My “awkward” thing is that I sometimes experience the world a beat differently in conversation. I am hard of hearing, and while I can often follow speech, I do not always catch words clearly in real time, especially in noisy or fast-paced environments. Because of that, there are moments where I respond a little later than expected, ask for repetition, or rely heavily on context clues to understand what is being said. Growing up, I used to think this made me stand out in a negative way. In elementary school, there was a moment where I struggled to understand my teacher during a class activity, even while wearing my hearing aids. When she asked if they were working in front of my classmates, I felt embarrassed and uncertain about how to respond. For a while after that, I avoided wearing my hearing aids because I did not want to draw attention to myself in situations where I might not understand everything immediately. Over time, I began to see this difference in a new way. My “awkwardness” forced me to become more intentional in how I communicate. I pay closer attention to facial expressions, tone, and body language. I also learned to be comfortable asking people to repeat themselves or to clarify ideas without feeling ashamed. What once felt like a weakness became a set of skills that made me more observant and more patient in conversations. It also changed how I approach learning. In class, I developed habits like detailed note-taking and reviewing material after lectures to make sure I fully understood concepts I may have missed in the moment. Instead of relying only on what I hear once, I learned to build understanding through multiple layers of information. That process made me more disciplined and more independent as a student. Now, I see this difference as part of how I think and learn rather than something to hide. It has made me more empathetic toward others who may process information differently or who may struggle silently in environments that move too quickly. It has also shaped my interest in dentistry, where clear communication and patient understanding are essential. My “awkward” thing is not just hearing loss. It is the way it has taught me to slow down, observe more carefully, and adapt when communication is not perfect. What once made me feel out of place has become one of the reasons I am more intentional, resilient, and aware of others in both academic and everyday settings.

I have chosen to pursue STEM, specifically biology, because I am interested in understanding how living systems function and how science can be applied to improve people’s quality of life. My goal is to pursue a career in dentistry, a field that combines biological science, precision, and patient-centered care. I am drawn to dentistry because it requires both technical expertise and strong communication skills, especially when working with patients who may feel anxious or vulnerable in clinical settings. My interest in STEM became more personal through my experience living with moderate hearing loss. When I was diagnosed at a young age, I became curious about how assistive technologies like hearing aids worked and how they could help people engage more fully with the world around them. However, I also experienced moments where communication barriers made it difficult to fully participate in classroom settings. Over time, I learned how to adapt by developing strategies such as active visual listening, structured note-taking, and advocating for clarification when needed. These experiences taught me resilience, patience, and the importance of accessibility in learning environments. As a woman entering STEM, I recognize that the field has historically had barriers related to representation and inclusion. While progress has been made, I understand that women in STEM often still face challenges such as being underestimated or feeling isolated in technical spaces. Rather than discouraging me, this motivates me to contribute to a more inclusive environment where diverse perspectives are valued and supported. I want to be part of a generation that continues to reshape what leadership and success in STEM look like. This scholarship aims to foster a community of women empowered by knowledge, driven by curiosity, and ready to contribute to the STEM field. I hope to be part of that community by continuing to pursue knowledge with curiosity and persistence, while also bringing my own lived experience into the field. My journey has taught me that STEM is not only about technical skill, but also about adaptability, communication, and empathy. In the future, I hope to make a difference by combining scientific knowledge with compassion in healthcare. Dentistry allows me to directly apply STEM principles while also working closely with people from all backgrounds. I want to help create healthcare experiences where patients feel heard, respected, and understood, especially those who may have communication challenges or disabilities similar to my own. My goal is not only to provide high-quality care, but also to contribute to improving accessibility and comfort in clinical settings. Ultimately, I hope to use my education in STEM to bridge the gap between science and human experience. My experiences have taught me that success in STEM is not only about technical skill, but also about empathy, adaptability, and communication. As I continue my education, I aim to grow into a professional who contributes meaningfully to both scientific progress and the communities I serve.

One of the most significant challenges I have faced in my life has been learning to navigate school and everyday communication while living with moderate hearing loss. Although it is not a visible disability, it created barriers that affected both my academic experience and my confidence, especially in environments that relied heavily on spoken instruction. One moment that stands out occurred in elementary school during a classroom activity. I was wearing my hearing aids, but I struggled to understand my teacher’s instructions. After asking for repetition several times, I still could not clearly process what was being said. In front of my classmates, the teacher questioned whether my hearing aids were working. That moment made me feel embarrassed and isolated, and it changed how I approached my disability. After that experience, I stopped wearing my hearing aids for a period of time, which made communication even more difficult. Over time, I realized that avoiding the challenge was not a solution. I had to develop strategies that allowed me to succeed academically despite the barriers I faced. One of the most important skills I developed was active visual listening. I began paying closer attention to facial expressions, body language, and context clues to help fill in gaps when speech was unclear. I also made a habit of positioning myself closer to instructors and choosing seating that minimized background noise. In addition, I relied heavily on structured note-taking strategies. Because processing spoken information in real time was sometimes difficult, I began writing detailed notes during lectures so I could review and fully understand the material later. This helped me ensure that I did not miss important concepts even when communication in the moment was challenging. Over time, I also learned to advocate for myself by asking for repetition or clarification when needed, which helped me become more confident in academic settings. The greatest “achievement” that came from overcoming these challenges was not a single award or milestone, but rather my ability to adapt and remain committed to my education despite discomfort and frustration. I learned resilience through repetition, patience through misunderstanding, and independence through self-advocacy. These skills allowed me to continue progressing academically while managing a condition that often made learning more difficult. Today, I view this experience as something that strengthened my work ethic and problem-solving abilities. It taught me that success is not defined by the absence of obstacles, but by the ability to develop strategies to move forward despite them. This mindset has carried into my academic goals in STEM and my future pursuit of dentistry, where adaptability, precision, and communication are essential.

I chose to further my education in STEM, specifically biology, because I am interested in understanding how living systems function and how science can be applied to improve people’s quality of life. My long-term goal is to pursue a career in dentistry, a field that combines biological science, precision, and direct patient care. I am drawn to dentistry because it requires both technical knowledge and strong communication skills to support patients who may feel anxious or vulnerable in clinical settings. My interest in science became more personal when I was diagnosed with moderate hearing loss at a young age. When I first received hearing aids, I was excited to learn how they worked and how they could help me better connect with the world around me. However, after an experience in elementary school where I struggled to understand my teacher and was embarrassed in front of my classmates, I began to understand the challenges that come with navigating a world that is not always designed for people with disabilities. That moment affected my confidence, and I stopped wearing my hearing aids for a period of time. Although it was a difficult experience, it helped shape my resilience and made me more aware of how important accessibility and understanding are in everyday environments. Over time, I began to see my experience in a different way. Instead of viewing it only as a setback, I recognized that it gave me a unique perspective on communication, patience, and empathy. I learned that many people face invisible challenges, and I became more attentive to how small misunderstandings can affect someone’s confidence and willingness to participate. This perspective strengthened my interest in healthcare, where communication and trust are essential to providing effective care. Pursuing a STEM education allows me to build the academic foundation necessary for my goals. Through coursework in biology and related sciences, I will develop a deeper understanding of human systems and how they function. I am especially interested in learning how biological processes connect to real-world applications in health and medicine. STEM challenges me to think critically, solve problems systematically, and apply knowledge in practical ways, all of which are essential skills for my future career in dentistry. This scholarship would have a meaningful impact on my educational journey by helping reduce the financial burden of college expenses such as tuition, textbooks, and lab materials. With this support, I would be able to focus more fully on my coursework and take advantage of academic opportunities that prepare me for dental school. It would also allow me to continue developing the skills and knowledge needed to succeed in a demanding STEM field. Ultimately, I hope to use my education to make a positive impact by providing compassionate, patient-centered dental care. My experiences have taught me the importance of empathy, adaptability, and clear communication in healthcare. Through my studies and future career, I want to contribute to a field where science and compassion work together to improve people’s lives.

I am interested in the field of biology and dentistry because I have always been drawn to how science connects directly to human well-being. My interest became more personal when I was diagnosed with moderate hearing loss at nine years old. That experience introduced me to healthcare in a way that was both technical and deeply human. I became curious not only about how the body works, but also how medical professionals can use knowledge and empathy to improve someone’s daily life. Growing up with hearing loss, I initially viewed hearing aids as something exciting and helpful. However, my perspective changed after an experience in elementary school where I struggled to understand my teacher during a class activity. Even with my hearing aids, I needed repetition, and in front of my classmates, my teacher questioned whether they were working. That moment made me feel exposed and embarrassed, and for a time, I stopped wearing my hearing aids altogether. Over time, I learned that my experience was not just about hearing loss, but about how easily people can misunderstand invisible challenges. That realization shaped my interest in healthcare and my desire to pursue dentistry. I want to enter a field where communication, patience, and trust are just as important as technical skill. Dentistry, in particular, interests me because it combines science with direct patient care, where small actions can significantly affect a patient’s comfort and confidence. The impact I hope to make is centered on creating more compassionate and accessible healthcare experiences. I want to be the kind of healthcare professional who takes time to understand patients beyond their symptoms, especially those who may feel anxious, overlooked, or misunderstood. My own experiences taught me how vulnerable it can feel when communication breaks down, and I want to be someone who helps bridge that gap for others. The adversity I have faced so far has been learning to navigate both the technical and emotional challenges of hearing loss. I had to adjust how I listen, how I take notes, and how I engage in conversations. At times, I relied on strategies like moving closer to speakers or focusing heavily on written information to compensate for what I could not hear clearly. While these adjustments were difficult, they taught me resilience and adaptability. Ultimately, my experiences with hearing loss did not limit my goals. Instead, they gave me direction. They helped me develop empathy for others, a stronger sense of perseverance, and a commitment to pursuing a career where I can combine science with care. Through my studies in biology and my future in dentistry, I hope to contribute to a healthcare environment where patients feel heard, understood, and respected.

I perceive myself as a positive force in society through the way I treat and understand other people, especially those whose struggles are often overlooked or misunderstood. My experiences growing up with hearing loss taught me that even small interactions can have lasting effects on someone’s confidence, sense of belonging, and identity. Because of that, I try to approach people with empathy, patience, and respect rather than judgment. When I was nine years old, I was diagnosed with moderate hearing loss and began wearing hearing aids. At first, I was fascinated by them and excited by the idea that they would help me better connect with the world around me. However, after being embarrassed in front of my classmates by a teacher who questioned whether my hearing aids were “working,” I became ashamed of wearing them. I eventually stopped using them altogether because I feared being treated differently. Although the experience was painful, it changed the way I viewed other people and society as a whole. I started noticing how often invisible struggles are dismissed because they are not immediately understood. Current social norms often encourage people to appear self-sufficient, confident, and unaffected by difficulties. As a result, many individuals hide disabilities, insecurities, or personal challenges out of fear of judgment or exclusion. I understand that feeling because I experienced it firsthand. These social expectations shaped my thinking by making me realize how important empathy and awareness are in creating supportive communities. I began paying closer attention to people who seemed isolated, overlooked, or hesitant to ask for help. Rather than assuming someone is distant or incapable, I try to consider what they may be experiencing privately. I believe being a positive force in society starts with creating environments where people feel respected instead of ashamed of their differences. In the future, I hope to continue making a positive impact through dentistry. Dentistry is not only a scientific and technical profession; it also requires trust, communication, and compassion. Many patients enter dental offices feeling anxious or vulnerable, and I want to be the type of dentist who makes people feel genuinely heard and comfortable. My experiences with hearing loss taught me how meaningful patience and understanding can be, especially during moments when someone feels uncertain or embarrassed. I may not be able to change society overnight, but I believe positive change often begins through individual actions and everyday interactions. By treating people with empathy, listening carefully, and advocating for greater understanding of invisible challenges, I hope to contribute to a more compassionate and accepting community both now and in the future.

Sitting in a cushioned chair in an audiologist’s office, I stared into the corners of the room while my dad and the audiologist discussed payment plans. At nine years old, I was told that I had moderate hearing loss and would need hearing aids. At first, I was fascinated by them. I wanted to show them off to my family, talk about them during quiet moments, and learn everything I could about hearing disabilities and resources. I thought they would simply help me hear better. I was unprepared for how difficult it would be to live with a disability that other people did not understand. In elementary school, I wore my hearing aids proudly. I could hear the hum of the air conditioning above me and the scraping of chairs across the carpet floor. During our morning activity called “Good Things,” my teacher called on me to share something positive. I could hear her voice clearly, but the words blended together into a blurry mess. I asked her to repeat herself several times, but she became visibly frustrated, as if hearing aids should have solved everything immediately. Eventually, she loudly asked in front of the class if my hearing aids were even working. I remember the heat rising in my face, the sweat pooling in my hands, and the feeling of every classmate staring at me. I quietly returned to my desk feeling embarrassed and ashamed. After that experience, I stopped wearing my hearing aids. Every morning, I would look at them sitting in their case before leaving them behind. Over time, I started to understand why many people choose not to disclose their disabilities. The problem I began noticing was not just a lack of accessibility, but a lack of understanding. Many people assume accommodations erase every challenge, when in reality disabilities often affect people in ways others cannot see. Invisible disabilities are frequently misunderstood, dismissed, or treated as inconveniences rather than realities people navigate every day. Because of my experiences, I became more aware of how small interactions can shape someone’s confidence. I started paying closer attention to people who were overlooked or embarrassed for needing support. I realized that many students stay silent because they fear being treated differently. What others may see as “special treatment” is often simply what allows someone to participate equally. If I had the resources to act, I would work to create environments where students with disabilities feel understood rather than isolated. I would support programs that educate schools about invisible disabilities and encourage conversations that normalize accommodations instead of stigmatizing them. I also want to pursue dentistry, a profession where empathy and communication are just as important as technical skill. My experiences taught me how vulnerable people can feel when they are misunderstood, and I want to become someone who helps patients feel respected, heard, and comfortable. Although I no longer wear those hearing aids, they still represent an important turning point in my life. They taught me that empathy is not simply feeling sorry for someone; it is recognizing struggles that others may never notice and choosing to treat people with patience, dignity, and understanding.

Sitting in a cushioned chair in an audiologist’s office, I stared off into the corners of the room, occasionally looking back at both my dad and the audiologist discussing payment plans. At 9, I was told that I had moderate hearing loss and that I would be wearing hearing aids. I was excited about the prospect of using something that would help me greatly. They became the object of my fascination; I would want to show them off to my family, talk about them in quiet moments, and learn more about hearing disabilities and resources. I was unprepared, however, for how hard it was to be hard of hearing. In elementary school, wearing my hearing aids on full display, I would hear the hum of the air conditioning overhead and the scraping of chairs on the carpet. I was ready for the first activity of the day, Good Things. When my time came to share something good that happened to me, I heard the teacher’s voice clearly, but the words blurred together. I asked her to repeat herself; however, she seemed irked, as if my hearing aids would’ve fixed everything. She repeated herself, but I still wasn’t able to understand her. I grew more flustered at my predicament as my classmates looked on, then my teacher said something different, so I stood up and walked over to her. She loudly asked if my hearing aids were working in front of the class, and the elation I once had dwindled into shame. I felt my classmates' stares, my hands shaking, and the warmth on my face. I didn't speak as I walked back to my desk. After that, my interactions with my classmates became awkward, and the shame lingered. Every morning, I hesitated before putting in my hearing aids, and often left them in their case. I still went through my routine, but I would find myself thinking what could’ve been different, and whether i would ever feel confident wearing them again. Over time, I started to comprehend why people don't often disclose their disabilities. This experience strengthened my empathy in a way I had never known before. I took time to learn about various disabilities, both visible and invisible, and the impact on each person's experiences and lives. Then I started to put it to the side. I told myself that I wouldn’t linger too much on the bad experiences; instead, focus on moving forward, eventually shifting my focus toward adaptation by moving closer to the speakers, reading nonverbal cues, and adjusting my environment to improve communication. After years of avoiding my hearing aids, I eventually stopped using them altogether, but the experience they represent has stayed with me. What once made me feel isolated has become the foundation of my empathy and awareness of how easily communication can break down between people. As I move toward a future in dentistry, I carry this perspective with me. Dentistry requires not only clinical precision, but also communication, trust, and ensuring patients feel heard literally and emotionally. My experience with hearing loss has trained me to be more attentive to nonverbal cues, more patient when communication is unclear, and more intentional in making sure others understand me and feel understood in return. In college, I plan to major in biology and complete the prerequisites for dental school. Beyond academics, I hope to continue growing in environments that emphasize inclusion and accessibility in healthcare. As a future dentist, I want to create a space where every patient, regardless of ability, feels comfortable, treated with dignity, respected, and fully heard.