My name is Lillian L’Esperance, and I grew up in single-parent households that shaped nearly every piece of who I am. My parents separated when I was young and finalized their divorce when I was in late elementary school. Following the initial separation, my sister and I lived between two homes, each led by a single parent doing their best under difficult circumstances. My mother was a full-time teacher trying to keep our lives steady, finding places we could afford, and carrying more than anyone ever saw. My father's struggles with his mental and emotional stability bled into abuse of my sister and I. By my freshman year of high school, I decided to stop living with him entirely, and I have not spoken to him since. Between the initial separation and the start of high school, I lived in eleven different houses. The instability became a normal part of my life, packing quickly, adjusting overnight, and learning not to get attached to any homes the way I did as a child. Going into seventh grade, there was a shift, though, when my mom bought her first house on her own. It was a small foreclosure that needed more work than we knew how to do, but we learned together. We spent months scraping floors, pulling out cabinets, painting walls, and cleaning room by room, helped by relatives who showed up with tools and love. It may not have looked the most impressive, but to us, it was everything. It was the first place that belonged to just us three girls, and, for the first time, I felt the beginnings of what stability could look like. Growing up in this manner made me mature fast. I learned to be steady for my younger sister, especially when my dad’s instability became overwhelming. I learned to be quiet, responsible, and a good student so my mom didn’t have to carry more than she already did. And when I finally stopped going to my dad’s house freshman year, a decision that was filled with fear but necessary for my peace, I also chose to change my last name to my mom’s maiden name. It was a declaration of who I was becoming and of the family whose strength I wanted to carry forward. These experiences taught me resilience, independence, and compassion long before I understood the words themselves. I saw firsthand what it means to rebuild your life piece by piece, quietly and without recognition, while still supporting those you love. My mother’s journey taught me that better days are possible even when they seem out of reach, and that your beginning does not have to dictate your future. Now, I am in my freshman year at the University of Minnesota-Duluth, pursuing a B.S. in Mathematics with plans to apply to Ph.D. programs after graduation. I see my education as a way to break the cycles that instability tried to place on my life. I want to support girls from rural communities, single-parent households, or backgrounds that made them question whether college is meant for them. Whether through teaching, mentoring, outreach, or simply showing up as a woman succeeding in mathematics, I want to be proof that hardship and success can share the same story. I am proud of where I come from. The instability, the courage to walk away, and the home we rebuilt together all shaped the person I am today. Through my education, I hope to help others see that they can rise from difficult places, too.

Growing up in a rural community, I rarely saw women pursuing careers in mathematics. Most of the girls I knew were told, whether directly or indirectly, to aim small, choose more “practical” career paths, or avoid fields that seemed too ambitious or abstract. Yet from the moment I first found comfort in numbers during a turbulent period in my life, I knew math made me feel strong, capable, and grounded. It was the one place where clarity existed, even when outside forces felt uncertain. As I moved into advanced math classes, despite the love I had for the subject, I encountered what many young women experience in STEM: being talked over in group work, dismissed by classmates, or underestimated by teachers who didn’t think I could thrive. For a long time, I shrank myself to fit the room. The turning point came when my Algebra II teacher pushed me into leadership by placing me at whiteboard tables, encouraging me to explain concepts to peers, and showing me how I could belong beyond just being a student. His classroom helped me realize that I didn’t need to choose between intellect and empathy or strength and softness. I could fully be myself and excel in math without dimming any part of who I am. As my confidence grew, so did my awareness of the barriers surrounding other women and me. In my rural high school, I watched girls with incredible potential quietly step back from STEM or higher-level academics simply because no one showed them a future in it. I saw high-achieving students, especially young women, internalize the message that they were “good, but not good enough” and pursue simpler degrees at smaller colleges than they were capable and deserving of. These moments helped shape my purpose more clearly than anything else. I am currently double-majoring in Mathematics and Statistics, with plans to pursue a Ph.D. in Mathematics. My passion lies not only in theory, but in the power of data to illuminate stories that are often ignored, including the experiences of women in rural and underserved communities. I want to use my future place in academia to research the educational barriers that these women face, collect data that shows where support is lacking, and use that research to build programs that identify talented and hardworking girls early, connecting them with mentors, scholarships, and opportunities they may never have known existed. My goal is to make the path wider for the women coming next. Whether through mentoring, research, or developing data-driven initiatives, I want to be a voice and platform for rural and other underserved girls whose dreams deserve to be nurtured, not dismissed. I want to show them what I desperately needed to see growing up, a woman who came from where they came from and stands confidently in a field where women have long been underrepresented. I am not only pursuing this career for myself, but also for every girl who has been told to quiet her ambition, especially when it comes to her intellect. I plan to use my education, my research, and my lived experiences to uplift women, expand access to higher education, and break the cycles of underestimation that hold too many back. My dreams matter and are achievable. So too are theirs. I intend to spend my career proving it.

My name is Lillian L’Esperance, and I graduated from Antigo High School in May 2025. This fall, I began attending the University of Minnesota-Duluth to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics, with plans to continue to a Ph.D. program. As I start this next chapter, I carry with me the lessons I learned about mental health over the course of my high school years through what I experienced and how this affected the way I see myself and the people around me. My mental health struggles began long before high school. I grew up in an emotionally and mentally abusive household, and by middle school, I was struggling with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. I entered high school carrying those feelings, hoping that being busy would make them disappear. From the outside, I was the student no one worried about - a high achiever who was involved in sports and the arts, dedicated in the classroom, and always smiling or joking. Inside, I was exhausted from holding myself together. What I learned during those four years is that mental health does not discriminate. No matter how responsible, hardworking, or successful someone is, struggle can live quietly behind even the strongest of performances. I also learned that there is always a way forward, even when you cannot see it in the moment. The heaviness I felt as a middle schooler was not permanent, and neither were the lingering feelings in high school. Little by little, support systems, time, and self-awareness helped me understand that pain can fade, hope can regrow, and surviving difficult moments gives you a strength you don’t recognize until much later. These lessons changed how I move through the world. Because I know what it feels like to appear “fine” or even “great” while struggling deeply, I now approach people with genuine curiosity about how they are doing, not just how they say they are. I check in with my teammates, friends, and classmates more intentionally, knowing how much I once needed someone to ask me twice. I try to look beyond surface happiness, because some of the strongest people I know are the ones carrying battles they never mention. Beginning college, these lessons feel even more important. Moving away from home brought unexpected waves of anxiety and depression back into my life. The difference between now and high school is that I know I don’t have to face these feelings alone. I remind myself daily that feelings are temporary, asking for help is a sign of strength, and leaning on people who care about me makes the hard moments pass more quickly. I know that the tools I’ve built of self-awareness, resilience, and compassion will continue to guide me. Mental health will always be a part of my story, and I embrace it because I am a stronger and more empathetic person because of it. It motivates me to build a life grounded in understanding and connection, and to carry forward the hope I once needed most.

Growing up with a father who proudly served in the Marines, I learned early on what dedication, discipline, and integrity truly mean. His pride in the military and the strength of our family’s service background taught me that perseverance and purpose matter more than comfort. Those values have shaped me into an athlete, student, and leader who strives to improve herself and those around her every day. Leadership and communication have become cornerstones of my identity. As a captain of my senior cross country team, I learned that leadership is less about authority and far more about influence. My role was to motivate our freshmen, help them believe in their potential, and set the tone for our team’s work ethic. Whether it meant running beside someone struggling through a workout or checking in to build accountability, I worked to ensure everyone felt valued and capable. Watching their confidence grow reminded me that leadership is about creating an environment where everyone can succeed. Resilience has also defined my journey. I grew up with a mentally and emotionally abusive parent, which led to significant mental health struggles. I had to take life one step and one day at a time, but I refused to let hardship define me. I learned to lean on family, mentors, and teammates when I needed support. Over time, these experiences made me stronger, more self-aware, and more empathetic toward others facing their own battles. I have always believed that life’s purpose is to help others. My weekly volunteer work at a nursing home in Duluth has taught me patience, compassion, and the quiet power of showing up for someone else. Sharing stories, playing games, and just listening are moments that reinforce my kindness and determination to find ways to serve others. My focus and determination show up in my daily routine. I structure each day to balance academics, athletics, and relationships with intention and discipline. Maintaining a 4.0 GPA while competing as a collegiate athlete is a challenge of organization, consistency, and sacrifice that I thrive on. I know success is never built in bursts of motivation, but instead in the steady rhythm of hard work. Looking ahead, I am pursuing bachelor's degrees in both mathematics and statistics and actuarial science with the goal of earning a Ph.D. in mathematics and becoming a professor. I want to conduct research that improves our world while helping students discover their potential in STEM fields. To me, leadership means guiding others toward their best selves, just as others once did for me. The values I live by of discipline, service, and perseverance are the same qualities that define the legacy of Boatswain’s Mate Third Class Antonie “Tony” Bernard Thomas. Like him, I strive to live with integrity, work hard for what I believe in, and use my strength to lift others. This scholarship would not only help me continue my education but also honor that legacy through a life built on purpose and determination.

Growing up with a single mother deeply shaped who I am today. My mom became a single parent when I was in elementary school after leaving my dad, who was mentally and emotionally abusive to her, my younger sister, and me. The divorce took time, and the years in between were full of confusion and anger. At first, I struggled to understand why she left. I felt abandoned, like she had left us to deal with my father alone. Over time, though, I came to realize that she was protecting herself so she could protect us too. She was building a life that would be safe, stable, and ours. Both parents were in and out of houses for years, leaving my sister and me without much stability. Going into seventh grade, this changed when my mom bought her first house on her own. It was a foreclosure that needed more than a lot of work. We spent months gutting, scraping, painting, fixing, and cleaning alongside family that came to help. While it wasn’t fancy in the end, it was nice, and the first place that belonged to just us three girls. Every nail hammered into the walls was symbolic of the new life we were building together. Watching my mom work tirelessly through all of this instilled in me a drive to excel in my eventual career, school, and athletics. While going through a divorce with money tight, she rose from teacher to reading specialist to administrator. She was never loud or proud of her strength, but it showed in everything she did… managing bills, caring for my sister and me, and finding the time to show up for every school event or sports performance. This taught me what it means to persist, plan, and believe that better days are possible even when they seem out of reach. Her courage also helped me find my own, something she knew was possible when she moved out years prior. My freshman year of high school, I decided to stop going to my dad's house, a choice full of fear but also for my peace. Not long after, I changed my last name to my mom’s maiden name as a statement of who I am and the strong, self-reliant person she raised me to be. I am beyond proud to be connected to her and my family on that side, who never stopped supporting us. Growing up with a single mother taught me to value independence and perseverance. We went from instability to security because of her courage and decision-making. Her journey shaped my own ambitions, which include gaining financial independence early, working hard for what I want, and never ever compromising my well-being. Most importantly, she taught me that putting yourself first is never selfish, as it allows you to give your best to everything and everyone else. My mom showed me what true strength looks like: being quiet, steady, and determined, never giving up. Because of her, I know whatever life throws at me or breaks down can be rebuilt into something stronger.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve dreamed big, knowing it was crucial to reaching my potential in life. But as a young woman from a rural community, I faced resistance and doubters to my goals. I’ve learned that to pursue success and use it to give back to others, I have to first believe I am worthy of my dreams, even when others and society try to make me feel otherwise. Like most girls, I experienced moments of being underestimated early on simply because of my gender. As an advanced student, I had male teachers assume I wouldn’t grasp more complex material or ignore me in discussions. I had peers scoff at my goals like they were too ambitious and ignore my ideas, even when they were correct. While at first intimated and shaken, these actions and remarks eventually lit a fire inside of me. I decided I would not just meet expectations, but exceed them, and I excelled in multiple areas proudly as a young woman who embraces her intellect, compassion, and strength. To me, the power of womanhood is about being grounded in who you are and what you can do, not being limited by any perceived boundary. It is the mix of empathy and determination that defines so many women I admire. I’ve seen this power most clearly in the running world, where I’ve looked up to older girls who ran with fierce pride and strength, and been looked up to by younger athletes who saw the same qualities in me. There is an unspoken sisterhood in those moments, when we are all lifting each other by showing up with heart as our truest selves. My sense of purpose has also been shaped deeply by volunteer work. Raising donations for my county’s humane society taught me what it means to care for those who rely on you. Running a blood drive showed me how small efforts can save lives. These experiences gave me a fulfillment I hadn’t expected- a realization that giving back isn’t something you do once you’ve already become successful, but rather something that builds your success during your journey. I now know that service and success are partners, something I will bring with me into college and my future career. All of these experiences have shaped me into someone who is confident, capable, and passionate about making a difference. My big dreams of success, serving, and lifting others up are worthwhile and necessary to improve the quality of my life and others. While being a college athlete, I plan on studying mathematics and actuarial science, and I plan on building a platform to help identify girls in rural areas like the ones I grew up in that are often overlooked, not because they lack potential, but because they are not recognized. I want to give them the academic resources and encouragement they deserve to uplift the next generation of female leaders. I am worth the dreams I aspire to achieve because I carry them with intention. They are rooted in challenge, shaped by service, and driven by a vision to serve others and our world. I am dreaming not only for myself, but for every girl who has ever felt unseen, underestimated, or unheard. By showing them that they are worthy of their big dreams, we can create a world full of confident, empathetic, strong path makers.

I grew up in a rural community, where I didn’t see many women working in mathematics. In fact, I didn’t see many people working in math at all. Despite that, I was drawn to numbers and problems that made my mind light up. Math wasn’t just equations and facts, but a language that made the world make sense, and I wanted to speak it fluently. My passion for math really took off in middle school, when my parents finalized their divorce. Things in my life were uncertain and I took comfort in the logic of numbers. However, I often felt like an outsider in advanced math settings as one of few girls. I was quiet in groups that seemed to reward confidence over accuracy and jocks scoffed at those who tried. As I progressed into high school, I truly began to believe that math could be my path. I had the same teacher for Algebra II and AP Calculus, Mr. Knetter. He fostered a collaborative environment, with group work on whiteboard tables, teaching us how to support one another. I was pushed out of my comfort zone as I was forced to speak up, explain my reasoning, and help other students reach their own conclusions. I became a stronger student, but more importantly, I began to see myself as a leader in the subject I loved. I realized I didn’t have to choose between being kind, collaborative, and “feminine” and being a math person. I could be all of the above and excel in each. My rural background also exposed me to disparities in access to education, especially in STEM fields. I watched the high-achieving students around me give up their pursuits of math or science simply because no one had shown them a future in them. Among girls, I saw potential dimmed by stereotypes and a lack of encouragement. As I noticed this, my purpose became clear: to use my love for math to create opportunities for others. I plan to study statistics and actuarial science, combining mathematical modeling with real-world impact. I want to use data to make informed decisions that serve people, especially those often left out of the equation. I plan to find ways to uplift rural students with potential and drive, through programs that find these students and then match them with scholarships, mentors, and learning opportunities to expand their horizons, and most importantly, show them what is possible. I hope to myself mentor young women from small towns like mine, helping them envision futures for themselves that include their passions and personalities. Math is about more than problem-solving and numbers. It creates possibilities. I’ve experienced the isolation that comes from being one of the few girls in the room, but I’ve also seen the strength that comes from showing up anyway. With this scholarship, I hope to not only continue pursuing my love of mathematics at a higher level, but also help close the gender gap by being a visible and supportive presence for those coming next.

One of the few advantages of a smaller school is the opportunity to have the same teacher for multiple classes throughout your years. I had the same teacher for Algebra II as a freshman and AP Calculus as a junior. Mr. Knetter stood out to me through his innovative teaching and emphasis on collaboration. His bold approach shifted my mindset from individual achievement to collective growth and deeper understanding. As a freshman in Algebra II, I was the youngest in a class of sophomores through seniors. I was intimidated by the environment and preferred to work independently. Mr. Knetter used group-based and student-driven learning, something that initially clashed with my instincts. I distinctly remember being with two senior girls one unit who would write nasty things about me on the table when I refused to just hand over my answers. I grew to despise Mr. Knetter, as he pushed me to work with my team despite these actions. I felt my learning was being hindered, not fostered. The year went on, and I continued to struggle with the group setting of Mr. Knetter’s class, growing snarkier with my attitude towards him and my classmates. In response, he just continued to push me towards collaboration. He kindly but firmly encouraged me to slow down and explain concepts. While I didn’t let go of my frustration with peer work that year or come even close to mastering explaining concepts without giving away answers, I began to try. This taught me to develop my empathy and patience, while reinforcing my own learning through teaching others. My junior year, I returned to Mr. Knetter's classroom, slightly more mature and open to collaboration. His AP Calculus course focused less on group work than Algebra II did, but I was still pushed out of my comfort zone with group projects and a dreaded team test. We joked about how incapable I was of working with others freshman year, while recognizing how far I still had to go. Mr. Knetter's pushing me toward collaboration at levels he knew I was capable of built a deeper respect for math within me. There is often more than one way to solve a problem, and if there isn’t, there’s surely more than one way to view it. I have a great appreciation for diversified ideas and opinions in all facets of life, fostered by this forcing of group work. Mr. Knetter pushed past the standard mathematics curriculum through group work and student-driven learning. This reframed my view of academic success from speed and solo performance to collective growth and understanding. Transcending the classroom, I have become more group and relationship oriented in all facets of my life, including my clubs and athletics. I am forever grateful that Bob never let me hole up in the numbers by myself, teaching me to be more empathetic, patient, and a better teacher myself. I will carry these concepts with me into college and my career, recognizing that the success of the group is always more valuable than the success of the individual.

I grew up in northern rural Wisconsin, surrounded by woods, rivers, fields, and a tight-knit community. It is an area renowned for its natural beauty, but not necessarily for its academic prowess. Local schools rank low on state report cards and focus on the trades. These statistics fail to show the dedication of teachers and capable, ambitious students striving to reach higher. I learned early on that academic intelligence isn’t limited by geography, but too often is limited instead by lack of opportunities. My goal in life is to use math and data to identify and support high-achieving students from rural areas whose potential often goes unrecognized. In my community, limited resources have led to fewer AP and advanced courses. With a lack of these rigorous courses, I was advanced in math twice and completed AP Calculus in my junior year, the highest math course available. Thanks to a partnership with Northcentral Technical College, I was able to take additional math courses to stay stimulated. Despite this, I often felt unchallenged in class and became aware of the gap between rural schools compared to their urban counterparts. I attended a STEM camp outside of Chicago, going into my freshman year, and made friends with students from larger cities. I learned how striking the difference in our schooling was. Rural students just don’t get the same opportunities as those from urban areas, which puts them behind in the college search, leading to them being behind in graduate school applications and then in their careers. Math has always been my favorite subject for its emphasis on logic and problem-solving, alongside its ability to provide structure to the world around us. I plan to study mathematics, statistics, and actuarial science in college, and then combine my analytical strengths with a commitment to equity in education. With a mother in the education system, I am aware of how data is used to drive decisions in schools, from funding to curriculum choices. Too often, this approach prioritizes helping the bottom while overlooking those quietly excelling at the top, especially in rural areas. If we want to fully develop the intellectual potential of our society, we must better support students with talent currently falling through the cracks, not just those who struggle. I dream of using actuarial science and data analytics to transform how we identify and support high-achieving students in smaller areas. I want to develop a program that identifies high-potential students in rural schools using accessible performance metrics. Once identified, students can be recommended resources tailored to their strengths, like scholarships, mentorships, competitions, and enrichment programs. This will help to flag and uplift driven youth, setting them up for success in their university schooling and beyond. In addition, helping just one outstanding student from a rural area can create a ripple effect, bringing new energy, hope, and opportunities to their community. My experience as a high-achieving student from rural northern Wisconsin has made this mission personal. I know what it is like to work hard in settings where resources may be limitied but ambition is not. I plan to change the use of data to not just measure performance, but uncover possibility. With the right tools and the right mindset, I believe we can uncover and nurture brilliance in every corner of the country- one student, one data point, and one future at a time.

On Saturday, October 22nd, 2022, I competed in the WIAA DII Sectional Cross Country Race. I finished in the top 20, just seven seconds off my personal record. No one would have guessed that the night before, I swam the breaststroke leg on the opening relay at our conference swim meet and hurried home to perform in the band concert, or that I had an extensive school project due the day of the meet. While this weekend may seem extreme to some, it represents a reality that other student-athletes and I have lived through high school, balancing our commitments in academics, athletics, and extracurriculars. Dedication in all areas of my life has shaped me into a resilient, driven, and well-rounded individual who is equipped for the demands of a future career in STEM and is committed to leading with purpose. Throughout high school, I managed a rigorous course load alongside sports, band, service-oriented clubs, and a part-time job. This lifestyle demanded discipline and refined my time management skills. I learned how to prioritize, stay focused under pressure, and maximize my time. These habits will serve me well in college, especially as I pursue a STEM degree with an intense workload while being an NCAA DII athlete. They will continue to support me beyond college as I work toward a career in a data-driven field while also maintaining balance in other areas, including family, fitness, and service. Being a student-athlete didn’t just shape my habits- it reshaped my mindset. After narrowly missing qualifying for the state cross country meet in my junior year, I reflected deeply on my approach to the sectional race. I realized I was drained from frustrations with my training, coaching, and teammates, and was ready for the season to be over. Focusing too much on the future and my disappointments, I had neglected the importance of fully embracing the present moment. I was taught to stay grounded, find joy in difficulty, and approach each opportunity with gratitude. These are qualities I will bring into my future career, where setbacks are inevitable and long-term success depends on the ability to remain engaged and optimistic during challenges. I also served as a captain on both my cross-country and track teams. Through this, I learned that leadership isn’t just about organization and setting an example. It’s about listening, supporting, and empowering others. I found that motivating teammates with compassion and empathy often bolstered their performance better than any running tip could. This has inspired my long-term goal of becoming a leader in my profession and using my data and problem-solving skills to help underserved communities. While excelling in my athletics, I stayed committed to my other passions, including academics, band, and community service. I’ve helped organize donation drives for the local humane society through DECA and coordinated Red Cross blood drives with NHS. These experiences shaped my understanding of the impact of giving back and deepened my commitment to service. I will carry this mindset into my career, combining analytical skills with purpose-driven work that uplifts others. My experience as a student-athlete has shaped me into someone who strives for excellence in all areas of life, not just in the classroom or on the track. I’ve learned how to lead, serve, and persever. I will carry this foundation into college and my career, living with drive, passion, purpose, and gratitude- ready to make the most of every opportunity.

On the morning of January 2nd, 2023, I marched down Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena, CA, surrounded by 430 other student musicians from rural northern Wisconsin. Together, we performed a medley that blended traditional American songs with ones celebrating our home state. That day, we weren’t rivals from eight different schools. We were one united band, made possible through music. Throughout high school, music was not just something I participated in, but a life-shaping force that helped me to grow personally, connect with others, and gain a deeper understanding of our world. When I moved schools in eighth grade, I joined the band, helping me find a sense of belonging in a new environment. While initially a flute player, in my fourth quarter, I took an independent study to learn alto saxophone, spurred on by the encouragement and vibrance of my band director. I dove headfirst into every musical opportunity I could freshman year, joining pep band, marching band, and pit band for the musical. Balancing music with my academics and athletics meant I often had to practice alone, strengthening my discipline and time-management. Watching talented upperclassmen perform motivated me to push farther, leading me to audition for the state honors band. The experience was nerve-wracking, but it forced me to grow technically and personally. The most transformative moment occurred going into my sophomore year, when I joined the Northwoods Marching Band. This was a combination of eight rival schools from our area who rehearsed separately and together, preparing for an unforgettable performance in the Rose Bowl Parade. That trip was not just about music, but also about connection. I met a fellow saxophone player from another school who shared her family’s cultural traditions with me, and would even invite me to help in the hosting of her graduation celebration. I learned to appreciate perspectives different from my own. Despite the school rivalries, our band found harmony. We weren’t competing- we were collaborating. I saw how music transcends boundaries, bringing together people from different towns, backgrounds, and beliefs through a shared rhythm and purpose. Beyond performances and experiences, music was my emotional anchor as I struggled with my mental health. No matter what stress or challenges I faced, the band room was my safe space, filled with safe people. My band teacher and fellow musicians formed a community that listened to, supported, and uplifted one another. I learned to express myself, show empathy, and offer the same support I was given. I learned far more from music in high school than technical skills like scales and marching patterns. I was taught how to work towards something bigger than myself. Unity is beyond powerful when people come together with open hearts. I gained resilience, broadened my view of the world, and grew into someone who values harmony over discord. I will carry these lessons with me forever. I’m proud to be a part of a generation that understands the power of music to bridge divides and create lasting bonds. I know I will always march to that rhythm and continue to grow through music.