I did not grow up with dramatic quotes about leadership taped to my wall. Instead, I learned about leadership by watching the people around me quietly serve others. Over time, I realized that the most influential people in my life all shared the same trait. They led by serving first. That idea shaped the way I see responsibility, community, and the kind of person I want to become. In high school, I put that mindset into action when I started the Best Buddies chapter at my school during my sophomore year. I didn’t start it because I wanted a title or a leadership line on my résumé. I started it because I saw a gap. The special needs students at my school deserved more opportunities for connection and friendship. Through Best Buddies, I joined after-school classes with the special needs department and participated in the sports events we hosted. I learned quickly that servant leadership is not theoretical. It shows up in the moments where you slow down and meet people where they are. One of the most meaningful experiences for me was helping with Special Olympics events. The energy, the confidence the athletes showed, and the way they supported each other changed the way I think about what leadership looks like. It isn’t about directing or controlling. It is about showing genuine care, encouraging people, and making sure no one feels alone. Since leaving for college, I still go back home and help at events whenever I can. Even now, walking into the gym and seeing the students recognize me reminds me why I keep coming back. It is not for recognition. It is because serving people is something I genuinely enjoy, and staying connected to the community that shaped me keeps me grounded. These experiences continue to influence how I work with others and how I plan my future. Servant leadership taught me patience, empathy, and responsibility. It taught me that real impact comes from consistent actions, not big performances. It also taught me that leadership is not a role you step into once and then step out of. It is a way of approaching people and challenges wherever you are. I want to carry that mindset into the rest of my college career and my professional life. Whether I am working in a classroom, a team, or a community program, I want to lead by serving the people around me. Being involved with Best Buddies and Special Olympics showed me what meaningful leadership looks like, and those experiences continue to guide me toward the kind of leader I hope to become.

Joining a sorority was one of the best decisions I made in college, but it came with an unforeseen challenge. As I changed my Major to Tech, I realized quickly that being girly in a world of hoodies, code, and skepticism was going to be tough. I have always enjoyed attending a frat function, wearing heels, shopping (I know, I basically fit the stereotype) but I also really enjoy when I am programming or constructing something from scratch, utilizing my own two hands and brain. Initially, it felt like I had to choose either identity, but when I was making my jump into the tech space and initially had zero experience, I felt even more like I had to fight that stereotype. It was intimidating enough trying to break into tech without being faced with the challenges of convincing others irrationally that I belonged there. I had a lot to prove. I had always found technology to be very interesting. Something about the potential of technology excites me. That interest was built from curiosity and eventually developed into something much deeper; a passion that was driven by connecting humans with technology and the desire to improve that connection. But my journey hasn’t been easy as I said before. I didn’t start out in a tech major like most of my fellow classmates. I switched into this field later than most, a year later to be precise, and I immediately felt behind. I struggled to keep up with classmates who had years of coding experience and good connections with the professor and classmates. On top of that, being in a sorority made it even harder to feel like I belonged in the tech world. There’s this stigma, like you can’t be into partying and programming at the same time. People didn’t always take me seriously, and that made it even more difficult to ask for help or speak up. There were days I seriously questioned whether I belonged and if I should drop out. But I didn’t give up. I asked questions. I asked lots and lots of questions. I committed myself to learning everything I could. I spent long nights debugging code and watching countless tutorials on my own time. Slowly, things began to click. I started to understand concepts that once felt impossible. That process taught me that perseverance matters more than a perfect start. I proved to myself that I could catch up, and even lead. These experiences have really shaped my world view. I see obstacles as opportunities for growth. Setbacks aren't a reason to quit, they're just a reason to try again using a different technique. I have also learned how to lead by example. I also held weekend study groups when my classmates struggled with their first coding projects. I wasn't the most experienced coder, but I was willing to show up, work through challenges together, and encourage others to keep going. That lesson taught me leadership is not about being the best; it is about being there for others in an important moment. Honestly, my journey into tech hasn’t been straightforward, but it’s been real. I’ve overcome doubt, caught up from behind, and found strength in persistence. It’s shaped who I am now and who I want to become. Receiving this scholarship would help me continue on this path and allow me to dedicate more time and energy to the work that truly inspires me. It would be an investment not just in my education, but in the future I’m building—one guided by determination, compassion, and purpose.

Ever since I was young, I’ve looked up at the night sky with a kind of quiet awe. The sparkling stars hanging in the dark sky felt like both an invitation and a mystery, an endless canvas of possibility. That curiosity about space turned into something much deeper than wonder. It became a driving force behind my love for technology and wanting to improve it. My fascination with space made me see technology not just as a tool, but as a bridge, something that connects dreams with reality. From telescopes to rockets, space travel relies on nonstop innovation. I became fascinated by how every advancement, every little piece of tech, brings humanity closer to the stars. That’s what sparked my love for technology and gave it real purpose: not just to build things, but to reach further. Learning has always been more than just school for me; it’s something I genuinely love. Every science book, every YouTube video, every random coding project has felt like a step toward something bigger. I remember the first time I coded a basic simulation of a planet orbiting a star. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine, and in that moment, I realized that learning isn’t just about knowing stuff, it’s about creating something with it. Outside of class, this passion pushed me to try all kinds of hands-on projects. One summer, I built a weather balloon with a Raspberry Pi and a camera, hoping to capture the curve of the Earth. That whole project taught me so much: how to troubleshoot, how to be patient, and most of all, how exciting discovery can be. I learned that failure isn’t the end of something; it’s just part of figuring things out. These experiences have seriously shaped how I see the world. I see problems as chances to come up with something new. I don’t get scared off by setbacks because they usually teach me something important. I actually like tough challenges because I know I can figure them out eventually. Loving to learn has made me want to keep learning forever, not because I have to, but because I genuinely want to. In the future, I see myself working somewhere that blends space and tech. Whether it’s rockets, space robots, or AI that helps with space travel, I want to be part of the team pushing the limits of what’s possible. I want to help solve the big problems that make space more reachable and sustainable. Honestly, my love of space is what made me fall in love with tech. And my love of learning is what keeps it all going. They’ve both shaped who I am now and who I want to become: a curious, determined, and creative explorer of both knowledge and the unknown. Receiving this scholarship would help me continue pursuing this path and allow me to dedicate more time and energy to the projects and studies that truly inspire me. It would be an investment not just in my education, but in the future I’m determined to build—one where innovation meets passion, and where I can contribute meaningfully to the world through technology and exploration.

Growing up with a little sister who has bipolar disorder was like living with a firecracker, you never really knew when she’d explode into laughter or tears or storm off in a whirlwind of emotion. Some days felt like magic. Others felt like survival. And in between those extremes, I learned more about patience, love, and mental health than any textbook could ever teach me. There was one summer afternoon when we were both stuck inside during a power outage. It was hot, we were bored, and she was having a high-energy day, which for her meant bouncing between baking cupcakes, blasting Taylor Swift, and accusing me of “never understanding her soul.” I was 16, she was 12. At one point, she got so mad I wouldn't let her dye the dog's ears pink that she locked herself in the bathroom with a bottle of conditioner and declared she was “starting over as a new woman.” I sat outside the door, trying not to laugh, trying not to cry, and just said, “Okay. I’ll support this new woman. But can she come out and help clean up the glitter tornado she left in the kitchen first?” We laughed about it later, but that’s kind of the point. Even in the chaos, we found our rhythm. Her diagnosis made me grow up faster. It made me kinder. It taught me that people aren't always what they seem on the outside and that love sometimes means showing up even when you're tired, confused, or scared. It shaped my goals, too: I want to create better systems of support in tech and design spaces, especially for young people struggling with mental health. I want to make things that help people feel seen. Loving my sister taught me how to show up for others—and for myself. It didn’t make life easier, but it made it richer. And realer.

1. Please tell us a bit about yourself and what specifically motivates you. If you could do anything with your life, what do you imagine you’d do? I have always been in love with the stars. The stars remind you how small you are, and how limitless everything else can be. I’ve always believed that we are meant to reach for the things we can’t quite see yet. For me, that’s space. The dark unknown isn’t something I fear, it’s something I crave. If I could do anything with my life, I’d chase that mystery. I’d build machines and cutting edge technology that touch the edges of the cosmos. I want to explore the stars not just to learn, but to feel something bigger than myself. What motivates me is the idea that I can be a part of something beyond imagination, that I can help turn science fiction into science fact. I don’t just want to observe the stars from afar, I want to know them. I want to chase the light years between here and there and bring back stories written in constellations. My dream isn’t just to be in space, it’s to belong to it. 2. What excites you about STEM? How do you feel you could make a positive impact on the world through a job in information technology? STEM is where imagination becomes real. There’s something electric about knowing that with only my brain and two hands, I can build something brand new and beautiful. The process of designing, debugging, building, it’s messy and thrilling. It’s watching ideas take form, watching lines of logic breathe life into empty screens. What excites me most is the power of creation without permission. You don’t need a factory. You don’t need permission. All you need is curiosity, persistence, and a little bit of courage. I’ve found a deep love for user interface design because it’s the place where humans and machines shake hands. It’s where cold code becomes warm and intuitive. I believe that by focusing on UI, I can help create a world where technology feels like an extension of human thought rather than a barrier to it. I want to design systems that empower, include, and connect. Whether it’s helping someone with a disability navigate the web more easily, or designing intuitive tools for education, I know that thoughtful design in IT has the power to bridge gaps, not just technical, but human. Its my persistence and dedication that will make a difference. 3. Please describe the greatest challenge you’ve had to overcome and how you managed to get past it. My greatest challenge has been starting later than I wanted in this field I love. When I was younger, I was obsessed with Minecraft. It wasn’t just a game, it was a gateway. It introduced me to coding, to problem-solving, to building. I felt like I had magic at my fingertips. But as I got older, life got louder. School, responsibilities, distractions. I drifted. No more time for Minecraft or coding. I forgot how much I loved creating with code. Then, near the end of my freshman year of college, something clicked. I sat in on a friend’s computer science class, and it was like remembering a song I used to hum every day. That same day, I stayed up all night coding a simple calculator and felt that same spark I hadn’t felt since I was a kid. That rediscovery lit a fire in me. I switched majors. I spent many nights catching up on what I’d missed. It was scary coming in later, watching classmates already fluent in languages I was just learning, failing simple tests and quizzes that seemed so simple for others. I would easily get discouraged knowing I was at the bottom of the barrel, that a 10 year old computer nerd could most likely code better then me, a 20 year old college student. But I kept going. I worked harder. I asked more questions. I stayed up late, not out of stress, but because I was excited again. I was hungry to learn and be better. Now, I carry both the wonder of a beginner and the determination of someone who had to fight to catch up. My challenge taught me that falling behind doesn’t mean giving up. It means finding the courage to start again, to admit that you want something badly enough to chase it even when it’s hard. Sometimes, it just means finding your way back.

Spending a month in Ecuador and the Galápagos was honestly one of the craziest, most life-changing adventures of my life. Picture this: me, a group of determined (and slightly sunburned) recent high school graduates, buckets of concrete, and a dream to build a school—literally from the ground up. Every morning we’d wake up at sunrise, throw on our work clothes and hard hats, and head out to the site for eight hours of digging, mixing, laying bricks, and laughing until our faces hurt. We weren’t just building a school, we were building a future. For the kids in that community, this school meant hope, opportunity, and a place to dream big. And for me? It meant realizing how much we can accomplish when we show up for each other. Even on the days when my arms felt like jelly and the equator sun was doing its absolute most, we kept going. Because we weren’t doing it for ourselves, we were doing it for something bigger. What this trip taught me is that connection is everything. It lives in shared goals, sweaty high-fives, and late-night talks with strangers who become your forever people. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by everything going on in the world, but when you’re surrounded by kindness, grit, and a whole lot of teamwork, you can’t help but feel hopeful. We came to give, but I walked away with way more than blisters and a great tan, I left with a renewed sense of purpose and a heart full of joy. So yeah, I helped build a school with my bare hands… and it totally built me, too.