Do you know what it is like to live with nasty voices that constantly nitpick your skills despite everyone else praising those same skills? Sometimes, I like to think that I was born talented. But as I progressed through high school, I realize I was born with merit that masked horrific mental side effects. Starting at childhood, I was praised constantly. My loved ones would watch me draw, brag about my school accomplishments, and admire my intelligence—I still have most of the awards and certificates from elementary school that praised my math, reading, and english performances on standardized tests. But then everything changed once I transitioned into middle school. During 7th grade, I took a rigorous, high school-level cybersecurity class. Since I was the “smart kid,” I thought this class would be easy. I was dead wrong. The entire class pummeled me to the ground, especially the first unit. I could not wrap my head around complex systems of a computer, how to operate a Linux system, or figure out how to access an IP address. I got confused, stayed up many nights to try to understand the content, got angry at myself, and spewed curses at my stupidity: Was I really as smart as everyone thought I was, or was I pretending? This cybersecurity class I took knocked over my tower of confidence in academics. It was the first wave of major self-doubt I would experience because I began to doubt myself constantly. But this was only the beginning of the mental health side effects of being “smart.” My mental health continued its slow decline when I entered high school, and I would hit a second wave of self-doubt during my biology honors class. We were taking the first test in biology honors. I studied until midnight the night before. I answered all my questions and all I had to do was submit the test. But I was scared. Many thoughts ran through my head, worsening my anxiety: Am I going to get an A? Are my answers correct? Am I really the “smart kid”? Was I good enough? With anger and frustration, I could not wait anymore and submitted my test. Then my score came out: an embarrassing 80%. I have never, ever gotten a grade lower than an A before. But this biology honors test just changed that. My mouth flattened, my throat tightened, and my eyes welled up in tears. I held in so much energy to make sure I did not cry during class. Everything but two tears escaped onto the table at which I was sitting. Hours passed and it became night. The pressure soon got to me. I found myself on the floor, tear-stained cheeks, body shaken, and mind all over the place. My thoughts that raced turned into nasty voices: “You will never be good enough.” “You are a failure.” “You are better off gone.” Ever since that day—the 80% score, the horror in my eyes, and the wave of self-doubt—nothing has been the same. The praise I received and the academic merit I possessed as a little girl took a toll on me. High expectations were imposed onto myself, and although it had its benefits, it also had its major, mental health drawbacks. Now, I am stuck with two nasty voices that constantly nitpick everything I do, contributing to my mental health decline. The voices and my mental health have extremely affected my relationship with my family. My family’s praise became the basic foundation of the high expectations imposed onto me. When they glorify my intelligence, high test performance, and hobby-related talents, I feel forbidden to ask them for help or show signs of struggling. As a result, I feel as if my family and I’s relationship is gradually deteriorating. I cannot endure the disappointment and embarrassment of asking for help after they have praised me for so long. But as a punishment for holding everything in, I developed disturbing voices in my head. With regards to my goals, my bad mental health has surprisingly shaped them positively. Although my professional goals are to become a Landscape Architect and Civil Engineer, my poor mental health made me add another life goal related to personal growth: prioritize self-care by taking three breaks daily. Reflecting on the past, I realized I refused to take care of myself during such downfalls, especially during the first biology honors test. I did not step away from academic-related things, enact breathing exercises, or affirm myself positively. To change my ways and be a better version of myself, I have to teach myself these coping mechanisms to properly practice self-care and calm my mind from unpleasant racing thoughts. Finally, my mental health has drastically affected my perception of myself in the future. Poor mental health experiences have made me imagine myself as a lazy, inane, failure in the future. Any small mistake I made on a quiz or assignment made me feel as if I was going to go nowhere for my future. Although these mental health experiences had a strong influence on my life, I have taught myself a few coping mechanisms to deal with such strong negative emotions: creating monochrome art, journaling, and talking about my situations to my friend are some examples. Now, I am a little more confident in my academic abilities, sometimes even brushing off tiny mistakes that I know are not going to destroy the entire world. I notice that I am more outspoken and passionate about sharing my ideas with the world: telling professionals I want to be a Landscape Architect and Civil Engineer, volunteering whenever I can, and advocating for myself when I need help in school. As I close my essay and finish reflecting on my past experiences, I will continue to practice these coping mechanisms and aim to develop new practices like yoga or jogging. I am glad that the Elevate Mental Health Awareness Scholarship allowed me to revisit the past experiences I needed to acknowledge.

“I immigrated to the USA when I was eleven” my Dad announced as I was drawing out my parents’ past. “It was hard living in the Philippines. I worked all day alongside my mom to provide for the family,” Mom mentioned after I asked about her life in the Philippines. My parents left their origins to immigrate to the United States for a better life. Due to their sacrificial actions, they could not attend any form of post-secondary education, putting the burden of college on their children, including me. As a first-generation student, the road to college may be scary, but being first-generation does not mean I cannot take control of my future. Since my parents did not attend college, I had to figure out everything on my own. How was I supposed to rely on my family for valuable study habits, pacing methods, or socialization strategies when they could not attest to any of the “college experience”? The answer is simple: I couldn’t. Additionally, my parents have no idea how to pay for four-years of tuition, housing, transportation, and additional expenses. On top of the lack of familial experience, I had no idea how to live independently from my family for a prolonged period. As someone who grew up with Filipino familial values, it sometimes feels disgusting to be away from my family as I was taught to “stick together.” It also does not help when my mom constantly argues with me to stay at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas because it’s closer. This barrier caused more pressure on choosing a college to attend. I did not know if I wanted to stay in Nevada for college or pursue my limitless dreams in another state. Despite my mom’s suggestions, I knew I could do more than attend an in-state college. I wanted to be the first in my family to attend an out-of-state, top 20 school because I knew I was capable of it. However, as a first-generation student, my parents could not teach me how to live in a college dorm or utilize the residential resources of a college campus, compounding feelings of fear and unpreparedness during the road to college. My experiences so far have demonstrated that attending college may be impossible for first-generation students. However, being first-generation has also taught me the importance of taking control of my future. Throughout my high school journey, I seized upon opportunities and college-prep programs that would assist me with the barriers of being first-generation. Rather than letting the label dominate my potential college life, I took control of the resources at hand to alter the future. Programs like Leaders in Training, TRIO Upward Bound and Educational Talent Search, and GEAR UP filled the missing “college gaps” of my family. By providing resume workshops, a 5-week college residential program, personal college mentors, out-of-state college tour opportunities, community service events, and areas of leadership development, I felt more prepared to attend college as a first-generation student. Particularly, TRIO Upward Bound and Educational Talent Search helped me the most. As I reflect on my high school career, these programs helped me break out of my shell. I am not afraid to contact my mentors for help, visit them during school hours, or volunteer for them in any way. My experiences with TRIO have shown me that no matter what barrier is present in life, there is always a way to work around it and get the answer you must need, and TRIO alone has answered 95% of my “I-must-know” college questions. Their phrase “TRIO Works!” is true because they turned the anxious and silent girl of my freshman and sophomore years into the confident and outspoken woman I am today. My experience of being a first-generation student was stressful initially. I did not know where or how to start preparing for college, and my parents certainly could not help either. However, the label of being first-generation does not have to dominate my life—after all it is just label. Being first-generation has influenced my beliefs by teaching me that not everything is predetermined by your certain circumstances. You can change your route by taking charge of the present. I could have easily let the label of “first-generation” drown me in feelings of confusion, but I took it upon my own hands to advocate for myself and seek the proper resources to prepare me for college. Briefly, being first-generation taught me to take charge of the present to shape my future, and any label is void if you do not let it control your life.

My father lost his job from April 2024 to August 2024. During that period, I feared that my family and I would lose our property, our house, our source of safety and security, having no nearby resources or facilities. While reflecting on such a dire experience, I realized how much worse the situation could have been, thinking about the people who live in makeshift, temporary, or no shelter at all. This experience drew attention to the lack of resources in Las Vegas along with the accessibility of such resources to communities that are lacking physiological needs. Additionally, I understood what impoverished and low-income communities are going through as I had my fair share of experiences as well. I used to live in Honolulu, Hawaii, and it was hard living in such an expensive state. While living in Honolulu, people did not care to help us with our situation. My family and I had to figure out what to do to survive in Honolulu, and I had to contribute by saving as much money as possible. I did not have the pleasure of buying the toys I saw on TV. Every time I pointed to something I wanted on the TV—a dollhouse, for example—and asked my Mom, she would say “No. We don’t have enough money.” I would be so frustrated with her and get angry at her, but I would calm down afterwards because at a young age I realized that we had to prioritize surviving. At a young age, I realized that we could not be careless with our money. At a young age, I realized we could not buy our WANTS, only our NEEDS. At a young age, I realized we were low-income, and we were in poverty, having no resources readily available for us to prepare for downturn. The first step into furthering my education is to attend college and educate myself in the field of architecture and engineering. I specifically plan to pursue a Master’s in Landscape Architecture and a Bachelor’s in Civil Engineering at Rice University. However, as senior year chips away, my anxiety continues to increase exponentially regarding my cost of attendance for the colleges I plan to apply to. The Kayla Nicole Monk Memorial Scholarship can ease that anxiety. Receiving this scholarship would be meaningful to me because it will help me achieve my academic and career goals of helping low-income and homeless communities without having to worry about student debt at Rice. In addition, receiving this scholarship would commend and recognize my hard work in academics—I am the valedictorian of my school with a 4.95 Weighted GPA and I have taken 8 Advanced Placement and 6 Honors classes so far—and extracurricular involvement—Upward Bound, Leaders in Training, and Operation Homefront volunteering, for instance. For the future, this scholarship will motivate me to keep pursuing my dreams in college and in the workforce, promoting my time and effort into my studies rather than worrying about tuition or housing costs. It will support me in my journey to create a more livable and improved standard of living for the poverty-stricken and low-income people of Las Vegas, to develop more resources for these families to access, and most importantly, to maximize my education and social advocacy in a STEAM field.

I was skeptical of volunteering, thinking it was a waste of time. However, I realized my negative attitude was wrong after volunteering with Operation Homefront, embodying selflessness as I recognized I had power to uplift others in my community. Operation Homefront is an organization dedicated to serving military families by providing free food, toys, and clothes. In December 2022, I first volunteered with them to escape from my house and family. All I wanted was to work, which I did: decorating a Christmas tree, setting up tables and chairs for resources, and helping attendees navigate the area. The experience was boring at first, but then my boredom would disappear when I was reassigned to another task. I became responsible for distributing toys to children of the military families in attendance. I dragged myself to a table with toys ready to be taken. I did not plan to interact with the families’ children, yet the longer I stood at the table, something inside me sparked. Witnessing the children’s bright smile when I gave them a toy, their little dances when they realize they can take the toy home, and the sparkles in their eyes that show they are having fun at Operation Homefront’s event were instances of childhood joy that I wanted these kids to continue experiencing. In no time, I smiled, not because of the volunteer hours I earned or the free food, but because I loved seeing happiness overcome these children whenever I gave a small doll or a large toy truck. Soon enough, I was thinking about volunteering with Operation Homefront next year, because I did not just help someone; I uplifted an entire community with my simple acts of civic engagement and kindness. This experience changed me from a person who volunteered for hours to a person who volunteered for fun and impacting people's lives. My attitude has improved and I have been volunteering at more events: Level Up EXPO, Martin Luther King Parade, FC Las Vegas Lights to name some. Briefly, I now love volunteering because it gives me the opportunity to embody the concept of selflessness and see others have fun because of my contributions. To continue my passion of impacting people’s lives and embodying selflessness, I plan to double major in architecture and engineering at Rice University. So far, I have created a personal architecture portfolio dedicated to addressing social and environmental issues; interned at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas under the College of Engineering Career Team; taken two 3D Modeling and Printing classes; and am currently seeking another architecture and engineering internship for Fall 2024. In five years, I envision myself as a lead Landscape Architect and Engineer who builds accessible shelters, food resources, and warehouses for low-income and homeless communities in Las Vegas. I believe everyone should live stably, especially those with families. Personally, if I had the chance to help all of the overlooked communities in Las Vegas twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty-five days, I would in order to ensure that everyone in Las Vegas has access to resources during dire situations. I know what it was like to struggle, save, and neglect leisure to prioritize survival, and no community deserves to go through such pain without support. I embody selflessness by demonstrating a desire to create an impact on the social issues of the Las Vegas community. I will do everything it takes to achieve my goal here in Nevada and globally: to ensure accessible resources and shelter for everyone. As a result, I would treasure the reward if I were to receive the Michael Rudometkin Memorial Scholarship.

Being a first-generation, low-income student of immigrant Filipino parents is hard. I experience so much pressure to be the best academically and make my parents’ journey to the United States worthwhile. However, these goals are hard when you live in a state that is ranked one of the lowest in education. Nevada has a poor education system, but that is not stopping me from pursuing my career goals. Nevada has underfunded education and a decade-long teacher shortage issue. In addition, high school students in Nevada have a high absentee rate, are disrespectful, and prone to dropping out. I was surrounded by students who were clueless about their future after graduation. As a first-generation student, I could not succumb to this “Nevada high school student” stereotype because it discards the benefits of taking advantage of secondary education. That is why when I first stepped foot into Bonanza High School in Las Vegas, I had to find a way to make this school work for my post-secondary goals. I saw the students’ poor behavior and Nevada’s education system as a challenge to break the stereotype of the “Nevada high school student.” First, I created my post-secondary goals: double major in landscape architecture and civil engineering at Rice University. The next step was to find resources and a support system. One of the programs I joined was Upward Bound (UB), a college-preparation program for low-income and first-generation students. This was perfect for me since I could not ask my parents for college advice, and UB did way more than expected. UB impacted my high school journey the most. The mentors answered the college-related questions my parents could not answer: “What is work-study? What are internships exactly? How can I develop leadership skills?” But not only that, UB provided an opportunity unlike any other: a six-week summer residential program at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Picking engineering and architecture classes, greeting professional engineers and architects, conducting research, stressing over multiple upcoming deadlines, and touring out-of-state colleges are experiences I will never forget. Upward Bound’s summer residential program was exactly what I needed to prepare me for out-of-state college life and an opportunity to be independent from my family. Being in the program since sophomore year and participating in the summer program for 2 years, I have never felt more prepared for college. They turned the anxious and silent girl of my freshman and sophomore years into the confident and outspoken woman of my junior and senior years. No other opportunity is like Upward Bound. Nevada’s education gave me motivation to challenge my academic merit, and Upward Bound gave me the college resources I needed to prepare myself for my career goals. After college, my future plans include addressing major social issues in Nevada like access to healthy meals, housing affordability for low-income and impoverished communities, and warehouse locations for clothes. I want to uplift and give back to Nevada with my intended fields, and these are a few ways I could improve it. But as a first-generation, low-income high school senior, I need the money to help fund for post-secondary education. Now, with my Dad thinking about quitting his job again—he lost his previous job in April 2024 and got employed again 2 weeks ago—and FAFSA opening later than usual, I will not know how much money I have to pay for out-of-state colleges until next year. The Joseph A. Monachino Memorial Scholarship is crucial in easing my financial stress. The reward will help me focus on making my parents proud, completing college, and helping Nevada rather than worrying about potential financial debt.

It is hard knowing that I was supposed to grow up a certain way according to my culture. As an incoming high school senior, I have fought excruciating battles—inside and outside of the classroom—against such stereotypes that were imposed onto me by my culture. In Filipino culture—and Asian culture, in general—women are expected to be submissive, service-oriented, and “girly.” They are also expected to do domestic chores, take care of the kids, and stay in the kitchen rather than pursuing a job in the workforce. Ever since I was in elementary school, I disagreed with these female responsibilities because I felt I did not fit them nor have to follow them. I saw no purpose in following these “cultural rules” and went on to pursue my own kind of character as a Filipina. Growing up, I was the “odd girl out” of my family. I would always choose sweatpants over skirts, t-shirts over dresses, and voicing my opinions over staying silent. Due to this, I grew up with my relatives commenting on the way I dressed, my actions, my tone of voice, and overall, my personality. They would tell me I dress like a boy, scold my authentic behavior as “ill-mannered,” and compare me to other Filipinas that are “better” than me. I knew they judged me because I was not conforming to the standards of a Filipino woman, and sometimes their judgment would make me question my worth as a Filipina. There would be times where I would want to reverse time and tell my younger self to listen to my relatives and be their version of a Filipina. There would also be times where I would want to run away from my family when they yelled at me for speaking out for myself. There would be times where I just felt unloved and abandoned by my relatives because they could not accept me for who I wanted to be: outspoken, assertive, and a future landscape architect and civil engineer. Despite their constant judgment, I still possess the drive to be the person I want to be instead of the stereotypical Filipina. I ignore the comments and remarks my relatives make and continue to be outspoken, assertive, and boyish because it makes me happy. But not only that, achieving my academic goals of attending Rice University and studying architecture and engineering would help inspire other Filipinas to follow their own dreams and change their perspective of the traditional role of a Filipino woman. I want to show the next generation of Filipino girls that the traditional, submissive, and service-oriented Filipina role is outdated, and we are creating a new standard for Filipino girls to follow: a standard for Filipinas to follow their own dreams. Receiving this scholarship would be meaningful to me because it will help me achieve my academic goals of earning a Master’s in Landscape Architecture and a Bachelor’s in Civil Engineering without having to worry about student debt at my dream school, Rice University. In addition, receiving this scholarship would commend and recognize my hard work in academics—I am the valedictorian of my school with a 4.95 Weighted GPA and I have taken 8 Advanced Placement and 6 Honors classes so far—and extracurricular involvement—Upward Bound, Leaders in Training, and Operation Homefront volunteering, for instance. For the future, this scholarship will motivate me to keep pursuing my dreams in college and in the workforce. Finally, after facing cultural stereotypes my entire life, it will also help me become the woman I want to be as opposed to the woman my culture and relatives expect me to be.

“Oh cool doodle! Can you graph it on a graphing calculator?” is a statement I would say as a math nerd and avid artist. Amidst the complex algebra problems, confusing looking functions, and piles of math-related scratch paper sitting in my room, there was a creative aspect of math that I discovered that made me fall more in love with the subject: Desmos Graph Art. Math through Desmos Graph Art furthered my attraction to the subject, especially as a visually-strong and artistic person. I first encountered this concept on Instagram. I would see artworks of flowers and hearts on the app, and I realized they were created on Desmos—an online graphing calculator application. When I saw this initially, I was intrigued and wanted to learn more about it. So, I took matters into my own hands—opened up Desmos Graphing Calculator—and started my graph art journey. There were some bumps along the way. I had limited knowledge of different types of functions and did not know how to restrict functions on the graph. But my self-initiative skills and curiosity to expand my knowledge of math did not stop me from learning more about graph art. I looked at Youtube Tutorials, browsed Desmos’ website for help, and viewed other people’s graph art to get an idea of the language of Desmos Graph Art. I kept trying and graphing many types of functions—absolute value, trigonometric, quadratic, and even circles, for example—to teach myself the shapes and properties of certain equations. I was slowly getting the hang of it and enjoying the process of graph art while I was simultaneously enhancing my algebraic, function, and numerical skills in the back of my mind. Who knew creating art could expand my mathematical knowledge? The fact that math can be integrated into art captivates me to learn more about the field of math. For a short period of time, I was “addicted” to graphing many images on Desmos Graphing Calculator. A few of these include a “Reverse Card” from the popular card game UNO, Patrick from the popular show Spongebob, and variations of flowers. I invested so much time into Desmos Graph Art to the point where I learned to animate on the application, and it all started with my drive to learn more math concepts to create stunning images on a graph. This is why I, a math nerd and avid artist, love math.

Do you know what it is like to live with nasty voices that constantly nitpick your skills despite everyone else praising those same skills? Sometimes, I like to think that I was born talented. But as I progress through high school, I realize I was born with merit that masked horrific mental side effects. Starting at childhood, I was praised constantly. My loved ones would watch me draw, brag about my school accomplishments, and admire my intelligence—I still have most of the awards and certificates from elementary school that praised my math, reading, and english performances on standardized tests. But then everything changed once I transitioned into middle school. During 7th grade, I took a rigorous, high school Cybersecurity class. Since I was the “smart kid,” I thought this class would be easy. I was dead wrong. The entire class pummeled me to the ground, especially the first unit. I could not wrap my head around complex systems of a computer, how to operate a Linux system, or figure out how to access an IP address. I got confused, stayed up many nights to try to understand the content, got angry at myself, and spewed curses at my stupidity: Was I really as smart as everyone thought I was, or was I pretending? This cybersecurity class I took knocked over my tower of confidence in academics. It was the first wave of major self-doubt I would experience because I began to doubt myself constantly. But this was only the beginning of the mental health side effects of being “smart.” My mental health continued its slow decline when I entered high school, and I would hit a second wave of self-doubt during my Biology Honors class. We were taking the first test in Biology Honors. I studied until midnight the night before. I answered all my questions and all I had to do was submit the test. But I was scared. Many thoughts ran through my head, worsening my anxiety: Am I going to get an A? Are my answers correct? Am I really the “smart kid”? Was I good enough? With anger and frustration, I could not wait anymore and submitted my test. Then my score came out: an embarrassing 80%. I have never, ever gotten a grade lower than an A before. But this Biology Honors test just changed that. My mouth flattened, my throat tightened, and my eyes welled up in tears. I held in so much energy to make sure I did not cry during class. Everything but two tears escaped onto the table at which I was sitting. Hours passed and it became night. The pressure soon got to me. I found myself on the floor, tear-stained cheeks, body shaken, and mind all over the place. My thoughts that raced turned into nasty voices: “You will never be good enough.” “You are a failure.” “You are better off gone.” Ever since that day—the 80% score, the horror in my eyes, and the wave of self-doubt—nothing has been the same. The praise I received and the academic merit I possessed as a little girl took a toll on me. High expectations were imposed onto myself, and although it had its benefits, it also had its major, mental health drawbacks. Now, I am stuck with two nasty voices that constantly nitpick everything I do, contributing to my mental health decline. The voices and my mental health have extremely affected my relationship with my family. My family’s praise became the basic foundation of the high expectations imposed onto me. When they glorify my intelligence, high test performance, and hobby-related talents, I feel forbidden to ask them for help or show signs of struggling. As a result, I feel as if my family and I’s relationship is gradually deteriorating. I cannot endure the disappointment and embarrassment of asking for help after they have praised me for so long. But as a punishment for holding everything in, I developed disturbing voices in my head. With regards to my goals, my bad mental health has surprisingly shaped them positively. Although my professional goals are to become a Landscape Architect and Civil Engineer, my poor mental health made me add another life goal related to personal growth: prioritize self-care by taking three breaks daily. Reflecting on the past, I realized I refused to take care of myself during such downfalls, especially during the first Biology Honors test. I did not step away from academic-related things, enact breathing exercises, or affirm myself positively. To change my ways and be a better version of myself, I have to teach myself these coping mechanisms to properly practice self-care and calm my mind from unpleasant racing thoughts. Finally, my mental health has drastically affected my view of the world. Since I never advocated for myself back then, I saw the world as “everyone for themselves.” I was on my own because I thought no one would help a “smart kid” like me. It is a selfish point of view that, unfortunately, I still hold today. But as I write this essay and reflect back on my experiences, it is a story that I want to share with the world with no shame. Now, I am a little more confident. I notice that I am more outspoken and passionate about sharing my ideas with the world: telling professionals I want to be a Landscape Architect and Civil Engineer, volunteering whenever I can, and advocating for myself when I need help in school. Also, I have developed my own healthy coping mechanisms in response to stressful situations such as stepping away from the computer, playing video games to calm down my mind, and drawing out my feelings. As I close my essay and finish reflecting on my past experiences, I will continue to practice these coping mechanisms and aim to develop new practices like yoga. I am glad that the Ethel Hayes Stigmatization of Mental Health Scholarship allowed me to revisit the past experiences I needed to acknowledge.

“Why can’t I perfect this part of the song?” I frustratingly thought to myself. It was the spring of 2023, and I was playing a song on my favorite rhythm game: Taiko no Tatsujin. However, I was getting especially mad at myself because I was not nailing a certain part of the song. Taiko no Tatsujin is a drumming game with a variety of Japanese and Pop songs. The goal is to “clear” a song by accurately drumming to a provided series of notes. I love playing this game because it challenges my spatial-intelligence, hand-eye coordination, pattern recognition, and muscle memory skills. Generally, I play the game on the hardest difficulties—extreme and super extreme—for fun. But sometimes these insane difficulties have their drawbacks. At the time, I was playing the song “Grip and Breakdown,” one of the most well-known Japanese songs of the game. The upbeat instrumental, the catchy lyrics, and the syncopated note sequences make the song enjoyable to play. However, I started to find myself getting irate, especially at myself, when I would play on super extreme difficulty. On super extreme, the introduction of “Grip and Breakdown” kept me from mastering the song. It contains an extensive series of long, complex sequences of notes. That time, I could not wrap my mind, or my fingers, around perfecting the introduction. My eyebrows were furrowed, my mouth spewed curses, and my hands constantly slammed on my laptop’s keyboard. I took a week off of Taiko no Tatsujin. I realized my consistent failures were getting me nowhere, and my actions in response to those failures were unhealthy. But I knew this break did not mean I gave up. I knew this break did not mean my skills were declining. I knew this break was a chance to make me stronger. So, I created a game plan to master “Grip and Breakdown.” The strategy was to start slow: master the introduction of the song at 0.6x speed and slowly increase the speed by 0.5; and ultimately, it would force me to do something I sometimes struggled with: patience. Initially, the game plan was dreadful. The notes moved too slow, I kept missing points, and my happiness was experiencing a slow decline. Although I hated the slow gameplay, I had to push my hatred aside and focus on the game plan’s benefits. This strategy would improve my skills and make me a stronger player at the game. In addition, it forced me to be kind towards myself. When I would miss some notes of the introduction, I would breathe and restart, telling myself: “It is only practice. It is not the real deal yet. You are making progress.” Deep down I knew that amidst the fast-paced playing and vivid gameplay, I was teaching myself the importance of self-kindness and perseverance by making myself a stronger Taiko no Tatsujin player. Soon enough, I nailed the introduction of “Grip and Breakdown.” It was exhilarating. I felt like running and telling all my loved ones about this achievement. Now, I can proudly say that I have mastered “Grip and Breakdown” on super extreme difficulty. But I have also improved my patience, perseverance, and kindness skills. Reflecting on this experience, I realize that I could apply the concept of my strategy—and the benefits that came with it—when I attend college. Rather than constantly brute forcing an assignment as a response to struggle or failure, I now feel more comfortable to take a break, create a plan, and approach the problem from a different angle. Who knew that a rhythm game would enhance something so valuable in college?

“Look at them,” I thought to myself. I was in my dad’s car, looking out the window. He was currently driving me to East Las Vegas, and the weather was chilly outside. We passed a lot of palm trees, boring buildings, and cars. But I was not referring to them. Instead, I was referring to the people, settling on the streets, with no permanent home. I define success as the ability to give back to my community as much as possible, especially the poverty and low-income community in Las Vegas. Specifically, I envision myself creating houses with adequate infrastructure, planning locations for soup kitchens, and creating environmentally friendly parks for the Las Vegas’ landscape. I value this as success because I have a drive for being selfless. Many people claim that being successful is related to million-dollar salaries, a mansion for a house, and a closet full of expensive clothes. But this is a cliche and overrated definition. Personally, I do not see any of this as valuable because they are selfish. So, my ultimate goal of selflessness, my ultimate goal in life, my ultimate drive, and my ultimate goal for success is to help create a substantial and beneficial impact on poverty-stricken and low-income individuals and families in Las Vegas. Why do I want to give back to the poverty and low-income community in Las Vegas? It is because I understand where they are coming from. In the past, I lived in Honolulu, Hawaii, and it was hard living in such an expensive state. People did not care to help us with our situation, and my family and I had to figure out how to survive in Honolulu. I contributed by saving as much money as possible. I did not have the pleasure of buying the toys I saw on TV. Every time I pointed to something I wanted on the TV screen—a dollhouse, for example—my Mom would say “No…we don’t have enough money.” At a young age, I was frustrated with her, but I would calm down afterwards because I realized we had to prioritize survival. At a young age, I realized we could not be careless with our money. At a young age, I realized we could not buy our WANTS, only our NEEDS. At a young age, I realized we were low-income, and we were in poverty. My family and I moved to Las Vegas in 2015, and we are still living here. As we continue to travel the city, I cannot help but notice the people calling the streets or their run-down apartments their “home.” I cannot help but empathize and express pity for these people because my family and I know exactly what they are going through. I cannot help but become more determined to help those people, especially children in poverty and low-income families. It is not fair that these children have to struggle during a period of innocence and lightheartedness. It is not fair that these children have to worry about when their next meal may be, when they will get a new set of clothes, or when their house will get better, just like how I did. This is why I define success as the ability to give back to the poor and low-income community in Las Vegas. I want to hear their cries for help and suggestions for how I, and the rest of the Las Vegas community, can help them. I want to see the smiles on their faces once they realize that they do not have to struggle anymore. I want to see the impact I make on this population in the future after I finish college and obtain my desired career as a landscape architect and civil engineer. I want to see the changes that I wanted to pursue in my childhood turn into reality as it helps someone else’s life. The first step into achieving this success is to attend college and educate myself in the field of architecture and engineering. I specifically plan to pursue a Master’s in landscape architecture and a Bachelor’s in civil engineering at Rice University. However, as the end of junior year is just around the corner and the start of senior year approaches, my anxiety continues to increase exponentially regarding my cost of attendance for the colleges I plan to apply to. The Redefining Victory Scholarship can ease that anxiety. This opportunity will help me achieve my success by promoting my time and effort into my studies rather than worrying about tuition or housing costs. It will support me in my journey to create a more livable and improved standard of living for the poverty-stricken and low-income people of Las Vegas, to develop more resources for these families to access, and most importantly, to achieve my success.

“It was hard living in the Ilocos Region. I worked all day with my mom to help my family,” Mom mentioned after I asked about her life in the Philippines. My parents left their origins, their past, and their families to immigrate to the United States for a better life. It aches my heart, but their sacrificial actions inspire me to pursue a similar path. It is an inevitable yet exciting path full of opportunities that will help me give back to my family: the path to college. As a first-generation student of immigrant Ilocano parents, my job is to pursue post-secondary education in Landscape Architecture and Civil Engineering. As a descendant of a hard-working and responsibility-oriented family, I need this education to help those in need. As someone with strong desires to improve the world, the Alexander de Guia Memorial Scholarship will help me get there. My family and I have a history of being low-income: impoverishment, renting, and living on someone else’s property. In the past, I struggled to understand why my mom could not buy me a giant dollhouse or a Pillow Pet I saw on TV. I now understand that we did not have a choice to spend money on such items. This lifestyle has a long-lasting impact on me as I still conserve money despite living stably. While reflecting on the past, I will prevent anything that reverses my parents’ work of dragging me out of that life. In college, I plan to solely pay my tuition. It is my education, and I believe my family should not contribute anything towards my tuition after the sacrifices they made for me. Their actions of constructing a better lifestyle for me continuously drive me to work hard in high school, be a leader outside of school, and volunteer in my community. I have ambitions to simultaneously pursue a Master’s in Landscape Architecture and a Bachelor’s in Civil Engineering at Rice University. These concentrations will help me improve the world for others by helping me develop artistic and realistic skills to create appealing and sustainable buildings. After discovering the destitution of the Philippines, I want to produce environmentally-friendly solutions to this poverty problem while also implementing the fine arts of architecture to help my people in need. My concepts of buildings that support the habitats of plants—and even incorporate vegetation into the characteristics of buildings—are small yet critical steps into making this world more livable, bit by bit, building by building. Post-secondary education will enhance the merit and prerequisites I need for Landscape Architecture and Civil Engineering. In addition to my plans of developing a refined and pleasant landscape, I will advocate the potential of Filipinas with the assistance of post-secondary education. Traditionally, Filipinas are expected to stay at home and serve their husbands. These stereotypes have bothered me for a considerable amount of time. Now, it is time I face them head-on. I am breaking these roles while writing this essay, and I will continue to break them once I step foot into college. I enrolled in traditionally male-dominated courses—AP Chemistry and AP World History, for example—to ignore the expectations imposed onto me by my culture. Instead, I am advocating for my career in Architecture and Engineering, and setting a new success standard for Filipinas to achieve: the standard of pursuing self-interests. I deserve the Alexander de Guia Memorial Scholarship because it will help me enact my plans and ease the stress of college tuition and potential debt. It will help advocate for my Architecture and Engineering career goals while also helping me repay my parent’s sacrifices.

It is hard trying to be someone I am not, and a struggle trying to suppress who I truly am. Who am I? What is the true definition of Kristine Mae Bongolan? Many people see Kristine Mae Bongolan as simply the “smart kid”: an academic tool or a human dictionary with all the answers and nothing spectacular about her. Others see her as a naive little girl, doing the bare minimum of attending an in-state college in Nevada. Some people think they know her, but they do not understand her. Kristine Mae Bongolan does not struggle on the outside. But on the inside, a different story is told. Kristine has had a long history of internal wars and battles since middle school, and the topics of the wars vary from time to time. In academics, she struggles with high expectations and standards imposed by her peers. Will Kristine do well enough? Did she ace the test? Is she truly the “smart kid”? Any academic failures—meaning anything lower than a complete one hundred percent—cannot stick with Kristine. In addition to these academic conflicts, there are battles with her identity. Is she a true Filipino? Can she speak Tagalog or Ilocano? Why does she act like a boy? It is like Kristine’s raw personality cannot surface. Wars like these are nothing that anyone else understands besides herself. Have they stopped? Of course not; they continue to this day, and people are still unaware. Sometimes, someone loves to visit and give her awful encouraging words, and it takes a toll on her mental health. Sometimes, it feels like she cannot achieve her ambitions, strong desires, or dreams. It is as if they are out of reach. However, those wars and battles may hinder her, but they do not stop her. Kristine’s wars are great, but her ambitions and dreams are colossal. Kristine Mae Bongolan is a current high school Junior with a passion for attending an out-of-state college; her top universities include Yale, Rice, Princeton, and as far as East London. In her class, she aims to become the Valedictorian of the Class of 2025. She plans to obtain a Master’s in Architecture, a Bachelor’s in Civil Engineering, and two minors in Performing Arts and Chemistry. Kristine has elevated ambitions such that she foresees a career after college as a well-known Landscape Architect and Civil Engineer occupations, as well as an owner of an organization of sustainable designers, architects, and engineers. As a first-generation college student, Kristine is willing to take the route to college regardless of the rocky road ahead. Also, she plans to pay off college by herself. She will submit her FAFSA, apply to relevant scholarships, and earn as much money as possible for tuition and cost of attendance. Scholarships, such as the Bright Lights Scholarship, are eye-openers for Kristine. This scholarship motivates her to pursue her intentions and make her dreams tangible. Knowing that there are opportunities similar to the Bright Lights Scholarship helps Kristine take a step closer to becoming an Architect and Civil Engineer and a step closer to paying off college without the need of her parents; it is a way of saying thank you for all the sacrifices her family has made for her to be successful. I, Kristine Mae Bongolan, am going to college and earning scholarships, like the Bright Lights Scholarship, no matter how intense the internal conflicts and downfalls may be. It is a matter of getting back up again and the appeal of pursuing my career goals.

It was 11:00 PM on some fall day in 2019. Another argument was about to erupt between my roommate and me. Earlier, I scored less than 90% on one of my cybersecurity tests. How could I let this happen? I was supposed to be perfect, yet that test just proved otherwise. I was crying a waterfall, thinking about how much of a disappointment I was. Then, my roommate came to tell me twice. “I expected the best from you. I put all my time and effort into training you to become a better person and this is how you repay me? You are a failure.” Nothing hurts more than hearing those words: “You are a failure.” What could I do? It was the truth after all, especially since it came from my roommate, someone I could trust. Right? “What are you doing? Stop crying for once! Look how worthless and weak you are compared to the others. You were never perfect, are not perfect, and will never be perfect at all!” I could not bear to hear my roommate right now, but him saying that I was not perfect completely broke me. I retaliated: “What are you going to do, roommate? You're just a voice in my head!” From there, we argued. This was the moment when I realized I was not perfect, and my roommate was not a special person, or a mentor, or a counselor. My roommate was a voice in my head, resulting from the unrealistic standards and “perfect academic” labels imposed on me. Right now, my mental health is not in the best state. I have had multiple moments similar to this where I tell myself negative affirmations in the form of a voice in my head, which is my roommate. He is a voice in my head, watching my every move. I cannot leave him, and he cannot leave me. Even though he is not tangible, how were you supposed to break our connection that formed 4-5 years ago? It is impossible, similar to ending a friendship with a close friend; you cannot let go. This goes to show how constant repetition of hearing the phrase “smart kid” or “you’re so smart” can accumulate into something inescapable. With such voices and repetitive phrases being the focal reason for my garbage mental health, I see the world in a more pessimistic view. For instance, I recall my inner thoughts getting the best of me one day at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas’ Upward Bound mentorship class. The topic of the class was about mental health, specifically depression and suicide. For the majority of the session, my peers and I were sharing our thoughts on these sensitive topics which soon turned into a session of sharing dark and personal stories related to poor mental health and an ill-suited mindset. I heard the voices inside me chanting “Don’t cry, don’t cry, everyone is watching.” I started feeling a bit uncomfortable because of this, but I continued to hide these feelings for the sake of a clean, tearless mentorship session that day. Eventually, mentorship was almost over, and the advisors wanted people to share their thoughts on the day’s class. Being me and wanting to show my involvement and passion for the Upward Bound program, I raised my hand and volunteered to share my thoughts on the mental health subject. Sharing started great, but soon enough my voice started cracking once I said the word “depression,” and eventually I broke down crying once I said the word “suicide.” I could hear the voice in my head, my roommate, spewing his unfaithful yet undeniable lies about how pathetic I was for venting and showing my truths. I was blinded from seeing the benefits that I could’ve taken away from that mentorship session. Sometimes, it is like a never-ending downward spiral; no matter how low I see the world, I manage to find a way to view it from a more depressing angle. It was hard to see the good in the bad, but easy to see all the bad in the good. In addition to a distressing belief system, my poor mental health has made it seem like my career aspirations are impossible to achieve. Every time I score lower than expected on an assessment, I mentally—sometimes verbally as well—beat myself up. Yes of course it seems like the end of the world is near every time this happens, but it affects the way I see my future as well. Ambitions to go to a top college—specifically Rice University—and graduate with a Master’s Degree in Landscape Architecture and a Bachelor’s Degree in Civil Engineering along with a few other minors of interest are unachievable; I can not seem to do it from where I am standing currently. Also, it gets difficult to try to voice my frustrations and ask for advice. One small mistake, one small slip up, one mention of how mentally unstable I am and it feels like all my teachers, peers, friends, and even family members will sever our relationship, outcasting me as a crazy weirdo. I seldom talk about mental health because I do not think anyone would understand my current situation. My mental health may be terrible, but I am making an effort to try to fix that this year. Taking five AP classes and being part of multiple extracurriculars and volunteering organizations has imbalanced my leisure time. As a result, I am learning how to pace myself and tell myself—along with my roommate—that everything does not have to be done today. Multiple days of the week exist, so I will utilize them to spread out my work and not stress about everything on a single day. Now, I am slightly happier compared to a few weeks ago, and I think that is the main thing to take away from this essay. Yes, my mental health is awful, but I am willing to do something about it to change.

It is October 18th, 2023, four days since I helped dispose of four cow eyes from a container filled with dirty water. It was another Upward Bound Saturday session at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. The staff needed help clearing out the STEAM workshop room where the students dissected cow eyes during the day. I had to help transport all the dirty leftover cow eyes and tools back to the Upward Bound Office for the staff to clean. However, I did not clean any contaminated tools or trays; I had to deal with the cow eyes and throw them away because the rest of the staff could not handle how repulsive the task was. Despite how nasty and gross that may seem, this is just one of the many ways I show my gratitude and charity towards the community that has helped me be the person I am today. It does not matter how disgusting or weird the task may be; I will find a way to get it done. Since my Sophomore year, I have been volunteering to put myself out in the community and assist those in need. Volunteering has taught me to display altruism and not be too self-centered in my hobbies and interests; other interesting things exist, and I would not have known about them if I had not volunteered. I started volunteering to get out of the house; I was tired of seeing the same four walls, especially after two years of staying indoors due to the COVID-19 pandemic. I was sick and exhausted from repetitive chores and needed to put myself out in the world. I had my first volunteering experience at a Trunk-Or-Treat event on October 15th, 2022, hosted by ToroCares. I assisted with setup, decorated various tables, substituted for an absent law firm representative, gave out candy and complemented Halloween costumes, and cleaned up the ToroCares parking lot; I ensured the parking lot was spotless. Although the event was foreign, I learned much about myself and new activities I can participate in. I discovered that I am eager to do manual labor; I enjoy getting out of my seat, walking around, carrying unfamiliar items, and doing anything else that involves active engagement. I am passionate about seeing the impact I can create on my community, even if it is as small as making a child smile. This first step into volunteerism sparked an unusual potential, and I knew I had to keep helping those in need. After that first experience of getting out of the house, I have not stopped volunteering. Being a part of multiple organizations and programs—National Honors Society, Educational Talent Search, and Upward Bound to name some—has motivated me to keep volunteering and networking with the people I come across. Volunteering has opened many doors for me, and it all starts with simply helping out someone in need. Even if I am not volunteering, I am helping my classmates with anything academic-wise—Algebra, Precalculus, English, and United States History—or college advice such as dorm life, majors, admissions, and much more. I love answering my peers' questions and sparking their curiosity in post-secondary education. What I take away from volunteerism and altruism is that the most critical part of a community is "we"; it all starts with me helping others in need.

It is hard trying to be someone I am not and a struggle trying to suppress who I truly am. Who am I? What is the true definition of Kristine Mae Bongolan? Many people see Kristine Mae Bongolan as simply the “smart kid”; an academic tool or a human dictionary with all the answers and nothing spectacular about her. Others see her as a naive little girl, doing the bare minimum of attending an in-state college in Nevada. Some people know her, but they do not understand her. Kristine Mae Bongolan does not struggle on the outside. But on the inside, a different story is told. Kristine has had a long history of internal wars and battles since middle school, and the topics of the wars vary from time to time. In academics, she struggles with high expectations and standards imposed by her peers. Will Kristine do well enough? Did she ace the test? Is she truly the “smart kid”? Any academic failures—meaning anything lower than a complete one hundred percent—can not stick with Kristine. Also, there are battles with her identity. Is she a true Filipino? Can she speak Tagalog or Ilocano? Why does she act like a boy? It is like Kristine’s raw personality can not surface. Wars like these are nothing that anyone else understands besides herself. Have they stopped? No, they continue to this day, and people are still unaware. Sometimes, someone loves to visit and give her awful encouraging words; it takes a toll on her mental health. Sometimes, it feels like she can not achieve her ambitions, strong desires, or dreams. It is as if they are out of reach. However, those wars and battles may hinder her, but they do not stop her. Kristine’s wars are great, but her ambitions and dreams are colossal. Kristine Mae Bongolan is a current high school Junior with a passion for attending an out-of-state college; her top universities include Yale, Rice, Princeton, and as far as East London. In her class, she aims to become the Valedictorian of the Class of 2025. She plans to obtain a Master’s in Architecture, a Bachelor’s in Civil Engineering, and two minors in performing arts and Chemistry. Kristine has elevated ambitions such that she foresees a career after college as a well-known landscape architect and civil engineer occupations, as well as an owner of an organization of sustainable designers, architects, and engineers. As a first-generation college student, Kristine is willing to take the route to college regardless of the rocky road ahead. Also, she plans to pay off college by herself. She will submit her FAFSA, apply to relevant scholarships, and earn as much money as possible. Scholarships, such as the Bright Lights Scholarship, are eye-openers for Kristine. This scholarship motivates Kristine to pursue her intentions. Knowing that there are opportunities similar to the Bright Lights Scholarship helps Kristine take a step closer to becoming an Architect and Civil Engineer and a step closer to paying off college without the need of her parents; it is a way of saying thank you for all the sacrifices her family has made for her to be successful. I am going to college and earning scholarships no matter the downfalls I have to experience.