As a full-time art teacher, cross country and track coach, and graduate student pursuing my Master of Arts in Teaching, I wear a lot of hats. The most meaningful one is being a mentor. I try to see potential in my students before it’s fully visible. One of the most memorable moments in my teaching journey happened unexpectedly at the back to school picnic. I noticed a spark in a student that would go on to ignite not just her passion, but mine too. She wasn’t the fastest on the playground that day, but I saw something in her, a combination of emotional endurance and quiet determination that I knew would make her a strong cross country runner. I was recruiting kids for the team, a sport I coach in addition to teaching art, and I asked if she had ever thought about running. She shook her head and said, “I don’t run.” I told her I believed she could and I meant it. She paused for a second, then said, “I’ll do cross country if you start an art club.” I laughed and promised her that once the season ended, art club would begin. She joined the team and practices were tough. However, she showed up every day without excuses. Her progress wasn’t instant, but I could see her growing. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. She started to trust her body and believe in herself. A few months later she joined track and came just short of qualifying for state. But she didn’t give up. She kept working, kept showing up. The following cross country season, she made it to the state meet. True to my word, I started an art club once the season wrapped up. She joined that too. I could tell it gave her something she hadn’t had before, a space where she didn’t have to race or be timed, just create and express. I watched her confidence take root and spread, across disciplines, seasons, and years. She’s now in high school and I stay in touch with her family. She has qualified for the state meet in both cross country and track every season. Every time I hear about her success, I think back to that conversation on the playground, and I’m reminded how powerful it is when an educator sees a student not just for who they are, but for who they can become. To me, being an educator means making those kinds of promises and following through. It means holding up a mirror so students can begin to see their own potential. It means building trust through consistency, care, and creativity. I come from a low-income household, so I know firsthand how meaningful it is to have someone believe in you, especially when your dreams feel uncertain or risky. I also want to show my daughter that no matter where you come from, you can go after what you love. I strive to be that kind of person for my students. Whether it’s in the classroom, on a field, or in an after school club, I want to create spaces where students feel seen, supported, and capable of excellence. Sierra Argumedo’s vision to make sure every child feels seen and loved is deeply aligned with my own. Her legacy reminds me that kindness is a form of leadership, and that a teacher’s belief in a child can truly change everything. I’m honored to carry that legacy forward in my work, every single day.

As a full-time art teacher, practicing artist, and mother of a young child, I am deeply committed to public service because I live its impact daily in my classroom, my community, and my home. I am currently pursuing a Master of Arts in Teaching (MAT) with a Professional Educator License and an endorsement in art, a path rooted in my belief that art education is not a luxury, but a vital means of connection, empowerment, and healing for young people. I teach middle school art in a diverse public school where many students face socioeconomic and emotional challenges. Art becomes a safe space for them, a place to express feelings they don’t yet have words for and to build confidence they often struggle to find elsewhere. My work extends beyond teaching techniques; it is about helping students see themselves as creators of meaning and beauty, even in difficult circumstances. I also teach elective courses in fashion and visual journaling, encouraging students to explore identity, culture, and self-reflection through creative practice. These experiences have reinforced my commitment to serving youth through education that uplifts both skill and spirit. Public service often goes unrecognized, but its effects ripple through generations. I see this when a formerly disengaged student finds their voice in a sketchbook, or when a shy child beams while presenting their artwork to peers. I see it in parents who attend our art show shows and realize their children have something important to say. These moments drive my desire to continue working in education long-term, not only as a teacher but one day as a mentor to future educators and advocate for equitable access to arts programs in public schools. Balancing my roles as a full-time teacher, graduate student, and mother of an infant requires focus and resilience. It also gives me perspective. I understand how important it is for communities to have public servants who are present, empathetic, and committed to sustainable, long-term care. With the advanced training I am receiving through my MAT program, I plan to design more inclusive and responsive curricula, facilitate community art initiatives, and contribute to professional development programs that help fellow educators infuse creativity into their teaching. In the future, I hope to establish a nonprofit that bridges classroom learning and community art projects, providing youth with real-world opportunities to use their creativity to address local issues, from mental health awareness to environmental stewardship. By empowering young people through the arts, we can foster a generation that not only dreams but also acts. Public service is not a side effort for me, it is the core of who I am and how I move through the world. This scholarship would directly support my mission by helping me complete my education while continuing to serve my students and community with dedication and heart.

Like Dr. Reece, I’m pursuing an advanced degree while raising a child. My daughter, Mia, reminds me daily why it’s important to model perseverance, joy, and service. I want her, and all my students, to see that education isn’t just about mastering content. It’s about becoming the kind of person who uses their gifts to uplift others. I became a teacher because I believe in the transformative power of creativity, care, and connection, especially for students who might otherwise be overlooked. As an artist and educator, my teaching journey has been deeply shaped by both personal and professional experiences, particularly the example of the teachers who nurtured my creativity, and the young people who remind me every day why this work matters. One of my greatest inspirations was my high school art teacher, Mr. Exner. I only had him for one year in the classroom, but his impact stayed with me long after. After freshman year, I had to choose between orchestra and art as my elective, and I chose to return to orchestra. However, I stayed involved in art through our after-school club, where Mr. Exner was the sponsor. I remained in the art club for all four years and eventually became its president. His energy, encouragement, and joy in teaching made art feel like a place of freedom and possibility. He allowed me to explore my own interests while still providing structure and support. One project that stayed with me was block printing, I remember the pride I felt when he hung my final piece above his desk. Years later, I visited the school and saw that it was still there. That moment solidified something for me: teachers have the power to make students feel seen, valued, and remembered. In my own classroom, I strive to do the same. Whether I'm guiding middle schoolers through their first visual journal entries or helping high schoolers express themselves through fashion design, I try to create a culture where all students feel seen, heard, and empowered. I want them to experience what I did with Mr. Exner, a space where their voice matters and their creativity is honored. My path to teaching has also been shaped by my experiences as a low-income student, an artist, and now a mother. I understand the challenges many of my students face, balancing responsibilities, navigating uncertainty, and searching for a sense of belonging. These experiences inform how I teach and how I show up for my students. A formative moment in my life was temporarily losing my sight as a child. That experience taught me to appreciate beauty in unexpected places and to approach teaching with deep empathy. It’s part of what led me to develop an Abstract Nature painting series, and it also shows up in the way I encourage students to explore their senses, take creative risks, and embrace imperfection. This scholarship would help lighten the financial load as I work toward completing my Master of Arts in Teaching and earning my Professional Educator License with an endorsement in art. More than that, it would connect me to Dr. Reece’s legacy, a reminder that educators can make a lasting difference, not just through what they teach, but through how they live.

I am an art teacher, a graduate student pursuing my Master of Arts in Teaching with a Professional Educator License, and a mother to a vibrant one-year-old. These full-time roles are demanding and, at times, overwhelming, but they also shape my identity, define my purpose, and deepen the impact I hope to make, as an educator, as an artist, and most importantly, as a mother. My decision to return to school after having my daughter was rooted in a desire for growth, both personal and professional. I wanted to show her that anything is possible with determination and vision. I have been teaching for several years, but I always knew that pursuing my master’s degree would allow me to deepen my pedagogy, earn full licensure, and become the most effective, informed educator I can be. Motherhood strengthened this resolve. It made me more committed than ever to lead by example, to pursue lifelong learning, embrace challenges, and model what it looks like to follow your calling with courage and clarity. Balancing my responsibilities as a mother, teacher, and graduate student has required sacrifice and discipline. My day begins at 5:00 a.m., when I wake to study and pump. I arrive at school by 7:30 and complete student teaching hours before teaching nonstop from 9:00 to 3:30. After school, I pick up my daughter, Mia, from my mother, who generously cares for her during the day. My husband and I alternate cooking and caring for Mia until her bedtime around 8:00 p.m. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I attend graduate courses from 5:30 to 8:50 p.m. It is exhausting, but I have developed routines and systems that help me stay grounded. There are moments when I feel stretched thin, but then I remind myself that I am doing this for Mia. I want her to grow up seeing that women can be both caregivers and leaders, nurturers and scholars. I want her to know that motherhood and ambition are not mutually exclusive. They can, and do, coexist. The challenges are real: financial stress, mental fatigue, and the constant pressure on my time. Yet I have learned I am not alone. My own mother returned to school when I was a child, and now she supports me as I follow a similar path. Her resilience and commitment to growth shaped the very decision I am making today. To overcome the obstacles, I have learned to embrace structure, ask for help, and extend myself grace. I am applying for the Jerrye Chesnes Memorial Scholarship to help ease the financial burden of this journey. More importantly, it would validate the journey of returning to school as a nontraditional student and a parent. I am not just investing in my own future. I am modeling strength, purpose, and perseverance for both my daughter and my students.

I am an art teacher, a graduate student pursuing my Master of Arts in Teaching with a Professional Educator License, and a mother to a vibrant one-year-old. These full-time roles are demanding and, at times, overwhelming, but they also shape my identity, define my purpose, and deepen the impact I hope to make, as an educator, as an artist, and most importantly, as a mother. My decision to return to school after having my daughter was rooted in a desire for growth, both personal and professional. I wanted to show her that anything is possible with determination and vision. I have been teaching for several years, but I always knew that pursuing my master’s degree would allow me to deepen my pedagogy, earn full licensure, and become the most effective, informed educator I can be. Motherhood strengthened this resolve. It made me more committed than ever to lead by example, to pursue lifelong learning, embrace challenges, and model what it looks like to follow your calling with courage and clarity. I also find daily motivation in my students, especially those who see art class as a safe space, just as I did when I was younger. Many of my students use creative expression to explore their identities and lived experiences, and I am deeply committed to creating a classroom culture that fosters belonging, confidence, and risk-taking. My goal is to build an environment where every student feels seen, valued, and empowered. Balancing my responsibilities as a mother, teacher, and graduate student has required sacrifice and discipline. My day begins at 5:00 a.m., when I wake to study and pump. I arrive at school by 7:30 and complete student teaching hours before teaching nonstop from 9:00 to 3:30. After school, I pick up my daughter, Mia, from my mother, who generously cares for her during the day. My husband and I alternate cooking and caring for Mia until her bedtime around 8:00 p.m. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I attend graduate courses from 5:30 to 8:50 p.m. It is exhausting, but I have developed routines and systems that help me stay grounded. There are moments when I feel stretched thin, but then I remind myself that I am doing this for Mia. I want her to grow up seeing that women can be both caregivers and leaders, nurturers and scholars. I want her to know that motherhood and ambition are not mutually exclusive. They can, and do, coexist. The challenges are real: financial stress, mental fatigue, and the constant pressure on my time. Yet I have learned I am not alone. My own mother returned to school when I was a child, and now she supports me as I follow a similar path. Her resilience and commitment to growth shaped the very decision I am making today. To overcome the obstacles, I have learned to embrace structure, ask for help, and extend myself grace. I am applying for the HeySunday Scholarship to help ease the financial burden of this journey. I am not just investing in my own future. I am modeling strength, purpose, and perseverance for both my daughter and my students. Thank you for supporting mothers like me who are choosing to grow, lead, and inspire.

Pursuing a Master of Arts in Teaching (MAT) with an endorsement in art education is both a professional goal and a deeply personal mission for me. As a full-time art teacher, mother, and practicing artist, the support of the OMC Graduate Scholarship would provide essential financial relief. It would affirm my commitment to using art education as a tool for change, growth, and connection. I currently teach at charter schools under charter law, which allows me to lead classrooms without a professional educator license. However, earning my MAT and obtaining full licensure will solidify my foundation as a qualified educator and open more opportunities for me to grow in my field. I’m pursuing this degree not just for career advancement, but because I am deeply invested in becoming the best teacher I can be for my students now, and for generations to come. My goal is to become a lifelong educator and a pillar in my community. I want to be the kind of teacher who is remembered not just for what I taught, but for how I made students feel seen, empowered, and inspired to express themselves. I hope that decades from now, former students will say, “She was my art teacher,” with pride and affection. I want to build a legacy that transcends a single classroom or school year and becomes a part of the fabric of the community I serve. It is my work with children, especially those from under-resourced communities that fuels my passion for teaching. I believe art education fosters confidence, empathy, and critical thinking, and I am committed to ensuring that all students have access to high-quality creative learning experiences. Balancing graduate school, full-time teaching, and parenting my daughter, Mia Nessa, is no small feat. As a low-income student, managing tuition along with daily living expenses requires significant sacrifice. This scholarship would ease that financial burden, allowing me to focus more fully on my studies and continue giving my best to my students and my family. It would also allow me to complete my licensure without delay, ensuring that I can continue to teach and lead with full certification. With the MAT and Professional Educator License, I plan to create more inclusive, culturally relevant art curricula and eventually develop community-based programs that connect schools, families, and local artists. I see myself not just as an educator, but as a community builder, someone who brings people together through creativity and care. The OMC Graduate Scholarship would not only support me financially; it would also validate my vision of education as a powerful force for good. With your support, I will be able to take the next step toward becoming the kind of educator, artist, and community leader I’ve always aspired to be.

Balancing motherhood, work, and education is not just a matter of time management, it is an act of endurance, resilience, and determination. My journey as a working mother has shaped every facet of who I am today: a full-time art teacher, a graduate student pursuing a Master of Arts in Teaching, a practicing artist with my own small business, and, most importantly, the mother of a joyful and curious baby. After the birth of my daughter, Mia Nessa, I learned to balance the demands of caregiving and professional ambition. I teach art to middle-school students during the day and care for my daughter in the evenings. Those early months were exhausting. Mia was a “velcro baby” – she needed to be near me constantly, and I often taught my students with only a few hours of broken sleep. But something surprising happened in the midst of all that fatigue: I became more focused, empathetic, and driven than ever before. Being a middle-school art teacher is a challenging and rewarding experience. Leaving my newborn daughter in the care of my mother while I cared for nearly 400 students was difficult, but motherhood gave me a newfound strength and a deeper understanding of the kind of teacher and role model I want to be. I don’t just want to teach my students how to make art, I want to show them how to persevere, how to adapt, problem solve, and how to lead with empathy. Being a mother has made me more patient and creative in the classroom, especially as I navigate the diverse needs of my students. I now see every child not only as a learner but also as someone’s whole world, just as Mia is mine. At the same time, my experiences as a working mother have inspired me to expand my skills and deepen my professional impact. Becoming a mother pushed me to jump in feet first, enrolling in a graduate program to earn my teaching license and endorsement in art. My daughter has shown me just how capable I am. Juggling tasks like installing a student art show during the day, tackling graduate coursework at night, and preparing her things for the next day in between. I’m also growing my art business, Choate Studio, where I create and sell artwork and offer private art and sewing lessons. Through this business, I hope to continue inspiring others, especially mothers, to explore their creativity and pursue their passions. Balancing work, studying, and caregiving has not been easy, but it has made my goals clearer. I want to become a permanent figure in my community, someone generations of students and families know as their local art teacher. I want to create a classroom where students feel seen, where their creativity is nurtured, and where their voices help shape what and how we learn. My goal is to teach not just art, but how to think creatively, adapt to change, and express ideas with confidence. I want to be a leader in art education, not just for my students but for my fellow teachers and artists. I want my daughter to grow up seeing her mother pursue her dreams with tenacity and joy. Receiving the Jennifer Gephart Memorial Working Mothers Scholarship would allow me to continue my education while advancing my career. More than that, it would affirm the belief that mothers like me, who work hard, dream big, and care deeply, deserve to be invested in. Like Jennifer Gephart, I hope to leave a legacy not just of professional accomplishment, but of mentorship, creativity, and inspiring others to pursue art.

As a lifelong fan of Team USA and a woman who grew up strong in a world that didn’t always value strength in girls, Ilona Maher is the athlete who inspires me the most. Watching her dominate on the rugby field, speak out boldly about body image, and shine just as brightly off the field, whether on Dancing with the Stars, magazine covers, or social media, has reminded me that strength is beautiful, and it always has been. Growing up in the early 2000s, I struggled deeply with body dysmorphia. I was strong, and I’ve always been strong. I loved lifting weights, being active, and challenging my body in ways that made me feel powerful. But at the time, the beauty ideal was thin, not strong. Muscles on girls were seen as unfeminine, and strong girls didn’t make the magazines. I internalized a lot of shame about my body, even though it was healthy, capable, and resilient. Now, as a teacher, a mom, an artist, and a graduate student, I carry that history with me. I work every day to model confidence and self-love for my students and my daughter. When I see Ilona Maher doing the same on a national stage, lifting her partner on Dancing with the Stars, throwing out the first pitch at a Padres game, and proudly posing on the cover of Sports Illustrated, I feel seen. Her advocacy for body positivity and her unapologetic presence in sports and media mean more to me than I can fully express. Ilona didn’t start playing rugby until she was 17, yet she went on to win three collegiate championships, compete in two Olympic Games, and bring home a bronze medal for Team USA in Paris. Her journey shows what’s possible when you embrace your strength, regardless of what the world expects. That message resonates deeply with me. Whether I’m in the classroom or at home with my baby, I try to bring that same energy into everything I do. I am strong, and I want every student, especially the girls, to know they are enough just as they are. Ilona Maher isn’t just a phenomenal athlete; she’s a role model for a new generation of fans who celebrate strength, confidence, and authenticity. That’s why I’m proud to cheer for her, and why she’ll always be my favorite Team USA athlete.

I was first diagnosed with anxiety and ADHD in college, but in reality, I’ve been living with anxiety for as long as I can remember. Starting in kindergarten, I would throw up almost every morning before school. I was so scared to go that my body physically reacted to the stress. At the time, I didn’t know how to name what I was feeling. I just knew I felt overwhelmed, terrified of the social pressure and interactions that school demanded. Over the years, I learned to cope in my own ways. One of the turning points for me came when I started giving compliments to strangers, something that sounds simple, but for someone with social anxiety, felt monumental. It was my way of pushing back against the voice in my head telling me to stay small, stay quiet, stay safe. Those moments of reaching out, even just to say “I like your shoes” or “that color looks great on you,” helped me start building confidence and connection. It became a practice in facing my fear, one sentence at a time. Now, as a teacher, I work through my anxiety every single day. I stand in front of students, speak at meetings, collaborate with colleagues, all things that used to feel impossible. But that doesn’t mean the anxiety is gone. I still overthink conversations, worry about oversharing, and replay interactions in my head at night. Being a teacher has taught me how to hold space for both my fear and my purpose. I’ve learned to lead even when I’m uncomfortable, and I try to model vulnerability and resilience for my students. Returning to school to earn my Master of Arts in Teaching has brought on a new wave of anxiety. Balancing work, parenting, and graduate school is intense enough, but adding social interactions, presentations, and academic pressure on top of that can feel overwhelming. Even so, I’m committed to this path because I know the value of education, not just for my students, but for myself. I believe in the power of teachers who understand what it means to struggle quietly and persist anyway. Pursuing a degree isn’t just about credentials for me. It’s about becoming the best version of myself for my students and my own daughter. It’s about proving that social anxiety doesn’t have to keep me from showing up in the world with confidence, empathy, and purpose. I want my students to see that it’s okay to be scared, but it’s still possible to speak up, take risks, and keep moving forward. This scholarship would not only ease the financial pressure of returning to school, it would also represent something deeper: recognition of the quiet strength it takes to face social anxiety and keep going. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, and I’m ready to keep growing, one brave step at a time.

Billie Eilish’s music resonates with me on a soul-deep level. Her voice, her lyrics, and her vulnerability have helped me make sense of emotions I often find difficult to name. My top three Billie Eilish songs are “Birds of a Feather,” “Lovely,” and “What Was I Made For?”. Each reflects different parts of my inner world and personal journey. “Birds of a Feather” captures a kind of love that feels both eternal and fragile. The lyrics, “I want you to stay / 'Til I'm in the grave,” speak to the fierce loyalty I feel for the people I love most. As a new mother, I’ve found myself overwhelmed by the intensity of love I feel for my daughter. It’s a love that I want to carry with me for the rest of my life. This song flips the usual narrative of dying for someone and instead focuses on choosing to love someone through the entirety of life. That message feels deeply human and honest, and it mirrors the kind of connection I hope to nurture with the people who mean the most to me. “Lovely,” featuring Khalid, has been a quiet companion during some of the most difficult seasons of my life. The haunting melody and lyrics like “Isn’t it lovely, all alone” give voice to feelings of loneliness and internal struggle that I’ve often tried to keep hidden. When I was feeling overwhelmed trying to balance motherhood, teaching, and graduate school, this song gave me permission to sit with those emotions without shame. It didn’t try to fix anything, it simply made me feel less alone. That kind of emotional validation is powerful and rare. “What Was I Made For?” speaks to the part of me that is constantly questioning my identity, especially as a woman and an artist. There are times I’ve felt pulled in too many directions, trying to meet others' expectations while losing sight of who I am. This song captures the ache of that confusion, but also the quiet resilience it takes to keep going. It reminds me that I’m not alone in the search for meaning and self-worth, and it encourages me to keep creating, loving, and showing up, even when I’m not sure where it’s all leading. Each of these songs has helped me feel seen during moments of joy, despair, and reflection. Billie Eilish doesn’t just write music; she creates emotional space for her listeners to be vulnerable. Her work has reminded me that being honest about how we feel can be a kind of strength, and that music has the power to carry us through.