I’m attending EKU in the Spring of 2027 to continue pursuing my major in chemistry. I flourish when allowed to be creative, so my goal is to become a chemistry professor; they are allowed much more research freedom than a chemist employed by a company. I want to help create cleaner chemical syntheses, for the safety of both the environment and the people in chemical plants. I am aware of the effects of greenwashing and how to avoid it, and I will have responsibility for anything I produce, cradle to grave. I hope to help start a culture change in chemistry that deeply values the ethics intrinsic to chemical work. I was previously enrolled at Berea College, a low-income labor college that gives free tuition to all of its students. However, due to a stalker and the aftermath of a close friend's psychotic break, I had to leave. I was going to transfer to Eastern Kentucky University for the next semester, but the scholarships for a transfer student were cut so much that one year of going to EKU as a transfer student would cost me more than all four years if I were an incoming freshman. On top of that, Berea provided me a source of income that I now had to find somewhere else. I got an online job at Data Annotation over the summer, and I had some money from my High School job in college savings, but it wasn’t enough to pay for my two remaining years. As much as I didn’t want to, I decided to take a gap semester for the upcoming Fall semester and continue working. After taxes, I will be able to make approximately $5,000 during the Fall semester. Added to my previous savings, this will give me about $22,000. I have 4 semesters' worth of classes left before I graduate. After scholarships, the cost of attending EKU will be about $8,000 per semester, for a total of $32,000. I can reliably work 10-15 hours per week during school, which at about $10 an hour, would leave me with approximately $1,350 per semester after tax. Hypothetically, this would leave me at $4,600 in debt upon graduation. I know life doesn’t work out as nicely as the math does, though. I don’t have a car, and I can rely on my parents’ insurance until I go to grad school, but I still need to buy things like medicine, shampoo, and the occasional cappuccino to get me through classes. I feel comfortable managing college debt that is 10k or under, so I should have enough room to budget my life realistically. I plan to go to graduate school for chemistry after I graduate, and since graduate school for chemistry provides a stipend instead of a cost, I should be able to start paying off my loans at a consistent rate. To aid my chances of getting in, I will do in-semester research at the university and plan on researching next summer. I am going to a smaller university so I can build personal relationships with professors while still having ample research opportunities. I can’t predict the exact stipend I will receive or the price of housing near my graduate school, but I’m not new to penny pinching and am confident in my ability to live on a budget. While I have a plan for my future and my finances, I know, good and well, that life is more unpredictable than I could ever account for. I am confident in my ability to adapt, but any supplementary income would help me greatly.

I wanted to hate God so bad, but I was too scared to. When I started middle school, I figured I was old enough to understand the faith my parents had. I didn’t know where to start exactly, so I tried reading through it, starting from Genesis (rookie mistake, I know). I read about God destroying nations over and over, demanding sacrifices, and punishing His people, and I was terrified. I asked my mom about why God let it happen, and she said to trust that He was good. So I did. I read about the murder and the rape and suffering and didn’t know how to reconcile it with a good God, so I shoved it to the back of my mind. In high school, though, my non-Christian friend got in a serious car crash. Suddenly, this far-off idea of Hell and death became very real, and the concept of eternity shook me to my core. I panicked. Every day I felt the threat of death follow me, and by nighttime I was so hysterical that I couldn’t see straight. I screamed and cried myself to sleep pretty regularly, only able to stop when my body gave out. I wanted to hate Jesus and quit Christianity, but I was too terrified of God to leave. Eventually, I was able to stop screaming at night and jumping at every sound, but I was a shell of myself until I went to college. All my new friends had wildly different views on life than I did. I met Christians who were truly on fire for Jesus, but I didn’t understand how it was possible. I had conversations with them and learned how they viewed Jesus and the Bible. I learned that there were deeper meanings in texts and passages that I was once scared of. By far the most important discovery for me was different interpretations of Hell. I was talking with my friend, and we ended up talking about what happens after death. He mentioned two or three different viewpoints, and I just sat there sobbing; there was a chance that Hell wasn’t what I’d believed it to be before. It was shocking to figure out just how much of my “religion” was the product of culture. I was euphoric learning about the complexities of the Bible instead of desperately fighting to accept things that didn’t make sense. Each answer brought me closer to reconciling my faith with the idea of a good and just God. The absence of fear allowed me to genuinely get to know Jesus. Once, I was too afraid to hate God, but now I’m too in love with Him. My newfound confidence to ask questions follows me into my career. I’m majoring in chemistry, a field that allows me to embrace complexities in the same way I can with Christianity. I focus on creating syntheses that are safer for people to work with and more environmentally friendly. I want to update old dangerous syntheses and make them greener, as well as advocate for a culture of intense responsibility in the lab. Not being too afraid to ask difficult questions strengthens both my relationship with Jesus and my career as a chemist.

Every year when I was a kid, my sister would bring her friends to volunteer with her on her birthday. She said it made her feel fulfilled. Show off. The parents loved it, though. A red-haired, rosy-cheeked, beaming elementary schooler going to do good in the world. All I wanted on my birthday was cake, but that sounds a lot less cute when your sister is setting up to be the next Mother Theresa. As I grew up, though, I started to genuinely enjoy the volunteering events I was dragged to. By high school, I was hooked. I learned that giving back to my community is one of the most meaningful things I can do. One of my most memorable volunteering experiences was helping organize and run a garage sale fundraiser for Ethan's Purpose, a mental health non-profit that my family friend started after losing her son to suicide in 2018. I helped set up and run the garage sale. Watching the community give up their time, energy, and comfort (it was really hot) for Ethan's Purpose helped me appreciate how much people can accomplish when united for something that genuinely matters. They didn’t show up to make themselves feel good, but intentionally made sacrifices to create a positive impact. Aside from Ethan’s Purpose, I have volunteered at local elementary schools and soup kitchens. I learned real quick how blessed and egocentric I am. In these settings, I was surrounded by the kindest, most humble people. I remember sweeping the floor at the soup kitchen while talking with a woman eating there. She kept saying how blessed she was, and I was struck because I had spent the day complaining about a test. It’s safe to say I wasn’t the poster child for volunteering, but I’m immensely grateful to have had caring people in my life help shape who I am. I still struggle with selfishness, but I’m growing. This was especially true last summer when I interned at a homeless shelter. I did a lot of inventory and organization work and found a lot of weird donations. We got tons of expired granola bars, ratty clothes, and a concerningly large number of used bars of soap. At first, it was kind of funny; I mean, it was obviously an accident that they sent in a used bar of soap, right? By the 10th used bar of soap, I realized it wasn’t an accident. I was so angry at people giving a shelter their garbage to feel good about themselves. At the same time, though, I knew I was in no place to judge. I pass homeless people almost every day on the road and do nothing to help them. Why do I feel like I’m entitled to the $10 I brought with me to buy a sandwich? I didn’t deserve the home I grew up in; I was just fortunate enough to be born into a family that could feed me. I struggle with prioritizing my own comfort, but what is important in leadership and service is being honest with our struggles and fighting against them. For me, that usually means doing things that make me uncomfortable. Caring about people doesn’t always come naturally; it's a choice. To me, leadership through service is not showing up when it’s convenient, but choosing to show up when it isn’t. Sometimes I think about how my passion for volunteering started just because my sister liked to help people. All these years later, I realize she was right about service making you feel fulfilled. But don’t tell her I said that.

The only reason I was ever interested in STEM was that in middle school, I thought the title “woman in STEM” sounded awesome. Then, in my senior year of high school, I wanted to have a class with all my friends, and the one class everyone had in common was AP Chemistry. Mind you, I had never taken a chemistry class in my life. But I wanted to hang out with my friends, and I’m a big nerd anyway, so I signed up. I worked tirelessly in that class and complained even more, but as the class progressed, I realized that I didn’t mind the work. By the end of the year, I’d become fond of the subject. Still, I went into college as an undecided major because I was too scared to commit. I was worried about pursuing a STEM field full-time because I didn’t see how it could possibly do anyone any good. I had a dream to help the world, but aware of my own naivety, I was afraid to jump into a major without having a plan. My fear faded quickly during my time at Berea College. My passion for chemistry has grown substantially from witnessing the earnest dedication of my peers. Berea is a majority low-income school, so being there has increased my awareness of a wide variety of societal injustices I wasn’t acquainted with beforehand. Specifically, what has drawn my attention is the dangerous working environment in chemical plants, much of which can be linked back to the laboratories producing these chemicals. Laboratory research is guided by strict safety protocols, but industrial settings often cannot maintain the same level of protection. Workers in these plants rarely have the privilege of choosing what chemicals they handle or the conditions under which they work. Many rely on these jobs for financial stability, even when the risks are significant. Not only that, but the families living in nearby communities, mostly low-income neighborhoods, are exposed to hazardous fumes from the excessive concentration of factories. Because of this, I have developed a desire to make products that are environmentally friendly, not only for safety in the lab, but also for the people who will work with what I produce as well as the environment. I think holistically in the lab and believe that it is my responsibility to ensure that what I create progresses society to a safer and cleaner future. On top of this, I want to share my love of chemistry with others. I am getting a minor in Spanish, and I hope to use it to bring STEM to an audience of people who may not have the chance otherwise. There are a significant number of hoops to jump through to get into a STEM field, and while I was blessed enough to be given resources to go to college, that is not the case for everyone. In just two years, I have discovered a deep passion for chemistry; I want others to have the same opportunity. The applications of STEM are constantly changing, but my passion for chemistry isn’t tied to a specific field. It comes from my desire to make the world a better place in my own unique way.

While I’m a huge nerd and I love science, I never thought it could make a difference in people’s lives. At the end of my high school career, I had to pick a major for college. I was worried about pursuing a STEM field because I didn’t see how it could do anyone any good. I knew doctors helped people, but blood makes me nauseous, and thinking about it pumping through my body even now makes me want to puke. I knew teachers, therapists, and firefighters all did good deeds, but I was truly passionate about STEM. I decided to become a chemistry major and hoped in vain I could figure out how to do something useful with it. A few months went by, but I still felt stuck. I hated the naivety of my dreams to “help the world”. The questions of who I could help and how to help them were still unanswered and looming over my head. The solution to my problems didn’t come overnight, but during my time at Berea College, I have been able to work towards answering that question. As a majority low-income institution, Berea has exposed me to a wide range of experiences and challenges that differ from my own. Being part of this community has made me more aware of the social and environmental burdens that fall disproportionately onto certain marginalized groups. I have faced my own set of struggles, but attending Berea has opened my eyes to the scale of inequity that exists in the world. Many people live with risks and hardships that I had never encountered before college and may never personally experience. Specifically, what has drawn my attention is the dangerous working environment in chemical plants, much of which can be linked back to the laboratories producing the chemicals. Laboratory research is guided by strict safety protocols, but industrial settings often cannot maintain the same level of protection. Workers in these plants rarely have the privilege of choosing what chemicals they handle or the conditions under which they work. Many rely on these jobs for financial stability, even when the risks are significant. Not only that, but the families living in nearby communities, mostly low-income neighborhoods, are exposed to hazardous fumes from the excessive concentration of factories. This is how I can help the world in a way that is both honest to my strengths and desperately needed. As a scientist, I am and will continue to be responsible for considering the ethical and environmental impacts of my work. I am contributing to a safer, cleaner, and more equitable future by working to replace outdated systems and chemicals with new, cleaner ones. I was never made to fight fires or be a surgeon. I can’t singlehandedly fix all the problems in the world. But what I can do is work hard to make damn sure that innocent people don’t get hurt, regardless of how messed up the culture around chemicals is. I will make products that are environmentally friendly and safe to handle. Products that will replace the old, dangerous ones because they are cheaper and safer. The most effective innovations often come from thinking creatively and challenging conventional approaches, and that is the kind of work that energizes me. My interests lie particularly in environmental chemistry, but I am eager to explore how different subfields intersect and strengthen one another. Collaboration and communication across disciplines lead to smarter, more sustainable solutions. My nerdy desire to study molecules can help the world, and I’m going to use it.