Living closely alongside chronic medical conditions within my immediate family has profoundly shaped the course of my adult life. I am the primary caregiver for my mother Bartola, who lives with end-stage cirrhosis caused by primary biliary cholangitis. Her condition requires constant monitoring, frequent medical appointments, and ongoing symptom management, she is currently on the list for a liver transplant from UCLA. I am also the mother of two sons with autism. My youngest son Robert has moderate to severe autism and complex medical needs, including epilepsy, which requires emergency preparedness, medication management, and endless advocacy. My oldest son Joseph, while higher-functioning, needs ongoing support with sensory regulation, learning accommodations, and developmental services. Caring for all three means balancing multiple specialists, individualized education plans, unexpected hospital visits, and daily therapeutic routines. These responsibilities have reshaped how I view healthcare, education, and access. They have also tested me physically, mentally, and emotionally. There are days when I feel stretched thin, finishing work, completing doctoral coursework, and then rushing to take care of my son or manage my mother’s symptoms. Yet through these challenges, my determination has only grown stronger. I have learned resilience, precision, patience, and what it means to fight for the dignity and wellbeing of those I love. Growing up as a Mexican American, first-generation college student raised in poverty, I witnessed how language barriers, financial hardship, and cultural stigma can make chronic illness even harder to navigate. Families like mine often don’t know where to start, who to ask, or how to advocate. Pursuing education later in life (now at the doctoral level in Education with a focus on Higher Education and Student Affairs) is my way of transforming lived struggle into systemic change. Professionally, I serve students every day. I work full-time as a Senior Instructional Lab Technician at Rio Hondo College and as an Adjunct Professor of Chemistry at the University of La Verne. I mentor first-generation students, parenting students, undocumented students, and those who are quietly balancing medical or caregiving challenges. I lead workshops on navigating college systems, support STEM students academically, and volunteer with inclusion initiatives. Many students confide in me because they see a reflection of themselves, someone who didn’t take the traditional path, yet never gave up. My experiences have shown me how urgently higher education needs to evolve. Colleges often assume students are healthy, financially stable, and unburdened by caregiving duties. When crises happen (hospitalizations, seizures, medical declines) students are forced to sacrifice grades, income, or progress. My long-term goal is to create equity-centered programs that expand access to disability accommodations, flexible course scheduling, emergency grants, and mental health support for caregivers and chronically ill students. I want institutions to view students as whole human beings, not just as academic outputs. Instead of letting adversity shrink my dreams, I’ve allowed it to fuel them. Caring for two autistic sons (one with epilepsy) and supporting my mother through end stage liver disease has strengthened my advocacy, deepened my empathy, and sharpened my understanding of systemic barriers. Every appointment, phone call, and seizure has taught me something about urgency, precision, and compassion. Receiving this scholarship would relieve financial strain associated with graduate tuition and ongoing medical needs in my household. More than that, it would serve as recognition that perseverance matters, that caregivers deserve a seat at the academic table. Chronic illness does not diminish potential. With resources, empathy, and equitable opportunity, families like mine can not only survive, they can lead, advocate, and help transform the very systems that once excluded them.

As a Mexican American, first-generation college student, parent of two sons with autism—one with moderate to severe needs and epilepsy—and caretaker for my mother with end-stage liver disease, I have seen how deeply mental health intersects with caregiving, cultural stigma, disability, and access. In BIPOC communities, many suffer in silence because services are unaffordable, geographically distant, or culturally misunderstood. My unique contribution is to combine art, education, and community outreach to normalize mental health conversations and expand access to low-cost support. As a graduate student in Education, I plan to create culturally responsive workshops on campuses that integrate expressive art activities, storytelling, and mindfulness as entry points to care. These workshops would be free, trauma-informed, and facilitated by professionals of color, reducing intimidation and stigma. Additionally, I hope to partner with colleges and local nonprofits to establish sliding-scale teletherapy networks for students and families facing financial barriers, especially caregivers like myself. By training peer mentors and embedding creative coping strategies into campus support programs, we can widen the first step toward healing—not just for students, but for entire families. Mental health care becomes more affordable and accessible when communities help carry the weight together. I intend to build those bridges.

My journey into STEM has never been simply about science; it has been about access, dignity, and representation. As a Mexican American, first-generation college student, mother of two sons with autism—one with moderate to severe needs and epilepsy—full-time employee, and graduate student in Education, I understand the power STEM holds to transform lives. I chose to pursue STEM because I saw firsthand how scientific literacy, medical equity, and inclusive educational systems can change outcomes for entire communities. Science isn’t abstract for me; it is the difference between early diagnosis and preventable struggle, between access and exclusion, between fear and empowerment. Growing up in poverty, STEM careers felt distant. Few people who looked like me worked in laboratories or taught college-level science. Still, I was drawn to the challenge and possibility behind every question: How does this work? Why? What if we could do better? With determination and guidance from mentors who believed in my potential, I pursued my degree in chemistry, later earning a master’s, and eventually stepping into higher education. Today, I serve as a Senior Instructional Lab Technician at Rio Hondo College and as an Adjunct Professor of Chemistry at the University of La Verne. Every day, I witness the difference it makes when a student sees someone from their culture at the front of the classroom. Representation matters—not as a slogan, but as evidence that belonging is real. As a person of color in STEM, my impact begins with access. I mentor first-generation, low-income, and undocumented students who often doubt their place in scientific spaces. I support parenting students juggling coursework and caregiving. I provide chemistry coaching that bridges confidence gaps, not just content gaps. Much of this work happens after hours, in hallways, between meetings—not because it is required, but because I know what it feels like to navigate these systems alone. My personal life further fuels my mission. Advocating for my son’s medical needs and educational rights exposed me to inequities in healthcare, diagnostic bias, and the scarcity of culturally competent providers. STEM cannot claim excellence without inclusivity. Innovations in medicine, biotechnology, and data science fall short if entire populations are overlooked. I hope to use my scientific background and doctoral training in Education to build equity-centered programs that support historically excluded students entering STEM pathways. This means designing curricula that acknowledge cultural context, expanding undergraduate research opportunities, and creating mentorship structures for students who lack generational guidance. Ultimately, I aim to contribute to a STEM ecosystem where diversity is not simply welcomed but valued, where the lived experiences of people of color influence research questions, solve community challenges, and shape technological innovation. Diverse minds bring new insight—into health disparities, environmental justice, drug development, data ethics, and more. Innovation without representation is incomplete. This scholarship would reduce financial strain as I balance graduate school, employment, and intensive caregiving responsibilities. It would allow me to continue mentoring, conducting research, and developing workshops without compromising essential resources for my family. More importantly, it would be a recognition that the voices of students of color matter in building the future of STEM. I chose STEM because I believe knowledge should empower, not exclude. As a person of color, I am committed to lifting others into spaces historically kept out of reach, ensuring that the next generation of scientists looks more like the communities they serve.

Life is inherently hard, but I’ve come to believe that the most meaningful growth comes from how we choose to respond to adversity. At 42 years old, returning to graduate school is not the easiest path, but it is the one that gives my life purpose. As a Mexican American, first-generation college student, full-time employee, mother of two sons with autism (one with moderate to severe needs and epilepsy) and caretaker for my mother, who is battling end-stage cirrhosis due to primary biliary cholangitis, my journey has been anything but simple. Yet each challenge has shaped my values, deepened my empathy, and strengthened my commitment to education and service. Growing up in poverty, college wasn’t an expectation; it was a distant hope. Navigating higher education without guidance brought financial strain, confusion, and doubt. But perseverance became my compass. I completed my undergraduate degree, earned a master’s, and am now pursuing a PhD in Education with a focus on Higher Education and Student Affairs. Today, I work full-time as a Senior Instructional Lab Technician at Rio Hondo College while also serving as an Adjunct Professor of Chemistry at the University of La Verne. Balancing my career, doctoral coursework, and caregiving responsibilities has tested me, but it has never broken me. When my son was diagnosed with epilepsy and additional developmental needs, I became not only a parent but an advocate—fighting for equitable services, emergency medical support, and individualized educational plans. These experiences taught me what countless families quietly endure: systems are often not built for those who need support the most. Instead of stepping back, I leaned into my purpose. I returned to education later in life precisely because I want to be part of changing those systems. Service is at the heart of everything I do. I have mentored first-generation students, parenting students, undocumented learners, and women of color pursuing STEM. I lead workshops on academic success, chemistry coaching, and educational access. Often, service looks like staying late to help a struggling student or listening to a parent overwhelmed by navigating disability services. Every interaction is an opportunity to build belonging. Academically, I have maintained a GPA of 3.85 throughout graduate school. Excellence, for me, is an act of resistance, proof that circumstances do not define capability. My career aspirations are rooted in expanding support for nontraditional, adult, and historically excluded students. I want to design equity-centered programs in higher education that provide accessible pathways, particularly for returning learners balancing families, jobs, and financial barriers. Like Debra S. Jackson, I know that education later in life is transformative, not only for the learner, but for everyone they touch. This scholarship would significantly lessen the financial strain of graduate tuition, transportation, and caregiving costs. It would allow me to focus more fully on research, mentorship, and program development without sacrificing essential resources for my family. More importantly, receiving support is a powerful reminder that second chances are valued. I am not pursuing education solely for personal advancement. I am pursuing it to elevate voices too often overlooked, to support the adult learners who feel like time has passed them by, and to build systems that recognize every student’s dignity and potential. I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to apply for the Debra S. Jackson Scholarship and to honor a legacy grounded in resilience, compassion, and transformation.

If I could create a class required for all students from kindergarten through 12th grade, it would be called Life Skills for a Changing World. The goal of this course would be to teach essential skills that traditional academic subjects often overlook practical knowledge, emotional intelligence, and civic responsibility, so students can confidently navigate both daily life and the complex challenges of the future. While math, science, and literature build critical thinking, this class would prepare students for the equally important demands of managing relationships, making sound decisions, and contributing to their communities. The course would grow alongside the student’s maturity and developmental stage. In kindergarten through fifth grade, lessons would focus on building empathy, communication, and self-care. At this age, students would learn to identify emotions in themselves and others, listen actively, share respectfully, and practice problem-solving in small conflicts. They would be introduced to basic health habits such as nutrition, hygiene, and the importance of physical activity. These early foundations would help children develop healthy relationships, strong self-awareness, and the resilience needed to handle life’s challenges. In middle school, grades six through eight, the curriculum would shift toward foundational practical skills. Students would practice creating and sticking to a budget, cooking simple but nutritious meals, managing time effectively, and developing digital literacy. They would also explore media literacy, learning to evaluate sources, identify misinformation, and think critically about what they read or watch. These skills would help them become more independent and capable decision-makers. By high school, grades nine through twelve, the focus would expand to preparing students for full adult independence. Topics would include personal finance, such as credit, loans, taxes, and savings, understanding contracts, navigating healthcare systems, and participating in civic life through voting and community engagement. Conflict resolution strategies would be taught alongside mental health skills, such as stress management, self-advocacy, and recognizing when to seek help. Lessons would also address adaptability, encouraging students to develop the flexibility to navigate career changes, technological shifts, and global challenges such as climate change or economic uncertainty. The impact of this course would extend well beyond personal success. Students would graduate with the ability to manage their lives responsibly, communicate effectively across cultural and ideological differences, and contribute meaningfully to their communities. They would possess both the practical tools, balancing a budget, resolving disputes, evaluating information, and the inner confidence to adapt when life changes unexpectedly. Over time, this could lead to a generation that is more empathetic, resourceful, and civically engaged, strengthening the social fabric of our nation. Ultimately, Life Skills for a Changing World would ensure that education prepares students for far more than academic tests. It would equip them for the tests of real life, where compassion, adaptability, and sound judgment matter as much as any equation or essay. In a rapidly changing society, this class could help every graduate not only make a living, but live with purpose, resilience, and a deep sense of responsibility toward themselves and others.

Life is inherently hard, but I’ve come to believe that the most meaningful growth comes from how we choose to respond to adversity. As a Mexican American, first-generation college student, single mother of a son with special needs and epilepsy, full-time employee, and doctoral candidate in Education, I’ve faced more than my fair share of challenges. Yet each difficulty has shaped me into a stronger, more compassionate, and more determined person, and has fueled my drive to uplift others along the way. Growing up in poverty, I learned resilience early. College wasn’t expected in my family, it was a distant hope. I struggled to navigate higher education with limited guidance, financial instability, and few role models. Despite that, I not only completed my undergraduate degree, but went on to earn a master’s, and now, I’m pursuing a PhD in Education with a focus on Higher Education and Student Affairs. I currently work full-time as a Senior Instructional Lab Technician at Rio Hondo College, and I also serve as an Adjunct Professor of Chemistry at the University of La Verne. Balancing these roles while raising my son and completing my doctoral coursework has tested me, but it has never broken me. When my son was diagnosed with epilepsy and other special needs, my world shifted. I had to advocate fiercely for his health and education while maintaining my career and academic goals. Rather than stepping back, I leaned into my purpose. I know what it feels like to be unseen, to feel like the system wasn’t built for someone like me, and that’s exactly why I’m determined to change it. Service is at the heart of everything I do. I have mentored countless first-generation and underrepresented students, especially women of color in STEM. I’ve led community workshops, coached underserved students in chemistry, and supported undocumented and parenting students in navigating college. I also volunteer my time to initiatives focused on accessibility and inclusion in education. Whether it’s staying after hours to help a struggling student or guiding a young mother through her return to college, I see every interaction as an opportunity to give back. Academically, I have maintained a GPA above 3.5 throughout my graduate studies, not because it’s easy, but because excellence, to me, is an act of resistance and empowerment. My ambition is rooted in something larger than myself. I want to build equity-centered programs in higher education that remove barriers for nontraditional and historically excluded students. I want to ensure students like me don’t just survive college, they succeed. The Algers’ story is beautiful and moving. Like them, I’ve dedicated my life to helping others, often sacrificing time and comfort to ensure someone else’s success. Receiving this scholarship would be more than financial support, it would be a recognition of the resilience, commitment, and service that I bring to my community every day. I am not just working for a degree, I’m working to transform the very system that tried to leave people like me behind.

I’ve been a fan of LeBron James for as long as I can remember, but my admiration goes far beyond his basketball stats. Yes, LeBron is an incredible athlete who has broken records, won championships, and changed the game. But what truly inspires me is how he has used his platform, his discipline, and his story to impact lives far beyond the court, especially for people like me. LeBron’s journey from Akron, Ohio, to global stardom mirrors a narrative that so many underrepresented individuals understand: rising from humble beginnings and refusing to be defined by limitations. As a Mexican American, first-generation college student, mother of a child with special needs, and a PhD student in Education, I deeply relate to his determination, resilience, and commitment to giving back. I believe LeBron James is the greatest basketball player of all time, not only because of what he’s accomplished, but because of how he’s done it. He’s been consistent for over two decades. He adapts, leads, and pushes himself in every season, on and off the court. He has redefined longevity, leadership, and what it means to be an athlete with a social conscience. Watching him hold the American flag at the Paris Olympics while playing alongside his son, Bronny, wasn’t just a highlight, it was a reminder of how legacy is built through discipline, values, and love for your community. LeBron is a leader who walks the talk. He built a public school for at-risk youth in his hometown. He openly speaks about injustice and uses his influence to promote education and opportunity. As someone who works full-time at a community college, teaches chemistry at the university level, and advocates for underrepresented students, I strive to do the same in my own field. LeBron’s story fuels my own ambition. His legacy is a constant reminder that greatness isn’t about perfection, it’s about showing up, evolving, and lifting others as you rise. That’s why I proudly call myself a fan of LeBron James. He’s more than a basketball icon, he’s a blueprint for perseverance, excellence, and purpose. Winning this scholarship wouldn’t just celebrate my admiration for LeBron, it would support me as I continue my journey in higher education, working to break down barriers and uplift the next generation of students. Just as LeBron built his legacy step by step, I hope to build mine, rooted in community, resilience, and impact.

My journey to higher education has been anything but conventional. I grew up very poor in a Mexican American household, where college was not an expectation, it was a dream few around me had the chance to pursue. As a first-generation college student, I had to fight through systemic barriers, financial hardship, and a lack of support to earn my degrees. That journey shaped who I am today and why I’m now pursuing a PhD in Education with a focus on Higher Education and Student Affairs. Currently, I work full-time as the Senior Instructional Lab Technician at Rio Hondo College and serve as an Adjunct Professor of Chemistry at the University of La Verne. I’m also a mother to a young son with special needs and epilepsy. Balancing work, caregiving, and doctoral studies is demanding, but it’s also deeply meaningful. Every day, I live the realities of adult learners who are striving to build better futures for themselves and their families. I know what it feels like to stay up late completing coursework after putting your child to bed or preparing for a lecture while worrying about doctor’s appointments and therapies. These experiences have taught me the value of perseverance, compassion, and purpose. The story of Debra S. Jackson resonates deeply with me. Like Debra, I made the decision to return to school later in life, and it has truly transformed me. Her courage to start over at 40 and her lasting impact on her community inspire me to stay focused on my own mission: to break down educational barriers for students like myself, particularly those from underrepresented and underserved communities. I want to be the kind of advocate I once needed, and I hope to inspire others by showing that second chances are powerful and possible. My career goals are rooted in service. I plan to use my research and leadership to help institutions become more inclusive for nontraditional students, student-parents, undocumented students, and students with disabilities. My lived experiences fuel this work, not just as a researcher, but as someone who understands these challenges firsthand. This scholarship would not only alleviate the financial burden of pursuing my doctoral degree, it would honor and validate the many roles I carry. It would allow me to focus more fully on completing my education while continuing to serve my students and support my family. Like Debra, I believe in second chances, in the power of education to create new opportunities, and in the importance of giving back. Receiving the Debra S. Jackson Scholarship would be a deeply personal affirmation of the journey I’ve taken, and a meaningful step toward continuing Debra’s legacy of transformation, community service, and educational equity. I am committed to using my education to create lasting, positive change, and to helping others believe that it’s never too late to start again.