The loss of my brother, as difficult as it was, gave me a unique perspective and motivation to educate others about mental health, heal from trauma, learn to practice self-love, and turn all of this into my future career. Now I am pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to work as a teacher with neurodiverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults. Back in 2013, I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 years old at the time, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. My brother had struggled for years with depression and had gone through our broken system seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to psychiatrists and the back of police cars. The day I received the news, the assistant principal came into my choir class and called my name. She walked me quietly to the office where my dad met me, crying. I had never seen him cry. I already knew the words he was too emotional to say. My high school classes began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way they could. I was incredibly grateful for the support, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, my classmates didn’t know the full details, I was just another student. I will never forget the teachers who gave me hugs and excused my missing work. I will always remember the school social worker who led me to join a school support group for those who had lost immediate family members. Since I was graduating, I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave a speech on the importance of community support at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. Still beginning to heal my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also got involved in the local community by tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. That community involvement lit a fire in me for teaching and working in education. I realized that, as an educator, I have the ability to inspire students, young and old, to become the best version of themselves despite the hardships they have faced. I remember the teachers who had given me so much grace during my senior year of high school as I struggled with my own mental health along with the loss of my brother. Receiving Jean Antoine Joas’ scholarship would help get me through the last year of my master’s and support me as I manage an entire semester of full-time unpaid student teaching while paying rent, student loans, groceries, and bills. As I acquired more experience and exposure to different people, places, and ideas, my curiosity led me to the field of education. This master’s degree will help me to become a more skilled and culturally competent educator and will help launch me into a lifelong career in education while promoting mental health for youth.

Losing my brother to suicide, as difficult as it was (and still is), has given me a unique perspective to educate others about mental health and healing from trauma. My brother had struggled for years with depression and had gone through our broken system seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to psychiatrists and the back of police cars. I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 years old at the time, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. I tried to disassociate what was going on at home from my everyday petty problems as a senior in high school. My classes began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way they could. I was incredibly grateful for the support, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, my classmates didn’t know the full details, I was just another student. I will never forget the teachers who gave me hugs and excused my work. I will always remember the school social worker who led me to join a school support group for those who had lost immediate family members. I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave a speech on the importance of community support at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. Sometimes I would cry for no reason and I found it difficult to make close friendships when others were establishing close bonds as freshmen in college. Sometimes the only thing that would relax me was hitting the treadmill at max speed and taking a sauna to sweat out my tension. To begin the journey of healing my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. That community involvement lit a fire in me for teaching and working in education. I realized that, as an educator, I could inspire students, young and old, to become the best version of themselves despite the hardships they have faced. I remember the teachers who had given me so much grace during my senior year of high school as I struggled with my mental health along with the loss of my brother. I am now pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults. Receiving Elijah's Helping Hand Scholarship Award would help get me through the last year of my master’s and support me as I manage an entire semester of full-time unpaid student teaching while paying rent, student loans, groceries, and bills. Looking beyond my graduate degree, I hope that my education will empower future generations I work with as a mindful, cognizant, and passionate teacher. My brother would be proud.

Losing my brother to suicide, as difficult as it was (and still is), has given me a unique perspective to educate others about mental health and healing from trauma. My brother had struggled for years with depression and had gone through our broken system seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to psychiatrists and the back of police cars. I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 years old at the time, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. I tried to disassociate what was going on at home from my everyday petty problems as a senior in high school. My classes began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way they could. I was incredibly grateful for the support, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, my classmates didn’t know the full details, I was just another student. I will never forget the teachers who gave me hugs and excused my work. I will always remember the school social worker who led me to join a school support group for those who had lost immediate family members. I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave a speech on the importance of community support at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. Sometimes I would cry for no reason and I found it difficult to make close friendships when others were establishing close bonds as freshmen in college. Sometimes the only thing that would relax me was hitting the treadmill at max speed and taking a sauna to sweat out my tension. To begin the journey of healing my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. That community involvement lit a fire in me for teaching and working in education. I realized that, as an educator, I have the ability to inspire students, young and old, to become the best version of themselves despite the hardships they have faced. I remember the teachers who had given me so much grace during my senior year of high school as I struggled with my own mental health along with the loss of my brother. I am pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults. Receiving Eduardo’s scholarship would help get me through the last year of my master’s and support me as I manage an entire semester of full-time unpaid student teaching while paying rent, student loans, groceries, and bills. Looking beyond my graduate degree, I hope that my education will empower future generations I work with as a mindful, cognizant, and passionate teacher. My brother would be proud.

10 years ago, in 2013, I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school and I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. My brother had struggled for years with depression and had gone through the system seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to the back of police cars. While other kids were catching cases of senioritis, I was just trying to hold it together. The day I received the news, the assistant principal came into my choir class and called my name. She walked me quietly to the office where I met my dad, who was crying. I had never seen him cry. I already knew the words he was too emotional to say. My classes began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially and emotionally. I was incredibly grateful for their support, but it also felt exhausting being at home. At school, my classmates didn’t know the full details, I was just another student. Since I was graduating, I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave a speech on the importance of community support at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. I would have crying episodes and sometimes the only thing that would relax me was hitting the treadmill at max speed and taking a sauna to sweat out my tension. To begin to heal my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. That community involvement lit a fire in me for teaching and working in education. I realized that, as an educator, I have the ability to inspire students, young and old, to become the best version of themselves despite the hardships they have faced. I remember the teachers who had given me so much grace during my senior year of high school as I struggled with my own mental health along with the loss of my brother. They gave me hugs and excused my missing schoolwork. I will always remember the school social worker who led me to join a school support group for those who had lost immediate family members. Now, I am pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults. Receiving the Elizabeth Schalk Memorial Scholarship would help get me through the last year of my master’s and support me as I manage five months of full-time unpaid student teaching while paying rent, student loans, groceries, and bills. Though the education and mental health fields may be challenging sometimes, this has become my passion, my fight, and my career, and I am just getting started. Thank you for considering my application.

I was scanning the room for my student, who was about to take her oath to become a U.S. citizen. “There she is!” I exclaimed to her son and husband as she turned around, waved nervously, and smiled. In that joyous moment of pride for both of us, I knew I had chosen the right path in promoting lifelong learning and literacy, which I believe are fundamental rights regardless of one’s background. Receiving the Coleman for Patriots scholarship will help me finish my master’s degree in special education and pay off my student loans while working as an unpaid student teacher. When I first got to college, I was eager to get involved with the local community, so I started volunteering at the Stateline Literacy Council (SLC) as an English tutor and GED instructor for adults in the area. Nearly all of the students at SLC came from low-income backgrounds, with full-time jobs, families, and other everyday commitments. Many were undocumented and did not face the same privileges and rights granted to US citizens. Facing obstacles with language, poverty, discrimination, and endless stressful days did not deter them as they showed up to every session keen to learn and improve themselves and their knowledge of the world around them. Their dedicated spirits, humor, and optimism toward their futures and self-education truly inspired me and I left every hour feeling better than when I had entered. After volunteering as a tutor, I got an internship at SLC during my senior year of college as a citizenship instructor. My proudest moment to this day came when I accompanied one of my students to her oath ceremony where I watched her become a U.S. citizen with the widest, most unforgettable smile on her face. After having spent a whole semester teaching students about the US Constitution and questions on the citizenship exam, it was life-changing to see my students pursue their dreams of becoming US citizens. This experience instilled in me the belief that all people regardless of ability, background, or immigration status should be able to pursue an education because education is a fundamental right. After college, I moved to Jalisco, Mexico, and was working at a nonprofit where I also taught English classes part-time. I had many students who had difficulties reading and writing. I noticed many needed glasses though very few had access to them, making it difficult to focus in the classroom. If hard-of-hearing or seeing students couldn’t afford to attend the private school in Manzanillo they might not attend school at all. I worked with one first grader who had a developmental disorder and occasionally suffered from seizures. Halfway through the year, he stopped attending school altogether. I began to draw connections between the importance of access to healthcare, ability, and education, something I came across with my adult students at the Literacy Council, as well. I am now living in Chicago, Illinois where I work for Chicago Public Schools as a Bilingual Special Education Classroom Assistant. Daily, I help to create accessible curricula for students with disabilities who also come from bilingual and English-learning backgrounds. Too often, emerging bilingual students and the neurodiverse have not been given the same educational opportunities and expectations as other students in schools. I hope my master’s degree will continue to allow me to pursue my dream of becoming an activist teacher to enhance the rights of students from all types of backgrounds. Thank you for considering my application.

I was scanning the room for my student, who was about to take her oath to become a U.S. citizen. “There she is!” I exclaimed to her son and husband as she turned around, waved nervously, and smiled. In that joyous moment of pride for both of us, I knew I had chosen the right path in promoting lifelong learning and literacy, which I believe are fundamental rights regardless of one’s background. Receiving the Martha Mitchell Truth scholarship will help me finish my master’s in special education while working as an unpaid student teacher. When I first got to college, I was eager to get involved with the local community so I started volunteering at the Stateline Literacy Council (SLC) as an English tutor and GED instructor for adults in the area. Nearly all of the students at SLC came from low-income backgrounds, with full-time jobs, families, and other everyday commitments. Many were undocumented and did not face the same privileges and rights granted to US citizens. Facing obstacles with language, poverty, discrimination, and endless stressful days did not deter them as they showed up to every session keen to learn and improve themselves and their knowledge of the world around them. Their dedicated spirits, humor, and optimism toward their futures and self-education truly inspired me and I left every hour feeling better than I had entered. After volunteering as a tutor, I got an internship at SLC during my senior year of college as a citizenship instructor. My proudest moment to this day came when I accompanied one of my students to her oath ceremony where I watched her become a U.S. citizen with the widest, most unforgettable smile on her face. After having spent a whole semester teaching students about the US Constitution and questions on the citizenship exam, it was life-changing to see my students pursue their dreams of becoming US citizens. This experience instilled in me the belief that all people regardless of ability, background, or immigration status should be able to pursue an education because education is a fundamental right. After college, I moved to Jalisco, Mexico, and was working at a nonprofit where I also taught English classes part-time. I had a number of students who had difficulties reading and writing. I noticed many needed glasses though very few had access to them, making it difficult to focus in the classroom. If hard-of-hearing or seeing students couldn’t afford to attend the private school in Manzanillo they might not attend school at all. I worked with one first grader who had a developmental disorder and occasionally suffered from seizures. Halfway through the year, he stopped attending school altogether. I began to draw connections between the importance of access to healthcare, ability, and education, something I came across with my adult students at the Literacy Council, as well. I am now living in Chicago, Illinois where I work for Chicago Public Schools as a Bilingual Special Education Classroom Assistant. Daily, I help to create accessible curricula for students with disabilities who also come from bilingual and English-learning backgrounds. Too often, students of color, multilingual students, and the neurodiverse have been treated as second-class in schools and have not been given the same opportunities as others in more privileged positions. I hope my master’s degree will continue to allow me to pursue my dream of becoming an activist teacher to enhance the rights of students from all types of backgrounds. Thank you for considering my application.

My brother Jack was a lover of music, notably Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, and Neil Young. He played his guitar and CDs everywhere he went. I still read his personal songs and poems to this day. He was a free soul, once hitchhiking all the way from his home of Minnesota to the coast of California. In 2013, I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 then, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. Much like Ethel, my brother had struggled for years with depression, which stemmed from so much in his life. He had gone through our broken system seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to psychiatrists as well as the back of police cars. While other kids were catching cases of senioritis, I was just trying to hold it together. How could I focus on turning in a worksheet when my mom had driven me to school that morning, pale-skinned, sobbing with a friend about where he was? Or trying to call the police to track his bank cards? How could I joke with friends when I felt like my home life was falling apart? I didn’t tell a soul in those three days. I felt shame, anger, worry, and fear, but I mostly felt numb. The day I received the news, the assistant principal came into choir class and called my name. She walked me quietly to the office where my dad met me, crying. I had never seen him cry before. I already knew the words he was too emotional to say. School began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way they could. I was incredibly grateful for them all, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, people didn’t know the full details, I was just another student, and for once I liked it like that. I will never forget the teachers who gave me hugs and excused my work. Since I was graduating, I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave the speech at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. I would often feel and hold tension in my body, I would re-imagine painful scenarios in my head, and sometimes it was difficult to concentrate or hold conversations with others. To begin to heal my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. Little did I know at the time, that community involvement lit a fire in my for teaching and working in education. I realized that, as an educator, I have the ability to inspire students, young and old, to become the best version of themselves despite the hardships they have faced. I remembered the teachers who had given me so much grace during my senior year of high school as I struggled with my own mental health as well as that of my own brother. My passion for education has become my career and it is only just getting started. I began a master’s program in my home city of Chicago and I can say that pursuing my education has opened up a world of opportunity for me. Ethel’s scholarship will help support me as I go through a full semester this year of unpaid student teaching while paying rent, groceries, bills, and student loans. Once I have my master’s degree in special education, I hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults through after-school and community-based programs.

As an ESL teacher, my dad loved the concept of cultural exchange and he frequently invited exchange students to stay with us and share a part of their culture as we shared ours. Without saying a word, my dad showed me the importance of cross-cultural education. When I was 17, I remember being surrounded by Spanish and Quechua phrases, wishing I had studied either or both before going to live in the bustling city of Lima with Rotary Youth Exchange. It took me many frustrating months to be able to joke and speak effortlessly with my Peruvian friends, order food at the mercado, or ask for directions without receiving a laugh or a confused stare. One day, I was surprised to find myself conversing with ease in Spanish and it became hard to imagine that I had once only spoken English. I entered college declaring my major in international relations and went on to study abroad in France and Belgium, opening my mind to foreign affairs and other cultures even further, and developing a curiosity just like Ryan had. After having gone through the bumpy language learning process myself, I felt more motivated than ever to volunteer in college at a local literacy council as an English tutor and bilingual GED instructor. My students’ dedicated spirits, humor, and optimism toward their futures and self-education truly inspired me and I left every hour feeling better than I had entered. One of my proudest teacher moments came when I accompanied one of my students to her oath ceremony where I watched her become a U.S. citizen with the widest smile on her face. After graduation, I accepted a part-time teaching position at a nonprofit in Mexico. I incorporated a significant amount of kinesthetic and musical curriculum into the lessons. The following year, I received a Fulbright grant to work as an English teaching assistant in a rural Islamic high school in Terengganu, Malaysia. The goal of the Fulbright Program is to improve intercultural relations through cultural competency and diplomacy. The Malaysian Ministry of Education worked with foreign teachers to provide more dynamic education styles because a rigid, test-heavy system wasn’t allowing students to achieve their full potential and think critically. Students would stir uncomfortably in their seats and sweat at the thought of having to speak English aloud in a class. As teenagers, they were incredibly conscious of what their peers thought. I saw, immediately, that pop music and dance got students speaking and reading English without them even noticing they were using the target language. As I acquired more experience and exposure to different people, places, and ideas, my curiosity led me to the field of education. Now, I work for Chicago Public Schools and I’m pursuing my master’s degree in special education with endorsements in bicultural and bilingual teaching. I hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners from a culturally competent lens. My degree is the perfect opportunity to advance my teaching skills while at the same time working with diverse youth and cultures, creating more equitable schools through cultural-conscious curricula. Ryan’s scholarship will take a financial burden off as I pursue a semester of full-time student teaching while paying rent, groceries, and student loans. My degree will help me to become a more skilled and culturally competent educator and will help launch me into a lifelong career in multicultural education. Ultimately, I hope to empower future generations through education while leaving a positive impact on students as a culturally cognizant and passionate teacher.

The loss of a loved one, as difficult as it was, has given me the fight to educate about mental health, heal from trauma, learn to practice self-love, and turn all of this into my future career. Back in 2013, I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 years old at the time, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. My brother had struggled for years with depression and had gone through our broken system seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to psychiatrists and the back of police cars. Though I loved him as a brother, I had seen violent outbursts and had been a victim of those same outbursts as a result of his mental illness over the years. While other kids were catching cases of senioritis, I was just trying to hold it together. How could I focus on turning in a worksheet when my mom had driven me to school that morning, pale-skinned, sobbing with a friend about where he was? Or trying to call the police to track his bank cards? How could I joke with friends when I felt like my home life was falling apart? I didn’t tell a soul in those three days. I felt shame, anger, worry, and fear, but I mostly felt numb. I tried to disassociate what was going on at home from my everyday petty problems as a senior in high school. The day I received the news, the assistant principal came into my choir class and called my name. She walked me quietly to the office where my dad met me, crying. I had never seen him cry. I already knew the words he was too emotional to say. School began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way they could. I was incredibly grateful for the support, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, my classmates didn’t know the full details, I was just another student. I will never forget the teachers who gave me hugs and excused my work. I will always remember the school social worker who led me to join a school support group for those who had lost immediate family members. Since I was graduating, I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave a speech on the importance of community support at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. Sometimes I would cry for no reason and I found it difficult to make close friendships when others were establishing close bonds as freshmen in college. Sometimes the only thing that would relax me was hitting the treadmill at max speed and taking a sauna to sweat out my tension. To begin to heal my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. Little did I know at the time, that community involvement lit a fire in me for teaching and working in education. I realized that, as an educator, I have the ability to inspire students, young and old, to become the best version of themselves despite the hardships they have faced. I remember the teachers who had given me so much grace during my senior year of high school as I struggled with my own mental health along with the loss of my brother. I am pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults. Receiving the Cat Zingano scholarship would help get me through the last year of my master’s and support me as I manage an entire semester of full-time unpaid student teaching while paying rent, student loans, groceries, and bills. Though the education and mental health fields may be challenging sometimes, this has become my passion, my fight, my career, and I am just getting started. My brother would be proud.

As I reflect on what has led me to ultimately pursue education, I remember when I first began school. I entered a neighborhood school in south Minneapolis as a scrawny five-year-old. In second grade, I remember taking reading and writing classes in a computer lab. It was for students who were behind in reading, writing, and math, and even at seven years old, I was cognizant of that. Mrs. Anderson gave me confidence, and by the middle of the third grade, Rose, a girl who used to tease me, said I was reading too fast. It’s been more than 20 years and I still remember Mrs. Anderson. Though there are countless factors that go into the development of a student’s skills, I also believe that a patient and kind teacher can truly inspire and bring out what students might not even realize they have within themselves. Years later, in 2013, I was a skinny teenager experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 at the time, had been missing for three days after having left a suicide note. My brother had struggled for years with depression and had gone through our broken system, seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to psychiatrists as well as the back of police cars. While other kids were catching cases of senioritis, I was just trying to hold it together. How could I joke with friends when I felt like my home life was falling apart? I felt shame, anger, worry, and fear, but I mostly felt numb. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. To begin to heal my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring at a local elementary school as well as English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. Little did I know at the time, that community involvement lit a fire in me for teaching and working in education and children. After intently searching for similar opportunities to continue these opportunities with youth, I was hired at a nonprofit in Jalisco, Mexico which focused on innovative education, sports, and ecology programs for children pre-k through sixth grade. In Jalisco, I had a number of students who had difficulties reading and writing. I noticed many needed glasses, though very few had access to them, making it difficult to focus in the classroom. If hard-of-hearing or seeing students couldn’t afford to attend the private school in Manzanillo, they might not attend school at all. I worked with one first grader who had a developmental disorder and occasionally suffered from seizures. Halfway through the year, he stopped attending school altogether. I began to draw connections between the importance of access to healthcare and education, especially in the early years, to set students up for success in later years. I now work in a Chicago public school as a Special Education Classroom Assistant. Teachers and staff often comment on how much social-emotional support young students need since the pandemic. In these moments, I often think of my older brother and the importance of emotional well-being and having a support system, especially for young children. Ultimately, I hope to empower future generations through education while leaving a positive impact on young students as a culturally cognizant and passionate teacher.

In 2013, I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 at the time, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. My brother had struggled for years with depression and had gone through our broken system seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to psychiatrists as well as the back of police cars. While other kids were catching cases of senioritis, I was just trying to hold it together. How could I focus on turning in a worksheet when my mom had driven me to school that morning, pale-skinned, sobbing with a friend about where he was? Or trying to call the police to track his bank cards? How could I joke with friends when I felt like my home life was falling apart? I didn’t tell a soul in those three days. I felt shame, anger, worry, and fear, but I mostly felt numb. The day I received the news, the assistant principal came into choir class and called my name. She walked me quietly to the office where my dad met me, crying. I had never seen him cry. I already knew the words he was too emotional to say. School began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way they could. I was incredibly grateful for the support, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, people didn’t know the full details, I was just another student. I will never forget the teachers who gave me hugs and excused my work. Since I was graduating, I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave the speech at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. To begin to heal my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. Little did I know at the time, that community involvement lit a fire in my for teaching and working in education. I realized that, as an educator, I have the ability to inspire students, young and old, to become the best version of themselves despite the hardships they had faced. I remembered the teachers who had given me so much grace during my senior year of high school as I struggled with my own mental health as well as that of my own brother. My passion for education has become my career and it is only just getting started. I began a master’s program in my new home city of Chicago and I can say that pursuing my education has opened up a world of opportunity for me. I am pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults through after-school and community-based programs.

My brother Jack was a lover of music, notably Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, and Neil Young. He played his guitar and CDs everywhere he went. I still read his personal songs and poems to this day. He was a free soul, once hitchhiking all the way from his home of Minnesota to the coast of California. In 2013, I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 at the time, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. Much like Sheri, my brother had struggled for years with depression and had gone through our broken system seeing everything from pharmaceuticals to psychiatrists as well as the back of police cars. While other kids were catching cases of senioritis, I was just trying to hold it together. How could I focus on turning in a worksheet when my mom had driven me to school that morning, pale-skinned, sobbing with a friend about where he was? Or trying to call the police to track his bank cards? How could I joke with friends when I felt like my home life was falling apart? I didn’t tell a soul in those three days. I felt shame, anger, worry, and fear, but I mostly felt numb. The day I received the news, the assistant principal came into choir class and called my name. She walked me quietly to the office where my dad met me, crying. I had never seen him cry before. I already knew the words he was too emotional to say. School began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way they could. I was incredibly grateful for them all, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, people didn’t know the full details, I was just another student, and for once I liked it like that. I will never forget the teachers who gave me hugs and excused my work. Since I was graduating, I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave the speech at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. I would often feel and hold tension in my body, I would re-imagine painful scenarios in my head, and sometimes it was difficult to concentrate or hold conversations with others. To begin to heal my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. Little did I know at the time, that community involvement lit a fire in my for teaching and working in education. I realized that, as an educator, I have the ability to inspire students, young and old, to become the best version of themselves despite the hardships they had faced. I remembered the teachers who had given me so much grace during my senior year of high school as I struggled with my own mental health as well as that of my own brother. My passion for education has become my career and it is only just getting started. I began a master’s program in my new home city of Chicago and I can say that pursuing my education has opened up a world of opportunity for me. I am pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults through after-school and community-based programs.

My brother Jack was a lover of music, notably Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, and Neil Young. He played his guitar and CDs everywhere he went. I still read his personal songs and poems to this day. He was a free soul, once hitchhiking all the way from his home of Minnesota to the coast of California. In 2013, I was a skinny teenager surviving just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 at the time, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. While other kids were catching cases of senioritis, I was just trying to hold it together. How could I focus on turning in a worksheet when my mom had driven me to school that morning, pale-skinned, sobbing with a friend about where he was? Or trying to call the police to track his bank cards? How could I joke with friends when I felt like my home life was falling apart? I didn’t tell a soul in those three days. I felt shame, anger, worry, and fear, but I mostly felt numb. The day I received the news, the assistant principal came into choir class and called my name. She walked me quietly to the office where my dad met me, crying. I had never seen him cry before. I already knew the words he was too emotional to say. School began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way they could. I was incredibly grateful for them all, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, people didn’t know the full details, I was just another student, and for once I liked it like that. I will never forget the teachers who gave me hugs and excused my work. Since I was graduating, I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave the speech at the ceremony to an arena full of the graduating class, their parents, and teachers. After graduation, I took a gap year before I could commit to furthering my studies. I needed to spend some time away from home. I became a Rotary Youth Exchange student for a year in Peru before going on to college. When I entered my undergraduate years, I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. I would feel tension in my body, I would re-imagine painful scenarios in my head, and sometimes it was difficult to concentrate or hold conversations. To begin to heal my wounds, I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. I also became involved in the local community and started tutoring English, GED, and citizenship classes at a local nonprofit. Little did I know at the time, that community involvement lit a fire in my for teaching and working in education. After graduating, I went on to work in an education nonprofit in Mexico where I worked with local teachers to implement an English language curriculum in second through fifth-grade classrooms in the Costalegre region of Jalisco. I worked for a year there before going on to receive a U.S. Department of State Fulbright grant to assistant teach in a rural high school in Malaysia. My time there assistant-teaching was cut short due to the COVID-19 pandemic but when I returned to the U.S. I went on to work at an education nonprofit through Americorps. My passion for education has become my career and it is only just getting started. I began a master’s program in my new home city of Chicago and I can say that pursuing my education has opened up a world of opportunity for me. I am pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults. The Dr. Connie M. Reece Future Teachers Scholarship will support me in pursuing my education as I start my lifelong career as a teacher.

Jack was a lover of music, particularly Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, and Neil Young, much like Heather. He played his guitar and CDs everywhere he went. I still read his personal songs and poems to this day. He was a free soul, once hitchhiking all the way from his home of Minnesota to the coast of California. I was a skinny, shy 17-year-old, with just over a month away from graduating high school. At that time, I was experiencing a tornado of emotions. Jack, who was 24 at the time, had left a suicide note and had been missing for three days. While other kids were catching cases of senioritis, I was just trying to hold it together. How could I focus on turning in a worksheet when my mom had driven me to school that morning, pale-skinned, sobbing with a friend about where he was? Or trying to call the police to track his bank cards? How could I joke with friends when I felt like my home life was falling apart? I didn’t tell a soul in those three days. I felt shame, anger, worry, and fear, but I mostly felt numb. The day I received the news, the assistant principal came into choir class and called my name. She walked me quietly to the office where my dad met me, crying. I had never seen him cry before. I already knew the words he was too emotional to say. School began to serve as my distraction during that time. Countless people were coming in and out of my house, staying long after the funeral just to support our family financially, emotionally, or in any way that they could. I was incredibly grateful for them all, but it felt exhausting being at home. At school, people didn’t know the full details, I was just another student, and for once I liked it like that. Since I was graduating, I channeled my energy into writing a graduation speech essay. I spent hours brainstorming the theme, then more time writing and editing the body, rehearsing it in the mirror, and recording myself. I even had an English teacher edit it and give me feedback. I won the competition and gave the speech at the ceremony to an arena full of the entire graduating class, their parents, and teachers. After graduation, I took a gap year before I could commit to furthering my studies. I needed to spend some time away from home. I traveled for a bit but eventually felt excited about college. I was still working through the trauma I had experienced from the loss of a sibling to suicide. I became passionate about mental health and wellness, leading campus-wide guided meditations and “mindful break” study sessions through my sorority. Pursuing my education has opened up a world of opportunity for me. Now, my passion for school and education has become my career. I am pursuing my master’s degree in special education and hope to continue to work as a teacher for diverse learners and spread awareness about mental health and wellness for youth and young adults. For anybody out there going through the loss of a sibling this way, I hope you can feel my hug and the warm embrace of the people who care for you. I persevered by finding joy - joy in writing, being in school, learning about mindfulness and mental health, traveling, and connecting with others. I encourage you to move in spaces that give you joy because it can bring healing, understanding, awareness, and ultimately forgiveness.