My heaven smells like a dump. Mud, stale water, and even heavy metals sparkle and swirl through sunbeams. Brown, white, and red splashes slowly dry and crust over wheels. Paints that have been settling in their buckets since the ‘90s release distinct odors: vomit, dog waste, roadkill. This is a ceramics studio, and it’s my home away from home. The first time I ever used the wheel, I was barely old enough to know what clay was. My parents and I were on a family trip to Santa Fe, and we stopped at a small ceramics studio. The clay squished between my fingers and sprayed onto my shirt, but the mess was the last thing on my mind as a tiny cup began to form from the mud. In the end, it was bent in half like a crumpled napkin, and the rim was wonky all around - but to me, nothing was as beautiful. Before I even knew the word “ceramics,” I loved pottery. Since that moment, I’ve dug deep into the world of clay. I created lumpy pinch pots in my third-grade art class; I loved rolling out leftover clay into long, cylindrical strips (“worms,” as I called them) and rolling them up into “snails” (spirals with a tail sticking out). The pots didn’t always stand on their own, and the glazes I used pooled into cracks and crevices, but my mom always thought they were adorable! When I attended Interlochen Arts Camp, my love for clay became more skilled but not much more serious. I used the wheel to make a migraine-inducing chartreuse and lilac bowl. I learned the use of paddle tools, improvised silverware, and coil-building to make a silly leaf-covered creature with an anime-style face. I even learned to use a slab roller to create a 3D depiction of a kid’s house drawing! But by far, my favorite creation was the rocket. About half a foot long, the rocket stands on yellow slab legs that I had painstakingly cut into crescents. The rocket’s window is painted in swirls of ocean hues, and nails are carefully dotted around the frame. The rust-red, mustard, and blue toy rocket honors Laika, the first dog in space, who never returned home. My favorite detail was inspired by an idea from my teacher: he told me to fill the rocket with tiny clay balls. If you shake it, you can hear the ringing of broken parts flying around the rocket. However, my improvement in ceramics and my many creative projects were not my most valuable reward for going to Interlochen. At camp, I uncovered a beautiful, flourishing, and supportive LGBTQIA+ community. Coming from Texas, I had felt embarrassed of being bisexual and often hid my own identity, repressing myself into a shell that fit my surroundings. I felt free in Michigan, meeting people from all over the country who were confident in themselves and loved me for me. Since meeting my new national friends, I have felt more confident than ever. Now, I refuse to hide myself. My own growth has inspired me to support those around me more deeply. I always give my friends space and support to truly and confidently be themselves. I’ve found that a little encouragement, whether it’s to study more, pursue a new hobby, or talk to new people, goes a long way; and now, I never want to stop helping others find themselves. Through my own passions, especially art, I want to teach others to embrace themselves and step forward confidently for the rest of the lives.

Teaching science to children in STEM for All is by far my most meaningful after-school activity. Despite the sticky fingers, the wriggling first-graders, and the “too-cool” fifth-graders who hide their love for science, I’ve found love in that tiny trailer behind the church. I smile when thinking about baking soda volcanoes and nature walks, fourth-graders who rave about dissection, and preteens who are always ready to help. When my friend Rohith begged me to help him start this program, I didn’t think much would come of it; now, I can’t imagine life without it. One of my warmest memories comes from the time we were teaching geometry and had asked the kids to draw patterns of shapes. One girl sat scrunched up against the back of her chair, turned away from her pencil as though it were something rotten. When I asked her what was wrong, she refused to speak. Together, we drew a face together made of geometric shapes instead of a pattern. I finished with a bow on its head to match hers before going off to help other kids. As I was leaving, she came up and gave me the drawing. She had drawn not one but two shape patterns as well as a big heart that said, “I love you.” I hold that drawing next to my heart; whenever I feel bad, I think of that drawing and her smile. ​ As we’ve prepared for other students to take over STEM for All, I’ve reminisced a lot. Remembering all the sweet, smiling kids who have told us about loving science inspires me to keep reaching out and sharing STEM with more kids. I know that after learning about nutrition, nature, space, and the world around them, they’ve become happier and healthier. To some people, incessant “Why?”s may be annoying, but to my mind, they prove two things. For starters, the kids are curious and love to learn. More importantly, they feel supported by us and their other teachers to keep exploring new pieces of their world. After working to reach these kids and watching their moods, interests, and behaviors shift through their development, I’ve grown deeply interested in developmental psychology and the biology behind it. My interest in neuroscience intensified when I went to Stanford to explore a myriad of neuroscience paths. There, in the CNI-X summer program, I worked on a presentation and screening to test the ill effects of excess screen time on young children, and I can confidently say that researching psychology and neuroscience is my dream. Even now, I’m looking forward to taking Neuroscience and Medicine: Inside the Brain and Nervous System, an online Case Western course, over winter break. In the future, I want to explore how children’s experiences shape their actions as adults. What shapes kids into the adults they become? How can some children experience similar things, yet grow up to be entirely different people? How can childhood trauma’s effects vary so vastly? Hopefully, by researching these questions, I’ll be able to make changes in parenting styles, developmental therapy, and education in order to improve kids’ worlds and lives in the present and future.