Ever since I was in elementary school, I knew that I wanted to be a teacher. I’ve thrown myself into multiple environments with kids, ranging from camps over the summer to TA roles during the school year. Helping younger kids love learning is a genuine passion of mine, and I can't see myself doing anything else. One of my first real experiences working with kids was for a summer learning program, and being involved in this camp solidified what career path I wanted to take. I always liked working with kids, but I lacked the genuine immersive experience that you can truly only find in a classroom. After my initial few days with the program, I reached the first weekend, and spent the long two days just waiting for them to be over so I could get back to school and the kids. I knew from that exact moment that teaching and working with children is what I want to do with my life. Having that experience has taught me so many lessons that I would like to implement into my daily life, including certain strategies that I learned over time. What I want to do as a teacher and the goals I want to accomplish have been shaped by my experiences, and I know what kind of impact I want to have on my students. The best part of the program was getting to know each kid individually. Whereas we all started off as strangers, it was absolutely amazing to watch them grow and develop into real people in my eyes, learning more about their personalities and who they really are. Being around kids, especially ones in younger elementary like I was involved in, requires both a positive mindset and attitude. Kids are extremely perceptive, and if they get the feeling that you don't want to be there with them, they'll reflect that behavior, closing off. Being positive also keeps yourself in the right state of mind to create a better experience for all involved. It's also important to find different ways to solve problems, as there are multiple factors you must consider when working with actual people---kids, particularly. One method may not work on a certain type of individual or in a specific situation, so it's vital to be able to consider issues in different ways. I believe that I can make a real difference in the lives of my students. Enlightening young minds and helping them build up both intelligence and confidence is what I'm meant to do, and I feel the payoff of that is worth more than any amount of income. I want to teach not only school-based materials, but lessons that the kids can carry with them as they get older. Lessons about life, about passion, about dreams. Because my journey changed when a teacher did that for me. And I want nothing more than to continue the cycle for the next class.

Something that makes me a little different is my sense of style. When you walk past a high school, you typically see a variation of the same basic outfit: sweatpants and a hoodie when it's cold, and jeans or board shorts and a nondescript t-shirt when it's warm. Color seems to be a lost concept, and when school lets out, it's a flood of copies. A lot of people are outfit repeaters, and how little they care is represented by the pajama-ed, just rolled out of bed look that so many of them trudge up to school wearing. And honestly, while I have to respect the look, that style isn't and has never been for me. While I might not take any more time than the rest of my peers getting ready, I put my own flair into the things I wear that make me stand out a little more than the people around me. I go the opposite route on the aversion to color, with most of my shirts being bright and colorful. I frequently wear skirts as well, a very uncommon practice around my school grounds. I can genuinely say that not one of the 2,000 kids at my high school has a look like mine. But at the same time, my sense of style is to display my inner self, not to prove myself to anyone else. Color makes me happy, and that's all the justification I need to present myself a little differently. I also use my hair to express myself, putting it in pigtails, braids, and styles that would be seen more frequently in an elementary school rather than a high school. But I don't mind looking like a child at times, or care about what people might think or say when they see me. Being unique is a massive part of who I am, and I refuse to let people's opinions dictate who I am, as I did in the past. Another factor that makes my unique style even more prominent is my height. I'm a girl, and I'm also 6'0 tall. So not only are the things I wear unlike anyone else's, but my height makes the difference impossible to ignore. My mom- also tall- has always preached to me just how great being tall is, so I try to stand proud, even if sometimes, it's easier to slouch to others' levels. Despite the looks I sometimes receive or the feeling that I don't quite fit in, I won't change how I look for anything or anyone. It's my true self, and I refuse to kill that childlike, carefree part of myself off.

Because I plan on spending my life educating children, I have sought out various opportunities that enrich this experience. Working with younger elementary school students has taught me the need for both patience and compassion, and I work hard to present myself as being both approachable and caring. During a summer school program, a young girl was ostracized by both her late arrival and lack of any hair. When she sat alone at lunch on her first day, I walked the class through the lunch line and then joined her. I spent the time asking her questions about anything, gradually getting to know who she really was. I tried my hardest to make her feel seen and a sense of belonging. The next day, I encouraged two girls to sit with us, and our little group began to grow. I directed the conversations to include everyone, and eventually, they began to talk amongst each other without my interference. By the end of that week, we had attracted more kids to our table. What had begun as only one became two people to a seat, and anyone who had been sitting by themselves was now welcomed as a member of our table. Taking into account our larger numbers, I continued to make sure that no one was ignored or left out, asking questions and listening to every response to let each kid know that they were heard and that their voice mattered. I know that these kids looked up to me as a role model, so I put effort into showing them just how important inclusion is. As the program drew to a close, I not only ended up closer and more connected to these kids, but they ended closer to each other as well, which is all I could’ve asked for. I've participated in this program for three years now, and am always ecstatic to sign up. Although the work is purely volunteer and I receive nothing physical from the extensive hours I put in, I still love dedicating my time to helping out. I wake up early and show up, physically and mentally, five days a week, for a month straight, taking the time out of my own summer vacation to put my efforts toward continuing the education of these kids. It's because of moments like the one I included that I dedicate myself to this program: I know I can make a difference that matters.

When I was in fourth grade, I had a teacher who changed my life. She didn't fit under the simple label of educator; she was a real person who shared that personality with us. In years prior, I had gotten used to teachers whose only purpose, it felt, was to get their students to learn the required amount and send them off on their way. When I reached fourth grade, I understood the impact that a teacher who truly cares and shows that care to her students can have. Although we learned a lot, her class didn't center around academics. She treated us as if we were real people, telling us life stories and lessons, and how we could succeed in our own lives. Ever since that realization, I've wanted to give others the same life-altering experience that I had, showing kids just how impactful school can be. I began immersing myself in various situations where I was tasked with educating or mentoring kids, whether it be a role as a teacher's assistant or a camp counselor. As I became more familiar with working with kids, my love for the job grew. The elated feeling of being a positive influence on their lives and helping them develop told me that I was going in the right direction with teaching. Once my plan for the future had solidified, many people began telling me that the dream wasn't realistic. They reminded me of the minimal pay, of the hardships that would come out of making teaching a career as I wanted to. They discouraged me from making a commitment, though they acted out of good intentions and the wanting for me to have a good life. Although I listened to their comments, I refused to alter my path. I would achieve that good life by living out my dream, regardless of the challenges that would come from doing so. I've found that enlightening young minds and helping them build up both intelligence and confidence is what I'm meant to do, and I feel the payoff of that is worth more than any amount of income. I want to teach not only school-based materials, but lessons that the kids can carry with them as they get older. Lessons about life, about passion, about dreams. Because my journey changed when someone did that for me. And I want nothing more than to continue the cycle that my fourth-grade teacher started in me.

Ever since elementary school, I've been known as the tall girl in class, the one who stood above even most of the boys. I didn't let that title alienate me; I found a place where my height gave me an advantage over everybody else: basketball. I started playing around fourth grade, and have consistently kept it up since. When I hit high school, my passion grew into something more organized. We went over complicated plays and strategies, a far jump from the flexibility we had in middle school. I put my all into this new course, adapting to the sport's new structure. I strove for betterment, learning to know and love my team as well. I played on JV for three years and am currently enrolled in our school's varsity team. When I was a new freshman on the team, my coach awarded me with the Coach's Choice Award. The next year, I was appointed co-captain my sophomore year and then speaking captain the following season. Another award that was granted to me all four years was the Principal's Academic Scholar Award, signifying good grades throughout the season. I've kept a 4.0 GPA all four years, despite this dedication. Being a student-athlete entails keeping up both parts of the term, in a curricular and an athletic sense. I dedicated myself fully to the sport, always being there, always giving it my all. I attended every single optional practice, on weekends and in the off-season. Out of my four secondary years of playing, I missed only one practice out of hundreds. I show up. When it’s important to me, I show up. Even if my efforts aren’t recognized, I continue to devote my person to the cause, because I’m doing it for myself. I don’t miss, I don’t skip; I commit, and I commit hard, with every fiber of my being. At the same time, I also don't let the sport consume me. My schoolwork reflects both the same mindset and the same amount of effort. I make sure I'm prepared for every test or quiz, managing my own time and putting in the work of my own volition. Neither my parents nor teachers ask anything of me, because I already hold myself accountable. Being in control of what I do, of my own life, means that the work I put in and the results that they produce are exclusively mine. Because of this dedication, my grades have never fallen below an A-, and I don't mention the fact to brag. No, I mention it because I'm proud of what I've accomplished. I'm not going to dilute just how much achieving this has cost me, nor go into the late nights and countless hours spent studying. I know just how expensive earning this reward can be, and having the knowledge myself is payoff enough for me. Even when times got hard, I never let myself lose sight of my goal, because I know that being resilient now will strengthen my future.

Ever since I was in elementary school, I knew that I wanted to be a teacher. I’ve thrown myself into multiple environments with kids, ranging from camps over the summer to TA roles during the school year. Helping younger kids love learning is a genuine passion of mine, and I can't see myself doing anything else. One of my first real experiences working with kids was for a summer learning program, and being involved in this camp solidified what career path I wanted to take. I always liked working with kids, but I lacked the genuine immersive experience that you can truly only find in a classroom. After my initial few days with the program, I reached the first weekend, and spent the long two days just waiting for them to be over so I could get back to school and the kids. I knew from that exact moment that teaching and working with children is what I want to do with my life. Having that experience has taught me so many lessons that I would like to implement into my future life, including certain strategies that I learned over time. What I want to do as a teacher and the goals I want to accomplish have been shaped by my experiences, and I know what kind of impact I want to have on my students. The best part of the program was getting to know each kid individually. Whereas we all started as strangers, it was absolutely amazing to watch them grow and develop into real people in my eyes, learning more about their personalities and who they really are. I believe that I can make a real difference in the lives of my students. Enlightening young minds and helping them build up both intelligence and confidence is what I'm meant to do, and I feel the payoff of that is worth more than any amount of income. I want to teach not only school-based materials, but lessons that the kids can carry with them as they get older. Lessons about life, about passion, about dreams. Because my journey changed when someone did that for me. And I want nothing more than to continue the cycle for the next class. I've figured out that a healthy balance between work and play is absolutely necessary to implement when dealing with younger kids. Games involving math or physical science experiments that they can engage in will stick much more than a lecture. Additionally, it's essential to care for social/emotional needs, because even small things can appear massive to younger kids. I know not to discredit any struggles, even if they appear insignificant to me. When I myself was in elementary school, I had a few issues with friends, and I want to make it my goal to prevent anyone else that age from experiencing the same feelings. I plan on creating a family in the classroom, a place where everyone has a place and no one gets ignored. Because shared experiences can foster a sense of community, I believe that group work can be extremely beneficial, especially if the groups are pre-assigned to prevent anyone from feeling left out or unwanted. I want to help my future students grow, both on an intellectual and personal level.

My name is Kyla. I just recently turned 18 years old, and have found a home in both California and Georgia throughout my life. I begged my parents for a brother when I was little, and now, I have the sweetest younger brother in the world, someone who I can truly be myself around. I play basketball for my high school team, more so for the love of the sport rather than to compete, and have played religiously for all four years. I take the most joy in this world from writing. I write every day without fail, making up stories and spinning them into fully-fledged novels, even if it does take a maddening amount of time. Beyond that, ever since elementary school, I knew that I wanted to be a teacher. Despite the warning from my parents and peers that the job doesn't pay, that it is thankless a lot of the time, that it would make life harder, I didn't sway from the conviction that teaching is what I want to do. I threw myself into multiple environments with kids, from various experiences ranging from camps over the summer to TA roles during the school year. Helping younger kids love learning is a genuine passion of mine, and I can't see myself doing anything else. My plan is to go to college and get my teaching credentials, and then move on to getting my own class. I've worked so hard to get to where I am right now, and the final step of this journey is the expense. Receiving financial help in the form of scholarships would really change the trajectory of my life both during and after college. I'm dedicated, and I want to go to college, no matter what I have to do to get there. With that being said, I also know that any scholarships I receive now will make life after college a lot easier, making it look more like the reward that getting through school is supposed to be. As I said, I know that having a job as an elementary school teacher doesn't entail the greatest pay, which is why I'm pursuing the career for genuine passion rather than the monetary appeal. All that considered, I'm doing my best to get as much tuition paid for as possible, because I know money's going to be very tight as I pursue this dream.

A couple of years ago, I had a teacher who changed my life. She didn't fit under the simple label of educator; she was a real person who shared that personality with us. In years prior, I had gotten used to teachers whose only purpose, it felt, was to get their students to learn the required amount and send them off on their way. When I reached high school, I understood the impact that a teacher who truly cares and shows that care to her students can have. Although we learned a lot, her class didn't center around academics. She treated us as if we were real people, telling us life stories and lessons, and how we could succeed in our own lives. Ever since that realization, I've wanted to give others the same life-altering experience that I had, showing kids just how impactful school can be. I began immersing myself in various situations where I was tasked with educating or mentoring kids, whether it be a role as a teacher's assistant or a camp counselor. As I became more familiar with working with kids, my love for the job grew. The elated feeling of being a positive influence on their lives and helping them develop told me that I was going in the right direction with teaching. Once my plan for the future had solidified, many people began telling me that the dream wasn't realistic. They reminded me of the minimal pay, of the hardships that would come out of making teaching a career as I wanted to. They discouraged me from making a commitment, though they acted out of good intentions and the wanting for me to have a good life. Although I listened to their comments, I refused to alter my path. I would achieve that good life by living out my dream, regardless of the challenges that would come from doing so. I've found that enlightening young minds and helping them build up both intelligence and confidence is what I'm meant to do, and I feel the payoff of that is worth more than any amount of income. I want to teach not only school-based materials, but lessons that the kids can carry with them as they get older. Lessons about life, about passion, about dreams. Because my journey changed when someone did that for me. And I want nothing more than to continue the cycle that my teacher started in me.

I want to dedicate my life to helping people. My future career path as an elementary school teacher will allow me to make an impact on kids' journeys when they're young and at a time in their lives when they need support most. Every summer, I volunteer as a teacher's assistant for a program called Summer Learning Camp, spanning over a month, while working to eliminate summer learning loss. There, I help them with numerous tasks throughout the day, from running a center with a small group to helping individual kids with their work; I take them to lunch and watch over the class during recess, helping with band aids or bathroom trips if need be. I hold responsibility over not only embracing these kids and helping them to have a fun, educational time, but also keeping them safe in the process. I believe that everyone, regardless of what is happening in their life, could use an outside support system, and I try my hardest to fit that role whenever I can. I've gotten a reputation for being the "happy, positive one", a title given to me by my friends, my teammates, my teachers. I know from experience that life has its lows, trenches that seem inconquerably deep, and since getting the support and care needed to climb back up, I've made it a personal goal of mine to offer the same to anyone who is struggling. Even if it may not seem to be a big deal, I know just how heavy things can weigh in one's mind. I'll do everything I can to make that time better, showing that person that they are not alone. It's my experience that, when someone feels supported, they can find the strength to grow. One of the biggest struggles I've had to deal with in my life involves mental health. I don't talk about it with many people, but I have pretty severe OCD. My movements, my body, my mannerisms, I'm hyperaware of them all. When this mentality first started affecting me, I avoided lines like stepping on them would send a dagger through my foot. Times became life-threatening. Even a casual brush against my shoulder could send me into a breakdown. I took up so much time standing in front of the sink, using the harshest soap I could, and trying to feel clean. I couldn't bring myself to touch certain things, feeling like the world was dirty. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know why it was happening. All I knew was that I no longer had a say. My life was ripped out of my control, leaving me in the passenger's seat of my own existence. I listened to that voice in my head like defying it would kill me... because, in my mind, it could have. I would force myself to do things and immediately move on to the next necessity when I did, not even allowing myself a moment of happiness on those self-created terms. I sentenced myself to that colorless life and didn't allow anyone-let alone myself-to change that. After a long, slow battle, I’m finally making sizeable progress. While this has been one of the worst experiences of my life, it has also shaped the person I am today. In a strange, twisted way, I’m appreciative of this misfortune, as it drastically changed my perspective on life and how to live it. Living through this hardship revealed what is really important, and the difference between being alive and actually living. My perspective changed, as did what I wanted for myself and my future.

Mental health has been a massive factor in my life's journey, changing the entirety of who I am and how I think. I don't talk about it very much, but it defines every day of my life. I have pretty severe OCD. My movements, my body, my mannerisms, I'm hyperaware of them all. When this mentality first started affecting me, I avoided lines like stepping on them would send a dagger through my foot. Times became life-threatening. Even a casual brush against my shoulder could send me into a breakdown. I took up so much time standing in front of the sink, using the harshest soap I could, and trying to feel clean. I couldn't bring myself to touch certain things, feeling like the world was dirty. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know why it was happening. All I knew was that I no longer had a say. My life was ripped out of my control, leaving me in the passenger's seat of my own existence. I listened to that voice in my head like defying it would kill me... because, in my mind, it could have. I would force myself to do things and immediately move on to the next necessity when I did, not even allowing myself a moment of happiness on those self-created terms. I sentenced myself to that colorless life and didn't allow anyone- let alone myself- to change that. I used to love walking. I would explore neighborhoods, finding cool oddities in the uniqueness of houses. However, as I started getting more entrenched in patterns and feeling the overwhelming need to repeat them, I stopped being able to change my route. I had to go the exact same way, leaving at exactly the same time, every day. Even during the hot summer months, when we experienced a huge heat wave, I couldn't not go on this walk. That day sticks out to me in particular. Almost crying as I walked up the hill because I was so miserable, but being mentally unable to go home. I didn't see a change for a brighter future because I didn't see a future at all. After a long, slow battle, I’m finally making sizeable progress. While this has been one of the worst experiences of my life, it has also shaped the person I am today. In a strange, twisted way, I’m appreciative of this misfortune, as it drastically changed my perspective on life and how to live it. Living through this hardship revealed what is really important, and the difference between being alive and actually living. My perspective changed, as did what I wanted for myself and my future.

This is hard to talk about. However, it is a massive factor in my life, and my story wouldn’t be complete without it. When I was in eighth grade, I developed an eating disorder. While the statistics for this disease in young people stand horrifically high, the effect on each and every one of those individuals isn't diminished by the commonality. The prospect of being one of many doesn't make anything better. Like a weed gradually constricting around my mind, my falling into this demographic happened slowly—I didn’t realize it was killing me until it was too ingrained to cut out. I became unable to do the things I loved, stammering out excuses whenever anyone asked me anything to do with food. Because of my retreat into myself and away from others, the quality of the relationships I held dropped. The friends I did have were held on a surface level. We didn't talk about the hardships of our lives because we didn't really talk about anything of substance. Regrettably, I also drew away from my family at this point, isolating myself completely in a way that was supposed to make me feel better but actually just made me feel alone. I just didn't have the energy for relationships anymore. I spiraled into darkness, sitting in my room for hours on end, doing nothing at all. Everything was dull and hopeless. I didn't see a change for a brighter future because I didn't see a future at all. My only purpose was to keep seeing the number on the scale go down. I would set goals and immediately go lower when I hit them, not even allowing myself a momentary happiness on those self-created terms. I sentenced myself to that colorless life and didn't allow anyone- let alone myself- to change that. I felt that way of life was just what I deserved. The long-overdue end of this torturous cycle wasn’t the fed-up necessity for change like the media presents. There was no sudden realization one day that I didn’t want my life to be like that anymore, followed by a quick switch. I dragged myself out of that hole with bloody fingertips, and it’s not that I never fell. It’s that I found the strength to climb back up again. I've agonizingly slowly come to realize that, as cliché as it sounds, how I see myself is more important than the perception of others. I needed to learn to appreciate who I was, even in a society that told me that I needed to be someone else. I found out that the world will never, no matter what I do, be satisfied. Its greed for always wanting more from a person is unquenchable, and learning that lesson the hard way gave me the strength to finally stop feeding it my life. Unfortunately, my efforts weren't met by society's version of a happily-ever-after. In a ruthless example of just how cruel life could be, things got worse in other regards as I improved. My hold over that aspect of my life was ripped away, or so it felt, and in that desperate flailing, I grabbed onto the only thing I felt I could control: myself. My movements, my body, my mannerisms, I became hyperaware of them all. I avoided lines like stepping on them would send a dagger through my foot. Times became life-threatening. Once again, I was drowning. I didn’t recognize what I was experiencing for a time before it was placed as OCD. By shedding one horror, I gained another. Once again, my life was ripped out of my control, leaving me in the passenger's seat of my own existence. I listened to that voice in my head like defying it would kill me- because, in my mind, it could have. After a long, slow battle, I’m finally making sizeable progress. While these have been the worst experiences of my life, they also shaped the person I am today. In a strange, twisted way, I’m grateful for these misfortunes, as they drastically changed my perspective on life and how to live it. Living through such hardships revealed what is really important, and the difference between being alive and actually living. My perspective changed, as did what I wanted for myself and my future. I began to prioritize myself and what I wanted, listening less to what people told me to do. My voice grew stronger as I began to advocate for myself, and I made it a goal to prevent it from ever getting smothered again. I know what's out there for me, and I'm confident enough in myself now to reach for it all.

My story isn't a traditional one. The health challenge that I fight against with fitness isn't physical; it's mental. I don't talk about it with many people, but I have pretty severe OCD. One major aspect is a rigid perception of "perfect" times. Certain things have to happen at specific intervals, or else everything capsizes. I had been a pretty rigorous walker before this condition started, going out almost every day and continually pushing myself to go farther, to go more intense. After a while, I could no longer walk out of the house whenever I wanted and just go; I had to wait until the time was right. Even with this restriction, I still kept up the pattern, seldom missing a day. Schoolwork, chores, studying, hobbies, I was sure to make the time to get outside and exercise. As my life started getting more and more boxed in, going outside- no matter how hard or stressful it was to get there- made me feel better both in a physical sense and a mental sense. There was something cathartic about letting everything go through the release of a workout, and the anxiety of the day was somewhat alleviated. Over the summer, I made real progress under the pretense of fitness and going out. Though it felt like hell, I forced myself out the door at a time that wasn't right in my mind, trying to soothe the horrible feeling with that freeing release of exercising. That step was huge for the progress I was making, and little by little, day by day of doing the same thing, those iron ties that bound my life began to loosen their hold. Exercising quite literally changed the course of my life for the better, and because of the massively beneficial impact it has had on me, fitness will forever be included in my lifestyle. I now feel freer to explore more avenues, not just sticking to the ones I am familiar with, like walking. While I did get stuck in the repetition of it for a long time, unwilling to expose myself to anything new or what I perceived as "bad", now, I push myself to try new things, forcing myself past that sense of anxiety. Hiking, swimming, rock climbing... my life has opened up to so many more options, and now that I know that I'm actually okay to do them, a new love has been formed.

1. I moved to my current state in third grade, two days before the first day of school. Coming from across the country, I didn't know anyone. Thankfully, there was another student who had just transferred schools, so we were able to fit together. Fast forward to fourth grade, where there was one new girl who had moved from the East Coast. Seeing her on the first day, I remembered the sinking feeling of being new, of not knowing anyone, and feeling like all your classmates are already knitted together so tightly that there's no room for anyone else. So, the next day, I went up to her. Introduced myself. Learned her name, her story. I wanted to show her that someone cared, that she could have a friend in me in this new place. It was this moment that really solidified the significance of looking past yourself and onto someone else, and how even a little effort on your part could make a huge impact on someone else's life. We became really close friends, sticking together all throughout elementary school. Our lives grew together, and we went from making up stories about our baby dolls to writing them down in spiral notebooks, both of us finding a love in writing and solidarity in each other. Years of friendship stemmed from one simple "Hello", changing the both of our lives for the better. 3. During a summer school program in which I participated as a TA, there was a young girl ostracized by both her late arrival to the camp and her lack of any hair. When she sat alone at lunch on her first day, I walked the class through the lunch line and then joined her. I spent the time asking her questions about anything, gradually getting to know who she really was. I tried my hardest to make her feel seen and a sense of belonging. The next day, I encouraged two girls to sit with us, and our little group began to grow. I directed the conversations to include everyone, and eventually, they began to talk amongst each other without my interference. By the end of that week, we had attracted more kids to our table. What had begun as only one became two people to a seat, and anyone who had been sitting by themselves was now welcomed as a member of our table. Taking into account our larger numbers, I continued to make sure that no one was ignored or left out, asking questions and listening to every response to let each kid know that they were heard and that their voice mattered. I know that these kids looked up to me as a role model, so I put effort into showing them just how important inclusion is. As the program drew to a close, I not only ended up closer and more connected to these kids, but they ended closer to each other as well, which is all I could’ve asked for.

When I was in fourth grade, I had a teacher who changed my life. She didn't fit under the simple label of educator; she was a real person who shared that personality with us. In years prior, I had gotten used to teachers whose only purpose, it felt, was to get their students to learn the required amount and send them off on their way. When I reached fourth grade, I understood the impact that a teacher who truly cares and shows that care to her students can have. Although we learned a lot, her class didn't center around academics. She treated us as if we were real people, telling us life stories and lessons, and how we could succeed in our own lives. Ever since that realization, I've wanted to give others the same life-altering experience that I had, showing kids just how impactful school can be. I began immersing myself in various situations where I was tasked with educating or mentoring kids, whether it be a role as a teacher's assistant or a camp counselor. As I became more familiar with working with kids, my love for the job grew. The elated feeling of being a positive influence on their lives and helping them develop told me that I was going in the right direction with teaching. Once my plan for the future had solidified, many people began telling me that the dream wasn't realistic. They reminded me of the minimal pay, of the hardships that would come out of making teaching a career as I wanted to. They discouraged me from making a commitment, though they acted out of good intentions and the wanting for me to have a good life. Although I listened to their comments, I refused to alter my path. I would achieve that good life by living out my dream, regardless of the challenges that would come from doing so. I've found that enlightening young minds and helping them build up both intelligence and confidence is what I'm meant to do, and I feel the payoff of that is worth more than any amount of income. I want to teach not only school-based materials, but lessons that the kids can carry with them as they get older. Lessons about life, about passion, about dreams. Because my journey changed when someone did that for me. And I want nothing more than to continue the cycle that my fourth-grade teacher started in me.

When I was in fourth grade, I had a teacher who changed my life. She didn't fit under the simple label of educator; she was a real person who shared that personality with us. In years prior, I had gotten used to teachers whose only purpose, it felt, was to get their students to learn the required amount and send them off on their way. When I reached fourth grade, I understood the impact that a teacher who truly cares and shows that care to her students can have. Although we learned a lot, her class didn't center around academics. She treated us as if we were real people, telling us life stories and lessons, and how we could succeed in our own lives. Ever since that realization, I've wanted to give others the same life-altering experience that I had, showing kids just how impactful school can be. I began immersing myself in various situations where I was tasked with educating or mentoring kids, whether it be a role as a teacher's assistant or a camp counselor. As I became more familiar with working with kids, my love for the job grew. The elated feeling of being a positive influence on their lives and helping them develop told me that I was going in the right direction with teaching. Once my plan for the future had solidified, many people began telling me that the dream wasn't realistic. They reminded me of the minimal pay, of the hardships that would come out of making teaching a career as I wanted to. They discouraged me from making a commitment, though they acted out of good intentions and the wanting for me to have a good life. Although I listened to their comments, I refused to alter my path. I would achieve that good life by living out my dream, regardless of the challenges that would come from doing so. I've found that enlightening young minds and helping them build up both intelligence and confidence is what I'm meant to do, and I feel the payoff of that is worth more than any amount of income. I want to teach not only school-based materials, but lessons that the kids can carry with them as they get older. Lessons about life, about passion, about dreams. Because my journey changed when someone did that for me. And I want nothing more than to continue the cycle that my fourth-grade teacher started in me.

When I was in fourth grade, I had a teacher who changed my life. She didn't fit under the simple label of educator; she was a real person who shared that personality with us. In years prior, I had gotten used to teachers whose only purpose, it felt, was to get their students to learn the required amount and send them off on their way. When I reached fourth grade, I understood the impact that a teacher who truly cares and shows that care to her students can have. Although we learned a lot, her class didn't center around academics. She treated us as if we were real people, telling us life stories and lessons, and how we could succeed in our own lives. Ever since that realization, I've wanted to give others the same life-altering experience that I had, showing kids just how impactful school can be. I began immersing myself in various situations where I was tasked with educating or mentoring kids, whether it be a role as a teacher's assistant or a camp counselor. As I became more familiar with working with kids, my love for the job grew. The elated feeling of being a positive influence on their lives and helping them develop told me that I was going in the right direction with teaching. Once my plan for the future had solidified, many people began telling me that the dream wasn't realistic. They reminded me of the minimal pay, of the hardships that would come out of making teaching a career as I wanted to. They discouraged me from making a commitment, though they acted out of good intentions and the wanting for me to have a good life. Although I listened to their comments, I refused to alter my path. I would achieve that good life by living out my dream, regardless of the challenges that would come from doing so. I've found that enlightening young minds and helping them build up both intelligence and confidence is what I'm meant to do, and I feel the payoff of that is worth more than any amount of income. I want to teach not only school-based materials, but lessons that the kids can carry with them as they get older. Lessons about life, about passion, about dreams. Because my journey changed when someone did that for me. And I want nothing more than to continue the cycle that my fourth-grade teacher started in me.

Ever since elementary school, I've been known as the tall girl in class, the one who stood above even some of the boys. I didn't let that title alienate me; I found a place where my height gave me an advantage over everybody else: basketball. I started playing around fourth grade, and have consistently kept it up since. When I hit high school, my passion grew into something more organized. We went over complicated plays and strategies, a far jump from the flexibility we had in middle school. I put my all into this new course, adapting to the sport's new structure. I strove for betterment, learning to know and love my team as well. I played on JV for three years and am currently enrolled in our school's varsity team. When I was a new freshman on the team, my coach awarded me with the Coach's Choice Award. The next year, I was appointed co-captain my sophomore year and then speaking captain the following season. Another award that was granted to me all four years was the Principal's Academic Scholar Award, signifying good grades throughout the season. I've kept a 4.0 GPA all four years, despite this dedication. Being a student-athlete entails keeping up both parts of the term, in a curricular and an athletic sense. I dedicated myself fully to the sport, always being there, always giving it my all. I attended every single optional practice, on weekends and in the off-season. Out of my four secondary years of playing, I missed only one practice out of hundreds. I show up. When it’s important to me, I show up. Even if my efforts aren’t recognized, I continue to devote my person to the cause, because I’m doing it for myself. I don’t miss, I don’t skip; I commit, and I commit hard, with every fiber of my being. At the same time, I also don't let the sport consume me.