Personal Statement: My Journey Through Mental Health Challenges and Growth There was a time when getting out of bed felt like climbing a mountain. My mind was filled with doubts, exhaustion, and a quiet sadness that words couldn’t describe. During that period, I learned that mental health struggles do not define weakness — they reveal the strength it takes to keep showing up. My journey through anxiety and emotional burnout has shaped who I am today and continues to guide the way I approach education, empathy, and purpose. My challenges began during my undergraduate years in Pakistan. As a first-generation college student, I carried the weight of family expectations while managing academic pressure and financial responsibility. On the surface, I appeared calm and capable, but internally I was battling anxiety that often left me sleepless and overwhelmed. I remember sitting through lectures unable to focus, my heart racing for no clear reason. I tried to push through, believing that asking for help meant I was failing. Over time, that silence became heavier than the anxiety itself. Things reached a breaking point when I began working full-time as a behavior therapist while finishing my degree. Supporting children with autism was deeply rewarding but also emotionally demanding. I gave so much of myself that I forgot to care for my own well-being. I started losing motivation, isolating myself, and even questioning whether I was meant for the career I had once loved. That was when I realized I needed to confront my struggles, not hide them. Seeking therapy was my first major step toward recovery. It took courage to admit I needed support, but that decision changed my life. Through counseling, I learned that anxiety and exhaustion weren’t personal failures — they were signals asking me to pause, heal, and rebuild. My therapist helped me understand the importance of boundaries, mindfulness, and self-compassion. Slowly, I began incorporating meditation and journaling into my daily routine. After months of work, I began to feel like myself again — but stronger and more self-aware. My experience taught me to approach life with patience and to extend that same empathy to others. I also discovered that my struggle wasn’t separate from my purpose; it deepened it. As I continued working in the field of special education, I found myself better able to connect with families who felt hopeless or anxious. I could listen, relate, and offer reassurance that progress — even small steps — is meaningful. When I later moved to the United States to pursue my Master’s in Applied Behavior Analysis, I knew my mental health would need ongoing care. The transition was challenging: new culture, financial stress, and academic rigor all tested my emotional resilience. But this time, I had tools. I stayed committed to therapy, maintained a structured schedule, joined campus wellness workshops, and surrounded myself with positive communities. My faith also became my anchor. Prayer and reflection helped me stay grounded, reminding me that strength doesn’t always look like perfection — sometimes it looks like perseverance through quiet storms. My recovery isn’t a closed chapter; it’s a continuing practice. I manage my mental health today by living intentionally. I keep a balance between my studies, self-care, and spiritual connection. I focus on gratitude — finding peace in small joys like morning walks, talking to my family, or helping a child master a new skill. I also prioritize open conversations about mental health, especially in communities where stigma still exists. I believe that when we share our stories, we give others permission to heal too. My long-term educational goal is to become a Board-Certified Behavior Analyst and establish an inclusive therapy center in Pakistan that combines behavioral science with compassionate mental health support. Too often, children with disabilities and their families suffer silently due to lack of awareness or fear of judgment. I want to create a space where families feel safe, informed, and empowered. I see my own mental health journey as preparation for this mission — because only through empathy and understanding can we truly help others thrive. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease my financial burden but also allow me to focus fully on my studies and community work. It would support my ongoing commitment to self-care and to serving others with authenticity and compassion. Most importantly, it would symbolize that resilience and recovery are worth investing in. I once thought my struggles made me less capable. Now I understand they have made me more human — more patient, more kind, and more determined. My journey through mental health challenges has been both painful and transformative. It has taught me that healing isn’t about erasing the past; it’s about learning to rise with grace and use your experiences to light the way for others

Relying on Faith to Overcome My Greatest Challenge Faith, to me, has never been about the absence of fear — it has always been about the courage to keep walking when everything around me feels uncertain. My faith became my greatest source of strength when I decided to leave my home in Pakistan to study in the United States. It was a dream that sounded beautiful from afar but felt impossible up close. When I received my admission letter to Arizona State University, my excitement was quickly followed by fear. I was the first in my family to travel abroad, and the thought of leaving my parents, my culture, and my comfort zone felt overwhelming. I had never lived alone, and the idea of managing finances, studies, and life in a foreign country was daunting. There were moments when I almost gave up the idea entirely. I remember sitting on my bed late one night, surrounded by my visa forms and bank statements, thinking, “What if I fail? What if I can’t do this?” That night, I opened the Quran. The verse that caught my eye was: “Indeed, with hardship comes ease.” (Surah Ash-Sharh 94:6) It felt as if those words were written just for me. I realized that faith doesn’t mean life will be easy — it means trusting that every hardship carries a hidden purpose. That moment changed how I saw my journey. Instead of asking “why me?”, I began saying “try me.” When I arrived in the U.S., the reality hit harder than I expected. I faced culture shock, loneliness, and financial stress. Everything was new — the language, the food, even the silence of my apartment. I missed my family deeply, especially during nights when I had no one to talk to. But my faith kept me grounded. Each morning, I prayed before starting my day. One of my biggest challenges came during my first semester. Balancing a full course load in Applied Behavior Analysis while adjusting to a new academic system felt impossible. I failed my first quiz, and it broke my confidence. But instead of giving up, I turned to my faith. I began praying for strength, not for the situation to become easier, but for my heart to become stronger. Slowly, things started to shift. My focus improved, I sought help from professors, and my grades rose. Faith taught me persistence — that success often blooms in the soil of patience. When my finances became tight, I was tempted to take shortcuts or quit my studies temporarily. But once again, I relied on prayer. Within weeks, unexpected support came — a scholarship and part-time internship opportunity. It wasn’t luck; it was divine timing. Faith had carried me through what logic said was impossible. Looking back, I realize that every hardship I faced built a deeper sense of gratitude. Faith transformed fear into focus and uncertainty into purpose. It reminded me that life isn’t about controlling every outcome, but about trusting that even the detours are part of the destination. Today, whenever I face new challenges — whether it’s academic stress, homesickness, or self-doubt — I return to that same verse: “With hardship comes ease.” It’s a reminder that faith isn’t just belief; it’s a way of living. It’s choosing hope when things fall apart, and finding strength not in perfection but in perseverance. My faith didn’t remove my obstacles — it gave me the courage to rise above them. And every time I do, I see not just my strength, but the mercy and wisdom of the One who guides me through

What Being a First-Generation Student Means to Me Being a first-generation student means carrying my family’s dreams while walking a path no one before me has taken. It’s about becoming the bridge between what my parents once hoped for and what I’m determined to achieve. For me, earning a degree is more than an academic milestone — it’s about rewriting what’s possible for my family and for the children I’ll serve as a behavior analyst and educator. I grew up in Pakistan, where education was a privilege, not a guarantee. My parents never had the chance to attend college, yet they believed deeply that learning could change lives. Their sacrifices taught me that success isn’t about background or money — it’s about persistence, faith, and purpose. When I decided to pursue my master’s degree in the United States, I knew it would test every part of me. Leaving home, family, and familiarity behind was hard, but it also helped me discover strength I didn’t know I had. As an international and first-generation student, challenges appear daily — cultural adjustments, financial pressure, and the constant push to perform well in a demanding field like Applied Behavior Analysis. There were times I felt lost and uncertain, but each obstacle taught me resilience. Whenever I doubted myself, I reminded myself of my reason for being here: to help children with special needs find their voice and confidence. My passion for special education began years ago when I worked as a behavior therapist in Pakistan. I saw firsthand how early intervention could completely transform a child’s life. Many families lacked access to therapy and understanding, and children with disabilities were often kept out of sight. That reality shaped my dream — to open an autism therapy center in Pakistan where children can receive quality treatment and their families can find support and hope. Studying in the U.S. brings me closer to that dream, but it also comes with financial strain. This scholarship would ease that burden, allowing me to focus on learning instead of constantly worrying about tuition and living expenses. What drives me most is the desire to give back — to my parents, my community, and the children who deserve opportunities to thrive. I see this scholarship not only as financial support but as an investment in the future of countless children whose lives I hope to impact through my work. Being a first-generation student has taught me humility, perseverance, and gratitude. It means falling, getting back up, and continuing forward even when the path feels uncertain. It’s about turning my parents’ sacrifices into achievements that reflect their dreams. I may be the first in my family to walk this road, but I won’t be the last. My journey proves that when one person dares to dream, it lights the way for many others to follow.

When I stepped off the plane at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport with two suitcases and a heart full of hope, I realized that the American Dream is not a promise waiting to be handed to you—it’s a challenge waiting to be accepted. For me, the American Dream means creating a life of purpose through perseverance, integrity, and compassion. It’s not just about success—it’s about the freedom to become the person you’ve always wanted to be. A Journey of Courage and Change As an international student from Pakistan, leaving home was not easy. I grew up in a family that valued education but faced social limitations—especially for women. Many believed that dreams had boundaries defined by culture or gender. Yet I wanted more: to be a voice for children with special needs, to bring awareness, and to make change that crossed borders. Studying in the United States gave me that chance. The American Dream, to me, is courage. It’s the courage to step into an unknown world, to start from zero, and to build a path that no one in your family has walked before. It is waking up each day in a foreign land, far from comfort, and still choosing to keep going because your dream is bigger than your fear. Opportunity Through Effort What makes the American Dream extraordinary is that it rewards effort more than privilege. Back home, opportunities were often limited by connections or circumstances. Here, I found that my dedication, passion, and hard work could truly define my success. While pursuing my Master’s in Applied Behavior Analysis at Arizona State University, I’ve seen how education here empowers you to think, innovate, and lead. I am not only learning about behavior therapy; I’m learning how to create systems that can transform the lives of children with autism. This freedom—to learn, to question, to create—is the essence of the American Dream. For many, the American Dream is symbolized by wealth or material comfort. But my definition goes beyond that. I see it as the ability to rise after every setback, to keep your dignity in struggle, and to use your achievements to uplift others. The real measure of the American Dream is not what you own—it’s who you become in the process. When I work with children who cannot speak but express joy through a single smile, I am reminded that fulfillment doesn’t come from status; it comes from impact. My dream is to open my own therapy center in Pakistan one day, bringing modern behavioral practices to children who are often overlooked. That, to me, is the truest form of success—turning your opportunity into service. The American Dream isn’t just for Americans—it’s a universal hope that has found its greatest home here. It represents the idea that no matter who you are, where you come from, or what challenges you’ve faced, your story can change if you’re willing to work for it. My Personal Definition For me, the American Dream means freedom with responsibility. It’s about the power to choose who you want to be—and the grace to help others find their way, too. Every night when I study late in my small apartment, I think of my parents back home, praying for my success. I realize that I am living their dream as well. And one day, when I return to my country as a Board Certified Behavior Analyst, I will carry this dream with me—not as a symbol of what I achieved in America, but of what America inspired me to become.

Why I Am Passionate About the Special Education Teaching Profession I still remember the first time I held the tiny hand of a nonverbal child who looked up at me and smiled after weeks of silence. That single moment — a simple exchange of trust — changed everything I believed about teaching. It was then that I realized teaching is not just about transmitting knowledge; it’s about awakening a child’s sense of their own presence — helping them recognize that their voice, their actions, and their being truly matter in this world. Professor Harold Bloom once said, “The purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” To me, this means guiding students to see themselves not as limited by their challenges but as capable individuals who can shape their own learning, choices, and future. As a special education teacher, I see my role as a bridge — connecting students with their strengths, helping them build confidence, and allowing them to experience the joy of being seen, heard, and understood. Defining “Sense of Their Own Presence” To experience a “sense of one’s own presence” is to truly feel aware and capable within one’s environment. For children with special needs — especially those with autism, intellectual disabilities, or communication barriers — this awareness is not automatic. Many of them struggle to express emotions, make choices, or even recognize their own agency. My mission is to help each child discover that they have control, that their actions have meaning, and that their existence makes a difference. I believe this begins with connection. Before academics, before behavior plans — there must be trust. When a child feels safe and valued, their world begins to open up. This is how I guide my students toward their sense of presence: by creating a classroom where every small success is celebrated, where mistakes are seen as opportunities, and where love and patience replace judgment. My Mission and Approach My approach as a special educator and behavior therapist is deeply rooted in Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA), empathy, and individualized instruction. Having worked for four years in Pakistan as a behavior therapist for children with developmental delays, I have seen how structured interventions and compassion can transform lives. A child once considered “unreachable” began communicating with picture cards. Another learned to tie her own shoes — a skill that brought her to tears of pride. These moments may seem small to others, but in special education, they are milestones of independence. At Arizona State University, where I am pursuing my Master’s in Applied Behavior Analysis, I am further refining these skills. I’ve learned to use data-driven interventions while maintaining humanity in teaching — balancing the science of behavior with the art of care. My mission is not only to teach academic and life skills but also to help each student see themselves as capable human beings with purpose. Every child deserves to feel the pride of saying, “I did it.” Whether that’s initiating a conversation, holding a pencil, or simply making eye contact for the first time, I want to be the teacher who helps them realize — “I exist, I matter, and I can learn.” Guiding Students Toward Self-Awareness I guide my students through consistent routines, visual supports, and positive reinforcement. I help them set achievable goals and celebrate every step toward them. When a student completes a task, I say, “You did that!” to help them internalize their success. Gradually, they begin to recognize their role in achieving outcomes — the essence of Bloom’s philosophy. Family involvement is also a cornerstone of my mission. I believe that true progress happens when home and school align. By training parents in communication techniques and positive behavior supports, I ensure the child experiences consistency and empowerment across environments. The Heart of My Passion My passion for special education comes from both empathy and faith. I grew up in a culture where children with disabilities were often hidden, misunderstood, or underestimated. Watching that injustice inspired me to become their voice — to stand beside them and show the world what they can do. To me, teaching is sacred work. It’s not about perfection; it’s about presence. When I step into the classroom, I remind myself that every child before me is a story still being written. I am just a guide, a helper, a witness to their growth. Their victories — no matter how small — are my greatest rewards. A Short Fairy Tale: The Light Within Once upon a time, in a small village, there lived a teacher named Kanza. Every day she visited a classroom filled with children who spoke not with words but with their hearts. Many believed these children lived in silence, but Kanza knew better. She saw a spark in each of them — a light waiting to be found. She began each morning not with lessons, but with smiles, songs, and patience. Slowly, one child waved for the first time. Another whispered her name. Every time a child found their voice, the classroom grew brighter. One day, as sunlight poured through the windows, Kanza looked around and realized that the room was no longer dim — it was glowing with the light of presence. The children had found themselves, and in doing so, they had taught the teacher her greatest lesson: that every soul, no matter how quiet, has a light worth seeing. Conclusion Teaching special education is not just my profession — it’s my calling. It allows me to live Professor Bloom’s vision each day by helping students discover their own presence. Every child I teach reminds me that potential is not defined by ability, but by opportunity. And if I can be the one who provides that opportunity — who says “you can” when the world says “you can’t” — then I will have fulfilled the true purpose of teaching. Because in every heartbeat of a child who learns to believe in themselves, I find my own presence too.