My name is Maria Wiggins, and my life has been shaped by perseverance, love, and an unshakable commitment to growth. I became a mother at just 15 years old, and from that point on, my life was no longer just about me. I was no longer a child—I was a young mom with dreams that had to be put on hold to ensure my children had what they needed. Growing up, the goal in my family was simple: just graduate from high school. College wasn’t part of the conversation. We survived with food stamps and government assistance, and many days felt like a struggle. But I always knew deep in my heart that I was meant for more, and I wanted my children to know they were, too. Now, as a proud mother of two sons—ages 25 and 18—and a 16-year-old daughter, I am finally stepping into my own dreams. I am pursuing higher education not just for myself but for them. I want to be the first of my mother’s children to go to college and finish strong. I want my children to witness what’s possible when you believe in yourself and keep pushing forward, no matter how long it takes. My journey has led me to fall in love with education, especially early childhood and special education. Working as a permanent substitute teacher in a kindergarten autism classroom has been life-changing. I’ve seen the difference a patient, loving, and creative educator can make in a child’s life. I’ve learned how to support students who are nonverbal, who struggle with emotional regulation, or who just need someone to believe in them. I’ve learned that success doesn’t look the same for every child—and that’s okay. What matters is progress, connection, and being seen. These experiences have shaped my personal values: empathy, resilience, and service. I believe every child deserves a champion, someone who will advocate for them even when the world doesn’t understand them. I’ve become that person in my classroom, and I want to take it even further. My career goal is to become a certified special education teacher working with Pre-K through 1st grade. I want to develop inclusive learning environments where all children can thrive—regardless of their abilities, diagnoses, or backgrounds. Beyond the classroom, I want to serve families who feel overlooked by the system. I know what it’s like to struggle, to feel like resources aren’t made for you. I want to be the bridge that connects families to tools, support, and love. I also plan to mentor young mothers, showing them that having a child young doesn’t mean their story ends—it means they have a new reason to fight for their future. This scholarship would mean more than just financial help—it would be a lifeline. Right now, I make less than $37,000 a year while trying to go to school and support my family. Tuition is over $55,000, and while I do everything I can to manage, it’s hard. This scholarship would allow me to breathe. It would allow me to focus more on my studies and continue to pour into the children and families I serve. My life hasn’t been easy, but it has been filled with purpose. I am ready to step into the next chapter, not just for myself but for every child, parent, and student who needs to see what perseverance looks like. With your support, I will continue to rise—and lift others along the way. Thanks Maria Wiggins

Growing up as a second-generation African immigrant, I carry with me the dreams, sacrifices, and strength of my parents, who came to this country with hope and determination but limited resources. They taught me that success is not measured by how much you have, but by how much you pour into others. That belief is the heartbeat of everything I do. I’ve dedicated my life to working with children—especially those who are often overlooked. I currently work in a kindergarten autism classroom, where every day I support students with diverse needs. Many of them are nonverbal or require one-on-one support, and many come from homes where resources are stretched thin. I meet them with patience, structure, and love. Whether it’s helping a child make eye contact for the first time or teaching a student how to regulate their emotions, these moments matter. They’re not always loud victories, but they are life-changing ones. I’ve also worked with parents—many who are new to the education system or who come from cultural backgrounds like mine. I offer them guidance, empathy, and strategies they can use at home. Representation matters, and I’ve seen the relief on their faces when they realize I understand. When I can be that bridge between school and home, I know I’m making a real difference. Beyond the classroom, I’ve led school supply drives, organized family learning nights, and volunteered at community centers where I run fun, STEM-based activities to spark curiosity in young minds. My mission is clear: to plant seeds of confidence and joy in children, especially those from Black, immigrant, or low-income backgrounds who may not see themselves in STEM or academic success stories. My cultural heritage shapes this mission. My African upbringing taught me to value education, but also community, humility, and perseverance. I was raised to believe that when one person rises, they lift others with them. My parents didn’t always understand the American school system, so I often became the translator, the advocate, the voice. That experience made me stronger—and made me want to be the adult I needed as a child. Now, as a full-time student pursuing a degree in early childhood development with a focus on inclusive STEM education, I face financial challenges that often feel overwhelming. I work hard, but my current income barely covers my basic needs, let alone tuition. The school I attend costs around $55,000 a year, and I currently make about $37,000. Still, I press on—because giving up is not an option when you know your purpose. Receiving the Dr. Soronnadi Nnaji Legacy Scholarship wouldn’t just lighten my financial burden—it would keep a dream alive. Dr. Nnaji stood for academic excellence, community impact, and lifting others through education. That’s exactly what I strive to do. With this scholarship, I could stay in school full-time, access resources I otherwise couldn’t afford, and continue building toward a career that directly impacts children with special needs. This scholarship wouldn’t just change my life—it would help me change many lives. I want to be the reason a child believes they can learn, speak, connect, and dream big. I want to be a light in dark places, just as others have been for me. Thank you for considering me. I’m ready to carry this legacy forward with heart, hard work, and unwavering dedication. Maria Wiggins

Why I’m Passionate About Becoming a Special Education Teacher There is a saying I live by: “Be who you needed when you were younger.” I’ve been many things in life—a teenage mom, a daycare provider, a food stamp recipient, a woman who worked tirelessly to raise three children—but one identity I’m most proud to be stepping into is that of a special education teacher. I believe that everything I’ve gone through, both the pain and the progress, has prepared me for this role. I don’t see it as a job; I see it as my calling. I’ve worked in early childhood education for many years, and most recently, I’ve been serving as a permanent substitute teacher in a kindergarten autism classroom. These young learners have changed me in ways I never imagined. Every small victory—a child making eye contact for the first time, using a new word, or simply sitting calmly during morning circle—is a reason to celebrate. I’ve learned patience, creativity, and resilience from my students. I’ve also learned that true teaching begins when you look past behaviors and labels, and see the child underneath—their heart, their potential, and their light. What It Means to Be Present: Professor Bloom’s Quote Explained Professor Harold Bloom once said, “I have learned that the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence.” When I first read this quote, it struck me deep. It’s not about just giving students knowledge—it’s about helping them understand and appreciate their own existence, value, and uniqueness. In simpler words, Bloom is saying that great teachers help students see themselves—not just in the mirror, but as meaningful people in this world. They guide students toward self-awareness, self-worth, and self-love. For students with special needs, this journey to self-presence is especially important and often more challenging. Many of them have already been labeled, underestimated, or pushed aside. They may not always communicate in traditional ways, but their voices still matter. My mission is to help them recognize that they are not broken, not less than, but deeply capable and full of purpose. My Mission in Special Education My mission is to create a classroom where every child feels seen, heard, and valued. I want each student to walk into my room and know: This is a safe place. This is a place where I matter. This is a place where I can grow. I will accomplish this by: • Building strong relationships with students and families. Trust is the foundation of learning. I will meet parents where they are, listen to their concerns, and work as a team to support their child. • Using culturally responsive and trauma-informed teaching practices. Many of my students, especially in urban settings, may come with layers of trauma or barriers. I will respond with love, not judgment. • Celebrating progress over perfection. In my classroom, success is not measured only by grades or test scores—it’s in the steps: following a routine, expressing a need, or making a friend. • Incorporating movement, sensory play, music, and visual supports to reach every learner in the way they learn best. • Teaching with empathy. I’ve been through hard times. I know what it feels like to be overlooked. I want my students to know that they are not alone. I will walk beside them, never ahead or behind, but right there with them. My classroom will be colorful, joyful, structured, and full of hope. I believe that teaching special education is about lighting a flame, not filling a bucket. And I plan to light up every room I walk into, just like I want my students to shine. Personal Connection and Inspiration My passion for special education didn’t begin in a textbook. It began in real life. As a young mom, I often had to advocate for my children. One of my children struggled with school anxiety and developmental delays. I remember the helplessness I felt trying to navigate the school system. But I fought. I learned. And through that fight, I discovered my own strength—and a deep understanding of how important it is for families to have educators who care. Later, I worked at a daycare and then in a special education classroom. I felt instantly connected to children with autism and other exceptional needs. They made me slow down, tune in, and adjust my lens. I stopped asking, “What’s wrong?” and started asking, “What does this child need?” That shift changed my life. And now, I’m in school myself, studying early childhood and special education, trying to become the kind of teacher I wish every child could have. A Brief Fairy Tale: Maria the Heart Whisperer Once upon a time, in a kingdom filled with noise, confusion, and labels, there lived a woman named Maria. She didn’t come from royal blood. She didn’t own gold or jewels. She didn’t have a map that showed her future. But what she did have was a heart full of love and the magical ability to see children others could not see. One day, Maria entered a school that had a forgotten room. Inside were children who didn’t speak like others, didn’t play like others, and were often misunderstood. The teachers before her had called it “the hard room.” But Maria didn’t believe in hard rooms—she believed in heart rooms. She listened with her eyes. She spoke with her smile. She used paintbrushes, songs, bubbles, and hugs as tools. She learned that one child loved animals, another loved colors, and one only felt calm when hearing soft music. Day by day, the room began to bloom. The children began to laugh. To connect. To grow. One day, the Queen of the Kingdom visited the school. When she walked into Maria’s classroom, she gasped. The room was filled with joy. The children were learning, communicating, and feeling proud. The Queen asked Maria, “What spell did you cast to do this?” Maria smiled and replied, “I whispered to their hearts until they heard their own.” The Queen wiped a tear and declared Maria the Royal Teacher of Presence. Maria continued her work—not for crowns, but for smiles. She knew her power wasn’t in her title, but in her touch. And she lived, taught, and loved happily ever after. Closing Thoughts: Why This Scholarship Matters I am the first in my family to attend college. I was a teen mom. I’ve struggled with finances. There were times I didn’t believe I could ever make it this far. But I kept going—for my children, for the students I serve, and for the little girl in me who was always trying to be “good enough.” This scholarship would be life-changing. It would help cover tuition, books, and transportation. But more than that—it would be an investment in every child I will one day teach. Your support won’t stop with me; it will echo through every classroom, every lesson, and every life I touch. I don’t want to just be a teacher. I want to be a heart whisperer, a dream defender, and a presence bringer. Thank you for considering me. Mariawiggins

Early childhood development is where my heart is. I’ve been passionate about working with young children ever since high school, where I took child development classes and realized how rewarding it was to help little ones grow and learn. That experience led me to work at a daycare center for many years, where I truly discovered how much I love supporting children under the age of four. From that moment on, I knew early childhood education was the right path for me. What made me choose this field is how children light up when they feel seen, heard, and understood. The smallest things—like reading a book, creating a snack, or singing a song—can become powerful teaching moments. I remember reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar with my class. The kids loved identifying all the different foods the caterpillar ate, and we even tried some of the healthy snacks from the book—like apples, plums, and watermelon. It wasn’t just storytime anymore—it was literacy, nutrition, and engagement all in one. The kids were excited, involved, and learning without even realizing it. Another moment that stands out is when we made “ants on a log”—celery sticks with peanut butter and raisins. To the kids, it was just a fun snack, but as an educator, I saw so much more. We practiced fine motor skills by spreading peanut butter, counted the raisins for math practice, and talked about healthy eating habits. They didn’t even know it was a nutritious snack; they just enjoyed being part of something hands-on and creative. That’s the magic of early childhood—learning through play, connection, and meaningful experiences. To support early childhood development, I plan to continue using fun, engaging activities that align with developmental goals. I want to build classrooms that are full of warmth, creativity, and structure—where children feel safe to explore and grow. My teaching style blends lessons with real-life experiences, like using food and books to teach math, language, and social skills. I also want to support families by sharing simple ways they can reinforce learning at home. I believe early childhood educators have the power to shape a child’s future by helping them build a strong foundation early on. My goal is to work with children in Pre-K through first grade and create a classroom where learning feels like joy. I want to help them develop critical early skills—like counting, recognizing letters, expressing emotions, and building friendships—while also encouraging independence and confidence. This scholarship will help me reach that goal. I’m determined to earn my degree and become a certified educator so I can continue doing the work I love on a deeper level. I’ve seen firsthand how impactful early childhood education can be, and I’m committed to being a positive influence in the lives of children and their families. Early childhood education is more than a career for me—it’s my calling. I love pouring into little lives, seeing their progress, and knowing I’ve played a part in helping them thrive. With the support of this scholarship, I’ll be able to continue learning, growing, and giving my best to the next generation.

Growing up, I was surrounded by the painful realities of domestic violence and substance abuse. My mother, a young mom herself, went through both. She was doing her best to raise us in a world that hadn’t given her the tools, support, or guidance she needed. My father and the men in her life were also young and lost, and unfortunately, that led to a toxic cycle that many families like mine fall into. At the time, I didn’t have the words to explain it, but I knew we were surviving something heavy. Watching my mom struggle broke my heart, but it also made me love her even more. I never judged her. Instead, I saw her pain and chose to love her through it. She didn’t have anyone showing her a better way, but she did the best she could. When I had my first son, something powerful happened—she quit using drugs and walked away from that violent relationship. She chose to fight for herself and for us. That turning point changed everything. Since then, she’s remained clean and has been a constant source of love and strength in my life. She is my best friend, and I tell her every day how proud I am of her. Instead of becoming bitter or broken, I became more compassionate and determined. I promised myself that I would be a better mother, and I have been. I broke the cycle. I parent with love, patience, and presence—because I know what it feels like to grow up in chaos. My children are my motivation, and I want them to see that it’s possible to rise above your circumstances. I want to be the first in my family to finish college, not just for me, but for them and for the women who feel like they can’t do it. That’s why I’m pursuing higher education. I want to use my degree to help other African American women who are still caught in the same struggles my mother once faced. I believe we need better care systems, stronger communication between service providers, and more culturally responsive support. I plan to work in spaces that directly impact women and children—whether in education, advocacy, or community programs—because that’s where change starts. I want to help design programs that teach women how to build better lives, how to leave toxic environments, and how to find healing. But more importantly, I want to listen to them, uplift them, and walk with them—not just talk at them. We need more safe spaces for Black women to be heard without being judged. That’s how you change lives. That’s how you change outcomes. My story began with pain and survival, but it’s evolving into one of purpose and legacy. Through education, I’m not only creating a better life for myself and my children—I’m paving the way for others to heal, grow, and thrive. My mom’s story may have started in darkness, but her strength lit the path for mine. Now it’s my turn to do the same for others.

Scholarship Essay: My Major and How This Scholarship Will Help My name is Maria Wiggins, and I’m currently working toward a degree in Early Childhood Education. My passion lies in teaching children from Pre-K through 1st grade, because I believe these early years are the most important foundation for a child’s lifelong learning and success. While I have experience working in a kindergarten classroom with children on the autism spectrum, my goal is to work with all young learners—helping each child grow academically, emotionally, and socially, no matter their background or ability. I didn’t always think college was possible for me. I became a mother at 15, and my main focus back then was survival. My family’s goal was simple: graduate high school. College wasn’t something we often talked about, and for many years I believed I had to settle. I was on food stamps, raising my children, and putting everyone’s needs before my own. But over time, I began to realize that I had more to give—not just to my family, but to the next generation of students who needed someone to believe in them early on. Today, I’m a proud mother of three—a 25-year-old, an 18-year-old, and a 16-year-old daughter. I returned to school because I wanted to be a living example for my kids, to show them that it’s never too late to chase your goals. I want them to see that education is powerful, and that they can accomplish anything they put their minds to. Being the first in my family to attend and finish college means more to me than a degree. It means breaking generational cycles and starting a new legacy. This scholarship would be a blessing to my journey. As a full-time worker in a school setting and a full-time mom, every dollar I earn goes toward bills, school expenses, and caring for my family. Receiving this support would ease the financial pressure and allow me to stay focused on my studies and fieldwork. It would help me cover tuition, books, and the tools I need to succeed in school and, eventually, in my own classroom. Working with young children has already changed my life. I’ve seen how a warm smile, patient guidance, and a structured learning environment can transform a student’s entire attitude toward learning. I want to be the kind of teacher who encourages students to love school from the very beginning. I want to give them the confidence to believe in themselves, the skills to build on, and the kindness they carry with them long after they leave my classroom. With the help of this scholarship, I will continue moving forward toward my dream of becoming a certified early childhood educator. I’m committed to creating safe, inclusive, and nurturing spaces for children in Pre-K through 1st grade. I want to give back to my community and help build strong foundations for students who, like me, just need someone to believe in them. Thank you for considering my application. This opportunity means more than words can explain.

Making a Difference, One Child at a Time In the heart of a kindergarten Autism classroom, where words are few but emotions run deep, I discovered not only my purpose but also the power of presence. As a long-term substitute teacher, I’ve worked with many children who face unique challenges, but one child in particular taught me how transformational it can be when a student feels truly seen and understood. I didn’t enter that classroom thinking I would change a life, but I quickly realized that by showing up with patience, compassion, and consistency, I could. When I first started working with this student, they barely spoke. They avoided eye contact, reacted strongly to sudden changes, and required constant one-on-one support just to remain in the classroom. During group lessons, they would isolate themselves or shut down completely. Most staff saw their behavior as defiance or disinterest, but I saw a child who was overwhelmed, scared, and misunderstood. I knew I couldn’t force a connection but I could earn one. I began to study the student’s IEP in detail, listened carefully to feedback from family members, and started documenting what triggered meltdowns versus what brought comfort. I noticed that soft background music helped calm their anxiety and that textured objects made them feel more secure during transitions. I created a personalized visual schedule to help reduce their confusion about the day’s routine and incorporated choice-making into simple activities to give them more control. These weren’t huge changes, but they made a world of difference. The biggest tool I used was my time. Every day, I made sure to greet them with warmth and encouragement. I knelt to their level when speaking, used soft tones, and gave them space when needed. I celebrated every small milestone—from holding a crayon for the first time without resistance to sitting through half a group activity. I remember clapping with joy when they finally participated in circle time by clapping along to the morning song. That day, their smile lit up the room, and I could feel the shift happening. This wasn’t just about academics—it was about trust, safety, and belonging. Over time, the child began to blossom. Their tantrums became less frequent, their eye contact improved, and their confidence grew. They began to participate in class routines, respond when spoken to, and even take small leadership roles, like passing out crayons or helping clean up. By the end of the semester, the student who once hid from group activities was now leading them with joy. Their growth was not just noticed in the classroom but also at home, where their caregivers reported more interaction, more smiles, and even verbal communication that hadn’t been there before. This experience did more than confirm my passion for education—it solidified my calling. I realized I don’t just want to be someone who teaches the alphabet or counts to ten. I want to be someone who helps children feel safe enough to try, brave enough to grow, and confident enough to shine in their own way. I want to work in education not because it’s easy, but because every child deserves someone who will meet them with patience and belief, especially when the rest of the world doesn’t understand them. As a mother of three—two grown sons and a teenage daughter—I know what it feels like to fight for your child’s future. I became a mother at 15 years old. At the time, the expectation in my family was simple: just finish high school. No one talked about college or career dreams. We were just trying to survive. I’ve been on food stamps. I’ve had to stretch $20 to feed a family. I know what it means to struggle. But I also know what it means to keep going. I returned to school later in life because I wanted to show my children—and children like the one in that classroom—that it’s never too late to become what you were meant to be. I want to be the first in my family to graduate college, not just for me, but to break generational patterns and open doors for the next generation. My daughter is now 16, and my sons are 25 and 18. I want them to see their mother finish what she started, so they know they can too. I want them to understand that growth is always possible, and that education is the key to unlocking change—not just in the world, but in yourself. Working in special education has opened my eyes to how much more needs to be done for students with disabilities. Too often, these students are overlooked, underestimated, or treated as behavior problems instead of human beings with complex needs. I want to be a voice for them. I want to use my degree not just to teach but to advocate—to help build schools where children are supported emotionally, socially, and academically. I want to be the educator who sees beyond the diagnosis and recognizes the human being inside every student. My ultimate goal is to earn my degree in education, specialize in inclusive practices, and one day develop programs that train teachers to better understand and support neurodiverse students. I also hope to support families, especially single mothers or caregivers who feel overwhelmed by the school system, by offering workshops and resources that bridge the gap between home and school. The child I worked with may not remember my name years from now, but I know they will remember how they felt in that classroom—safe, valued, and capable. That’s the legacy I want to leave. Not just test scores or lesson plans, but lives touched and hope restored. This scholarship would help me continue walking in my purpose. It would not just ease a financial burden—it would be a life-changing investment in someone who is committed to making a difference every single day. I’ve already started changing lives in the classroom. Now, I just need the opportunity to keep going. Thank Maria Wiggins

Mental health has played a major role in shaping who I am today. Growing up, mental health wasn’t something we talked about openly in my family or community. As a young mom at 15, I had to grow up fast while still trying to figure out who I was. I struggled silently with anxiety, depression, and feelings of self-doubt, but I didn’t always have the words or support to express what I was going through. My experience with mental health taught me how to push through pain, but also the importance of slowing down, seeking help, and giving grace to myself and others. Coming from a family where the expectation was just to finish high school, I was told to be strong no matter what. I did finish high school, but it took years before I found the courage to return to school again as a mother of three—two grown sons and a teenage daughter—because I want them to see that it’s possible to break cycles and rise above circumstances. I want to be the first of my mom’s children to graduate from college and to prove that no matter how hard life gets, you can always come back and rebuild. My mental health journey has made me more compassionate and understanding of others, especially those who suffer in silence. It’s taught me not to judge people by their worst moments but to recognize the strength it takes just to get out of bed some days. These beliefs have strengthened my relationships with my children, partner, and students. I’ve become a better listener, more patient, and more intentional about creating safe spaces for others. In the classroom, my experiences have given me a special connection to students who struggle emotionally, socially, or behaviorally. As a substitute teacher working in a Kindergarten Autism classroom, I’ve seen firsthand how mental and emotional challenges affect learning and development. I understand how much it means to be seen, heard, and supported. I make it a goal every day to show up for my students in ways I wish someone had shown up for me during my hard times. Because of all this, I want to pursue a career in education and mental health advocacy. I believe schools need more teachers, counselors, and staff who understand trauma, anxiety, and the real-life struggles students bring with them to school. I want to help change the way we approach learning and behavior—not with punishment or blame, but with compassion and support. My goal is to earn a degree that allows me to work closely with children and families who need someone who not only has the education but also the lived experience. Mental health has shaped my path in painful but powerful ways. It taught me how to survive—but more importantly, how to thrive. With strength, faith, and the right support, I now believe healing is possible—and that I am capable of more than I ever imagined. I hope to use my education and experience to uplift others, especially those who feel like giving up, just like I once did.

If I could create a class that all students in grades K-12 were required to take, it would be a class called “Real Life Ready: Mind, Heart & Hustle.” This class would focus on life skills, emotional awareness, communication, and basic survival knowledge that so many students don’t get a chance to learn at home. I believe it’s time we stop assuming kids will “figure things out” and start teaching them how to actually navigate the real world. Not just with facts—but with confidence, self-respect, and strong values. As a mother, a student, and a full-time educator working with children who have autism, I’ve seen firsthand how many young people are struggling—not because they aren’t smart, but because they’re not taught how to handle life. I became a young Black mom at just 15 years old, and I know what it’s like to feel unprepared. But I’m living proof that it’s never too late to go to school, change your life, and chase your dreams. I’ve worked hard to return to school while raising a family and working full-time. I carry that same motivation and heart into my classroom every day. This class would begin in elementary school with lessons on emotions: learning how to name their feelings, talk about them in healthy ways, and use coping strategies to calm down. We would teach kindness, patience, and how to be a friend. In middle school, the class would evolve to cover conflict resolution, how to set personal boundaries, healthy communication, and even goal setting. By high school, we’d dive into more advanced topics like budgeting, credit scores, writing a resume, job interview practice, time management, and learning how to live independently. One unit I’d be most proud of would be called “You Matter.” It would cover self-love, identity, and purpose—helping students understand that their story, no matter how different or difficult, has meaning. There are so many children, especially in low-income, minority, or special education communities, who feel left behind or unseen. This class would shine a light on their value and help them build self-confidence that lasts beyond graduation. The impact of this class would be powerful. It would reduce stress, bullying, and violence in schools by teaching students how to regulate emotions and resolve conflict without fighting. It would prepare students to leave high school with more than a diploma—they’d leave with real-world knowledge. Many young adults don’t know how to open a bank account, cook a meal, or create a budget. I’ve had to learn some of these things the hard way, but I want the next generation to be better prepared. This class would be inclusive of all learning styles and abilities. As someone who works with students who have IEPs and special needs, I believe every child can learn, but we have to meet them where they are. “Real Life Ready” would be more than a class—it would be a foundation for life. If we want to raise a generation that thrives, we must teach them more than math and reading—we must teach them how to live.