I have participated in Iowa speech, both large group and individual events, all four years of my high school career. I attend Cedar Valley Christian High School and will graduate this May. Because of the Christian school I go to, I’ve been blessed with strong Christian men and women who have helped prepare me for adult life. My speech coach and theater director always ensure that the pieces and plays we perform are Christ-centered and glorifying to Him above all else. Through their guidance, I’ve consistently been pushed outside of my comfort zone, and that challenge has shaped me into a confident and capable public speaker. Over the years, I have participated in Choral Reading, Mime, Original Oratory, Literary Program, Storytelling, and Musical Theater. I didn’t excel in every category, and that’s something I’ve come to appreciate. Storytelling and Musical Theater, in particular, challenged me more than I expected. Even though I am part of honor choir, musical theater required a different kind of performance skill that didn’t come as naturally to me. However, those struggles taught me perseverance and humility. On the other hand, Literary Program and Original Oratory are where I truly found my strengths. I have always loved reading and writing, and these categories allowed me to build on those passions while developing research skills and the ability to think and adapt in the moment. Effective communication is one of the most important ways humans connect with one another and share ideas. Speech has shown me that words carry power—they can inform, inspire, and impact others in lasting ways. This understanding has shaped not only how I speak, but also how I listen and engage with those around me. In addition to speech, four years of Bible study are required to graduate from my high school. This year, I am taking theology and apologetics, which has deepened both my knowledge and my faith. I’ve learned many ways to defend what I believe, but more importantly, I’ve come to understand that faith is deeply personal. It cannot simply be argued into someone’s heart. A true relationship with God is built through connection, trust, and personal experience. Through my involvement in speech and my spiritual education, I have grown into someone who is confident, bold, and eager to connect with others. I believe God created us to be relational, and I am passionate about using my voice not just to speak, but to truly reach people.

I was my grandmother's mother starting from age thirteen until her death three weeks ago. My grandmother had dementia, diagnosed with the disease when I was twelve. Back then, I didn't understand what that really meant. It meant my grandfather deciding he did not need to hire an at-home caretaker or put my grandmother in a memory care facility. I was young and able-bodied, and more importantly I was free. By the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for getting her dressed each morning, preparing breakfast, administering medicine, bathing her, changing her when she soiled her clothing, and persuading her to go on walks with me. Caretaker responsibilities piled on top of laundry, housecleaning, and being a full time high school student involved in sports, theater, choir, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Because of my past, I've always thrown myself into education: academics and extra-curriculars are areas of my life where I can have control and excel. I have a unquenchable thirst for knowledge and learning. I'm one of the nerdy, kind-of off-putting students who genuinely enjoy the "school" part of school, maybe more than the social part. Academics and other achievements have given me a sense of belonging, purpose, and direction when my home life and family has caused me heartache. I plan to graduate college with honors. I know my view of school won't change after I graduate. As excited as I am to move onto the next chapter of my life, I am also a bit sad to leave high school behind. The time I spent with my grandmother is precious to me. My grandmother was the woman who taught me everything. My parents are not part of my life: my mother died when I was thirteen from a long battle with substance abuse and my father is negligible. My grandmother taught me to speak, walk, read, and bike. The reversal of roles was difficult for me, especially at first. I found myself resenting both of my grandparents. The experience deepened my maturity, compassion, and resilience. I did not fully understand true compassion until I was accustomed to being woken and ordered to strip the soiled sheets of my grandparents' bed and wash my confused and frail grandmother clean, all before dawn. My life has been riddled with loss. I have had no solid mother or father figure. I have been my own mother, and the mother of my younger brother and my grandmother. My life has driven me to throw myself into academics, athletics, and fine arts. These are things I can have a semblance of control over. I can excel in these areas and I don't have to rely on anyone but myself for it. I've always thirsted for knowledge, wanting to expand what I know constantly. Because of my experiences caring for my brother, mother, grandmother, I've known since I was in middle school that I wanted to go into a science driven career. I hope to pursue a career in biology/biochemistry. I am particularly interested in researching treatments for dementia and drug addiction, because of what I witnessed in my grandmother and my parents. If I was going to describe myself in one word, it would be Resilient. Resilience isn't about feeling strong 24/7. I showed resilience at fourteen, helping my grandmother walk around the neighborhood. I showed resilience at sixteen, moving out of my grandparents' house in pursuit of my own success. I showed resilience for my grandmother, and now all I do is in the name of my younger brother. My younger brother is eleven years old. I taught him to walk, read, and inspired his love of music. (I play three instruments- sax, guitar, and piano- and he's one up-ed me at five!) By the time he is at the age preparing for life after high school, I want to be in a financial position where I can support whatever decision he makes, be that college, trade school, or joining the workforce. My little brother was my first baby, and I want to be a role model he can look to for guidance, courage, and inspiration. He has experienced just as much loss as I have in his life, and he is much younger than me. I refuse to be another person who cannot show up for him. Right now, I cannot care for him as I'm eighteen and just about to graduate high school. Someday, however, both of us will have peaceful, secure lives and by pursuing higher education, I am insuring that can happen.

I was my grandmother's mother starting from age thirteen until her death three weeks ago. My grandmother had dementia, diagnosed with the disease when I was twelve. Back then, I didn't understand what that really meant. It meant my grandfather deciding he did not need to hire an at-home caretaker or put my grandmother in a memory care facility. I was young and able-bodied, and more importantly I was free. By the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for getting her dressed each morning, preparing breakfast, administering medicine, bathing her, changing her when she soiled her clothing, and persuading her to go on walks with me. Caretaker responsibilities piled on top of laundry, housecleaning, and being a full time high school student involved in sports, theater, choir, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. The time I spent with my grandmother is precious to me. My grandmother was the woman who taught me everything. My parents are not part of my life: my mother died when I was thirteen from a long battle with substance abuse and my father is negligible. My grandmother taught me to speak, walk, read, and bike. The reversal of roles was difficult for me, especially at first. I found myself resenting both of my grandparents. The experience deepened my maturity, compassion, and resilience. I did not fully understand true compassion until I was accustomed to being woken and ordered to strip the soiled sheets of my grandparents' bed and wash my confused and frail grandmother clean, all before dawn. My life has been riddled with loss. I have had no solid mother or father figure. I have been my own mother, and the mother of my younger brother and my grandmother. My life has driven me to throw myself into academics, athletics, and fine arts. These are things I can have a semblance of control over. I can excel in these areas and I don't have to rely on anyone but myself for it. I've always thirsted for knowledge, wanting to expand what I know constantly. Because of my experiences caring for my brother and grandmother, I've known since I was in middle school that I wanted to go into a science driven career. Throughout my life, I have felt very weak and exhausted. Resilience isn't about feeling strong 24/7. I showed resilience at fourteen, helping my grandmother walk around the neighborhood. I showed resilience at sixteen, moving out of my grandparents' house in pursuit of my own success. I showed resilience for my grandmother, and now all I do is in the name of my younger brother. My younger brother is eleven years old. I taught him to walk, read, and inspired his love of music. (I play three instruments and he's one up-ed me at five). By the time he is at the age preparing for life after high school, I want to be in a financial position where I can support whatever decision he makes, be that college, trade school, or joining the workforce. My little brother was my first baby, and I want to be a role model he can look to for guidance, courage, and inspiration- not another mother figure he's destined to lose.

One performance and song that I find especially moving from Taylor Swift’s career is Soon You'll Get Better, which she wrote during her mother Andrea Swift’s battle with Cancer. Unlike many of her other songs, it isn’t polished or meant to be performed with spectacle. It feels quiet, almost fragile, like something that wasn’t written for the world but out of necessity—because she was scared and needed to hold onto hope. Listening to that song is different for me, because I don’t just hear the fear of losing a mother—I hear what comes after. When my mom died from a drug overdose, my life split into a before and an after. There isn’t a version of the story where things get better in the way you hope they will. There’s no moment where someone says the words you’ve been waiting to hear. That kind of loss doesn’t resolve cleanly. It lingers in everything—holidays, quiet moments, the things you wish you could say but never will. That’s why “Soon You’ll Get Better” hits so deeply. Taylor is singing from a place where she still believes things might be okay, where love feels like it could be enough to save someone. I remember what that kind of hope feels like—wanting so badly for someone you love to be okay, even when things are falling apart. But hearing it now, after losing my mom, it feels almost like listening to a memory of a feeling I can’t go back to. At the same time, the song reminds me that the love between a mother and child doesn’t disappear, even when the outcome is different than what you prayed for. My mom’s struggles don’t erase the fact that she was my mom, and that I loved her. That love still exists, even if she isn’t here anymore. Because of that, this song doesn’t just make me sad—it makes me feel understood. It puts words to something that is almost impossible to explain. And in a career built on performing for millions, this is the moment where Taylor Swift feels the most real to me—not as a showgirl, but as a daughter who is scared of losing her mom, just like I was.

I was my grandmother's mother starting from age thirteen until her death three weeks ago. My grandmother had dementia, diagnosed with the disease when I was twelve. Back then, I didn't understand what that really meant. It meant my grandfather deciding he did not need to hire an at-home caretaker or put my grandmother in a memory care facility. I was young and able-bodied, and more importantly I was free. By the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for getting her dressed each morning, preparing breakfast, administering medicine, bathing her, changing her when she soiled her clothing, and persuading her to go on walks with me. Caretaker responsibilities piled on top of laundry, housecleaning, and being a full time high school student involved in sports, theater, choir, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. The time I spent with my grandmother is precious to me. My grandmother was the woman who taught me everything. My parents are not part of my life: my mother died when I was thirteen from a long battle with substance abuse and my father is negligible. My grandmother taught me to speak, walk, read, and bike. The reversal of roles was difficult for me, especially at first. I found myself resenting both of my grandparents. The experience deepened my maturity, compassion, and resilience. I did not fully understand true compassion until I was accustomed to being woken and ordered to strip the soiled sheets of my grandparents' bed and wash my confused and frail grandmother clean, all before dawn. My life has been riddled with loss. I have had no solid mother or father figure. I have been my own mother, and the mother of my younger brother and my grandmother. My life has driven me to throw myself into academics, athletics, and fine arts. These are things I can have a semblance of control over. I can excel in these areas and I don't have to rely on anyone but myself for it. I've always thirsted for knowledge, wanting to expand what I know constantly. Because of my experiences caring for my brother and grandmother, I've known since I was in middle school that I wanted to go into healthcare. The college I've chosen has five core values it expects of its students: Knowledge, Excellence, Integrity, Reverence, and Compassion. These are all attributes I've had to show, especially on those early mornings when all I wanted to do was sleep in like a "normal" kid. Those five attributes are also vital in healthcare: the lives of other people will be in my hands. In each patient's face, I know I will see my grandmother reflected there. Each patient will be treated with the same steady gentleness and enduring patience I learned to afford my grandmother. I am blessed with a hunger to learn and a desire to serve those who need help. I plan to devote my life to this cause. Now that my grandma is gone, my little brother is my driving force. All I do is for him. He's eleven years old currently. By the time he is ready to graduate high school, I want to be financially stable enough to support him financially, whatever he wants to do after gradation.

I was my grandmother's mother starting from age thirteen until her death three weeks ago. My grandmother had dementia, diagnosed with the disease when I was twelve. Back then, I didn't understand what that really meant. It meant my grandfather deciding he did not need to hire an at-home caretaker or put my grandmother in a memory care facility. I was young and able-bodied, and more importantly I was free. By the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for getting her dressed each morning, preparing breakfast, administering medicine, bathing her, changing her when she soiled her clothing, and persuading her to go on walks with me. Caretaker responsibilities piled on top of laundry, housecleaning, and being a full time high school student involved in sports, theater, choir, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. The time I spent with my grandmother is precious to me. My grandmother was the woman who taught me everything. My parents are not part of my life: my mother died when I was thirteen from a long battle with substance abuse and my father is negligible. My grandmother taught me to speak, walk, read, and bike. The reversal of roles was difficult for me, especially at first. I found myself resenting both of my grandparents. The experience deepened my maturity, compassion, and resilience. I did not fully understand true compassion until I was accustomed to being woken and ordered to strip the soiled sheets of my grandparents' bed and wash my confused and frail grandmother clean, all before dawn. My life has been riddled with loss. I have had no solid mother or father figure. I have been my own mother, and the mother of my younger brother and my grandmother. My life has driven me to throw myself into academics, athletics, and fine arts. These are things I can have a semblance of control over. I can excel in these areas and I don't have to rely on anyone but myself for it. I've always thirsted for knowledge, wanting to expand what I know constantly. Because of my experiences caring for my brother and grandmother, I've known since I was in middle school that I wanted to go into healthcare. The college I've chosen has five core values it expects of its students: Knowledge, Excellence, Integrity, Reverence, and Compassion. These are all attributes I've had to show, especially on those early mornings when all I wanted to do was sleep in like a "normal" kid. Those five attributes are also vital in healthcare: the lives of other people will be in my hands. In each patient's face, I know I will see my grandmother reflected there. Each patient will be treated with the same steady gentleness and enduring patience I learned to afford my grandmother. I am blessed with a hunger to learn and a desire to serve those who need help. I plan to devote my life to this cause.

I was my grandmother's mother starting from age thirteen until her death three weeks ago. My grandmother had dementia, diagnosed with the disease when I was twelve. Back then, I didn't understand what that really meant. It meant my grandfather deciding he did not need to hire an at-home caretaker or put my grandmother in a memory care facility. I was young and able-bodied, and more importantly I was free. By the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for getting her dressed each morning, preparing breakfast, administering medicine, bathing her, changing her when she soiled her clothing, and persuading her to go on walks with me. Caretaker responsibilities piled on top of laundry, housecleaning, and being a full time high school student involved in sports, theater, choir, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. The time I spent with my grandmother is precious to me. My grandmother was the woman who taught me everything. My parents are not part of my life: my mother died when I was thirteen from a long battle with substance abuse and my father is negligible. My grandmother taught me to speak, walk, read, and bike. The reversal of roles was difficult for me, especially at first. I found myself resenting both of my grandparents. The experience deepened my maturity, compassion, and resilience. I did not fully understand true compassion until I was accustomed to being woken and ordered to strip the soiled sheets of my grandparents' bed and wash my confused and frail grandmother clean, all before dawn. My life has been riddled with loss. I have had no solid mother or father figure. I have been my own mother, and the mother of my younger brother and my grandmother. My life has driven me to throw myself into academics, athletics, and fine arts. These are things I can have a semblance of control over. I can excel in these areas and I don't have to rely on anyone but myself for it. I've always thirsted for knowledge, wanting to expand what I know constantly. Because of my experiences caring for my brother and grandmother, I've known since I was in middle school that I wanted to go into healthcare. The college I've chosen has five core values it expects of its students: Knowledge, Excellence, Integrity, Reverence, and Compassion. These are all attributes I've had to show, especially on those early mornings when all I wanted to do was sleep in like a "normal" kid. Those five attributes are also vital in healthcare: the lives of other people will be in my hands. In each patient's face, I know I will see my grandmother reflected there. Each patient will be treated with the same steady gentleness and enduring patience I learned to afford my grandmother. I am blessed with a hunger to learn and a desire to serve those who need help. I plan to devote my life to this cause.

I was my grandmother's mother starting from age thirteen until her death three weeks ago. My grandmother had dementia, diagnosed with the disease when I was twelve. Back then, I didn't understand what that really meant. It meant my grandfather deciding he did not need to hire an at-home caretaker or put my grandmother in a memory care facility. I was young and able-bodied, and more importantly I was free. By the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for getting her dressed each morning, preparing breakfast, administering medicine, bathing her, changing her when she soiled her clothing, and persuading her to go on walks with me. Caretaker responsibilities piled on top of laundry, housecleaning, and being a full time high school student involved in sports, theater, choir, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. The time I spent with my grandmother is precious to me. My grandmother was the woman who taught me everything. My parents are not part of my life: my mother died when I was thirteen from a long battle with substance abuse and my father is negligible. My grandmother taught me to speak, walk, read, and bike. The reversal of roles was difficult for me, especially at first. I found myself resenting both of my grandparents. The experience deepened my maturity, compassion, and resilience. I did not fully understand true compassion until I was accustomed to being woken and ordered to strip the soiled sheets of my grandparents' bed and wash my confused and frail grandmother clean, all before dawn. My life has been riddled with loss. I have had no solid mother or father figure. I have been my own mother, and the mother of my younger brother and my grandmother. My life has driven me to throw myself into academics, athletics, and fine arts. These are things I can have a semblance of control over. I can excel in these areas and I don't have to rely on anyone but myself for it. I've always thirsted for knowledge, wanting to expand what I know constantly. Because of my experiences caring for my brother and grandmother, I've known since I was in middle school that I wanted to go into a science driven career. Throughout my life, I have felt very weak and exhausted. Resilience isn't about feeling strong 24/7. I showed resilience at fourteen, helping my grandmother walk around the neighborhood. I showed resilience at sixteen, moving out of my grandparents' house in pursuit of my own success. I showed resilience for my grandmother, and now all I do is in the name of my younger brother. My younger brother is eleven years old. I taught him to walk, read, and inspired his love of music. (I play three instruments and he's one up-ed me at five). By the time he is at the age preparing for life after high school, I want to be in a financial position where I can support whatever decision he makes, be that college, trade school, or joining the workforce. My little brother was my first baby, and I want to be a strong black role model he can look to for guidance, courage, and inspiration.

I was my grandmother's mother starting from age thirteen until her death three weeks ago. My grandmother had dementia, diagnosed with the disease when I was twelve. Back then, I didn't understand what that really meant. It meant my grandfather deciding he did not need to hire an at-home caretaker or put my grandmother in a memory care facility. I was young and able-bodied, and more importantly I was free. By the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for getting her dressed each morning, preparing breakfast, administering medicine, bathing her, changing her when she soiled her clothing, and persuading her to go on walks with me. Caretaker responsibilities piled on top of laundry, housecleaning, and being a full time high school student involved in sports, theater, choir, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. The time I spent with my grandmother is precious to me. My grandmother was the woman who taught me everything. My parents are not part of my life: my mother died when I was thirteen from a long battle with substance abuse and my father is negligible. My grandmother taught me to speak, walk, read, and bike. The reversal of roles was difficult for me, especially at first. I found myself resenting both of my grandparents. The experience deepened my maturity, compassion, and resilience. I did not fully understand true compassion until I was accustomed to being woken and ordered to strip the soiled sheets of my grandparents' bed and wash my confused and frail grandmother clean, all before dawn. My life has been riddled with loss. I have had no solid mother or father figure. I have been my own mother, and the mother of my younger brother and my grandmother. My life has driven me to throw myself into academics, athletics, and fine arts. These are things I can have a semblance of control over. I can excel in these areas and I don't have to rely on anyone but myself for it. I've always thirsted for knowledge, wanting to expand what I know constantly. Because of my experiences caring for my brother and grandmother, I've known since I was in middle school that I wanted to go into healthcare. The college I've chosen has five core values it expects of its students: Knowledge, Excellence, Integrity, Reverence, and Compassion. These are all attributes I've had to show, especially on those early mornings when all I wanted to do was sleep in like a "normal" kid. Those five attributes are also vital in healthcare: the lives of other people will be in my hands. In each patient's face, I know I will see my grandmother reflected there. Each patient will be treated with the same steady gentleness and enduring patience I learned to afford my grandmother. I am blessed with a hunger to learn and a desire to serve those who need help. I plan to devote my life to this cause.

I am a first-generation college student who has learned from a young age how to persevere, lead, and care deeply for others. Throughout high school, I have challenged myself academically and personally, becoming the salutatorian of my class and serving as President of Student Council. I have also been involved in honor choir, theater, speech, basketball, and soccer. While these activities reflect my work ethic and determination, they also show my desire to connect with others and contribute to something greater than myself. My faith has been a guiding force in my life, especially during difficult times. When I was thirteen, my mother passed away, and that loss changed my world. Both of my parents struggled with substance abuse, and my father has not been a consistent presence in my life. In the absence of stability, my Christian faith became my foundation. It taught me the importance of love—not just as a feeling, but as an action. I learned to show patience, compassion, and forgiveness, even when circumstances were painful or unfair. My faith reminded me that my life still has purpose, and that I am called to serve others with kindness and humility. One of the most meaningful roles I have taken on is being a source of support for my younger brother. I am six years older than him, and during our childhood, I often stepped into a caregiver role. Through that experience, I learned what it truly means to love someone unconditionally. Even now, though we do not live together, I make every effort to be present in his life. He is one of my greatest motivations, and my relationship with him has shaped my understanding of responsibility, sacrifice, and care. As I look toward the future, I plan to pursue a degree in Radiologic Technology. I am drawn to the healthcare field because it allows me to combine my interest in science with my desire to help others in meaningful, tangible ways. Through this career, I hope to serve patients with compassion, recognizing that each person I encounter has a story and deserves dignity and respect. Beyond my profession, I hope to make a broader impact through community service, particularly by supporting children and families affected by substance abuse. Having experienced that environment firsthand, I understand the need for both practical resources and emotional support. Being a first-generation college student means that I am stepping into unfamiliar territory, but it also means I carry the opportunity to create a new path. I want my life to reflect the principles of love, faith, and service that have guided me through my challenges. Whether through my career, my community involvement, or my personal relationships, I am committed to making a positive impact by showing others the same compassion and care that has helped me persevere.

I am someone who has always believed in staying busy, working hard, and making the most of every opportunity in front of me. Throughout high school, I have immersed myself in a wide range of activities, including honor choir, theater, speech, basketball, soccer, and student council, where I currently serve as President. I am also the salutatorian of my class. These roles reflect not only my commitment to excellence, but also my desire to grow as both a student and a leader. I hold myself to a high standard in everything I do, whether academically or in my extracurriculars, because I know that my future depends on the effort I put in now. Music and communication have played especially important roles in shaping who I am. As a three-year member of honor choir and a musician who plays piano, guitar, and saxophone, I have learned discipline, creativity, and perseverance. Through theater and speech, I have developed confidence and the ability to connect with others—skills that will carry into every aspect of my future career and life. Even in athletics, where I may not naturally excel, I have committed myself fully, learning resilience and teamwork along the way. However, my story is not defined only by my achievements. When I was thirteen years old, my mother passed away, and her absence reshaped my life in ways I am still learning to understand. Both of my parents struggled with substance abuse, and my father has not been a reliable source of support. Because of this, I have had to grow up quickly, learning independence and responsibility at a young age. I often took on a caregiving role for my younger brother, becoming a source of stability for him during uncertain times. That experience has been one of the most meaningful parts of my life, and it continues to motivate me to succeed—not just for myself, but for him as well. Financially, my situation presents a significant challenge. There is no parental support available to help me pay for college, and my grandparents are unable to contribute due to the financial strain of covering my grandmother’s long-term medical care. Despite these obstacles, I am determined to pursue higher education and build a future that reflects both my ambitions and my values. I plan to study Radiologic Technology, a field that will allow me to combine my interest in healthcare with my desire to make a meaningful impact in people’s lives. This scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of attending college, but it would also make my goals realistically attainable. Without substantial financial support, my ability to pursue higher education is uncertain. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to focus on my studies, continue my involvement in meaningful activities, and move forward without the constant stress of how I will afford my education. More than anything, this scholarship represents an opportunity—an opportunity to turn years of hard work and perseverance into something lasting. I have faced challenges that could have limited my future, but instead, they have shaped my determination to succeed. With the support of this scholarship, I will be able to continue building a life defined not by the hardships I’ve experienced, but by the goals I am determined to achieve.

I was my grandmother's mother from the time I was thirteen until her death a few weeks ago. She was diagnosed with dementia when I was twelve. I did not understand what that meant then, but by the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for preparing her breakfast, administering medication, dressing her, and bathing her. One does not fully understand compassion until they are roused before dawn to strip their grandparent's bed of soiled sheets and wash their confused, frail grandmother clean. Every moment with my grandmother was precious and cherished, and it is because of her that I am driven to pursue a career in healthcare. My grandmother never thanked me or even understood what I was doing in the last few years of her life. My actions were important regardless- even more so! It is not true servitude if one expects anything in return, even gratitude. Creating connection has always been important to me because I understand what it feels like to need a place to belong. Throughout high school, I’ve made it a priority to bring people together in ways that make everyone feel seen and included. As President of Student Council, I’ve worked to plan events that aren’t just popular, but accessible and welcoming to a wide range of students. I’ve encouraged more open discussions during meetings, making sure that quieter voices are heard and that ideas come from more than just a small group of leaders. In activities like theater, speech, and honor choir, I’ve also focused on building community within the group. These spaces can feel intimidating at first, especially for new members, so I’ve made an effort to reach out, check in, and create an environment where people feel comfortable expressing themselves. Whether it’s helping someone practice for a performance or simply making sure they have someone to sit with, I try to make inclusion a daily action, not just a concept. Outside of school, my biggest role in creating connection has been within my family. Growing up in an unstable environment, I often became a source of consistency for my younger brother. I worked to create a sense of safety and belonging for him, even when things around us were uncertain. That experience taught me that connection doesn’t always come from big gestures—it’s built through reliability, patience, and showing up for others. Because of my background, I am especially aware of how easily people can feel overlooked or isolated. That awareness drives me to be intentional in the way I treat others. I want people to feel like they matter, like they have a place, and like their voice is worth hearing. Creating connection, to me, means making sure no one feels alone.

I truly have a toe in nearly every activity available to me. I like to stay as busy as possible, filling my time with things that challenge and inspire me. I am involved in honor choir, theater, basketball, soccer, speech, and student council, and each one has shaped a different part of who I am. Music, especially, has been a constant in my life. I have been a member of honor choir for three years and play three instruments: piano, guitar, and saxophone. Through music, I have found both discipline and expression, learning how dedication and creativity can work hand in hand. I have also participated in theater and speech all four years of high school, where I’ve come to understand the importance of communication. Whether it’s performing on stage or delivering a speech, I’ve learned how to connect with others, express ideas clearly, and adapt to different audiences—skills I know will be essential in my future. While athletics may not be my strongest area, I still value being part of a team through basketball and soccer. These experiences have taught me resilience, teamwork, and how to push myself even when something doesn’t come naturally. In addition to my extracurriculars, I take great pride in my academic achievements. I am the salutatorian of my class and serve as President of the Student Council, roles that reflect my commitment to leadership and excellence. I hold myself to a high standard in everything I do, always striving to grow and improve. However, the most meaningful part of my life is my relationship with my younger brother. I am six years older than him, and because of our difficult childhood, I often found myself stepping into both sister and caregiver roles. Although we no longer live together, I make every effort to visit him as often as possible. He is my greatest motivation and a constant reminder of why I work so hard. If I were to start a charity, I would dedicate it to supporting children whose parents struggle with substance abuse. Having experienced that instability firsthand, I understand how deeply it affects a child’s life. I would want to provide not only support for the children, but also resources for the parents, including mental health care, physical health services, and financial assistance. My goal would be to help families heal while ensuring that children are not left to navigate those challenges alone. I am passionate about learning and determined to pursue higher education, but I can only do so with financial support. My mother passed away when I was thirteen, and my father is not a reliable presence in my life. My grandparents are unable to assist financially due to past medical expenses. As a result, I know that my future depends on my own efforts. Despite these challenges, I am committed to building a better life for myself and using my experiences to help others along the way.

I was my grandmother's mother starting from age thirteen until her death three weeks ago. My grandmother had dementia, diagnosed with the disease when I was twelve. Back then, I didn't understand what that really meant. It meant my grandfather deciding he did not need to hire an at-home caretaker or put my grandmother in a memory care facility. I was young and able-bodied, and more importantly I was free. By the time I was sixteen, I was responsible for getting her dressed each morning, preparing breakfast, administering medicine, bathing her, changing her when she soiled her clothing, and persuading her to go on walks with me. Caretaker responsibilities piled on top of laundry, housecleaning, and being a full time high school student involved in sports, theater, choir, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. The time I spent with my grandmother is precious to me. My grandmother was the woman who taught me everything. My parents are not part of my life: my mother died when I was thirteen from a long battle with substance abuse and my father is negligible. My grandmother taught me to speak, walk, read, and bike. The reversal of roles was difficult for me, especially at first. I found myself resenting both of my grandparents. The experience deepened my maturity, compassion, and resilience. I did not fully understand true compassion until I was accustomed to being woken and ordered to strip the soiled sheets of my grandparents' bed and wash my confused and frail grandmother clean, all before dawn. My life has been riddled with loss. I have had no solid mother or father figure. I have been my own mother, and the mother of my younger brother and my grandmother. My life has driven me to throw myself into academics, athletics, and fine arts. These are things I can have a semblance of control over. I can excel in these areas and I don't have to rely on anyone but myself for it. I've always thirsted for knowledge, wanting to expand what I know constantly. Because of my experiences caring for my brother and grandmother, I've known since I was in middle school that I wanted to go into healthcare. The college I've chosen has five core values it expects of its students: Knowledge, Excellence, Integrity, Reverence, and Compassion. These are all attributes I've had to show, especially on those early mornings when all I wanted to do was sleep in like a "normal" kid. Those five attributes are also vital in healthcare: the lives of other people will be in my hands. In each patient's face, I know I will see my grandmother reflected there. Each patient will be treated with the same steady gentleness and enduring patience I learned to afford my grandmother. I am blessed with a hunger to learn and a desire to serve those who need help. I plan to devote my life to this cause.