My routine was always the same, as it was the one constant amidst the many ever-changing variables in my life. On Wednesdays, I would enter the Allen Public Library with my two students trodding behind me and sit at the first table we would find. One day, I asked a student if he wanted to play a game of chess with me. With one hand moving the chess pieces and the other holding the rule book, our silent laughter and loud whispers carried throughout the game. As I glanced ahead of me, I noticed a new look–a look of pure bliss. The following week, I was informed that he bought a chess board to play with his family. I learned of my student’s depression later in our first year together. But, I discovered that a new light beamed from his face. I wanted to continue being a catalyst of joy to those around me. On Saturdays, I would enter the small Korean school campus within the big American church, and stand beside the curious children in the Pre-K classroom. From time to time, I would see the different glances from the church: disgust, intrigue, or confusion. But despite them, the teachers continued to cultivate, and the children continued to yearn. I was in awe. I wanted to bring this passion to my school for those who wanted to re-discover their culture, so the Korean American Student Association (KASA) was created. I developed a love for the little constants in my life, grasping onto the hope that the more I created there would be no room for change. But, life continued to throw changes anyway. I have moved three times, never changing cities or states, just houses within the affluent circle of Allen, Texas. With every move, I became more aware of my family’s financial situation, and its effects on my classmates’ perceptions. My response to the simple question—“What does your dad do?”—once confident and proud, began to falter. When I lived in my two-story house, I would answer, “My dad works at Samsung.” My dad, overworked, soon left this job. When I lived with my grandparents, I would answer, “I don’t know.” My dad was unemployed. When I lived in my one-story house, I would answer, “My dad works at the bank.” My dad found a new job. I decided to apply for my first job. It was difficult to say the least, juggling between working, studying, and caring for my brothers. Yet, the glimpses of hope I would receive in the brief “thank you” from customers, words of encouragement from teachers, and laughter shared with my brothers, fueled me to work harder for the quality of life I envisioned for my family. I found myself excelling in classes after learning to ask for help, leading me to immerse myself in my passion to learn and achieve a 3.7 GPA. I regained confidence and used my voice in Student Council to speak on the discrepancies in our school’s social representation, further advocating for mental health and culture week. With this scholarship, I want to invest in my higher education at nursing school. With these resources, I hope to close the disparity of healthcare being an earned privilege and a given right. As a nurse, I want to serve with love and intention. As a nurse, I want to change the world to be where minorities are seen as the majority, change is seen as a constant, and community is seen as family. As a nurse, I want to be the constant joy amidst the ever-changing variables in patients’ lives.

The parents started running hysterically to one area by the pool. There, laid my brother receiving CPR from my mom. The encasing ringing of phone calls. The sirens from the ambulance. The flood of questions and worry. I felt helpless. My routine was always the same, as it was the one constant amidst the many ever-changing variables in my life. On Wednesdays, I would enter the Allen Public Library with my two students trodding behind me and sit at the first table we would find. One day, I asked a student if he wanted to play a game of chess with me. With one hand moving the chess pieces and the other holding the rule book, our silent laughter and loud whispers carried throughout the game. As I glanced ahead of me, I noticed a new look–a look of pure bliss. The following week, I was informed that he bought a chess board to play with his family. I learned of my student’s depression later in our first year together. But, I discovered that a new light beamed from his face. I wanted to continue being a catalyst of joy to those around me. On Saturdays, I would enter the small Korean school campus within the big American church, and stand beside the curious children in the Pre-K classroom. From time to time, I would see the different glances from the church: disgust, intrigue, or confusion. But despite them, the teachers continued to cultivate, and the children continued to yearn. I was in awe. I wanted to bring this passion to my school for those who wanted to rediscover their culture, so the Korean American Student Association (KASA) was created. I developed a love for the little constants in my life, grasping onto the hope that the more I created there would be no room for change. But, life continued to throw changes anyway. I have moved three times, never changing cities or states, just houses within the affluent circle of Allen, Texas. With every move, I became increasingly aware of how my financial situation differed from my classmates’. Feeling ashamed, I embodied a superficial persona, concealed by name-brand clothing as the overwhelming need to belong encapsulated me. I wanted to be free from this endless chase after an unattainable image I made for myself. Fortuitously, I found a path that had restored a voice I thought I lost; through Student Council, I was inspired to speak up for those that felt out of place like I did. I recognized that class was an irregular variable to my identity, and what really rooted me was my ambition to empower others like me. Before long, my family and I were at the hospital. I sat in the chair anxiously awaiting for my parents to return with good news. Shortly, I was graciously met with an exchange with a nurse. Her words were brief, but the ease that came from seeing her face around the hospital comforted me. Since then, my interest in nursing has grown as I filled bigger roles in my communities. As an older sister, I ensured a bigger sense of safety with compassion and kindness. As a leader, I nurtured my community with the warmth of selfless care. As a nurse, I want to serve with love and intention. As a nurse, I want to change the world to be where minorities are seen as the majority, change is seen as a constant, and community is seen as family. As a nurse, I want to be the constant joy amidst the ever-changing variables in patients’ lives.

The parents started running hysterically to one area by the pool. There, laid my brother receiving CPR from my mom. The encasing ringing of phone calls. The sirens from the ambulance. The flood of questions and worry. I felt helpless. My routine was always the same, as it was the one constant amidst the many ever-changing variables in my life. On Wednesdays, I would enter the Allen Public Library with my two students trodding behind me and sit at the first table we would find. One day, I asked a student if he wanted to play a game of chess with me. With one hand moving the chess pieces and the other holding the rule book, our silent laughter and loud whispers carried throughout the game. As I glanced ahead of me, I noticed a new look–a look of pure bliss. The following week, I was informed that he bought a chess board to play with his family. I learned of my student’s depression later in our first year together. But, I discovered that a new light beamed from his face. I wanted to continue being a catalyst of joy to those around me. On Saturdays, I would enter the small Korean school campus within the big American church, and stand beside the curious children in the Pre-K classroom. From time to time, I would see the different glances from the church: disgust, intrigue, or confusion. But despite them, the teachers continued to cultivate, and the children continued to yearn. I was in awe. I wanted to bring this passion to my school for those who wanted to re-discover their culture, so the Korean American Student Association (KASA) was created. I developed a love for the little constants in my life, grasping onto the hope that the more I created there would be no room for change. But, life continued to throw changes anyway. I have moved three times, never changing cities or states, just houses within the affluent circle of Allen, Texas. With every move, I became increasingly aware of how my financial situation differed from my classmates’. Feeling ashamed, I embodied a superficial persona, concealed by name-brand clothing as the overwhelming need to belong encapsulated me. I wanted to be free from this endless chase after an unattainable image I made for myself. Fortuitously, I found a path that had restored a voice I thought I lost; through Student Council, I was inspired to speak up for those that felt out of place like I did. I recognized that class was an irregular variable to my identity, and what really rooted me was my ambition to empower others like me. Before long, my family and I were at the hospital. I sat in the chair anxiously awaiting for my parents to return with good news. Shortly, I was graciously met with an exchange with a nurse. Her words were brief, but the ease that came from seeing her face around the hospital comforted me. Since then, my interest in nursing has grown as I filled bigger roles in my communities. As an older sister, I ensured a bigger sense of safety with compassion and kindness. As a leader, I nurtured my community with the warmth of selfless care. As a nurse, I want to serve with love and intention. As a nurse, I want to change the world to be where minorities are seen as the majority, change is seen as a constant, and community is seen as family. As a nurse, I want to be the constant joy amidst the ever-changing variables in patients’ lives.

Throughout my life, I have moved three times, never changing cities or states, just houses within the affluent circle of Allen, Texas. With every move, I became more aware of my family’s financial situation, and how different it was from my classmates’. My response to the simple question—“What does your dad do?”—once confident and proud, began to falter. When I lived in my two-story house, I would answer, “My dad works at Samsung.” My dad, overworked, soon left this job. When I lived with my grandparents, I would answer, “I don’t know.” My dad was unemployed. When I lived in my one-story house, I would answer, “My dad works at the bank.” My dad found a new job. When I lived in a townhouse, I answered, “I don’t know.” My dad is a laborer. Feeling ashamed, I hid behind a facade that hindered me from acknowledging my dad’s staunch devotion as he worked one grueling job to the next. Growing up, this financial volatility disrupted the growth in my passions, forcing me to jump from hobby to hobby, and in myself, hesitant to befriend others in fear of judgment. Living in a predominantly wealthy community made me feel like an intruder in my own home and school. At home, I was privileged to be a student; but at school, I was an underprivileged girl hiding her financial need. I embodied a superficial persona, concealed by name-brand shoes and trendy clothes as the overwhelming need to belong encapsulated me. My second skin scraped away at my true identity. Had I not walked past a loud ruckus coming from a classroom, I wouldn’t have let go of my regrets and reclaimed my sense of self. The fiery energy radiating from the chaos of heated debate lured me in: it belonged to the student council, and I knew this was where I belonged. Every morning, thirty council members gathered in the classroom, ready to discuss upcoming school events with a side of unplanned political debate. Although belonging to different backgrounds, ages, and creeds, here, enclosed by the Stranger Things posters on the walls and the warmth of community, I felt seen and heard–I felt my true self accepted by these people who were just like me, driven to lead and serve. Upon realizing how confining my lifestyle of acting was, I slowly figured out who I truly wanted to be. My mind had sought after an unattainable image of myself. However, as I bonded with my fellow officers, I recognized that class was an irregular variable to my identity, and what really rooted me was my ambition to empower others like me. I found a path that restored a voice I thought I lost. Working with a group of driven leaders inspired me to take the opportunity to speak up for those that felt out of place like I did. I push myself to be more aware of the stories others carry behind the simple facade they portray. Now, as Student Body Vice President, I intently make school events affordable and inclusive to support those underprivileged, and to raise their voices alongside mine. Despite what I lost to be where I am, I emerged with a powerful urge to push myself to accomplish as much as I could, a passion I now realize I had inherited from my dad. I grew up thinking privilege was only categorized by class, but I understand that I, too, was privileged thanks to his efforts. The support I received encouraged me to progress past my internal bias and embrace the privilege of time, love, and hope.

It all happened so fast. The parents were running hysterically to one area by the pool. Confused but intrigued, I walked over. My heart dropped immediately. There, laid my brother, Paul, receiving CPR from my mom, amid the encapsulating ringing of phone calls. The ambulance and the firefighters started to flood in and asked me questions. I felt useless, as I watched everyone around me in action, but I stood, just blankly staring at the incident in front of me. Before long, my family and I were at the hospital waiting for Paul to be taken care of. Feeling helpless, I sat in the chair anxiously awaiting for my parents to come back with good news. But, I was graciously met with an exchange with a nurse. She helped my other brother, Joel, and I calm our nerves by reassuring us we would go home soon with Paul. Her words were short, but the ease that came from seeing her face around the hospital comforted me. Despite our situation, I found a glimpse of hope from the nurse to push myself past the exhaustion and doubt. I will forever remember her kind heart, as she sparked an urge in me to be dependable for my brothers and others. Since my brother’s drowning incident, my interest in the nursing field has been cultivated as I have filled bigger roles in my family and community. As an older sister, I ensure a bigger sense of safety with compassion and kindness. I serve my community with the warmth of selfless care that nurses embody. The relief I received from the nurse in my vulnerable state helped me realize the gift the role carried. I had never considered tutoring before, but the opportunity stumbled upon me. Little did I know my student would be the catalyst of a passion I didn’t know I had. Our tutoring sessions were held at the library, where we would walk past a monthly puzzle, chess table, and board game desk. I was challenged by the discrepancy of our age gap, but I was determined to find a common ground. I opted for a system of learning and playing to encourage focus, but also fun. At first, we solved the puzzle together after our lessons, but I noticed a growing disinterest. I decided to try something new. Although I could barely recall the rules of chess, I asked him if he wanted to give it a try. We worked together to learn and get through one game. At the end of the game, I noticed a look that I had not seen before–the look of pure bliss. The following week, I was informed that he bought a chess board to play with his family. I learned of my student’s depression later in our first year together and how our time together brought light back to him with this newly acquired passion. I want to pursue a higher education that will push me to grow in knowledge and character. As I envision my future, I see the face of comfort that nurse embodied, glowing amidst the bustling chaos of a hospital, but that face is mine. The small choice I make to pursue nursing opens my life to the choice of making even one person’s day better. As a nurse, I want to comfort, support, and most importantly, spark hope. The catalyst of happiness: nursing.

I had never considered tutoring before, but the opportunity stumbled upon me. Little did I know my student would be the catalyst of a passion I didn’t know I had. Our tutoring sessions were held at the library, where we would walk past a monthly puzzle, chess table, and board game desk. I was challenged by the discrepancy of our age gap, but I was determined to find a common ground. I opted for a system of learning and playing to encourage focus, but also fun. At first, we solved the puzzle together after our lessons, but I noticed a growing disinterest. I decided to try something new. Although I could barely recall the rules of chess, I asked him if he wanted to give it a try. We worked together to learn and get through one game. At the end of the game, I noticed a look that I had not seen before–the look of pure bliss. The following week, I was informed that he bought a chess board to play with his family. I learned of my student’s depression later in our first year together and how our time together brought light back to him with this newly acquired passion. This sparked an urge to bring the same delight to those in a similar state of struggle. I want to grow my knowledge as I pursue a higher education that can allow me to be a helping hand to others. Through tutoring, I came to know the true reward of helping others. My interest in the nursing field has been cultivated as I have filled bigger roles in my family and community. I choose to pursue nursing to open my life to being the catalyst of happiness for even one person.