If I could create a class that every student from kindergarten through 12th grade was required to take, it would be a Skills Building class focused on teaching real-life skills for everyday survival. So many students graduate without knowing how to do basic things like cook a simple meal, pay a bill, or wash their clothes properly. We spend so much time preparing students for academic testing, but very little time preparing them for the reality of adulthood. This class would include essential topics like cooking, grocery shopping on a budget, basic cleaning, doing laundry, paying bills, understanding credit and banking, setting appointments, organizing time, and self-awareness. It would also cover important emotional and social tools, like how to handle conflict, build healthy relationships, create a daily routine, and manage stress. These are things many people are expected to just “figure out” on their own—but when no one teaches them, it leads to struggle, mistakes, and lack of confidence. The class would be taught at different levels based on age. In elementary school, it could be as simple as learning to fold clothes, make a sandwich, or clean up after snack time. In middle school, students could learn to follow a basic recipe, budget allowance money, or understand the importance of personal hygiene and social boundaries. In high school, the lessons would become more advanced—writing checks, using credit responsibly, renting an apartment, applying for a job, or managing emotional wellness. The impact this class could have would be huge. For one, it would build confidence in students who may struggle academically but shine in hands-on, practical tasks. It would also reduce the gap between school and real life, helping students leave high school actually feeling ready to take care of themselves. This is especially important for students who don’t have parents or mentors to teach them these things at home. A class like this would also help break cycles of generational poverty and dysfunction. Students who learn how to budget, plan meals, and stay organized are more likely to avoid financial crisis and unhealthy habits later on. It gives them real control over their future. Even simple things like knowing how to prepare a healthy meal or set up auto-pay for bills can make a major difference in someone’s life. Most importantly, this class would teach independence. It wouldn’t be about grades or test scores—it would be about building a toolbox that students can carry into adulthood. Every child, regardless of their background, should be given the chance to learn how to take care of themselves. In a world that’s always changing, life skills are more important than ever. And if we really want to prepare students for success, we need to teach them how to survive—not just academically, but personally and practically too.

I never expected my understanding of domestic violence to come from the most important woman in my life—my mother. For years, I had no idea she was being abused. She kept it hidden so well, like so many women do, especially in the Black community where silence often replaces support. But last year, everything changed. She came home beaten. Her face was bruised, her spirit even more so. That day shifted my entire perspective—not just on what abuse looks like, but on how necessary it is to create real change. We had nothing. No shoes, no money, no safe place to go. We were forced to walk barefoot down the street, scared for our lives, before we could even call for help—because he had a gun. Even in that terrifying moment, my mother was trying to protect us. I later found out she returned a week later, not because she wanted to, but because she had no savings, no backup plan, and no one to turn to. That’s what abuse often looks like—being trapped not just physically, but financially and emotionally. This experience opened my eyes to the deep ways abuse isolates victims. Many don’t leave because they can’t. Abusers often cut off access to money, support systems, or opportunities, keeping their victims completely dependent. My mother is one of the strongest women I know, and if it could happen to her, it can happen to anyone. And if it can be prevented for even one person, I want to be a part of that solution. I plan to use my education to work in early childhood education, where I can make a real impact at the root. Kids need more than just ABCs and numbers—they need confidence, critical thinking skills, and emotional awareness. I believe that teaching children how to recognize unhealthy behaviors, build strong self-esteem, and speak up for themselves from an early age can be life-changing. I want to create safe classroom environments where children learn that they have a voice and that they are worthy of safety and love. Beyond the classroom, I hope to work with families and community programs that focus on education, prevention, and advocacy. I want to be part of the movement that makes sure no woman—or child—feels like they have no way out. I want to contribute to developing better systems for identifying early signs of abuse, especially for African American women, who are often overlooked or dismissed. Whether it’s helping a woman build a financial exit plan or mentoring children who’ve witnessed violence, I know that small, consistent support can lead to big change. Linda Hicks’ story is both heartbreaking and powerful. It reminds me of what happens when there isn’t enough support, when women are left to suffer in silence, and when systems fail the people who need them most. But her legacy, through this scholarship, offers a different path—a chance to break cycles, to speak truth, and to stand in the gap for others. What happened to my mother changed me forever. I saw what fear looked like, but I also saw what strength looked like. I’m determined to use my experience, my education, and my voice to support others in finding their way to safety, healing, and freedom. I may not have all the answers, but I know this: no one should have to walk barefoot to safety ever again.

Why I’m Passionate About Special Education I didn’t grow up knowing I wanted to be a teacher. In fact, I thought I would become a veterinarian. But life has a funny way of leading you to exactly where you’re supposed to be—even if it doesn’t look like what you imagined. Right after high school, a friend told me I could make $800 a week working at a summer camp. I was excited, thinking I found the perfect opportunity. I ran over there ready to work, only to find out it wasn’t even a summer camp—it was a part-time after-school program. My first paycheck was only $100, and I quickly realized I had been misled. I was only making about $9 an hour. But what started as a hustle for quick money turned into something much bigger. I fell in love with it. I loved the activities, the kids, the way I felt walking into the classroom. I had a level of patience I didn’t even know I had. I enjoyed seeing the students grow, smile, and feel proud of themselves. From that moment on, I knew I was supposed to work with children. Since then, I’ve worked in daycares, I’ve been a nanny, a babysitter, and a substitute teacher. I’ve found a way to work with kids in every way possible. When I’m in the classroom, I feel alive. I wake up excited. I jump out of bed knowing that I get to pour into young lives, and in return, they teach me just as much as I teach them. My passion for special education grew naturally over time. I realized I didn’t just love teaching—I loved advocating. I loved making sure children who were often misunderstood or overlooked felt seen, supported, and celebrated. Special education is not about “fixing” children. It’s about helping them grow into their full potential by meeting them exactly where they are. It’s about understanding behavior as communication, building trust, and creating safe, structured spaces where students can be their authentic selves. I want my classroom to be a place where students feel safe, valued, and empowered. I want to create an environment that supports emotional, social, and academic growth—where every child can learn at their pace, in their own way. I want to help them gain independence, confidence, and life skills that they’ll carry with them long after they leave my classroom. My mission is to lead with patience, purpose, and love. I want to be the teacher that doesn’t just teach, but truly listens. The one who pays attention to the small victories and celebrates progress in every form. Whether it’s helping a nonverbal student use a communication device or guiding a child through a meltdown with compassion, I want to show up for my students in every way they need. A Fairy Tale: “Miss K and the Light Within” Once upon a time, in a bright and buzzing town, lived a young woman named Miss K. She didn’t wear a cape or carry a wand, but she had a powerful gift—she could see the light inside children that others often missed. Miss K worked in a classroom full of children who had been told they were “too much,” “too different,” or “too behind.” But she didn’t see them that way. She saw inventors, explorers, artists, and leaders in the making. She listened closely, even when they didn’t use words. She noticed the drawings, the movements, the emotions behind their silence. There was one student, in particular, named Myles. Myles had never spoken in class, and some people believed he never would. But Miss K never gave up. She greeted him every morning by name, celebrated his smallest achievements, and created space for him to be himself. One day, as the sun poured through the classroom window, Myles stood up and whispered, “Thank you, Miss K.” The whole class paused. Miss K smiled and nodded gently. In that moment, Myles realized his voice mattered. His presence was felt. His light was seen. Word of Miss K’s magical classroom spread far and wide—not because of test scores or fancy decorations, but because students who entered unsure of themselves left believing they could do anything. Miss K didn’t save the kingdom—but she helped build brave hearts. And that was more than enough. The End… Or rather, the beginning. Because that fairy tale? That’s my dream. That’s the teacher I want to be. And with the right training, support, and heart—I know I will be.

It’s actually really a funny story how I got into early childhood education. Right after high school, a friend told me I could make $800 a week working at a summer camp. I thought I hit the jackpot! I had just graduated. I rushed over there, ready to make some serious money. But when I got there, I quickly realized it wasn’t a summer camp at all—it was a part-time after-school program. My first paycheck was only $100, and I found out I was making just $9 an hour. So, clearly, I wasn’t making anything close to what I expected. I was barely making any money. I wanted to be a veterinarian. But something unexpected happened: I liked it. I actually liked it a lot. I loved doing the activities, helping the kids with homework, and seeing how they responded to me. I had no idea I would enjoy working with children so much. I originally wanted to be a veterinarian, but this experience completely changed my path. I discovered I had a gift for working with kids and a deep sense of patience and understanding for them. That’s when I realized teaching was my passion. Since then, I’ve found a way to work with children in just about every way possible. I’ve worked in daycares, been a nanny, babysat for friends and family, and eventually started working as a substitute teacher just to get more classroom experience. When I was teaching, I would literally jump out of bed in the morning, excited to start my day. I looked forward to seeing the students, helping them learn, and being part of their growth. Every classroom, no matter the age group, gave me new insight and made me more confident that this was the field I was meant to be in. I plan to support early childhood development by creating a safe, loving, and engaging space where children can thrive—not just academically, but socially and emotionally too. I believe that what happens in early childhood shapes how kids feel about themselves, learning, and the world around them. I want to be a positive part of that journey. To me, teaching is more than a job—it’s a calling. And I know I’m meant to be in this field because it never feels like work. It feels like purpose, passion, and a path I was meant to follow. The only time I didn’t need an alarm clock for work.

Teaching, to me, is more than a profession—it’s a purpose. It’s about being present in the lives of others, showing up with love, patience, and consistency, and offering support that reaches far beyond the classroom walls. I’ve seen firsthand how small acts of service can make a big difference in someone’s life, and that’s the kind of impact I hope to have as a teacher. I started working as a substitute teacher before I had my son. Walking into different classrooms, sometimes with just a few hours’ notice, gave me a deeper understanding of how much students rely on stability and care. Even when I was just there for a day, I made it a point to remember names, listen to their stories, and encourage them. I wasn’t just filling in—I was making connections, and sometimes that was exactly what a student needed. Outside of the classroom, I’ve always carried a heart for service. I volunteered with Habitat for Humanity, helping build homes for families who just needed a fresh start. It was physically exhausting work, but it gave me a deep appreciation for what it means to show up for your community, even when no one is watching. There’s something powerful about working alongside strangers with a shared goal and seeing the impact right in front of you—a roof over someone’s head, a safe place for kids to grow up. But if there’s one thing I’ve given most freely, it’s child care. For years, I provided free babysitting to family members and neighbors, not because I had to, but because I loved being part of their kids’ lives. Taking care of children is the one thing I’ve always been willing to do for free. There’s a joy in watching a child feel safe, loved, and curious about the world. That said, I’ve reached a point where I need to build a career that also supports me and my son. My heart is still in it—but I’m ready to grow, earn, and make a stable life doing what I love. As a future teacher, I want my students to gain more than academic knowledge. I want them to leave my classroom knowing how to be kind, how to speak up, and how to believe in themselves even when it’s hard. I want them to feel seen and heard. I want them to know that mistakes are part of learning and that every day is a new chance to try again. I want to build a classroom where they feel safe enough to be themselves and supported enough to dream big. I believe teaching is a calling—and my life so far has shown me that I’m called to it. Whether I was hammering nails, reading stories, or wiping tears, I’ve always found purpose in helping others. I hope to carry that same energy into my classroom, where service, compassion, and understanding will live right alongside math lessons and science experiments. Because in the end, the real lessons—the ones kids carry with them for life—aren’t always written on the board.