"Why is your brother different? Why doesn't he go to a normal classroom? Can't he be cured?" Growing up, I heard these questions over and over again from my friends and peers. "He has autism," was the response I learned to give. The truth is I always wished there would be a cure for his condition, so he could play with other kids and be "normal." I never truly understood the blessing that autism is and the lessons it comes with until I was older. On the bad days, there's tantrums and things thrown everywhere, but through the screaming and crying, he has taught me patience. On the good days, he's a bundle of joy and innocence, showing his love for those around him openly. That has taught me to see the world through his eyes and see the beauty in the things I often take for granted. My little brother navigates challenges with speech, social cues, sensory issues, coordination, and learning. Nevertheless, he embodies the qualities of innocence, love, compassion, humor, positivity, authenticity, and kindness. Each child has unique needs and characteristics that demand individualized attention and care, a principle that extends to all disabilities. In the rapidly changing modern world we are in, the resources available for special education are alarmingly scarce. According to the Pew Research Center, 40% of schools had a special education teaching vacancy and reported challenges in filling these positions. Furthermore, the number of students in special education programs has increased by approximately 15% in the past decade, according to the National Center for Education Statistics. This data highlights the significant need for action. As an undergraduate student at Arizona State University pursuing a degree in special education, I have learned that one-on-one connections are vital for making an impact and a sincere investment in service towards others. I've witnessed firsthand through my own experiences that becoming a teacher requires patience, dedication, and unwavering commitment. Every day, my younger brother's progress reminds of the rewarding nature of becoming an educator. To me, education is the very foundation of this world, and learning is a lifelong process. My aim is not to make an impact that will bring me fame or fundamentally alter society. Rather, I aspire to make a meaningful impact on the lives of each individual child I encounter. I believe it is far more valuable to make a small, enduring impact on an individual than a wide, transient one. By dedicating my career to special education, I hope to create an environment that empowers children to thrive, nurturing a more compassionate world, one child at a time. And maybe we can all learn to be a little more like the boy with autism that has shown me how to love without fear, to find the joy in the small things, and to persevere even through the hard times.

"Grandpa's cancer spread to his pancreas. The doctor's said he has anywhere from six months to two more years left." Around six months ago, I received the phone call from my mom that would change my outlook on life itself, realizing how much time I had taken for granted and how quickly anything could change in an instant. There's no book that tells you how you're supposed to react when you find out life's clock is ticking for someone you love. I was at a loss for words. I felt everything and nothing at the same time. I didn't cry, didn't scream or curse the world for giving my grandpa a disease without a cure. I just took it and kept living my life. No one talks about the guilt you feel for not crying over something that shatters you from the inside out, or the constant dread you feel knowing every time you see them might be last. How do you keep living when someone else is dying? My grandpa accepted it almost as soon as he heard. I don't doubt he dreads the moment it comes, but he knows that whenever it happens, he will be reunited with his true love, my grandmother. I think that brings him peace. These past few months have been a constant roller coaster of doctor's appointments for him, but he continues to live his life to the fullest, always having a smile on his face. His attitude has brought me peace. When the time comes, it will hurt, my heart will shatter, but he will be with my grandma watching over me. Throughout all of this, that has brought me the greatest peace in the storm. So, I love like him, live like him, laugh like him, knowing soon he may go, but he will stay in my heart. There is a stark and concerning lack of resources available in the world of education, especially for those with disabilities. A dream that I’m deeply passionate about is to become a special education teacher, a goal that holds deep personal significance for me. This aspiration was ignited by my younger brother, who was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder at the age of five. My little brother navigates challenges with speech, communication, social interactions, sensory issues, and learning. Nevertheless, he embodies the qualities of innocence, love, compassion, humor, positivity, authenticity, and kindness. There's a significant lack of understanding surrounding autism, often leading to the misconception that it needs to be "fixed." However, autism can't simply be eliminated; it's an integral part of the lives of those affected. What's truly needed is acceptance and the pursuit of their happiness. Children with autism require understanding, support, and, above all, patience. Each child has unique needs and characteristics that demand individualized attention and care, a principle that extends to all disabilities. In the rapidly changing modern world we are in, the resources available for special education are alarmingly scarce. My aim is not to make an impact that will bring me fame or fundamentally alter society. Rather, I aspire to make a meaningful impact on the lives of each individual child I encounter. I believe it is far more valuable to make a small, enduring impact on an individual than a wide, transient one. By dedicating my career to special education, I wish to create an environment that empowers children to thrive, nurturing a more compassionate world, one child at a time.

Every day is a battle, but it's not a typical battle. Because the truth is, we are fighting ourselves. We're fighting the voices in our head that tell us we're not enough. We're fighting the urge to never wake up for another day. We're fighting the nightmares that haunt us. We're fighting to stay another day, so as to not hurt the ones we love. So we hurt ourselves instead. We cut to distract ourselves from the pain, or to feel something, anything. We starve ourselves until we're perfect. We shape ourselves into what everyone wants us to be, fitting the mold they have set out for us, but we crack and break and fall apart as we try to do the impossible. Do you remember those games that we played as kids, with the holes and shapes? You couldn't put the circle in the triangle hole. You tried it before. So why do you keep trying it? Albert Einstein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.” Why do we let ourselves succumb to the voices that tell us it’s just one more time? We hold on to ideas and habits that don’t do us any good. All they do is dig us a deeper hole, so deep we can’t get out by ourselves, so deep everything gets dark and you can barely see the light at the surface, so deep that you can’t go any deeper without falling off the face of the earth. But all along, there’s been a choice for you to make because along the wall of the hole you’ve been digging yourself, someone has let down a rope for you. You’ve been so caught up in yourself and the voices in you, that you haven’t even tried to listen to the voices of the people who really care about you. You have a choice that no one can take from you: You can get help and climb out of the scary pit you’re in, or you can continue to be scared, lonely, and vulnerable in your hole and take the quick way out. However, I’m warning you, the quick way will fill you with so many regrets and won’t bring you anything you’re looking for. I’m a survivor. Not a victim, not a captive, not weak, and not my diagnoses. That innocent sparkle in my eyes disappeared too soon. I stopped loving myself because I wasn’t perfect or worthy of love. Every time I made one silly mistake, I was a failure that deserved the blows that left my heart battered and bruised. I genuinely believed that as I was growing up. I was a ghost of myself. I started drawing lines in my skin, where no one would see. As I let my body become the canvas for my pain, the wounds on the outside became a representation of the wounds inside. If the ones on the outside could heal, maybe the ones on the inside could too. However, I still fell into a myriad of mental illnesses and destructive behaviors. I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and anorexia and sent into residential treatment. Months later I was admitted to a hospital and diagnosed with PTSD. I turned to drugs and kept spiraling. I was admitted to another hospital the next year and diagnosed with BPD. I was sent into long-term treatment at a therapeutic boarding school. Throughout all this, I had the choice I mentioned to you. I refused to see and acknowledge that people do care for me and that I’m not alone. I’ve been sexually assaulted twice, been emotionally and physically abused, struggled with a drug addiction, and have attempted suicide 3 times. I attempted suicide for the first time when I was 12. When people say that suicide is “taking the easy way out”, I think it makes people with depression seem helpless. It’s not easy at all to get to the point where you see death as your best option. Suicide never makes someone weak, and it should never be treated as attention seeking. Suicide is a real issue that takes the lives of thousands of people yearly. So I leave you with words I wish I’d heard 5 years ago: You won’t find happiness in that hole. You are not alone. Your feelings are valid, and you deserve to get help, even if it takes time. Let yourself accept that help. Grab that rope and start climbing.

Throughout my life, I have always held myself to high standards, pushing myself to strive for perfection. A dream that I’m passionate about is to become a special education teacher, a goal that holds deep personal significance for me. This aspiration was ignited by my younger brother, who was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder at the age of five. My little brother faces challenges with speech, communication, social interactions, sensory issues, and learning, yet I see his pure soul shining through. He embodies innocence, love, compassion, humor, positivity, authenticity, and perfection on a profound level. I've cherished him since the day he was born, and I'm determined to support other children like him. There's a significant lack of understanding surrounding autism, often leading to the misconception that it needs to be "fixed." However, autism can't simply be eliminated; it's an integral part of the lives of those affected. What's truly needed is acceptance and the pursuit of their happiness. Children with autism require understanding, support, and, above all, patience. Each child has their own unique needs and characteristics that demand specific attention and care. I used to volunteer in a classroom at a church. This experience taught me to organize activities and provide help to the small group of kids I worked with. It helped me realize how important a childhood is because they wire the brain for the rest of a kid's life. Mentors and idols presented at this time help determine a lot of the child's future behaviors and decisions. I've also participated in a program called "Big Sisters". I received a "little sister" who has high-functioning autism, and I helped teach her how our boarding school works and what it looks like to be successful in this type of environment. I've been able to guide her through her time being here, and recently, she graduated high school. These one-on-one connections are so important to making an impact and truly being invested in the process of helping. I've also witnessed this firsthand through my brother's journey. It demands patience, dedication, and unwavering commitment. This principle isn't limited to autism; it also extends to all disabilities. I don't wish to make an impact that will make me "famous" or "alter the world as we know it." I simply want to make an impact on each individual kid's lives who I meet. Individual relationships are so much more important than affecting everyone in humanity. I believe it's more important to make a small, lasting impact than a big, fleeting one.