I’ve always believed that my story doesn’t start with me. It starts with the people who raised me, the sacrifices they made, and the quiet strength they carried when life demanded more than they had to give. My mom, a mental health nurse, has been my anchor and my example. Watching her work long hours, advocate for others, and push through exhaustion just to make sure our family stayed afloat taught me early on what resilience really looks like. But it also taught me something else: that caring for others begins with learning how to care for yourself. My background is rooted in service. Not because I had everything, but because I often didn’t, and I understood what it meant to be held, helped, and seen. I found purpose in babysitting neighborhood kids, volunteering at local youth programs, planning worship nights through my Christian youth group, and mentoring younger students who looked like me and needed to hear that they mattered. These experiences shaped not just my empathy, but my vision for the future. I’m entering college as a Biology major on the pre-med track with plans to become a pediatric surgeon. My passion for medicine is deeply personal and rooted in witnessing health disparities. My passion has blossomed so much from watching my mom care for patients who were often misunderstood or overlooked and feeling the weight of systemic gaps in healthcare access. But beyond the science, I genuinely care about people; how they’re treated, how they’re spoken to, and how they’re made to feel in moments of uncertainty. I want to be the kind of doctor who doesn’t just treat symptoms but nurtures trust, especially in communities of color where medical care hasn’t always felt safe or equitable. Still, my ambitions don’t erase the struggle. I’ve grown up balancing academics, sports, work, and family responsibilities. I’ve been the big sister who had to step up when things got hard. The student who stayed up late finishing her own assignments after helping her younger brother. The girl who’s learned how to carry joy and pressure in the same breath. My financial need is real, but so is my drive. I’ve never let lack define me. If anything, it has lit a fire in me to build something lasting, not just for myself, but for every child I’ll one day serve and inspire. What inspires me most about the Doc & Glo brand and this scholarship is that it honors legacy while looking forward. I carry experience--my faith, my culture, my family’s sacrifices, and my inner grit--into every room I enter. I believe that confidence isn’t loud, but it's rather steady. And care isn’t weakness, it’s power. That’s how I want to walk through life; boldly, but with gentleness. With excellence, but also with heart. Winning this scholarship would help relieve the financial pressure on my family, giving me more room to focus fully on my academics, research, and volunteer work. But beyond the funding, it would affirm that girls like me, who come from working-class homes and who juggle responsibilities with grace, deserve to thrive. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I am confident that I know who I am: a young Black woman with a heart for healing, a mind built for medicine, and a soul shaped by service. I feel that I'm ready to grow, lead, and give back in even greater ways. Thank you so much for your kind consideration.

Growing up, I struggled with the idea that I had to “have it all together” in order to approach God. I carried a silent perfectionism and a fear that my brokenness disqualified me from closeness with Him. I was the older sister, the role model, the one who took care of others even when I didn’t know how to care for myself. I wore my strength like a mask and smiled through the hardships and storms. But inside, I was yearning for rest, love, and meaning. I didn’t know it then, but I was already craving what only God could offer: a relationship rooted not in performance, but in His grace. It wasn’t one moment that brought me to faith, but a series of quiet, sacred interruptions. During high school, especially my junior year, I experienced a deep season of depression and anxiety that made it hard to see light in anything. My friendships felt shaky, my academic pressure was relentless, and I often felt emotionally unsupported by those I expected to understand me most. On the outside, I was involved in everything: sports teams, leadership councils, and service projects, but inside, I felt like I was crumbling. I felt invisible in rooms I was supposed to belong in. But it was in those quiet, lonely places that I encountered God. I began talking to God more vulnerably than I ever had before and with raw honesty. In those moments, I began to feel His presence. Not always as an immediate fix, but as an unexplainable peace. The Bible verse that anchored me during that season was Isaiah 43:2, which says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.” That scripture taught me that faith didn’t mean avoiding the troubled waters; it meant knowing I wouldn’t drown in them. That peace carried me through my hardships. I began reading scripture for myself so I could truly understand who Jesus was. I was struck by how tender He was with the broken, how direct He was with the proud, and how consistent He was in love. Jesus didn’t shame people for their doubts or distance. He called them by name and met them in their humanity. That gave me permission to bring my full self to God; the questions, the confusion, the ambition, and the pain. Slowly, my faith became less about religion and more about relationship. My involvement with my church's youth ministry, SAVED Americas, was also transformative. Helping to plan online Zoom services, worship nights, summer camps, and building community with other young believers gave me the accountability and connection I needed as a young teen. I learned how to pray aloud, how to speak from the heart without fear of judgment, and how to trust others with the vulnerability of my testimony and spiritual journey. Through SAVED, I began to see myself not just as someone being led, but as someone capable of leading. That was a shift I did not expect. God showed me that my voice truly mattered. Now, as I prepare to enter college as a Biology major on the pre-med track, I carry my faith with me not just in my heart, but in how I hope to serve others. I aspire to become a pediatric surgeon with a focus on public health, especially advocating for equitable maternal and child care in underserved communities. My calling is rooted in both science and compassion. I believe medicine is not just about diagnostics, but about presence, trust, and the act of caring for someone’s life. My faith has taught me how to listen, how to be patient, and how to see people the way God sees them; not as problems to be fixed, but as souls to be loved. I’ve had glimpses of this calling already. I volunteered through my school’s community service program at a local youth organization, where I helped tutor and care for children who had experienced trauma or instability. It has been such an impactful experience, teaching me how to be gentle. How to ask, not assume. How to sit with someone and truly see them for who they are, without needing to fix their pain immediately. My faith shows up in those moments—in the dignity of showing up, listening, staying, and praying. This scholarship would make a tangible difference in my journey. My family and I have been navigating financial need for years. I have often taken on responsibilities beyond my age, caring for my younger brother, helping manage the household, and even taking multiple part-time jobs during the summer. Every opportunity I receive, whether big or small, helps to lighten the load and brings me closer to fulfilling my purpose. In college, I plan to be deeply involved in Christian fellowship groups, continue service work, and eventually pursue medical missions. I want to serve both locally and globally. I want to meet not only physical needs but also spiritual ones. I envision leading community-based health education programs, advocating for policy reform in healthcare, and mentoring young women of color who, like me, once doubted their voice or place in the world. I want to show them what God showed me: that you are enough, that you are loved, and that you are called, even if the world tells you otherwise. Receiving the Thomas Rorie Jr. Memorial Scholarship would be more than a financial blessing. It would be a reminder that walking in faith is never in vain. Pastor Rorie’s legacy of generosity, kindness, and belief in the unique walk each person has with God mirrors what I strive for daily. His life reminds me that faith doesn't have to be loud to be strong. It can be quiet and steadfast, and still move mountains. I am not perfect, and I don’t pretend to be. There are still days I doubt, still nights I cry, still seasons where the silence feels long. But even in those places, I have found God. I have found the strength to keep going, the courage to lead, and the love to serve. And that, to me, is what it means to walk by faith wholeheartedly.

Growing up, I struggled with the idea that I had to “have it all together” in order to approach God. I carried a silent perfectionism and a fear that my brokenness disqualified me from closeness with Him. I was the older sister, the role model, the one who took care of others even when I didn’t know how to care for myself. I wore my strength like a mask and smiled through the hardships and storms. But inside, I was yearning for rest, love, and meaning. I didn’t know it then, but I was already craving what only God could offer: a relationship rooted not in performance, but in His grace. It wasn’t one moment that brought me to faith, but a series of quiet, sacred interruptions. During high school, especially my junior year, I experienced a deep season of depression and anxiety that made it hard to see light in anything. My friendships felt shaky, my academic pressure was relentless, and I often felt emotionally unsupported by those I expected to understand me most. On the outside, I was involved in everything: sports teams, leadership councils, and service projects, but inside, I felt like I was crumbling. I felt invisible in rooms I was supposed to belong in. But it was in those quiet, lonely places that I encountered God. I began talking to God more vulnerably than I ever had before and with raw honesty. In those moments, I began to feel His presence. Not always as an immediate fix, but as an unexplainable peace. The Bible verse that anchored me during that season was Isaiah 43:2, which says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.” That scripture taught me that faith didn’t mean avoiding the troubled waters; it meant knowing I wouldn’t drown in them. That peace carried me through my hardships. I began reading scripture for myself so I could truly understand who Jesus was. I was struck by how tender He was with the broken, how direct He was with the proud, and how consistent He was in love. Jesus didn’t shame people for their doubts or distance. He called them by name and met them in their humanity. That gave me permission to bring my full self to God; the questions, the confusion, the ambition, and the pain. Slowly, my faith became less about religion and more about relationship. My involvement with my church's youth ministry, SAVED Americas, was also transformative. Helping to plan online Zoom services, worship nights, summer camps, and building community with other young believers gave me the accountability and connection I needed as a young teen. I learned how to pray aloud, how to speak from the heart without fear of judgment, and how to trust others with the vulnerability of my testimony and spiritual journey. Through SAVED, I began to see myself not just as someone being led, but as someone capable of leading. That was a shift I did not expect. God showed me that my voice truly mattered. Now, as I prepare to enter college as a Biology major on the pre-med track, I carry my faith with me not just in my heart, but in how I hope to serve others. I aspire to become a pediatric surgeon with a focus on public health, especially advocating for equitable maternal and child care in underserved communities. My calling is rooted in both science and compassion. I believe medicine is not just about diagnostics, but about presence, trust, and the act of caring for someone’s life. My faith has taught me how to listen, how to be patient, and how to see people the way God sees them; not as problems to be fixed, but as souls to be loved. I’ve had glimpses of this calling already. I volunteered through my school’s community service program at a local youth organization, where I helped tutor and care for children who had experienced trauma or instability. It has been such an impactful experience, teaching me how to be gentle. How to ask, not assume. How to sit with someone and truly see them for who they are, without needing to fix their pain immediately. My faith shows up in those moments—in the dignity of showing up, listening, staying, and praying. This scholarship would make a tangible difference in my journey. My family and I have been navigating financial need for years. I have often taken on responsibilities beyond my age, caring for my younger brother, helping manage the household, and even taking multiple part-time jobs during the summer. Every opportunity I receive, whether big or small, helps to lighten the load and brings me closer to fulfilling my purpose. In college, I plan to be deeply involved in Christian fellowship groups, continue service work, and eventually pursue medical missions. I want to serve both locally and globally. I want to meet not only physical needs but also spiritual ones. I envision leading community-based health education programs, advocating for policy reform in healthcare, and mentoring young women of color who, like me, once doubted their voice or place in the world. I want to show them what God showed me: that you are enough, that you are loved, and that you are called, even if the world tells you otherwise. Receiving the Thomas Rorie Jr. Memorial Scholarship would be more than a financial blessing. It would be a reminder that walking in faith is never in vain. Pastor Rorie’s legacy of generosity, kindness, and belief in the unique walk each person has with God mirrors what I strive for daily. His life reminds me that faith doesn't have to be loud to be strong. It can be quiet and steadfast, and still move mountains. I am not perfect, and I don’t pretend to be. There are still days I doubt, still nights I cry, still seasons where the silence feels long. But even in those places, I have found God. I have found the strength to keep going, the courage to lead, and the love to serve. And that, to me, is what it means to walk by faith wholeheartedly.

My greatest achievement so far isn’t a trophy or a title. It’s surviving a chapter of my life that almost broke me, and still showing up. Junior year of high school was the hardest year I’ve ever lived through. From the outside, I was excelling: captaining three varsity sports teams, holding multiple leadership positions, and keeping up with Honors and AP classes. But behind the scenes, I was barely holding it together. At home, I was a second parent. I took care of my younger brother when no one else could, while my mom, who works as a nurse, was constantly on call, providing for our family. My dad was often emotionally distant. There were many days when I felt invisible in my own house. I was juggling everything: making meals, helping my brother with homework, running clubs, attending practice, and completing assignments late into the night. I never had the luxury of only being a student. On top of that, I was navigating mental health challenges that felt isolating. I’d walk around campus smiling while my chest felt heavy. I had panic attacks in bathrooms between classes. But I never let my responsibilities fall. That year, I learned the true meaning of perseverance. I learned that strength doesn’t always look like confidence or control. Sometimes it looks like crying in silence, then getting back up to lead a meeting or take a quiz. I discovered that my ability to keep going, even when everything inside me wanted to quit, is something no one can take from me. That experience also taught me the importance of community. I found spaces where I could finally exhale; my church youth group, late-night phone calls with close friends, and a few teachers who saw me for more than just what I produced. I realized that while I can survive alone, I don’t want to. I want to live in a world where people care enough to notice when someone is struggling. That belief shapes everything I hope to do in the future. I’m entering college this fall as a Biology major on the pre-med track, with dreams of becoming a pediatrician. I’ve always loved kids, but more than that, I’ve always been drawn to healing, not just the body, but the heart. I want to work in communities like mine, where families are underserved, and where children are often overlooked in systems that aren’t built for them. I care deeply about equity in healthcare, especially for Black and low-income families. I want to advocate for better bedside manner, more culturally competent care, and a healthcare system that listens to its patients. Looking ahead, my biggest goal is to give back. I want to open a practice one day that provides affordable pediatric care, mental health resources, and wellness education for families who can’t afford the private systems. I want little girls who look like me to walk into a doctor’s office and feel safe, seen, and heard. I want to be the doctor who shows up, not just physically but emotionally. Because I know what it feels like to need someone to show up and not have them. This scholarship means more than just money. It’s a reminder that my story matters. That my quiet resilience is seen. I didn’t grow up with much, but I’ve learned how to stretch what I have and still find a way. I’ve learned to work twice as hard for half as much. And I’m proud of that. My greatest achievement is the person I’ve become: someone who refuses to quit, someone who chooses love and service, and someone who knows her worth even when others don’t recognize it right away. College is just the next chapter, and I’m more than ready.

Science, to me, has always been more than just equations and experiments. It’s a way of thinking; a mindset of curiosity, empathy, and innovation. As a first-generation African American girl from New Jersey, I’ve learned that the biggest challenges often require the most creative solutions. One moment that made this clear for me happened within my own family, when my younger brother started showing signs of developmental delays. My mom, a psychiatric nurse practitioner, noticed early on that something wasn’t quite right. But despite her expertise, navigating the healthcare system for her own child proved frustrating and exhausting. Long waitlists, doctors who didn’t listen, and a lack of culturally competent care made it harder to get answers. I watched my mom balance her medical knowledge with her maternal instinct, trying different therapies, asking better questions, and learning how to advocate for him. Her determination inspired me, but it also opened my eyes to the very real gaps in our healthcare system. The most powerful solution didn’t come from a single doctor or treatment. It came from persistence, creative problem-solving, and a deep understanding of both science and humanity. That experience sparked something in me. I realized I didn’t just want to go into medicine, I wanted to make it better. I began exploring health science more deeply, from dissecting fetal pigs in biology class to going on a STEM trip to Italy, where I studied anatomy and medical design. The more I learned, the more I wanted to understand how things worked and how they could work better. For example, during a school project on reproductive health, I researched the disproportionate rates of maternal mortality in Black communities. That led me to look at how wearable tech and mobile health solutions could support underserved mothers through pregnancy and postpartum. To me, science and tech aren’t just for labs; they’re tools that can radically shift outcomes when combined with empathy and equity. I plan to major in Biology at Villanova University, with the goal of pursuing a career in either pediatrics or public health. I’m especially interested in maternal and child health, preventative care, and the role of community outreach in improving healthcare access. I want to be the kind of doctor who doesn’t just prescribe a treatment but also listens to the story behind the symptoms. My dream is to build bridges between scientific innovation and the communities that need it most, especially those who look like me or grew up how I did. Society will benefit from my pursuit of a science degree because I bring more than intelligence; I bring insight. I’ve lived the reality of navigating a complex system with limited resources. I understand the urgency of bringing representation, compassion, and cultural sensitivity into the medical field. I’ve seen how creative thinking, combined with scientific knowledge, can create real solutions, whether that means designing better health access tools, improving communication between doctors and patients, or simply showing up in rooms where people like me have historically been left out. Dr. Aggarwal believed that science should make the world a better place. I believe that too. And I want to carry that legacy forward--not just by achieving academic success, but by using my education to serve others with care, curiosity, and courage. Thank you for kindly considering my application and for honoring Dr. Aggarwal’s legacy by investing in the next generation of scientists.

My name is Jesslyn Bentum, and I’m a 2025 high school graduate who’s learned how to lead by showing up for others, especially when it wasn’t easy. As a first-generation African American student raised in a financially tight household, I’ve had to navigate life with responsibility; caring for my younger brother, managing schoolwork, and staying grounded in who I am, even in spaces where I often felt like I didn’t belong. Still, I’ve always led with heart, determination, and the hope that my hard work will open doors not just for me, but for those coming after me. Athletics has been one of the most defining parts of my high school experience. I was a three-sport varsity athlete competing in soccer, basketball, and track and field. I served as captain for both the basketball and track teams during my sophomore-senior years, and was a team leader in soccer. Leading my teams taught me how to be both vocal and observant, how to uplift others even when I was tired myself, and how to set a standard through action. Sports have grounded me, pushed me, and taught me that even when life gets hard, I can still show up and give my all. At school, I challenged myself with rigorous courses, including Honors Biology, Honors Chemistry, and advanced English classes, all while being an active member of my community. I was part of several leadership councils, including Black Women @ Lawrenceville, African Student Union (as President), and Big Red on a Budget (also President). I was also a ministry leader for the Fellowship of Christians in Universities and Schools organization (FOCUS) and helped plan events and lead discussions for our community. Despite academic challenges and emotional obstacles, I stayed committed to my education because I know it's the foundation of everything I want to achieve. Service has always been part of who I am. I was a student volunteer at the CYO in Trenton, NJ, working with kids through Lawrenceville’s Community Action Program. I've also served in my church's youth ministry, SAVED Americas, as a ministry leader since the age of 13. In my role, I've helped to plan online Sunday services, summer church camps, and spiritual gatherings for children and teens all over Canada, North America, and Central America. Through these experiences, I’ve seen how small acts, such as reading with a child, packing supplies, or praying together in a room of teens like me, can make a lasting impact. However, I don’t do these things for recognition. I do them because I love being part of something bigger than myself, and I strongly believe that we’re all called to serve others. After high school, I’ll be attending Villanova University as a Biology major with plans to pursue a career in pediatrics. I hope to walk onto the Track & Field team as a collegiate thrower while also diving into research and community-based initiatives on campus. Long term, I want to become a pediatric surgeon. I care deeply about how marginalized families experience healthcare, and I want to advocate for equity and compassionate care. In the future, I hope to be a presence that helps kids and their parents feel safe, seen, and supported. More than anything, I want to lead by example. I want my little brother to see what’s possible. I want kids like me, who didn’t grow up with everything, to know they still have everything they need inside them. I want to keep building, serving, and becoming the leader God called me to be. Thank you for your kind consideration.

Growing up, I never had the luxury of just being a kid. As a first-generation African American girl, I had to grow up fast, whether it was looking after my younger brother when no one else could, managing leadership roles in school, or juggling multiple sports, clubs, and academics. However, through all of it, I’ve never let go of my compassionate heart for people. I’ve always believed that you don’t need any title to serve, you just need to show up with love and intention. Service has always been a huge part of my life, not just some bullet points on my resume. At The Lawrenceville School, I’ve volunteered with CYO in Trenton, NJ through my school's community outreach program, where I helped mentor and support younger kids in their afterschool program. I’m also a ministry leader for my church's youth organization called SAVED Americas Ministries. Since the age of 13, I've helped to plan events such as summer church camps and lead online zoom services for kids and teens all across Canada, North America, and Central America. However, service for me is deeper than the formal roles; it’s the emotional labor I carry when I show up for my family even when I’m tired. It’s being the person my friends can lean on, even when I'm in need of a little support myself. It’s noticing who feels invisible or unseen and making space for them. My dream is to become a pediatric surgeon. Not only because I absolutely love kids, but because I believe medicine should be about compassion as much as it is about care. I want to be a doctor who sees beyond symptoms, someone who listens, advocates, and uplifts the voices of those who are often overlooked. My love for children and community drives everything I do, and I know this is how I’ll continue giving back; not just through healing others but by bringing peace, support, and love to people when they need it most. At school, I’ve pushed myself in every space I’ve stepped into. I’ve been a devoted team captain on the Girls Varsity Soccer, Basketball, and Track & Field teams. I’ve led affinity groups like Black Women @ Lawrenceville, African Student Union, and Big Red on a Budget. Although I'm so proud of the work I’ve done to build community, push for change, and support people who often feel left out, none of it came easy. There were days I felt overlooked and exhausted, but I continued showing up, because I know who I am and who I want to be. Financially, college is a challenge. My family doesn’t have the means to pay, and the pressure of trying to figure it all out can feel like a heavy weight. But scholarships like these don’t just lighten that burden, they also remind students like me that our sacrifices, love, and leadership actually matter, which is something I haven’t always felt in this world. This scholarship wouldn’t just help me pay for school. It would give me space to breathe, to keep serving, and to focus on becoming the kind of doctor and person I’ve always hoped to be. I want to continue leading with empathy, grounded in the same compassion that got me here. I want to keep making space for the overlooked. And I want to use every opportunity I’ve been given to pour back into others. Thank you for honoring an amazing young woman who cared deeply about others, and for continuing her legacy by supporting students like me. I promise to carry that legacy forward in everything I do.