For much of my life, I believed that strength meant handling everything on my own. As a wife, mother of three young boys, educator, graduate student, ministry leader, and author, I became accustomed to carrying multiple responsibilities at once. I thought that if I worked hard enough, stayed organized enough, and trusted God enough, I could manage whatever came my way. What I didn't realize was that anxiety doesn't disappear simply because you are capable. My experience with anxiety became especially apparent during seasons of significant change and responsibility. Balancing motherhood, work, graduate school, ministry, and everyday life often left me feeling overwhelmed. I found myself constantly worrying about the future, replaying decisions in my mind, and carrying a level of stress that affected both my emotional well-being and my relationships. One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was that asking for help is not weakness. For a long time, I felt like I should be able to handle everything myself. Eventually, I recognized that anxiety was affecting my quality of life, and I made the decision to seek treatment. Today, I take medication for anxiety, and that decision has been an important part of my journey toward better mental health. Seeking help taught me that caring for my mental health is not something to be ashamed of. It is an act of stewardship and self-awareness. My journey with anxiety has changed the way I relate to others. It has made me more compassionate and less likely to assume that someone has everything together simply because they appear successful on the outside. I have learned that many people carry invisible struggles. This understanding has made me a more patient wife, a more empathetic friend, and a more intentional mother. I want my children to grow up knowing that it is okay to talk about their emotions, seek help when they need it, and extend grace to others. As an educator, my experiences have shaped the way I view students. I know that learning is about more than academics. Students bring their fears, challenges, and emotions into the classroom every day. Because of my own experiences, I strive to create environments where students feel safe, valued, and supported. I want them to know that their worth is not defined by a test score or a difficult season. Mental health has also influenced my aspirations. While pursuing my master's degree in Learning, Design, and Technology, I continue to look for ways to make a meaningful impact on others. Earlier this year, I published a book called If Walls Could Worship, which encourages readers to recognize God's presence in everyday life. Much of my desire to write comes from my own experiences navigating challenges and wanting others to know they are not alone. I hope to continue creating resources that encourage, educate, and support people through difficult seasons. Perhaps the greatest lesson anxiety has taught me is that the world is more complex than it appears. People are often fighting battles that cannot be seen. Success does not mean someone is free from struggle, and struggle does not mean someone is failing. Mental health challenges have taught me resilience, humility, and empathy. They have shown me the importance of extending kindness because we never fully know what another person is carrying. My experience with anxiety has shaped my goals, strengthened my relationships, and deepened my understanding of the world. While it has been a difficult journey at times, it has also made me a more compassionate leader, educator, mother, and person. It has taught me that strength is not found in carrying every burden alone. True strength is found in recognizing when help is needed, accepting support, and using your experiences to serve others.

What gives me an advantage over many other applicants is not that my path has been easier, but that I have learned how to keep moving forward even when life became complicated, exhausting, and financially difficult. I am pursuing my graduate degree in Learning, Design, and Technology while balancing work, motherhood, financial responsibilities, and a deep commitment to serving students through education. Every step I take toward my degree has required intentional sacrifice, persistence, and long-term vision. As a mother of three young boys, I understand what it means to work toward goals in the middle of real life, not in perfect conditions. My coursework is often completed after long workdays, during nap times, late at night, or in the quiet moments I can carve out between responsibilities. Still, I have maintained strong academic performance because education is not simply something I want for myself. It is something I believe has the power to create lasting impact for others. What sets me apart is that I am already actively using my education to make a difference. I work in education and curriculum writing, creating meaningful learning experiences for children across different age groups and learning environments. I have spent countless hours designing engaging educational materials that help students feel seen, capable, and excited about learning. I care deeply about making education more creative, accessible, and effective, especially in a time when many students struggle to stay engaged in traditional learning environments. My graduate studies are helping me strengthen those skills even further. I am learning how to better design digital learning experiences, integrate technology into education in meaningful ways, and support students with diverse learning needs. My long-term goal is to continue building educational resources and curriculum that reach students beyond a single classroom, especially through virtual education and creative curriculum development. I also believe my perspective gives me an advantage because I understand the realities many families face. Financial stress, limited resources, and balancing work with education are not abstract ideas to me; they are part of my everyday life. That reality has taught me resilience, budgeting, time management, and adaptability. It has also made me more compassionate toward the students and families I hope to serve throughout my career. This scholarship would not simply reward academic performance. It would directly support a student who is already turning her education into meaningful action. The financial assistance would help cover tuition, textbooks, technology, and educational expenses while allowing me to continue pursuing graduate school without placing additional strain on my family. Most importantly, I believe I deserve this scholarship because I am committed to creating impact that extends far beyond myself. My goal is not only to earn a degree, but to use that degree to create learning experiences that inspire children, support teachers, and make education more accessible for families from all backgrounds. I may be competing against many talented applicants, but I know the determination, purpose, and heart behind my goals are what truly set me apart.

My long-term goal is to transform the way children experience learning by creating meaningful, accessible educational content that sparks curiosity instead of simply checking boxes. As both an educator and curriculum writer, I have seen firsthand how students thrive when learning feels personal, creative, and engaging. My plan is to continue combining classroom experience, technology, and curriculum development to create resources that reach students both inside and outside traditional school settings. Currently, I am pursuing my Master’s degree in Learning, Design, and Technology while working in education. My studies are helping me better understand instructional design, online learning environments, accessibility, and the ways technology can support diverse learners. I plan to use this degree to strengthen my ability to create high-quality digital curriculum and interactive learning experiences for elementary students. My long-term vision is to expand my work into full-scale curriculum publishing and educational content creation that can support families, teachers, homeschool communities, and virtual learners across the country. To achieve these goals, I have developed a practical plan built around education, experience, financial stability, and resource management. First, I plan to complete my graduate degree while continuing to gain hands-on experience in virtual and elementary education. Working in online learning environments allows me to better understand the challenges teachers and students face in today’s classrooms, especially regarding engagement and accessibility. At the same time, I continue building my portfolio through curriculum writing projects, educational units, and creative learning materials. Financially, completing graduate school is one of the largest obstacles standing between me and these goals. Tuition, textbooks, technology, childcare, and living expenses all require careful budgeting. As a mother of three young boys, balancing education, work, and family responsibilities requires intentional planning. I have created a monthly budget that prioritizes tuition payments, course materials, and reliable technology needed for virtual learning and curriculum development. Scholarships like this one are essential because they reduce the financial pressure that often forces students to delay or pause their education. In addition to formal education, I plan to continue investing in professional development tools and resources such as educational software, curriculum design programs, and classroom technology platforms. I also plan to grow my personal educational website and publishing platforms where I can share resources with teachers and families. Over time, I hope this work will not only provide supplemental income for my family, but also create affordable, high-quality learning tools for students who may not otherwise have access to them. I understand that success rarely happens through one single path. My approach has always been rooted in adaptability, persistence, and creativity. Whether through teaching, writing, digital curriculum development, or educational publishing, my goal remains the same: to create learning experiences that make children feel capable, seen, and excited to learn. I believe education has the power to change the trajectory of a child’s life, and I want my work to be part of that impact for years to come.

My name is Lauryn Malone, and I am a graduate student pursuing a degree in Learning, Design, and Technology, an educator, curriculum writer, author, wife, and mother of three boys. Education has become deeply personal to me because I have seen firsthand how every child learns differently and how important it is for students to feel seen, valued, and capable. My experiences both inside and outside the classroom have shaped my passion for creating learning environments where students with special needs are not simply accommodated, but truly supported and encouraged. Throughout my time in education, I have worked with students who struggled academically, emotionally, socially, and behaviorally. I quickly realized that many children are not failing because they lack intelligence or potential, but because the system was not designed to meet their individual needs. Some students need more time. Others need information presented differently, more encouragement, or simply someone patient enough to believe in them. Watching students gain confidence after finally feeling understood has had a lasting impact on me and continues to drive the work I want to do in my career. As a curriculum writer and educator, I am passionate about designing meaningful and accessible learning experiences for all students, especially those with unique learning needs. My graduate studies in Learning, Design, and Technology have strengthened my understanding of how instructional design and technology can remove barriers that often prevent students from succeeding. Flexible and engaging learning environments can provide students with opportunities to learn in ways that fit their strengths rather than forcing them into a one-size-fits-all approach. I am especially passionate about virtual and digital education because I have seen how impactful it can be for students who struggle in traditional classrooms. Technology can provide alternative ways for students to communicate, process information, and participate confidently in learning. I want to continue developing educational resources and learning experiences that help students feel empowered rather than discouraged. Outside of my professional goals, motherhood has also deeply influenced my perspective. Being a mother has given me an even greater sense of empathy and understanding for families navigating challenges related to learning differences, disabilities, or special needs. Parents often carry invisible emotional and mental burdens while advocating for their children, and I hope my work can also provide encouragement and support to families who sometimes feel overlooked or exhausted. In addition to education, I am also an author, and storytelling has taught me the power of connection, empathy, and understanding. I believe every child deserves to feel like their story matters and that they have something valuable to contribute to the world. My goal is to use both education and creativity to help students build confidence in themselves and recognize their potential. Through my career, I hope to make a positive social impact by creating inclusive learning opportunities, advocating for accessible education, and helping students with special needs feel capable, important, and understood. I want to be part of building a future where differences are not viewed as limitations, but as unique strengths worth nurturing and supporting.

Some of the most meaningful experiences in my life have come from serving people in ordinary but important ways. Through volunteering with Cedars Care Days, helping provide food and toiletries to families in low income housing, and assisting with local food pantry outreach, I have seen how much difference compassion and consistency can make in a person’s life. Those experiences showed me that nonprofit work is not just about programs or organizations. It is about people. It is about meeting practical needs while also reminding someone they are seen, valued, and not forgotten. I want to pursue a career connected to the nonprofit sector because I want my work to create lasting impact within communities, especially for children and families who may not always have access to support, encouragement, or educational opportunities. As a mother of three and a graduate student pursuing my degree in Learning, Design, and Technology, I have become passionate about helping others through both education and service. I believe education can change the direction of someone’s life, but I also know that many families face obstacles that go far beyond the classroom. Financial hardship, stress, lack of resources, and feelings of hopelessness can affect every area of a person’s life, including their ability to learn and grow. That is why I hope to use my career to support organizations and programs that focus on education, literacy, family outreach, and community support. I want to help create accessible learning resources and encouraging environments where children feel capable, families feel supported, and people feel empowered to move forward. My background in teaching and curriculum development has already shown me how important it is to meet people where they are and provide resources that are both meaningful and practical. What inspires me most about nonprofit work is that it focuses on service over recognition. Some of the strongest leaders are the people quietly showing up behind the scenes, carrying groceries, organizing donations, encouraging struggling families, or giving their time to help someone else succeed. Those are the kinds of leaders who have impacted my own life, and I hope to become that kind of leader for others. This scholarship is important to me because it supports students who want to use their education and career to create positive change. My goal is not simply to build a successful career for myself. I want to build a life that leaves people better than I found them. Whether through education, outreach, mentorship, or nonprofit leadership, I hope my work will continue to strengthen communities and help people feel supported, encouraged, and capable of building a better future.

Cancer changed my life long before I ever understood how deeply grief could settle into a person. My mawmaw was one of the safest places I knew growing up. She was comfort, warmth, laughter, and the kind of love that made everything feel steady even when life was hard. Watching cancer slowly take that away from her was heartbreaking in a way I still struggle to fully explain. Before her diagnosis, I think I viewed sickness as something temporary. You get sick, you heal, and life moves on. Cancer taught me that some battles change entire families. I watched someone I loved deeply go from strong and full of life to exhausted and hurting. I watched the people around her try to stay hopeful even when fear filled every room. I learned that cancer does not only affect the person diagnosed. It touches children, grandchildren, caregivers, friendships, finances, routines, and even the way a family celebrates holidays and milestones. Losing my mawmaw forced me to grow emotionally at a young age. It taught me how fragile life can be, but it also taught me the value of showing up for people while you still can. Some of my favorite memories now are not the big moments, but the quiet ones. Sitting beside her. Hearing her stories. Watching her smile at her family even on difficult days. Cancer made me realize how important presence is. Sometimes people do not need perfect words or solutions. They just need someone willing to sit beside them in the hard moments. Her passing also shaped the way I view my own life and future. It gave me a deeper compassion for people who are hurting, struggling, or carrying grief that others cannot see. As a mother, student, and educator, I try to lead with empathy because I understand how heavy life can become behind closed doors. Everyone is fighting battles we may know nothing about. That perspective has changed the way I treat people, encourage others, and raise my children. Although losing my mawmaw was one of the hardest experiences of my life, I am grateful for what her life taught me. She showed me strength even in suffering. She showed me faith during uncertainty. Most importantly, she showed me the importance of loving people well while we have the chance. Her memory continues to influence the person I am becoming, and the lessons I learned through losing her will stay with me for the rest of my life

When I think about who inspired me the most, my mind always goes back to my third grade teacher, Mrs. Cantrell. She probably never realized the impact she had. There was nothing flashy about the way she taught. She didn’t stand out because she was loud or dramatic. What made her different was the way she paid attention. She noticed things other people might have missed. She created a space where you felt safe to try, safe to learn, and safe to be yourself, even on the days you didn’t have it all together. At that age, I didn’t have the words to explain why her classroom felt different. I just knew it did. I felt comfortable there. I felt capable there. And most importantly, I felt like I mattered. Looking back now, I can see that what she gave me went far beyond academics. She gave me confidence in a quiet, steady way. She showed me that consistency matters more than perfection, and that the way you treat people can leave a lasting impression long after the moment has passed. Now, as a mother of three boys, I understand that kind of impact on a completely different level. Every day, I am shaping how my children see themselves and the world around them. It happens in the small moments—how I respond when they’re frustrated, how I listen when they’re trying to explain something important to them, how I show up even when I’m tired. Those moments may not seem significant at the time, but they build something over time. After having my third son, life became fuller in every sense. It also became more demanding. Balancing motherhood, school, and everything else has stretched me in ways I didn’t expect. There have been moments where I felt overwhelmed, unsure, and pulled in multiple directions at once. But those moments have also taught me something important: growth doesn’t happen when everything is easy. It happens in the middle of responsibility, pressure, and learning how to keep going anyway. That understanding has shaped the way I view both motherhood and my future in education. I’ve learned that people don’t need someone who has everything perfectly together. They need someone who is consistent. Someone who shows up, pays attention, and creates an environment where they feel seen and supported. I see that in my own children every day, and it has changed the way I approach relationships in every area of my life. As I continue working toward becoming an educator, I carry that perspective with me. I don’t just want to teach lessons from a curriculum. I want to create a classroom where students feel safe enough to try, to struggle, and to grow. I want to be the kind of teacher who notices the student who is quiet, who encourages the one who feels behind, and who reminds each child that their effort matters. I also want my children to grow up seeing what it looks like to pursue something meaningful. Not because it is easy, but because it is worth it. I want them to understand that strength is not about having everything figured out. It is about continuing forward with purpose, even when the path feels uncertain. Mrs. Cantrell showed me what that kind of steady presence looks like. She didn’t need to say anything extraordinary. She simply showed up, day after day, in a way that made her students feel valued. That is the kind of impact I hope to have. Not something temporary or surface-level, but something lasting. Something that helps a child believe in themselves a little more than they did before. Something that creates a foundation they can carry with them long after they leave the classroom. Sometimes, it is not the big moments that shape a person’s life. It is the quiet ones. I am who I am today, in part, because of a teacher who chose to show up in those moments. That is what I hope to give back.

There isn’t one single relationship in my life that changed everything overnight. For me, it has been built through becoming a mother. Motherhood has a way of bringing everything to the surface. There is no room to hide behind being “put together” all the time. My children see me when I am tired, overwhelmed, and stretched thin, and they also see me choosing patience, choosing to stay present, and choosing to keep showing up. That kind of closeness has shaped me in ways nothing else could. It has taught me that relationships are not built on perfection, but on consistency, grace, and the decision to stay when things are hard. After having my third son, that understanding became even deeper. Life became louder and more demanding, but also more meaningful. I started to realize that connection is not something that just happens naturally. It is something you have to choose, over and over again. In the middle of the chaos, I have learned how important it is to slow down, to really listen, and to make someone feel seen. Those small moments have changed the way I approach every relationship in my life. That has carried directly into the way I connect with others, especially as I pursue a career in education. I do not see relationships as surface-level interactions. I see them as the foundation for everything. Whether it is a student, a parent, or a colleague, people need to feel understood before they can fully engage. I have learned that from sitting on the floor with my kids, answering the same question over and over, and choosing patience when it would be easier to rush through the moment. I believe real impact starts in those quiet, consistent interactions. Not in big, perfect moments, but in the steady presence of someone who cares enough to show up. That is the kind of environment I want to create as an educator. I want my students to feel safe, known, and valued—not because of what they can produce, but because of who they are. This perspective has also shaped how I build relationships beyond my home. I am more intentional now. I listen more than I speak. I try to understand before I respond. I recognize that everyone is carrying something unseen, and sometimes the smallest moment of understanding can make the biggest difference. That awareness did not come from a textbook. It came from living it. At the core of everything I have learned is this: relationships require both strength and softness. They require patience, even when it is inconvenient, and grace, even when it is undeserved. Most of all, they require presence. That is the kind of person I am continuing to become, and the kind of educator I hope to be. Not someone who simply teaches content, but someone who builds connection, sees people fully, and helps them see their own value. Because in the end, the most meaningful impact we have is not always in what we say, but in how we make people feel.

I have a loud laugh, and to make it even more noticeable, I have big, bunny buck teeth that show every single time it happens. Not a subtle smile, not a quiet reaction. It’s full volume and fully visible. The kind of laugh that turns heads and the kind of teeth you can’t exactly hide behind your hand once it starts. I’ve been aware of it for as long as I can remember. There’s always that split second after I laugh where I wonder if I was too loud, too much, too noticeable. Like maybe I should have held it in or kept it smaller. For a long time, I tried to do exactly that. I’d catch myself mid-laugh and pull back, or I’d default to a smile instead of actually reacting. But the truth is, when something is genuinely funny or joyful, I don’t do halfway. My laugh just comes out, and my whole face goes with it. There’s no filtering it, no controlling it, and honestly, no pretending it’s anything other than real. What I didn’t realize at first is that people respond to that kind of realness. My laugh might be loud, and my teeth might make it even more obvious, but it’s also contagious. It breaks tension. It makes people feel comfortable. It shifts a moment from surface-level to something more relaxed and genuine without me even trying. What I once saw as something awkward or embarrassing actually creates connection. That realization didn’t just stay with my laugh. It changed how I show up in every area of my life. As a mom, an educator, and someone working toward my graduate degree while building a career, I don’t have the option of being perfectly polished all the time. Life is loud, messy, and full. And instead of trying to hide that, I’ve learned to work within it. I bring that same honesty into my work. I don’t create from a place of perfection. I create from real life, which is exactly what the people I’m reaching need. My drive and ambition aren’t about becoming someone more put together or more “presentable.” They’re rooted in being effective, being real, and creating things that actually connect. Because people don’t remember perfect. They remember what feels genuine. So yes, my laugh is loud, and yes, my teeth make sure everyone knows it. But instead of shrinking that part of myself, I’ve learned to let it exist fully. Because the same thing that once made me feel awkward is the same thing that makes me approachable, memorable, and real.

I am pursuing a graduate degree in Learning, Design, and Technology because I believe effective education is not simply delivered—it is intentionally designed. My experiences as an educator, curriculum writer, and mother have shown me that meaningful learning happens when instruction is purposeful, engaging, and responsive to the learner. In both classroom and curriculum settings, I have seen the difference between students who passively receive information and those who actively engage with it. That distinction has shaped the way I approach my graduate studies. I am not just learning how to use educational tools; I am learning how to design experiences that require students to think critically, interact meaningfully, and build understanding that lasts. Through platforms such as Canva, Pear Deck, and Edpuzzle, I have created interactive lessons that move beyond surface-level engagement. More importantly, I have learned to ground these tools in research-based strategies, ensuring that technology enhances learning rather than distracts from it. My graduate work has allowed me to connect theory with practice in a way that feels both relevant and necessary. Concepts such as learner-centered design, cognitive engagement, and differentiated instruction are no longer abstract ideas. They directly inform the way I build lessons, structure activities, and support diverse learners. I have seen how intentional design can increase confidence in struggling students while also challenging those who are ready to go deeper. That kind of impact is what continues to drive my work. My long-term goal is to design curriculum and digital learning environments that are both accessible and effective, particularly for elementary students. I want to bridge the gap between traditional instruction and modern learning design in a way that feels natural and sustainable for teachers while remaining engaging for students. I believe that when learning is thoughtfully designed, it not only improves academic outcomes but also shapes how students view themselves as learners. Pursuing this degree while balancing professional responsibilities and raising a young family has required discipline, resilience, and a strong sense of purpose. My days are often full, and my time is carefully managed, but I remain committed because I understand what this degree represents. It is not simply an academic achievement; it is preparation for meaningful, long-term impact in the field of education. The Eitel Scholarship would provide critical financial support as I continue my graduate studies. It would ease the burden of tuition costs and allow me to focus more fully on my coursework, research, and design projects. Beyond financial assistance, this scholarship would serve as an investment in my ability to create learning experiences that are thoughtful, effective, and student-centered. I am committed to using my education to design learning that matters. Not just content that is covered, but understanding that is built, supported, and sustained. That is the work I am preparing for, and the work I intend to continue.

I don’t just want to build something that looks good on the outside. I want to build something that actually holds weight—something that lasts when life isn’t picture perfect. Right now, I’m building a life that my boys can grow up watching and believing in. Not a flawless one, but a faithful one. As a mom of three, a writer, and someone continuing my education, my days are full in the most real and sometimes chaotic ways. But in the middle of all of it, I’ve realized I’m not just managing life—I’m shaping it. I’m building a future that shows my children what perseverance, faith, and purpose look like in real time. One of the biggest things I’m building is a platform that connects faith to everyday life. Through my writing, especially my book, I’ve stepped into telling the truth about what it looks like to worship outside of perfect moments. I want people to see that growth doesn’t happen when everything is polished—it happens in the middle of the mess, the questions, and the rebuilding. My goal is to continue creating content, curriculum, and spaces that help others—especially women and families—feel seen, equipped, and encouraged in their real lives. I’m also building my future through education. Pursuing my graduate degree isn’t just about a title—it’s about becoming more equipped to create meaningful learning experiences for students. I want to be someone who doesn’t just teach information, but who helps students think, question, and connect what they’re learning to who they are becoming. That kind of impact doesn’t stay in a classroom—it carries into homes, communities, and future generations. The impact of what I’m building matters because it’s not just for me. It’s for my kids, who are watching how I handle hard things. It’s for my students, who deserve to feel capable and inspired. And it’s for the people who need to know they’re not alone in the middle of their own in-between seasons.

Pursuing my Master’s in Learning, Design, and Technology has changed the way I approach learning. It is no longer just about understanding content. It is about how that content can be designed, applied, and experienced by others. Because of that, the online tools and resources I use are not just supports for completing assignments. They are part of how I actively practice and refine the skills I am building through my degree. One of the most impactful tools I use is Canva. Throughout my coursework, I have used Canva to create full lesson slides, visual organizers, and student-facing materials. For example, in one of my projects, I designed a multi-day ELA lesson focused on teaching students how to make inferences using text evidence. Instead of simply outlining the lesson, I built an interactive slide deck that guided students through modeling, practice, and application. This process helped me think intentionally about layout, clarity, and engagement. It pushed me to consider how design choices affect understanding, which is a central focus of my degree. I have also used Edpuzzle to deepen my understanding of interactive instruction. In one assignment, I created a lesson where students watched a short video and responded to embedded questions throughout. This allowed me to apply concepts related to formative assessment and student engagement in a real way. Instead of waiting until the end of a lesson to check for understanding, I was able to design checkpoints within the learning process. This experience reinforced the importance of immediate feedback and active participation. Another tool I frequently use is Pear Deck. In my coursework, I have designed lessons that include real-time student responses, drawing activities, and reflection prompts. One project required me to transform a traditional lesson into an interactive experience, and Pear Deck allowed me to do that effectively. It helped me see how technology can shift students from passive listeners to active participants. This aligns directly with what I am learning about student-centered instruction and engagement. To support research and deepen my understanding of course concepts, I regularly use Google Scholar. This has been essential when working on papers and projects that require evidence-based support. For instance, when studying learning theories such as constructivism and social learning, I used scholarly articles to connect theory to practice. This not only strengthened my academic writing but also helped me make more informed decisions when designing instruction. In addition, I rely on YouTube as a way to see real-world examples of the strategies I am learning. Watching demonstrations of instructional techniques or technology integration helps me visualize how these concepts can be applied in different settings. It provides a practical layer to the theoretical knowledge I gain in my courses. These tools have allowed me to move beyond simply completing assignments. They have helped me build and test ideas, refine my approach, and create meaningful learning experiences. More importantly, they have helped me understand the deeper purpose of my degree. Learning, Design, and Technology is not just about using digital tools. It is about designing instruction that meets learners where they are, engages them in meaningful ways, and supports their growth.

I did not decide to go back to school during a quiet season of life. I decided in the middle of it. In a house that is rarely still, with three little boys who need me all day, and responsibilities that do not pause just because I have goals of my own. It was not the “perfect time,” but I have learned that waiting for perfect usually means never starting. So I started anyway. Being a mom has changed the way I see everything, especially education. It has taught me patience in a way nothing else could. Some days feel slow, messy, and a little overwhelming, but they are also full of growth in ways you do not always see right away. That same patience carries into my schoolwork. There are nights when I am studying after everyone else is asleep, and mornings that start earlier than I would like, but I keep showing up. Motherhood has taught me how to keep going, even when I am tired, and that has made all the difference in returning to school. Going back for my Master’s degree in Learning, Design, and Technology is not just about advancing my career. It is about becoming better at what I already love to do. As an educator and curriculum writer, I care deeply about how students learn and how we can create experiences that actually reach them. I have seen how the right lesson, the right approach, or even the right encouragement can completely change a student’s confidence. I want to be part of that. I want to create learning that feels engaging, meaningful, and accessible for every student, not just the ones who naturally succeed. At the same time, this decision is personal. My boys are always watching, even when I do not realize it. They see me working at the table, reading, writing, and choosing to keep going when it would be easier to stop. I want them to grow up seeing that learning does not stop after a certain age or stage of life. I want them to understand that it is okay to work hard for something, even when it takes time. I am not just telling them that education matters. I am showing them what it looks like to commit to it. Balancing school, work, and motherhood is not easy. There are days when everything feels like it is happening at once, and I have to remind myself to take it one step at a time. I have learned to be flexible, to adjust when needed, and to give myself grace when things do not go perfectly. This journey has stretched me, but it has also strengthened me. It has taught me how to manage my time better, stay focused on what matters, and keep moving forward even when I feel overwhelmed. Going back to school as a mom has not been about proving anything. It has been about growing. It has given me a clearer sense of purpose, not just for my career, but for the kind of life I want to build. I am working toward something that matters to me, while still being present for the people who matter most.

The “Truth or Temptation Trials” is not your typical challenge. It is the kind of experience that pulls people out of their comfort zone and drops them right into the middle of real, unfiltered decision-making. From the outside, it looks fun, a little dramatic, and honestly entertaining. But underneath all of that, it is designed to answer one question. Who are you when you have to choose between what feels good and what is actually right? The first round, “Truth Under Pressure,” sets the tone immediately. One by one, participants take the hot seat while everyone else watches. The questions are not surface level. They are the kind that make you pause for a second and think about what your answer says about you. Each person has a choice. They can answer honestly and build trust, or they can avoid the question and face a consequence. It sounds simple, but in the moment, it is not. You can feel the tension shift depending on what someone chooses. It quickly becomes clear that honesty is not always the easiest option, but it is the one that carries the most weight. Then comes “Temptation Auction,” which takes everything up a notch. Participants are given tokens and the chance to “buy” different advantages like a private moment, a reward, or even a little extra security. The catch is that every reward has a hidden cost. No one knows what they are really agreeing to until it is too late. This round is where personalities start to show. Some people play it safe, while others take big risks for what they want. It is not just about winning something. It is about what someone is willing to risk to get it, and whether they are thinking short term or long term in the process. By the time “The Reveal” begins, everything that has been building finally comes to the surface. Conversations that felt private are no longer hidden, and decisions that seemed small suddenly have real impact. People hear what was said, see what was done, and have to respond in real time. This part is emotional, honest, and sometimes uncomfortable, but it is also where growth happens. It creates space for people to take responsibility, explain their choices, and understand how their actions affected others. What makes this challenge stand out is that it is not just about entertainment. It is about awareness. It shows how quickly situations can shift and how important it is to stay grounded in your values, even when the pressure is high. At the same time, it is fun, unpredictable, and full of moments that keep everyone engaged from start to finish. The “Truth or Temptation Trials” works because it balances everything. It has energy, tension, strategy, and emotion all in one experience. It keeps people on their toes while also pushing them to think a little deeper about their choices. In the end, it is not just about what someone does in the challenge. It is about what those choices reveal, and that is what makes it memorable.

Leadership is not something I step into only when I am in charge. It is something I carry with me in the middle of everyday life, especially when no one is watching. For me, leadership begins in the small, ordinary moments that require patience, consistency, and intention. Whether I am managing a full day with my three young boys or navigating the responsibilities of my career, I have learned that leadership is less about control and more about how I show up for others. As a mother, I lead in ways that are deeply personal and constant. My children are always watching how I respond to challenges, how I treat others, and how I handle stress. This has shaped my understanding of leadership more than anything else. It is not about perfection, but about modeling perseverance, kindness, and responsibility. I lead by creating a stable and loving environment, even on the days that feel overwhelming. That consistency builds trust, and I believe trust is the foundation of any strong leader. In my role as an educator, leadership means creating a space where students feel seen, valued, and capable. I do not believe that leadership is about having all the answers. Instead, it is about guiding students to think critically and believe in their own ability to learn. I design lessons that are engaging and accessible because I understand that every student learns differently. By meeting students where they are and encouraging them to grow, I help build both their confidence and their skills. This kind of leadership is not always visible, but it is impactful. My experience as a curriculum writer has also strengthened my leadership skills. In this role, I create resources that other educators depend on, which requires me to think beyond my own perspective. I consider diverse learning needs, different environments, and varying levels of support. Leadership in this context means being thoughtful, adaptable, and committed to excellence. It is about making decisions that will positively affect not just one group of students, but many. One of the most defining aspects of my leadership comes from my personal experiences with mental health. Instead of allowing those challenges to limit me, I chose to use them as a way to help others. Writing my book gave me the opportunity to share my story and offer encouragement to people who may be struggling in similar ways. Leadership, to me, means being willing to be honest and vulnerable so that others feel less alone. It is about using my experiences to create connection and hope. I am also continuing to grow as a leader through my education and career. As I pursue my Master’s degree in Learning, Design, and Technology and step into a new role in virtual education, I am constantly learning how to adapt and improve. Leadership is not about reaching a final destination. It is about a willingness to keep growing, even when it is uncomfortable, and to bring others along in that process. Ultimately, what makes me a leader is not a title or position. It is the way I consistently show up in my home, my work, and my community. I lead by serving others, building trust, and creating spaces where people can grow. Leadership is not something I do occasionally. It is something I live out every day through my actions, my mindset, and my commitment to making a difference.

Mental health and suicide are not topics that have stayed distant from my life. They’ve been part of my story in ways that have shaped how I see people, how I show up, and how I understand what it means to keep going when things feel heavy. There have been seasons where the weight of everything felt overwhelming. Not always in loud, obvious ways, but in the quiet ones—the exhaustion, the pressure, the feeling of trying to hold everything together while still showing up for everyone else. As a mom, a wife, and someone who pours into others, I’ve learned how easy it is to carry more than you realize until it starts to affect every part of you. Walking through those moments changed me. It made me more aware of how many people are silently struggling. It made me pay attention to what isn’t said out loud. And it deepened my desire to create spaces where people feel seen, understood, and not alone in what they’re carrying. That’s a big part of why I wrote my book, If Walls Could Worship. It came from a place of wanting to be honest about what it looks like to walk through hard seasons and still find God there. Not in a perfect, put-together way, but in the middle of real life. In the questions, the doubts, the quiet moments where you’re just trying to make it through the day. Writing it wasn’t about having all the answers. It was about offering something real. Something that reminds people that worship isn’t just for the easy moments or the ones that look good from the outside. It can exist right in the middle of struggle. It can show up in the middle of doubt, in the middle of pain, and even in the middle of healing that feels slow. Mental health struggles have taught me that people don’t need perfection from each other. They need honesty. They need compassion. They need someone willing to sit in the hard moments without trying to rush past them. That understanding has shaped not only my writing, but the way I approach my life and the people around me. It’s also shaped how I view my purpose moving forward. Whether it’s through writing, teaching, or simply being present in someone’s life, I want to be someone who creates space for others to feel safe enough to be real. To know they don’t have to hide what they’re going through. This part of my story isn’t something I would have chosen, but it’s something that has given me a deeper sense of empathy and a clearer understanding of how much people need to feel seen and valued. If sharing my experiences or my words can help even one person feel less alone, then it has purpose.

I don’t think my passion for early childhood education started in one big moment. It’s been built over time in a lot of small, ordinary ones that ended up meaning more than I expected. It’s in the look on a child’s face when something finally makes sense. It’s in the way they light up when they realize they can do something they thought was too hard. It’s in the questions they ask that seem simple but actually show how they’re starting to understand the world around them. That’s what draws me to early childhood education. These years matter more than people sometimes realize. It’s not just about learning letters and numbers. It’s about building confidence. It’s about curiosity. It’s about helping children see themselves as capable from the very beginning. Being a mom has only deepened that for me. I see every day how learning doesn’t happen in perfect conditions. It happens in the middle of noise, questions, interruptions, and real life. It happens through conversation, through play, and through moments that don’t always look like “teaching” at all. That perspective has changed how I approach education. I don’t just see students as a group I’m teaching. I see them as individuals who are learning in their own way, at their own pace, with their own experiences shaping how they understand things. My experience in both the classroom and curriculum writing has shown me how much the how matters. When learning is meaningful and engaging, students don’t just go through the motions. They connect with it. They start asking questions. They begin to think for themselves. And when that happens, learning sticks in a completely different way. I’ve also learned how important it is to meet children where they are, not where we expect them to be. Every child walks in with a different background, different strengths, and different needs. Some need more time, some need more encouragement, and some just need someone to believe they can do it. Creating a space where they feel safe enough to try, fail, and try again is just as important as anything we teach them. What matters most to me isn’t just that a child meets a standard. It’s that they feel seen. That they feel capable. That they begin to trust themselves as learners. Early childhood is also where so much more than academics is formed. It’s where children start to decide if school is a place where they belong. It’s where relationships are built and trust begins. The way we show up for them during these years can shape how they approach learning for the rest of their lives. It may look like small moments from the outside, but I know they aren’t small at all.

A past student of mine was quiet from the start- watchful, never speaking. As his pre-k teacher, I knew he wasn’t just shy. I worked diligently to advocate for this child. Special education assistance is difficult for pre-K students, so I knew my work was cut out for me. I started using picture cards and gestures to help him communicate. I began to take notes and observations, and eventually, I could sit down with his family and a speech therapist to have a challenging conversation about the child. Soon, this special student worked with the speech therapist in a behavioral learning center. He smiled more, used signs, and even started trying out sounds. Watching him find his voice, little by little, reminded me why I teach—because every child deserves to be heard. One thing I would change about education is standardized testing. Standardized testing was meant to measure learning, but over time, it’s narrowed how we define success. Instead of fostering creativity, curiosity, and critical thinking, it pressures students to memorize and teachers to teach to a test. A 2019 survey revealed that 62% of teachers felt pressured to "teach to the test," sacrificing holistic education in favor of test-specific material. These exams often fail to reflect the diverse ways students learn and grow. A test can’t capture a child's potential or a teacher's impact. It also reinforces inequities—students from under-resourced schools face unfair disadvantages yet are held to the same rigid benchmarks. Ending standardized testing doesn’t mean ending accountability. It means redefining it. Portfolios, project-based learning, and teacher assessments can offer a fuller, fairer picture of student progress. Education should inspire, not rank. The United States spends approximately $1.7 billion annually on standardized testing. This significant expenditure could be redirected toward more effective educational strategies that support diverse learning needs. Standardized testing, while intended to provide objective measures of student achievement, often fails to account for the myriad ways students learn and demonstrate their abilities. Mrs. Cantrell was my third-grade teacher, profoundly impacting my career choice. I still remember the warmth of her classroom—her sweet voice and kind encouragement that made every child feel seen. She wasn’t just my elementary school teacher; she was the first person who made me believe I could do more. I was a quiet, anxious kid—nervous to speak up, afraid to be wrong. But Mrs. Cantrell had a way of making the noise and worry fade. She didn’t rush me or move on when I froze during a class presentation. Instead, she knelt beside me and whispered, “Take your time. You’ve got this.” It wasn’t just what she said—it was how she said it. Like she already believed in me, even when I didn’t. Mrs. Cantrell had a way of turning small moments into lessons that stayed with us. She noticed when I hesitated to raise my hand and gently encouraged me until I did. She celebrated effort over perfection and treated every question as if it mattered. In her eyes, we all had potential waiting to be discovered. Years later, when I stood in front of my classroom for the first time, I realized I had become the kind of teacher she was to me. Patient. Present. Passionate. Mrs. Cantrell didn’t just teach me reading and math—she showed me the power of belief, and that’s why I became an educator