“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask Abdul, a nine-year-old from Afghanistan. We’re sitting in a trailer tucked into a corner of downtown Austin. For an hour, I am the teacher. The topic is careers.
“A teacher,” he says, eyes lighting up.
That summer, I worked with refugee students through the Aspire Family Literacy Program. Our classroom was a patchwork of stories and languages, and it showed me a version of childhood very different from mine. What struck me was not a lack of ambition. It was a lack of access.
I left that summer thinking about how many doors stay closed simply because people do not know they exist, or do not have the resources to reach them. I wanted to build something that could change that.
I taught myself JavaScript, learned web scraping, and built YouUnited, a platform that connects students to internships, scholarships, and volunteer opportunities. What started as a simple idea has grown to support over 35,000 students across 70 countries. What matters most to me is not the scale, but the stories. The student in Jordan who found a coding internship. The girl in Texas who partnered with a nonprofit to pass a bill protecting immigrant children. Building YouUnited showed me what happens when access and belief come together.
As I continued building, I became interested not just in creating tools, but in understanding the systems behind them. I joined a research lab studying privacy risks in large language models, exploring how sensitive data can be memorized and exposed. I worked on satellite constellation design to improve internet access in underserved areas. I also built MedPull, a multilingual patient intake platform piloted at clinics, helping patients communicate with providers more easily and giving clinics more structured, usable data. Through this, I have started to see how small gaps in systems can scale into real barriers for people trying to access care.
At the same time, the most important lessons I have learned have come from working directly with students. Teaching in Oman, in the remote coastal town of Khasab, reshaped how I think about education. When I asked the girls what they wanted to be, many said “housewives,” not because they lacked dreams, but because they had been raised to believe those were their only options. One of my students, Aya, was bright and curious, but had been told she could not go to college. By the end of the program, she and two others applied to schools in Switzerland and were accepted.
Experiences like these have shaped what I want to keep doing. I want to build systems that expand access to education and healthcare, especially for communities that are often overlooked. I want to design technology that reflects the people it serves, not just in function, but in understanding.
I keep thinking about Abdul, and students like Aya. Their curiosity, drive, and potential are not rare. They are everywhere. I want to keep building the kinds of tools that open doors and give people the opportunity to take control of their futures.