I am passionate about becoming a special education teacher because this work feels like my purpose. For eleven years, I have supported children and teens with developmental disabilities and every experience has shown me how much it matters for kids to have adults who truly see them. I didn’t choose this field because it was easy. I chose it because it’s the one place where my heart is, my lived experience, and my mission all connect. I had experience with family members most of my life. Harold Bloom said, “The purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” To me that means helping students recognize their own voice, identity, and worth. A lot of students with special needs have spent years being misunderstood or underestimated. Helping them feel their own presence at that moment when they realize “I matter, I belong, I can do this" is so powerful. That’s the kind of teaching I want to do. I guide students towards that feeling by building real relationships. I want my classroom to feel safe, calm, and honest; a place where students don’t have to mask or pretend. When they feel seen and respected they start showing more of who they really are. I also teach from a strengths based mindset. Nowadays too many kids hear what they “can’t” do. I flip that. I want them to see their gifts, their talents, and the things that make each one unique. When a student realizes they have alot to offer; their confidence grows and their presence gets stronger. Self advocacy is another part of my mission. Whether a student uses words, gestures, devices, or behavior to communicate their voice matters as well. I want them to know they can speak up for themselves and that their needs are valid at all times. Representation matters too. Many of my students come from communities where they don’t always see themselves reflected in leadership. I want them to look at me and know that someone who looks like them, talks like them, and understands their world can also lead, teach, and uplift. I also like to make learning real and relevant. I want my classroom to feel alive hands‑on activities, community‑based learning, sensory‑friendly spaces, and lessons that connect to their everyday life too. When learning it feels meaningful students show up differently. They feel present. And honestly I guide students towards their own presence by being present myself. Kids can also feel the energy. They know when you are with them for real. I want to be the teacher who listens deeply, shows up consistently, and brings calm, steady energy into the room. My passion for this work also comes from my own story. Growing up I had to figure out a lot on my own. I know what it feels like to need support and not always have it. That’s why I’m committed to being the adult who shows up for kids the way I needed someone to show up for me. This scholarship would help me continue my education while balancing school, work, and parenting. It would support my goal of becoming a licensed special education teacher and eventually building programs that create safe, loving, and empowering spaces for vulnerable youth. Investing in me is investing in the students and families I will serve for years to come. Teaching isn’t just a job for me. It’s a mission and a passion. It’s a promise that in my classroom, no child will feel invisible. They will feel seen. They will feel valued. They will feel present. Fairytale Once upon a time, in a loud city full of sneakers, buses, and corner stores, there lived a young woman named K. She wasn’t just a warrior or a princess; she was just something rarer. She had the gift of hearing the things children didn’t say out loud to anyone. One day she found a hidden school tucked between two tall buildings. The students there were special and not because of their challenges but because of their magic. Some spoke with their hands, some with their eyes, some with their hearts. But their magic was fading because no one had ever taught them how powerful they truly were. K became their teacher. She didn’t bring any swords or spells. She brought patience, love, and a belief so strong it glowed all over. Slowly the students began to shine. They learned their strengths. They learned their voices. They learned their presence. And in the end, K didn’t just save the children. They saved themselves. She just showed them how.

Growing up in foster care has shaped me in ways I didn’t fully understand until I got older. When you’re a kid in the system, you learn fast that nothing is guaranteed nor stability, nor support, not even a sense of belonging. You move through different homes, different rules, different adults, and you’re expected to adjust like it’s nothing. But the truth is, it leaves a mark. It teaches you how to survive, how to stay alert, and how to keep going even when life feels unstable. Those experiences made me strong, but they also made school harder than people realized. Trying to focus on education while dealing with foster care is a whole different challenge. I wasn’t just thinking about homework I was thinking about where I’d be living next month, who I could trust, and how to keep myself together. Some days I showed up to school tired, stressed, or mentally checked out, not because I didn’t care, but because life was heavy. I didn’t always have someone at home to help with assignments or push me to stay on track. I had to learn how to motivate myself, how to ask for help, and how to keep showing up even when I felt alone. That kind of pressure can break you, but for me, it pushed me to fight harder for my future. Even with all the challenges, I always knew education was something nobody could take from me. It was the one thing that felt like mine. Every class I passed, every skill I learned, every step forward it all felt like proof that I could build something better for myself. But it wasn’t easy. I had moments where I wanted to quit, moments where I felt behind, moments where life felt too loud to focus. But I kept going because I knew I wanted more than survival. I wanted purpose. Furthering my education now is part of me rewriting my story. I’m not just going to school for a degree, I’m going to school to build a future that feels stable, meaningful, and aligned with who I am. My goal is to work in Special Education and Developmental Disabilities and eventually open my own program for kids who feel misunderstood or overlooked. I want to be the adult I needed growing up someone who listens, someone who cares, someone who sees the whole child, not just their behavior or their situation. Education is helping me get there. It’s giving me the knowledge, the tools, and the confidence to turn my experiences into something positive. It’s teaching me how to support kids with patience, empathy, and real understanding. It’s helping me build a career where I can make an impact, especially for young people who feel like the world doesn’t always make space for them. Foster care taught me how to survive. Education is teaching me how to build. And my future career will let me turn both into something powerful for the next generation.

The reason that I’m interested in becoming a teacher is because teaching feels like the one place where my purpose, my experiences, and my heart all line up with everything. I’ve spent over eleven years working with kids and teens with developmental disabilities and that work changed me. It taught me patience, empathy, and how to really listen. It also showed me how much young people carry, how much they need adults who actually see them, and how powerful it is when a student feels understood overall. Over time I realized that moments that stuck with me weren’t about academics; they were about connection. They were about a kid finally feeling safe enough to try, or proud enough to smile. That’s when I knew teaching wasn’t just a job for me. It was something I was meant to do. My interest in teaching also comes from my own story. Growing up school didn’t always feel like a place built for kids like myself. I was dealing with real life, real stress, and sometimes it felt like nobody noticed. But I had one teacher who changed everything for me; my English teacher, Mrs. James. She was the first adult in my school who had made me feel like my voice mattered. She didn’t treat me like a problem or a number. She treated me like a person. There’s one moment with her that I’ll never forget. I was having a rough week tired, overwhelmed, and honestly just checked out. Instead of calling me out in front of everyone or assuming I didn’t care and she waited until after class and said, “Talk to me. What’s really going on?” Nobody had ever asked me that before. Not the school version of me, not the “be strong” version just me. That conversation cracked something open in me. It made me feel seen in a way I didn’t even know that I needed. It made me want to try again. And it showed me how one teacher, one moment, can shift the whole direction of a young person’s life in that moment in time. That’s the kind of teacher I want to be. I want to teach academics, yes, but I also want to teach confidence, self‑worth, and resilience. I want my classroom to feel like a space where students can breathe, be themselves, and not feel judged for what they’re going through in life. I want to be the adult who notices the quiet kid, the overwhelmed kid, the kid who’s trying but doesn’t know how to say it. I want to support students in ways that fit them, not force them into something that doesn’t. Teaching to me is about impact. It’s about showing up for young people who need consistency, love, and structure. It’s about giving kids opportunities that they might not get anywhere else. And it’s about honoring the teachers who poured into me especially Mrs. James, who has taught me that sometimes all a young person needs is one adult who believes in them. I plan to be that adult.

I am a supportive professional with over eleven years working with children and teens with developmental disabilities, and this field has shaped me in ways I didn’t even expect. I didn’t just learn skills I learned people and family experiencesas well. I have learned patience, empathy, and how to show up for kids who don’t always get the space or support they deserve. Over the years, I’ve worked in classrooms, programs, and community settings; every experience pushed me closer to my purpose. I have realized that my passion isn’t just by helping kids get through the day. It is about helping them grow, feel safe, and see their own potential in a world that doesn’t always make room for them at all. Going back to school for Developmental Disabilities Direct Support was a big step for me but it was the right one. I wanted to deepen my knowledge, sharpen my skills, and prepare myself for something bigger. I’m not just trying to build a career I’m trying building a future for myself, my daughter, son, and the families that I serve. Education gave me the language and tools to match the heart I already have. It helps me understand behavior, communication, trauma, learning styles, and how to support kids in ways that actually work for them. It also showes me how much the system is missing, especially for Black and brown families, low‑income families, and kids who need more than what traditional programs offer nowadays. That’s why I plan to open my own Special Education and Developmental Disabilities business. I want to create a space that feels real, supportive, and culturally aware and not cold, not clinical, not “one size fits all.” My vision is a program where kids can learn at their own pace, express themselves without judgment, and get the academic, emotional, and behavioral support that they need. I want families to feel welcomed, respected, and understood, not talked down to or pushed aside. I want to build a place where parents can ask the questions that they, get resources and make them feel like they’re part of the team as well. My business will focus on person‑centered support, behavior intervention, social‑emotional learning, and real‑life skill building. I want to help kids build their confidence, communication skills, independence, and self‑advocacy. I want them to feel proud of whom they are and not feel pressured to fit into a box that society holds. I also want to hire and train staff who share the same heart and values as me. I want people who understand that this work is about humanity and not just paperwork and mean it. For me; making a positive impact isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being present and right now. It’s about showing up for kids who need consistency, love, and structure. It’s about giving families hope and giving young people opportunities they might not get anywhere else or someone else. My career is my purpose and my business will be my way of pouring back into my community. I’m need to build something that will last, something that will grow, and something that will change lives with one child, one family, one moment at a time.

Losing my partner three years ago differently changed my life. It wasn’t something I saw coming, and it hit me in a way I still don’t fully have the words for it. One day we were building a life together and the next day I was trying to figure out how to breathe, how to move, how to keep going. Grief dont come with instructions. It just shows up and stayed. Some days I feel okay and other days it feels like everything happened yesterday; even through all that pain, one thing kept me standing is our daughter and son. They became my reason, my motivation, my anchor. Becoming a single parent overnight forced me to grow fast. I had to be strong even though I felt weak. I had to show up for them even when I didn’t know how to show up for myself. I had to learn how to carry my grief without letting it take over my life. This loss has taught me that life can flip in a second so you have to move on with purpose. You have to build something that's real. You have to create a life that means something, not just for you but for all the people who depend on you. That’s why I’m in school right now working towards starting my own business in Special Education and Developmental Disabilities. I’ve always loved this field and after losing my partner my purpose got much clearer. I want stability for my children. I need a future that honors everything we went through snd I wanted to turn my pain into something that could help others in life. I have worked in this field for years and I know how much families really need support, understanding, and real care. My loss has made me even to be more committed to being that person. Grief changed the way I view people. It has made me more patient, more understanding, and more aware of the struggles that people carry quietly to themselves. It taught me how to listen without judging or pre judging. It has taught me how to show up for others even when they don’t know how to ask for the help. All of that is connected to the work that I do. Kids with developmental disabilities need adults who can slow down, pay attention, and meet them where it matters the most. Families need someone who completely understands how it feels like to be overwhelmed and still keep trying. My experience gave me that kind of heart. This loss also changed how I live my life. I don’t take moments for granted I embrace them. I try to be more present, especially with my daughter and my son. I also try to build a future that honors the love we lost but also celebrates the life we still have today. I want my daughter to see that even when life breaks you, you can rebuild anything. You can grow. You can still create something beautiful whenever you want. Losing my partner has shaped me into a stronger, more focused, and more compassionate version of myself. It pushed me toward my goals and reminded me that my life still has a purpose. And even though that pain never fully goes away, I’m learning how to carry it while still moving forward for myself, for my daughter, and for the future that I’m building.

I personally didn’t grow up saying that I want to be a teacher that wasn’t my dream at first. My inspiration came from real life; my family, my community, and the kids and teens I’ve worked with over the years. Being around loved ones with developmental disabilities has taught me early on on how to be patient, how to communicate without words, and how to show love in different ways that didn’t look traditional. I didn’t know it back then but those moments were shaping me into the educator I’m becoming now to this day. My family was my first classroom experience that I learned how to help with routines, how to calm someone down when they were overwhelmed, and how to celebrate small wins that other people might have overlooked. I saw how the world treated people who needed more support with the stares, the impatience, the misunderstanding and I saw as well to have a little patience, a calm tone, or a consistent routine could that change everything to an individual. These experiences will always stick with me. They taught me that people don’t act out for no reason just because. There’s always something underneath the surface and if you slow down long enough can see it. When I have started to work in group homes, schools, and therapeutic programs thats when everything clicked. I wasn’t just doing a job I was connecting with kids who reminded me of my own family experiences. Kids who needed someone that don't judge them. Kids who needed someone who can understand the meltdowns, shutdowns, sensory overload, and all the little things that come with developmental disabilities. I am that person naturally. I showed up with patience, humor, and real love, sympathy and empathy and people respond to that. They put their trust in me; they opened up to me with no problems. They also taught me just as much as I taught them. When I saw the parts of the field that pushed me to become a teacher. Ive staff who didn’t care at all. I witnessed kids being treated like tasks instead of human beings. I've families who felt alone and unheard. I seen systems that were supposed to help but made things harder. And I couldn’t just sit back and watch that and do nothing. I wanted to be part of the change. I wanted to be the kind of educator who brings heart into the classroom, not just rules and routines. My beliefs comes from the kids whom trust me when they didn’t have anyone else to trust. The ones who communicated in their own ways that is. The ones who taught me that behavior is communication and love is a language as well. They made me want to be the kind of teacher who shows up every day with consistency, patience, and respect and most of all love. I plan to use everything that I lived through to inspire my students. I want my classroom to feel safe the moment they walk into it. I need them to know they don’t have to be perfect to be valued at all. I want them to feel seen, heard, and understood especially the ones who struggle to express themselves organically. I want them to know their pace is okay, their voice matters, and their challenges don’t define them at all. I also want to inspire future educators, especially people from communities like the one that Ilive in. A lot of us grow up thinking teaching isn’t for us, or that we don’t fit the “professional” mold and kids need teachers who look like them, talk like them, and understand their world as well. They need teachers who bring culture, empathy, and real life experience into the classroom that they dont do. I want to show people that you can be yourself and still be a powerful educator. Everything that I have been through; the family experiences, the jobs, the lessons, and the challenges has shaped me into someone who leads with their heart all the way. I’m not becoming a teacher just because its a career but just because thats my purpose. I plan on to use my story, my voice, and my experiences to inspire any student, family member, and future educator I meet along this journey.