America is such a diverse place, and if you look around, you can see it becoming more and more diverse by the day. So, I find it strange how lots of stories being taught in ELA classes are the same old classics, all written by old white men, with little to no diversity. Make no mistake, I'm not saying by any means that a person's voice is null and void because they are white and male, that's completely untrue. Their voices and stories deserve a spotlight and are important for a reason, but the problem is that other types of authors get no attention despite the world's progression. The lack of female, LGBT+, non-white, overall non-traditional authors is, in my opinion, unfair to modern students. Due to all of this, my goal of teaching is to open the eyes of my students to all different viewpoints, exposing them to all kinds of lives and stories, so that we can appreciate and learn from all different types of people, not just the same people over and over again. In a perfect world, all voices matter, whether they come from a woman, someone LGBT, someone from a small country, or anything else one could think of. While a perfect world isn't possible, I believe that giving all types of people exposure in their stories and experiences can help bolden young people's perspectives on the world, and make the world a better place for it.

From a young age, I've been captivated by the power of stories. They weren't just escapes; they were portals to different worlds, cultures, and perspectives. Each tale broadened my understanding of the human experience from people of all kinds. This fascination with diverse narratives fueled my love for storytelling, which led me to wanting to share my passion in the form of teaching. In the future, I hope to be one who ignites a passion for critical thinking, reading, and media-literacy. My vision for the classroom is a vibrant tapestry of stories woven from threads of diverse voices. Books that are from the same time period and similar people won't be a common occurrence. Instead, I envision shelves overflowing with books by authors of all backgrounds, reflecting the cultures we live in. Students will witness journeys with characters who don't always look like them, live in familiar settings, or face the same challenges. This exposure will spark critical discussions – not just plot analysis, but also examinations of the characters' motivations, the author's purpose, how the author's background may affect the story, and the societal context within which the story unfolds. By dissecting narratives, we'll encourage empathy. Imagine a young student grappling with a personal problem finding solace in the story of a protagonist navigating similar challenges. Or a group discussing a historical fiction novel, stepping outside their own experiences to understand a different culture's perspective. Through these discussions, students will develop the ability to see the world through another's eyes, fostering compassion and understanding. However, nurturing critical thinking skills is equally important. In today's information age, students are bombarded with messages from various media sources, with a lot of them being extremist or contradictory. I want to equip them with the tools to navigate this modern landscape. My classroom will be a space for exploring media literacy – understanding how messages are crafted, how biases can influence content, and how to look at something from all angles. By analyzing the material we read and encouraging everyone to ask the question "why?" all of the time, students will learn to question what they see and hear, developing a healthy skepticism towards the media they consume, fictional or real, instead of taking everything at face-value. My own experiences have solidified my commitment to this path. As a student, I was fortunate to have teachers who exposed me to a diverse range of literature and fostered critical thinking. But I've also witnessed classrooms where the curriculum lacked variety, stunting students' intellectual and emotional growth. With such a diverse world in front of us, it's a wonder as to why there is such a lack of representation for certain groups in the school system. Feeding students the same old stories and giving them the same old messages does not foster growth and learning, and that must be fixed. This is what motivates me to create a learning environment that celebrates diversity, cultivates empathy, and empowers students to navigate the complexities of our world in all they do. This scholarship would be a stepping stone towards achieving my dream. With the resources it provides, I can further my education, focusing on teaching critical thinking skills and a love for media literacy. Ultimately, I aspire to be a teacher who doesn't just impart knowledge, but who ignites a passion for learning and empowers students to become empathetic, media-literate citizens of the modern, diverse world.

The world is a symphony of sights, sounds, and sensations. For most people, it's a harmonious blend, but for me, as someone on the autism spectrum, it can be a cacophony. Autism isn't a singular experience; it's a spectrum of differences that affect social interaction, communication, and sensory processing. No two people are the same. My autism has shaped the way I perceive the world, sometimes making it overwhelming, but ultimately, leading me to a deeper understanding of mental health in myself and others, even though there have been times when I felt like there was no chance of anybody understanding me. Growing up, social interactions were a mystery. I would make a joke, and instead of laughter or smiles, I was met with glares and confused looks. I would use sarcasm like everyone else did, but it was looked down on, even though everyone else was doing it. While I was able to make friends, I couldn't help but feel a strange isolation from everyone else. It felt like I was always being punished for just being myself. For example, I was one of two girls in my whole grade that went to counseling. When I was young, I wondered why I had to see a counselor, but no one else had to. It felt unfair. The kids around me would innocently laugh, talking about how weird I was and how funny they found it. My tic disorder was just me being weird old Jenna. I didn't really mind back then and I still don't really, but it is something that's interesting to look back on. These experiences instilled in me a profound sense of "otherness." My diagnosis of autism in late childhood brought a strange sense of relief: I would overhear my mom using that dreaded, outdated term: “Asperger's Syndrome”. It wasn't a cure, but it was an explanation. It helped me understand why I saw the world differently compared to others, and it opened the door to understanding myself as well. My tics, impulsive mouth, strange humor, weird sense of detail, random passions, bad eye contact, and routine were all signs of my disorder. Talking about my condition to my mom and noticing all of my quirks became a strange game to me: “Guess Which Trait of Mine is Just My Autism Being Displayed”, or something like it. However, this journey wasn't just about self-discovery; it fostered empathy for others. Throughout my life, I would somewhat resent my condition. I would have thoughts of “no one understands”, and “none of these people have the challenges I do. They should be happy for their minds. They don't have to go to counseling or get pulled aside in public because they said the wrong thing.” However, I learned of other people's stories as I grew up. I began to understand that mental health challenges aren't limited to autism. Many people experience anxiety, depression, and other conditions. While the specifics might differ, the struggle for peace of mind and mental stability was relatable to me. This newfound understanding fostered compassion. Hearing a tearful confession about anxiety or a rough time in life no longer seemed like an overreaction to be met with a “come on, it's no big deal”, but a relatable experience. My classmate's bouncing leg wasn't just them being disruptive, but rather a sign of ADD. My autism has opened my eyes to the invisible struggles many people face. This shift in perspective fueled my desire to incorporate a sense of belonging in my future classroom. As someone who is studying to become a teacher, I want students to understand that their struggles are to be listened to and understood, not dismissed or mocked. I want to create spaces where people feel comfortable discussing their struggles. Perhaps with the introduction of stories featuring disabled and/or struggling characters, students can understand other perspectives and even see themselves in these characters. My experience with autism has been a hot-and-cold one. It's brought challenges and social issues, but it's also opened my eyes to the complexities of human experience and instilled a deep sense of empathy and uniqueness. What was once a condition I resented has become one that I accept fully. I'm autistic, nothing will change that, and that's 100% okay with me. My journey has shaped my goals to help those who are like me, one who bridges the gap between understanding and acceptance. The world might be more harmonious to some and a cacophony to others, but with representation and empathy, we can all learn to navigate the noise together, and laugh along the way.

Teaching is, without a doubt, one of the most important professions in the modern world. Lots of people overlook it and act like anyone can do it, but that's not true. It takes an admirable and enviable amount of dedication, passion, and knowledge to be able to teach a group of people about something, whether it be solving a math problem or, in my case, expressing the themes and purpose of a story. However, most teachers do what they do not just because they like teaching, but it's also due to the love that they have for their subject. This is something j relate to quite a bit; I remember being in elementary school, having the most beat-up copy of "Wonder" by R.J. Palacio that you can imagine. It was tattered so badly because you couldn't get my hands off of that story; something about it really connected with me. As someone on the autism spectrum, I can definitely relate to the main character, Auggie, and his journey towards confidence and self-acceptance. Being different from most around you can be hard, but at the end of the day, the ones that matter most will see you for you, not your disability. Not only was it a well-written and engaging story, it was also a book that many young people like me needed. Something I've come to notice with the help of some of my teachers is just how one-note representation is when it comes to the literature that we teach students nowadays. One of my professors in college, Dr. Lint, has especially helped me see this. Something I deeply admire about him is his dedication to showing diverse voices in the material he teaches and represents; instead of just giving us all white, male authors to read, he gave us that and so much more. We read Sylvia Plath, John Steinbeck, Zitkala-Ša, Booker T Washington, among others, with all of them being different in their own ways - their writing styles, philosophies, and subjects were all unique. This is a teaching style that I want to adopt when I become an educator. America is such a diverse place, and if you look around, you can see it becoming more and more diverse by the day. So, I find it strange how lots of stories being taught in ELA classes are the same old classics, all written by old white men, with little to no diversity. Make no mistake, I'm not saying by any means that a person's voice is null and void because they are white and male, that's completely untrue. Their voices and stories deserve a spotlight and are important for a reason, but the problem is that other types of authors get no attention despite the world's progression. The lack of female, LGBT+, non-white, overall non-traditional authors is, in my opinion, unfair to modern students. Due to all of this, my goal of teaching is to open the eyes of my students to all different viewpoints, exposing them to all kinds of lives and stories, so that we can appreciate and learn from all different types of people, not just the same people over and over again. In a perfect world, all voices matter, whether they come from a woman, someone LGBT, someone from a small country, or anything else one could think of. While a perfect world isn't possible, I believe that giving all types of people exposure in their stories and experiences can help bolden young people's perspectives on the world, and make the world a better place for it.