My transformative journey as a volunteer began during my middle school years, as I involved myself in the Challenger's League, a heartwarming initiative that aimed to introduce special needs children to the joys of playing baseball. Every weekend, I joined a team of dedicated individuals united by the belief that sports could be a powerful tool for empowerment. I remember the first time one of my players got a home run; she jumped in a circle on one leg. I looked over and saw her mother beginning to tear up; when I walked over and asked what was wrong, she gave me the biggest hug and said it was the contrary: her daughter had developmental disabilities and never could jump on one leg before that day. While interacting with these extraordinary children, I witnessed the resilience and determination that defined their spirits. My role extended beyond teaching baseball fundamentals; it encompassed fostering an inclusive environment where each child could thrive. The joy emanating from their faces as they swung a bat or rounded the bases revealed the transformative power of inclusivity in sports. This chapter of my volunteer journey fueled a passion for service and instilled in me a commitment to continue making a positive impact on the lives of others. As a college student, I transitioned my commitment to service to the America Reads program, an initiative dedicated to improving literacy skills in elementary school students. While volunteering at a local elementary school, I immersed myself in the vibrant world of young learners, each with unique stories and aspirations. My role evolved into that of a mentor, guiding students through the enchanting journey of reading and writing. Witnessing their progress and nurturing a love for learning underscored the profound impact of education as a powerful equalizer. Amid my volunteer journey, there exists a poignant thread of personal loss—the passing of my father. My father, a beacon of selflessness and community devotion, forever imprinted my values. His absence is a poignant reminder of life's transience, and the lasting legacy one can create through acts of kindness. From his example, I draw strength, infusing my volunteer work with the spirit of generosity and compassion that defined his life. As I navigate the complex landscape of grief and growth, I find solace in the meaningful impact I can make in the lives of others. Whether on the baseball field with the Challenger's League or in the classroom with America Reads, the common thread is human connection—the ability to empathize, uplift, and inspire. As my journey as a volunteer continues, propelled by the lessons learned from the Challenger's League, the pages turned with America Reads and the enduring spirit of my father. With each opportunity to serve, I embrace the chance to make a difference, one small act of kindness at a time. These volunteer opportunities have not only developed my skills but have also become a purpose and passion in my life. The Challenger League's inclusive nature and America Reads's empowering impact have equipped me with the tools to help others become their best selves. I thank you for the opportunity to apply for this scholarship, and if received, I am eager to continue this journey of impact and contribute positively to my community and beyond.

Living with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) has a path paved with uncertainty and resilience. After the loss of my father at the tender age of 16, my world was already colored by grief when this enigmatic autoimmune disorder worsened with stress, exacerbating already prominent symptoms. POTS is a condition that challenges the very essence of normalcy, with symptoms ranging from dizziness and rapid heartbeat to fatigue, nausea, and cognitive impairment. Navigating the landscape of these unconventional symptoms while grieving the loss of my father demanded a strength I didn't know I possessed. As a teenager, I found myself grappling not only with the emotional void left by my father's absence but also with the physical toll of a disorder that seemed determined to redefine my every waking moment. Once taken for granted, simple tasks became Herculean feats as my body rebelled against the gravitational pull that most people effortlessly endure. I didn't want to wake up or go to school due to mental health issues, and my physical symptoms manifested worse in the mornings, creating a horrible feedback loop of my failing to take adequate care of myself. However, instead of succumbing to despair, I sought understanding and connection within the chronic illness community. Sharing experiences with others who faced similar battles provided solace and a sense of solidarity. In these shared narratives, I began to turn my struggle into strength. Living with POTS required me to become an advocate for my own health. Educating myself about the condition, engaging with healthcare professionals, and being an active participant in my treatment plan became crucial aspects of my daily life. This self-advocacy improved my quality of life by helping me reach a more accurate diagnosis, leading to more accurate medications, and inspiring me to advocate for others facing chronic illnesses. I found purpose in raising awareness about POTS, dispelling misconceptions, and fostering empathy for those living with invisible illnesses. Channeling the pain and frustration of my own journey, I became a voice for those who often struggled in silence. I shared my story through creative writing, poetry, and online platforms, fostering a community that sought to uplift and empower. In addition, I started my own small business with products ranging from stickers to wire-wrapped jewelry and self-published poetry books. The resilience cultivated through my experience with POTS has transcended the realm of personal health, driving my commitment to promoting understanding and compassion in the broader context of autoimmune diseases even further. As an "invisible" disability, my symptoms and diagnosis are not often treated as such and, instead, are seen as an over-exaggeration despite the pain and inconvenience it brings to so many lives. I hope to help partially dispel this connotation, as POTS brings far more symptoms than just being dizzy and passing out. I redirected my pain into passion, advocating for greater awareness of autoimmune disorders and increased compassion for those who suffer from them. By transforming my struggle into a platform for advocacy, I strive to honor my father's memory by ensuring that others facing similar health challenges as myself find the support and understanding they deserve and that I wish I had at the time. My experience living with POTS has shaped me into an advocate, a resilient force for change, and a beacon of hope for those navigating the unpredictable terrain of autoimmune diseases. While the road may be fraught with challenges, I have discovered that the power to transform adversity into strength lies within the struggle.

I noticed my father's newfound illness when I was 12 years old, listening to his voice as it got rougher. My mom informed me of his ALS diagnosis with teary eyes shortly after he began sleeping on the couch since he could no longer trek the stairs. I spent most of my childhood with my father in a hospital for weeks at a time. One time, a nurse accidentally overdosed him with insulin and put him in a coma for days; my family not knowing if or when he would wake up. I remember the pure rage I felt, the heat in my face, the pulse in my throat, as I, a 13-year-old, was able to give my father the proper insulin dose for years while he was sick, something that medical professionals struggled to do. However, despite the pure rage, I remember feeling hope that he would wake up, hope that this incurable disease would suddenly have a breakthrough, and hope that he would be the one patient to beat the odds miraculously. When an important figure in your life is diagnosed with such an incurable and fatal disease, you learn that hope is a dangerous thing to have, but it is also an essential feeling to cling to for dear life. During his illness, I learned a lot over four years. I knew that statistically, only 10% of bulbar onset ALS patients live longer than ten years. I understood that, given my age, there was a significant chance I would walk down the aisle alone. I would attend graduation without my father, the most important person. I understood that at my Sweet 16, I would not have a father-daughter dance. I understood a lot at the ripe age of 13. My dad passed away when I was 16, and I realized how delicate life is. Medical practitioners added years to my father's life, and their intricate consideration made all the difference in his home care; however, their mistakes can be deadly. I provided my father with his insulin shots while still a teenager in high school and made no mistakes, but his nurse did. I was angry; sometimes I think I still am, but he opened his eyes, and I could put my rage in my pocket for another day. My internship at a medical malpractice and criminal defense firm taught me how to understand what others were going through, even if I was not experiencing it, unlocking a new level of compassion and empathy. I remember the turmoil after hearing about my father's condition, just wishing there was any form of justice or retribution to make the situation better, and if I could help at least one other person in that same position, my life would be worth it. Inspired by the injustices I witnessed during my father's illness, I enrolled in college with a clear goal in mind: to pursue a career in healthcare law. During my internship, I focused on medical malpractice and patient advocacy, working on cases to hold negligent practitioners accountable and improve healthcare protocols. My internship experiences further solidified my commitment to ensuring that no one else would have to endure the pain and frustration my family faced. As I reflect on my journey, I recognize that my father's battle with ALS became the catalyst for a career dedicated to creating a more just and compassionate healthcare system. Every challenge I faced, every moment of despair, and every triumph over adversity has shaped me into an advocate who fights for every individual who has faced the harsh realities of an incurable disease.

My ultimate goal in life is to follow in my late father's footsteps and become an attorney. I'm not exactly sure when I developed this aspiration, but for as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to attend law school. My father lived his life graciously and humbly, and after his passing, dozens of previous clients, attorneys, law enforcement, and so many more reached out to my mother and me and explained how much of an impact my father had on their lives, furthering my dedication to follow his lead. After his passing, his previous law clerk contacted me and offered me an internship at his local law firm, and I was ecstatic. I was heartbroken after losing my father, but my new boss's firm was located in the same building my father used to practice in. Every time I head to the courthouse to file paperwork, I see familiar faces that recognize me from my childhood wandering up and down the courthouse stairs and playing tic-tac-toe with the security guards. I walk the familiar cement terrain my dad traveled daily on his way to work, remembering him tripping over the same cracks in the sidewalk that I still trip on today. I may not know a lot at the age of 19, but I know that I want to be exactly like him. After working at the law firm for a year, I have become more than familiar with criminal and civil proceedings, and I would love to defend my future clients with the same rigor and humility that my father did. Qhwn In addition to his career as an attorney, my father was elected as the President Judge of our county, living an integrable career as a distinguished judge, inspiring my dedication to this career. I saw first-hand how my father could change people's lives in one second, whether it be filing a restraining order for a battered wife or deciding to go with a lenient jail time for a petty theft because he know, on the inside, that defendant is a good person. These experiences inspired me to be the person I am today, living in my father's footsteps of compassion and honesty, and I have been dead set on this career since I was seven years old. I want to make the same difference my father did, change the world in the same ways, and help those around me. If I can change one life, defend one wrongfully convicted inmate, and have them released from jail, my life and my vision were ultimately worth it. Anyone who needs an attorney is most likely enduring the hardest aspects of their lives to this point; whether people experience a significant car accident, a divorce, or estate planning, they always need support. Although it is not a lawyer’s job to listen and be there for others on an emotional level, it is undoubtedly a significant, albeit unspoken, part of the career. My internship taught me I wanted to help people like my father did. It taught me compassion and how to understand what others were going through, even if I was experiencing it. I will forever be grateful for my father’s teachings: You can never do wrong by being good to those around you. My father left me with one core teaching: nothing is more valuable than the gift of helping those around you in any way you can. I know he would be proud of me for following in his footsteps and changing the world one person at a time.

From a young age, my late father told me, "Be good to others; you will never do wrong by being good to those around you," and those words never left my heart. Being compassionate and good to others is something that can never be dismissed; it can never be taken away from you in any way. It is liberating to be kind to others, even if they do not have the same strength to be kind to you. My father taught me this lesson for my entire upbringing before he passed away shortly after my 16th birthday. Although losing such an important figure in your life fills you with hopelessness, I know I inherited my father’s strength and resilience and can handle any obstacle that comes my way. Every day, this quality about myself reminds me so much of my father, who gave so much of himself to his job, community, and family that he was often left with nothing. He had the kindest, softest eyes that you could see a sparkle of honesty in, and I know that I am making him proud every time I treat those around me with kindness. In addition to his career as an attorney, my father was also elected as the President Judge of our county, living an integrable career as a distinguished judge, inspiring my dedication to this career. I saw first-hand how my father could change people's lives in one second, whether it be filing a restraining order for a battered wife or deciding to go with a lenient jail time because you know on the inside, that defendant is a good person. After interning at the law firm for over a year, I have become more than familiar with criminal and civil proceedings. I would love to defend my future clients with the same rigor and humility that my father did. These experiences inspired me to be the person I am today, living in my father's footsteps of compassion and honesty, and I have been dead set on this career since I was seven years old. I want to be able to make the same difference my father did, change the world in the same ways, and help those around me. If I can change one life, defend one wrongfully convicted inmate, and have them released from jail, my life and my vision were ultimately worth it. My father left me with one core teaching: nothing is more valuable than the gift of helping those around you in any way you can. I know that he would be proud of me in Heaven for following in his footsteps and changing the world one person at a time. Being compassionate and humble is the one thing that connects humanity; overall, we are one humanity and should treat each other as such. Many of the simple problems in the world could be solved if everyone had a little bit more of my father's characteristics of humility, kindness, and compassion. I may not know a lot at the age of 17, but I know that I want to be exactly like him, and he will always be my greatest role model.

In my senior year of high school, I was honored with the position of Editor-in-Chief of my school newspaper publication. After a long training period of journalism classes for two years, I had finally received the position I had dreamed of since my freshmen year of high school. Being placed in such a rigorous class is difficult enough, but trying to decipher how to run the course, keep morale high while completing work and have enough fun to please everyone, is much more difficult. High school journalism certainly replicates the stress of journalists for larger-based organizations, and I do not think I experienced heart palpitations until my first journalism Hell Week. For me, being a leader is showing you're the strong one and can remain unphased under pressure and stress. To me, becoming a leader is letting staff writers cry on your shoulder after the first edition is released, comforting them, and telling them how they can improve for future editions. Being a leader is not allowing yourself to stop until everything is as close to perfect as it can be and not cracking under the pressure until you're alone. This year on staff looks a lot different than in the past; we introduced our first online newspaper updated almost daily, along with having to deal with ever-changing pandemic conditions of switching to hybrid learning. This year, our distribution date was the last day of school before Christmas break, and we had a four-page holiday specialty insert. However, that Wednesday was a snowstorm, and school was canceled, so I drove up to the grocery store to meet my teacher and pick up hundreds of copies of newspapers to hand distribute. To me, being a leader is when you can survive even the most unrecognizable challenges with a smile. Being in this leadership position taught me a new level of responsibility and a skill set that will benefit me throughout my entire school and work career. I learned how to work with a team, even if they are a diverse group of students, to create a publication that represents the entire school. If you have ever strolled into a journalism class the week the paper will be printed, I'm sure you're aware of the commotion that comes with high school journalism. However, despite those stressful times, we can always unite to create something beyond ourselves for the public. Everyone relies on each other in journalism, as pages cannot be laid out until the articles are ready, articles cannot be ready until they have been copyedited by someone else, and so forth. This dynamic creates such a tightly connected group of individuals that everyone else can step in and carry their weight whenever one falters. Journalism not only taught me how to sprint down a hallway the day we print to find a picture of a wrestling student for an awry article with a missing image, but it also taught me some pretty important life advice. It taught me how critical interpersonal connections are in the real world, especially in schools, whether administrators, teachers, friends, or even friendly custodians. There is always news somewhere; you just have to know the right people to ask and where to look.

My late father told me from a young age, "be good to others; you will never do wrong by being good to those around you," and those words never left my heart. My father was an attorney, later becoming a judge, while my mom was the president of the local Bar Association, and was dedicated to helping wrongly convicted criminals return to civilization. My parents firmly believed in giving back to the community, encouraging community service projects for both my brother and me, always bringing us to local volunteer events. I learned that it is so painfully easy to be kind to others. I always stir coffees that come with cream and sugar at my early McDonald's shifts, and more often than not, customers will see and be so overjoyed that they'll offer a tip. This simple act in the morning may only take me an extra 30 seconds, but the customer will remember that moment for the entire day, and that is the important matter. My short career at McDonald's has also contributed to my compassion for others, seeing how food service workers get treated every day is almost horrifying. I'm always brought back to the moment my co-worker was screamed at and called a racial slur over an expired coupon, as I found her crying in the crew room; or the day I was spat on by a customer at the beginning of a pandemic because she believed the tables were not cleaned. These moments, although terrifying, humbled me and taught me to never treat a single human being that way, especially over any situation involving McDonald's. Being compassionate and good to others is something that can never be dismissed, it can never be taken away from you in any way. It's liberating, to be kind to others, even if they do not have the same strength to be kind to you. I know this quality will help in my future journey because it has helped me up to this point. If I make one person smile in the drive-through by giving away Mother's Day flowers, then I am perfectly content for that day, no matter the rudeness I am faced with elsewhere. I love this quality about myself because it reminds me so much of my father, who gave so much of himself to his job, community, and family, that he was often left with nothing. He had the kindest, softest eyes that you could see a sparkle of honesty in, and I know that I am making him proud in Heaven every time I treat people with kindness. Being compassionate and humble is the one thing that connects humanity, overall, we are one mankind and should treat each other as such. Many of the simple problems in the world could be solved if everyone had a little bit more of my father's characteristics of humility, kindness, and compassion.

When I was five years old, I was obsessed with listening to my father recite Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburgh Address at my constant pleading. He had the address memorized to heart, but that was the least impressive aspect of him. My late father was a well-educated and sophisticated lawyer and judge, but the most important lesson he taught me is that receiving an English degree is the most valuable education one can receive, as that knowledge and information can be applied in virtually any educational field. His brother, my Uncle Paul, worked as an English professor at the University of Pittsburgh for half of his life and wrote poetry and short essays on the side, which inspired me to write poetry and creative writing from a young age, as well. From writing short stories of squirrels running away from home in 4th grade, to winning the highest average English GPA in 8th grade, to becoming Editor-in-Chief of my school newspaper publication, I have always been invested in literature and composition due to my family's positive influence around me. After my father's passing, creative writing functioned as one of my only coping mechanisms and saved my life. Poetry provided me an outlet to not only spread the values my father handed down to me, but also to express my grief in a way that turns to art, not pain. At my father's funeral, my uncle on my mother's side delivered the eulogy, and I remember being at a loss for words. The entire day, faceless mouths whispered their condolences, headless figures mindlessly patted my back and apologized, but it all of it meant nothing until I heard those words come out of his mouth. My uncle described in such raw accuracy and precision the amazing and fulfilling life my father lived, perfectly combining his prestigious legal career and dedication to his community and family at the same time. As those words left his mouth, I could close my eyes and positively imagine my father again. Instead of the sorrowful words that others' muttered to me, my uncle discussed the liveliness of my father, and the infectious joy he spread. Hearing the eulogy, I could imagine him in his hometown, during humourous backstories, and inside jokes finally publicized, I knew that my mom picked the perfect person for the job. Maybe that was the moment I realized how big of an effect writing could have, that if he changed one line of that eulogy, I could have possibly hated it. Creative writing has the power to not only change lives but save them as well. Whether an opening statement in a courthouse to acquit someone and save their life or a poem about staying alive just to force yourself to keep moving on; writing has the power to change the world, if it is used correctly and passionately. The year my father passed away, I was honored with the position of Editor-in-Chief, giving me the perfect amount of busywork to distract myself, but not too much to overwhelm myself. I've always wanted to show others how writing can change someone's life, and as an effect, I have been in the process of starting a literary magazine and National English Honor Society at my local school to spread the impact I know writing can have.