We were leaving for my cousin's birthday party when we got the call. Halfway up the driveway, my mom jumped out of the car and raced towards the house; returning with my two-year-old chicken Stoptoad. Wrapped in a towel, she lay calmly in my mother's lap. Her breathing was heavy, her eyes weary and her feathers puffed outwards. It had been this way for days, and I had become increasingly worried about her. At eight years old, I was doing everything I could to help her, but extra snacks and snuggles didn’t seem to work. Only one veterinary office saw chickens, and though we had called almost a week ago, they just had an opening. I was thrilled. My chicken may hardly be strong enough to lift her head, but I knew they would make her feel better. When we arrived, my mother handed her to me, and I walked inside, cradling her against my chest. The vet led us into a small room while I explained what was wrong. She diligently watched Stoptoad, and after a thorough examination determined the condition was terminal. Even after a short procedure, she was only given a month to live. I was devastated, I thought we had many more years together; her death had not been something I had even considered. Still, I took it upon myself to ensure her last month would be the best I could make it. Every day, I would diligently administer her pills, and when needed would repeat the vet’s procedure; carefully prodding her with needles under the supervision of my mom. One month passed, and Stoptoad was still with us, thriving as if nothing was wrong. This continued for months; until one faithful day when the needles and medication could no longer keep up. As her soul peacefully left her body, I reflected upon our time together. Thinking about our visit to the vet, I was so grateful for the care they were able to provide. They helped ease her pain and suffering and gave us more time together. The extra few months had strengthened our bond significantly, and it was hard to accept it was ending. The journey and joy of caring for her was over, yet as tears streamed down my face I realized it wasn’t the end, it was just the beginning. Other animals suffered from sickness and pain, and I could help them just as the vet helped me. “I'm going to be a veterinarian,” I told her as we said our final goodbyes. 9 years later, the statement still stands. I now have experience with intubation, IVs, microchipping, syringe feeding, and other basic veterinary procedures. The more I learn, the more passionate I become. I want to be a veterinarian to ease animals' pain and sickness, giving people and pets more time together. I am so excited to begin making a difference in the lives of people and pets, and this scholarship will help make my dream a reality!

The consequence of mixing potions in the bathroom was a large cut running deep along the palm of my hand. I had been in there for at least an hour, mixing various ingredients, and seeing what fizzed, bubbled, and separated. As I shook it for the final time, the jar slipped from my hands, shattering on the counter below and grazing my hand in the process. Blood pooled and I cried as my parents raced to find the source of my screaming, debating whether or not stitches were needed. When I was bandaged up, my hand suffocated by layers of ace bandages, my parents asked what had caused such a significant injury. Feebishly, I lead them upstairs to the blue concoction spilled over the tile floor, expecting to be scolded for staying up past my bedtime. Instead, however, they asked what I was making, and relived I eagerly told them.  From a young age, my parents always encouraged my love for STEM. It was something they could tell I loved, and something they decided to nurture. I remember as a child when people would ask my mom what I wanted to do when I grew up, she would proudly exclaim. “She’s going into STEM!” I would beam beside her, not knowing why this made her so happy. However, as I got older, I realized it was because I was a girl curious about a field historically dominated and available to men. The first time I became aware of this gender divide was at a local STEM convention with my mom. It was an event the two of us attended annually and was always great fun. The best part was that it was for girls only. Taught by girls for girls. We learned what makes airplanes fly, how to make a potato battery, and the art of 3d printing among other fascinating topics, but one year, they let boys join. Suddenly, us girls were overlooked. The boys were the only ones called on to answer questions, they got more help from the teachers and cut in line. It was an entirely different experience, and since then I have experienced this divide on multiple other occasions. I have been in many classes, such as drones and architecture where I am the only female. The feeling of constantly being overlooked in these classes was frustrating. No one would partner with me, and people would always explain things like I was stupid. I had to work harder than everyone else to prove I was just as capable, and I know it will be this way for the rest of my life. I will have to prove myself over, and over, and over again to my male counterparts because they don’t see me as a doctor, a mathematician, or a computer programmer. They just see me as a woman. I will have to work twice as hard, but it will be worth it because I love STEM. I love how it is a never-ending subject. There will always be something new and exciting to learn that will fascinate me. I want to inspire others to be curious about the world around them while breaking down the gender barrier so the next generation of girls are not seen as just women but as smart, tenacious, and capable people of society.

Animals are friends, not food, has been a motto in my household before I was alive, and remains a strict value I live by. Being born a vegetarian, I have always wanted to know the truth about where my food comes from. However, through children's books, online photos, and videos, I was taught that dairy cows frolicked in pastures, eating green grass and dandelions, so that's what I believed. I knew what the egg industry was like; I had seen the trucks of "spent" hens being shipped off to slaughter. Having chickens of my own, I couldn't imagine them being stuck in tiny cages with no room to move, so long before I went vegan I only ate eggs from my hens. However, it never occurred to me that the milk I put in my cereal or the butter I spread on my toast came from animals in the same situation. Until I came across a video of a cow escaping a dairy farm. She looked like she was running for her life. As I rewatched her jump over fences into traffic, I was startled. What would make a cow risk her life like that? I immediately opened Google and discovered the life of a dairy cow is not a happy ever after. They live in horrible conditions, are constantly overmilked, suffer from infections, and are forcibly impregnated. This was shocking to me. I thought my diet was helping limit the number of animals being slaughtered for consumption, but now I was learning the cows that gave me milk were the same ones that were being killed. How could I possibly be helping these animals with my diet when the dairy I consumed helped contribute to the cause I was trying to protest? That night at dinner, I looked at my slice of cheese pizza and pushed it away. All I could see were the cows, standing in a swamp of feces, stuck behind bars without a blade of grass. I heard the mother cows crying out as their babies were taken away from them. And what for? So I could enjoy a slice of pizza for a few minutes? Was that pizza worth all the pain and suffering it brought the cow? No. It was not. I didn’t eat the Tillamook ice cream for dessert that night, or put milk in my cereal in the morning. Dairy just didn’t look good anymore, in fact, it disgusted me, simply because treating animals with such disrespect is wrong. Shortly after I became vegan, we watched a documentary in class about veganism relating to athletics. I found it fascinating. As a varsity distance runner, nutrition is a direct reflection of performance, and when I explained I was going vegan to those closest to me, I was told my new diet wouldn’t support my activity level and I would suffer as an athlete. Yet, the documentary demonstrated that going vegan is great for athletes! From lower cholesterol and fat levels to faster recovery and increased energy, the vegan diet can help prevent and lower the chances of injury, as well as increase overall performance. As someone who plans to go into athletic training, I plan on sharing this with future patients not only to help them improve athletically but also to spread awareness and educate people about the truth behind the dairy industry. With this scholarship, my dream of changing the lives of people and animals can become a reality!