I never pictured myself in front of a classroom, guiding students through concepts and lessons. Especially since I was always the shy kid who would feel awkward presenting projects. However, one person stood out to me, above all others, my senior year math teacher Mrs. Martin. While I had many supportive figures in my life-family, friends, coaches- none had such a lasting impact on me as she did. She had so much belief in her students, her passion for teaching, and her ability to transform a subject I once dreaded into something I looked forward to each day fundamentally changed how I saw myself and my potential. It was through her influence that I eventually realized the power of education not only as a means of learning but as a tool for transformation. Before senior year, math had always been a source of anxiety. It was a rollercoaster topic for me throughout middle and early high school. I had internalized so much self-doubt about my intelligence that I simply believed that I “was not a math person.” My relationship with the subject was built on fear, embarrassment, and frustration. I remember sitting in class feeling overwhelmed and lost, like it was some kind of foreign language that I would never understand. When I walked into Mrs. Martin’s classroom on the first day, I expected to feel the same as usual: confused, fear of falling behind, barely making it by. But it quickly changed, and I felt there was something different about her. She carried herself with confidence and clarity, and warmth. She would show and acknowledge the potential she saw in every single student, even those, like me, who did not see it in themselves. Mrs. Martin had a gift for making complex concepts more approachable. She used real-world examples, broke problems down into manageable steps, and made space for questions without judgment. If no one raised their hands with questions, she would double down by addressing questions she would get in different classes or previous years. In her classroom, there was no judgment in making mistakes, it was plenty of growth opportunities. She never made me feel stupid for not understanding something right away. Instead, she patiently worked with me until it clicked. She welcomed students before and after school to offer more support and assistance. That extra time made all the difference to me. More than her teaching methods, it was her belief in me that changed everything. I remember one afternoon, I had stayed late to get assistance on reviewing a test that I performed poorly on. She had looked at me and said, “You are so much smarter than you think. You just need to be reminded of that.” It stuck with me all these years more than anything before. For the first time, I had believed that maybe my struggle with math was not a reflection of my ability, but a reflection of how I had been taught - and how I learned to think about myself. That realization was transformative. I had started approaching all of the challenges differently. I became more confident, more curious, and willing to push through difficulties. Mrs. Martin not only taught me how to solve equations - she taught me how to think critically, be resilient, and how to believe in myself. Very early into the school year, I had, for once in my life, been looking forward to math class. I even started branching out and helping classmates, explaining problems in my own words, and watching their understanding grow. There was something deeply rewarding in that process- taking a subject that had once defeated me and using it to lift others. That feeling planted a seed in me: the idea that maybe I could do for others what Mrs. Martin had done for me. By the end of the year, I knew I wanted to pursue a career in education. I wanted to be that person who changed the trajectory of a student’s life— not just by each in content, but by making students feel seen, heard, and capable. I wanted to create a classroom where students were encouraged to take risks, where learning was not about perfection but about persistence and growth. I wanted to be, in essence, someone’s “Mrs. Martin.” Looking back, I realize how rare and special it is to have a teacher like her— someone who goes beyond the curriculum and truly invests in the lives of her students. She did not just teach math. She modeled compassion, patience, and the belief that every student is worth the effort. She showed me that education is not about filling minds with information but about unlocking potential, building confidence, and helping students discover their power. Mrs. Martin’s impact on me was not a single moment, but a collection of small, powerful gestures: a kind word, an extra explanation, a consistent presence. Together they had created something profound. They changed how I saw myself and ultimately changed the direction of my life. Now as I prepare to enter the education world myself, I carry examples with me. I hope to create the same environment in my classroom as she did — a place where students feel safe to learn, encouraged to grow, and inspired to believe in themselves. If I can be to one student what Mrs. Martin was to me then I will consider my career a success. In the end, our story is not just about learning math. It was about learning self-confidence, resilience, and that I learned that I mattered. And that is what I want to pass on.

If you would have asked me a few years ago if I had suffered from domestic abuse, I would have told you no or just avoided the question. If you asked today, I would tell you yes. I was in that situation at the young age of 13 where I was hit and assaulted, I kept this a secret for years in fear of nobody believing me and being told . And you would think that would have been a lesson for me, it was, recently I was in a physical, mental, and emotional situation. It wasn’t until I had finally come clean about everything to my best friend AND suffered a cluster of seizures (I have epilepsy triggered by stress) that I realized how bad it was. My now ex-boyfriend would drink consistently, yell at me for wearing shorts, for not comforting him after he would repeatedly tell me not to, tell me that he didn’t want to hit me but he will if i did not back up when he was upset, he shoved me out of his way multiple times, threaten to block me if i went to this festival without him (I had bought my ticket a year in advance), threaten to hurt himself when I had to go home (after being at his house for days or weeks), and told me all my future concerts had to be “cleared” by him if i wanted to go to, including asking what friends im going with, he had to come, and had to be back at a certain time. He secluded me from friends saying that he did not like them and did not want them around the house. I essentially had been manipulated, controlled, and torn away from my friends and family. I got the courage to leave him after my cluster seizures during my festival, when he angrily called and texted me everyday of the trip and after I got out of the hospital. With my higher education, I want to be the listening ear for women, help advocate, and help them find resolutions. Especially when it comes to women of color and younger women because they do not always know who to go to, get told they are at fault, blame themselves and silence themselves. I would like to give these ladies the feeling of having a safe place where they can learn things to look out for, ways they can get out of the situations, and and have people that are on their side. I would coordinate with multiple programs to send victims to and promote a subtle and hidden support group that does not alert abusers (just in case there abusers are over controlling of their whereabouts).