The Olivia Rodrigo lyric that stays with me most is the small question from “Teenage Dream”: “What if I don’t?” It is only a few words, but it captures something I think a lot of teenagers feel and do not always say out loud. People tell you the future will work out, college will be exciting, and growing up will make you stronger. I believe that, but I also know there are moments when confidence is not automatic. Sometimes you are doing well on paper and still wondering if you are really ready for everything ahead. That is how parts of high school felt for me. I graduated from Shortridge High School after taking IB classes, maintaining a strong GPA, and becoming part of the High GPA Group. I am proud of that, especially because I also had to learn how to manage ADHD. From the outside, my story can sound like a list of accomplishments. From the inside, it took reminders, routines, restarting after losing focus, and learning not to judge myself every time something felt harder than I wanted it to. Olivia’s music resonates with me because she does not pretend growing up is simple. Her songs make room for insecurity, jealousy, pressure, and confusion without making those feelings the whole ending. That taught me something important: being honest about doubt does not mean giving up. It just means admitting where you are so you can keep moving from there. My father helped me learn that same lesson in a quieter way. When I was around eleven, he taught me how to cook oatmeal. It sounds simple, but it taught me patience. You have to stay with the process, adjust when something is not right, and give it time. I think about that lesson when I face school, business, or personal challenges. Progress usually does not happen all at once. It happens one step at a time. One of my triumphs has been learning to turn my own uncertainty into patience for other people. As a peer Mandarin instructor, I helped classmates work through a language that can feel intimidating. I know what it feels like to need a different strategy, so I try to make other students feel capable instead of embarrassed. That experience connected to my larger goal of using language, marketing, and business to build bridges across communities. As I prepare to attend Hampton University, that lyric still matters to me. “What if I don’t?” is the honest fear. But my answer is no longer silence. What if I do keep going? What if I build better habits? What if I use my education to help other students see global opportunities as something they can reach too? Olivia Rodrigo’s work influenced me because it showed me that vulnerability can be powerful when it leads to self-understanding. My journey has included pressure, ADHD, high expectations, and uncertainty, but it has also included discipline, service, family support, and growth. I am not entering college as someone who never doubts himself. I am entering as someone who has learned that doubt can exist beside ambition, and that the best way forward is to be honest, keep learning, and keep showing up.

Being adopted and raised by my single father shaped the way I understand love, responsibility, and opportunity. My father did not just tell me to work hard; he showed me what consistency looked like every day. In our home, support was not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it looked like him, making sure I had what I needed for school, teaching me how to handle responsibilities, or taking time to explain a lesson until I understood it. One memory that stays with me is my father teaching me how to cook oatmeal when I was around eleven. It sounds simple, but it was one of the first times I remember feeling trusted to do something for myself. From there, cooking became more than food. It became independence, patience, and confidence. My father taught me that growing up means learning the small skills that help you stand on your own, while still remembering the people who helped you get there. Being raised by him also taught me structure. As a student with ADHD, I have had to learn that success does not always come from doing things the same way everyone else does. I need systems, reminders, patience, and the willingness to try again when my focus does not come easily. My father never made me feel like that meant I was less capable. Instead, he helped me understand that discipline can be built, and that asking for help is not the same as giving up. That upbringing affected how I see my future. I am an African American student preparing to attend Hampton University, and I want to study business and marketing because I believe communication can create opportunity. Through helping with digital marketing connected to my father’s business, I began to see how a clear message can help people trust a service, support a small business, or notice someone’s work. Marketing is not just about attention to me. It is about helping people and communities be seen. My father’s example also shaped the kind of leader I want to become. He showed me that providing for someone is not only about money. It is about time, guidance, honesty, and showing up even when things are difficult. Because of him, I want my education to become something useful beyond myself. I want to use business and marketing to support small businesses, especially those that may not have the resources to compete with larger companies. Being raised by my adoptive father gave me stability, but it also gave me a sense of responsibility. I know that I did not get here alone. Every academic achievement, every step toward college, and every goal I have for the future is connected to the foundation he built for me. His sacrifices taught me to move forward with gratitude, not entitlement. In college, I plan to keep building on those lessons. I want to grow as a student, a communicator, and a future business leader who understands that success means more when it helps others move forward too. My upbringing taught me that one person’s commitment can change the direction of a life. Now, I want to use my education to create that kind of impact for others.

A “Mad Genius” does not always wear a lab coat, laugh in a thunderstorm, or build something dangerous in a hidden room. Sometimes he is just a young person sitting in the corner of an auto repair shop, staring at a slow afternoon and wondering why good work does not always bring enough customers through the door. That is where my version of a Mad Genius began. My father’s shop was not the kind of place most people would call a laboratory, but to me it had all the right ingredients. There were tools lined against the wall, machines that made sounds I could recognize before I understood their names, customers walking in with problems they hoped someone could solve, and my father moving through the space with patience, focus, and experience. An auto repair shop teaches you that every problem has a cause, even if it is hidden. A car may shake, stall, leak, or refuse to start, but the real issue might be buried somewhere deeper. You have to listen, test, observe, and keep thinking. That is also how I started to look at business. At first, I saw the shop the way most people would: a place where cars were fixed. Then I started to see another machine inside the machine. The business itself had moving parts. Customers had to find it. They had to trust it. They had to understand what made it different. A repair might happen under the hood, but growth happened in people’s minds before they ever touched the door handle. What if I could help with that part right there? I was still a student, balancing school and activities, but I wanted to contribute. I was not a mechanic, and I did not pretend to be. My tools were different: Canva designs, captions, social media posts, marketing strategy, and a small Meta ad campaign with a $40 budget. $40 is not a lot in business. But to me, it felt like a real experiment. If I could make $40 work harder than expected, then maybe I could prove that creativity and strategy did not have to wait until I had a degree. That is when the Mad Genius part came alive. I started thinking about attention like traffic. People are always moving: scrolling, searching, comparing, ignoring, clicking, deciding. A business has only a few seconds to make someone stop. The message has to be clear enough to understand quickly, but human enough to feel trustworthy. The design has to look professional, but not fake. The words have to be simple, but not empty. I was not just making posts. I was trying to build a bridge between a local business and the people who needed it. There was something exciting about taking pieces that seemed small and arranging them into a system. A photo, a headline, a caption, a budget, a target audience, and a call to action could become more than the sum of their parts. It felt a little strange to be excited about such a small campaign, but that is what a Mad Genius looks like to me. He sees possibility in places other people might overlook. He does not wait for perfect resources. He asks, “What can I build with what is already in my hands?” Of course, it was not as dramatic as a movie scene. There was no lightning strike or wild invention. There was just trial and error. Some ideas looked better in my head than they did on the screen. Some captions felt too plain. Some graphics needed to be redone. Sometimes I had to step back and ask whether the message actually helped the customer or only sounded good to me. That process taught me humility. A real Mad Genius is not someone who thinks every idea is brilliant. It is someone willing to test an idea, admit when it is not working, and adjust until it becomes stronger. That lesson connected to other parts of my life, too. At Shortridge High School, I learned that intelligence is not only about knowing the answer. As an IB student and member of the High GPA Group, I had to learn how to think across subjects, manage difficult assignments, and stay disciplined when the work became heavy. The IB program did not reward memorizing facts alone. It pushed me to connect ideas. History, language, music, math, and culture all started to feel like different angles of the same world. That kind of thinking shaped me. It made me curious about how systems work, whether the system was a classroom, a business, a language, or a community. My interest in language made that clearer. Learning Chinese Mandarin and Spanish, studying abroad, and meeting people in places like Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda taught me that communication is never just about words. It is about respect. It is about noticing how people live, what they value, and what barriers stand between them and opportunity. When I helped other students with Mandarin after school, I saw the same idea on a smaller scale. Some students were nervous because the language felt unfamiliar. I understood that feeling. So instead of making them feel behind, I tried to help them feel capable. That is another version of a Mad Genius: not someone who hoards knowledge, but someone who translates it. The word “mad” can sound reckless, but I do not think true genius is careless. To me, the “madness” is the refusal to accept the obvious boundary. It is the voice that says a small budget can still teach you something, a local business can still compete for attention, a Black student can belong in global language spaces, and a lesson from an auto repair shop can turn into a dream about marketing, business, and international opportunity. It is not madness because it is irrational. It is madness because other people may not see the connection yet. If I were to create an origin story for my own Mad Genius, it would not begin with power. It would begin with observation. It would begin with a boy watching his father work, not only fixing cars but also building trust. It would continue with that same boy learning to cook oatmeal around age eleven and realizing that patience is a skill. It would move through classrooms where he had to stay organized, music lessons where repetition mattered, sports where discipline mattered, and service projects where community mattered. It would include the moment he realized business was not just about selling something. It was about solving a problem in a way people could believe in. The villain in that story would not be a person. It would be wasted potential. Wasted potential is quiet. It tells people that their idea is too small, their background is too ordinary, their resources are not enough, or their timing is too late. It makes communities accept fewer options than they deserve. It makes young people wait for permission to start. It makes businesses with good service disappear because no one knows how to find them. It makes students think creativity and intelligence only count if they look a certain way. My Mad Genius wants to fight that. As I prepare to attend Hampton University, I see business and marketing as more than career interests. I see them as tools. Marketing can make overlooked stories visible. Business can create access. International marketing can connect people across cultures, languages, and geography. A good idea is powerful, but only if it reaches the people it is meant to serve. I want to learn how to build those connections with skill, ethics, and imagination. The Mad Genius I admire is not reckless, selfish, or obsessed with proving he is the smartest person in the room. He is curious enough to ask strange questions, disciplined enough to follow through, and humble enough to revise the plan. He understands that genius is not only invention. Sometimes it is a translation. Sometimes it is strategy. Sometimes it is seeing a system clearly enough to improve it. If I had to picture him, I would not put him in a tower. I would put him in a workshop, a classroom, a family business, or a community that needs a better solution. His notebook would be full of sketches, questions, budgets, phrases, and half-finished ideas. He would probably fail more than once. He would probably look too focused or too excited about something other people considered small. But eventually, he would make the pieces connect. That is what a Mad Genius looks like to me: someone who turns curiosity into structure, pressure into creativity, and limited resources into a reason to think harder. He does not create chaos for attention. He creates possibilities where other people see a dead end. And if that is madness, then I hope I never completely outgrow it.

Reading Between the Lines of My Future I used to think the point of a book was to reach the last page. Now I understand that the best books stay with you because they keep asking questions after the cover is closed. As a student with ADHD, reading has not always been automatic for me. Sometimes I have had to reread a paragraph, mark a page, or slow myself down when my mind wanted to move ahead too quickly. At first, that felt like a weakness. Over time, books taught me that attention is something I can practice. Reading gave me a place to build patience, focus, and confidence without needing to be perfect on the first try. Through school, especially in my English and humanities classes at Shortridge High School, books also taught me how much perspective matters. A character can make a choice that seems wrong until I understand what they have lost, what they fear, or what they are trying to protect. That lesson changed how I look at people in real life. It helped me listen before judging and ask better questions before assuming I already know the answer. That skill connects directly to my goals in business and marketing. I used to think marketing was mostly about promoting a product or getting attention. Reading helped me see that every message has a story behind it. A business has a reason it exists. A customer has a problem, a hope, or a need. A community has a history. If I want to become a strong marketer, I cannot only learn platforms, ads, and strategies. I have to understand people. I saw this lesson clearly while helping with marketing connected to my father’s auto repair business and a UGC campaign for a YouTuber. The numbers mattered, but the story mattered too. A post, caption, or short video only works when it respects the audience and gives them a reason to care. Books trained me for that by showing me how words can build trust, create emotion, and make someone feel seen. Books have also shaped my goals by expanding the world I imagine for myself. My global experiences in places like China, Taiwan, and Uganda have already taught me that people live, learn, and communicate in many different ways. Reading added another layer to that lesson. It reminded me that I can enter someone else’s world without leaving my own room, and that understanding different perspectives is a responsibility, not just an academic skill. As I prepare to attend Hampton University and study business, management, and marketing, I want to carry that lesson with me. My goal is not only to build a career but to use communication to help small businesses, creators, and communities grow without losing their identity. I want to create marketing that is clear, honest, and useful. The books I have read taught me that growth often begins with curiosity. They taught me to slow down, listen closely, and pay attention to the story underneath the surface. Those lessons have shaped my goals more than any single assignment because they changed how I see learning itself. Reading helped me become someone who does not just want answers. I want to understand people, build ideas, and use what I learn to make a meaningful impact and stronger connections around me.

Growing up in a single-parent household has shaped my education by teaching me that progress is not built in one dramatic moment. It is built into daily choices. My father, Michael-Bryant Hicks, raised me while also modeling discipline, service, and responsibility. Watching him balance family, work, and his Indianapolis auto repair business showed me early that education was not just about earning grades. It was about becoming prepared enough to carry responsibility well. At Shortridge High School, I chose to challenge myself through rigorous IB coursework while maintaining a 3.92 weighted GPA and earning a place in the High GPA Group. There were times when being raised by one parent made me more aware of pressure, especially as college approached, but it also made me more focused. I understood that every class, assignment, and opportunity mattered. I did not want my father’s sacrifices to become background noise. I wanted them to become motivated. Since 2023, I have also worked in my father’s auto repair business as a shop associate and digital marketing helper. That experience became part of my education, too. I helped create Canva graphics, write captions, speak with customers, and understand how one clear message can help a small business earn trust. One $40 Meta ad taught me that visibility can change how people find a business. It also showed me that many hardworking entrepreneurs have skill and character, but need stronger tools to reach customers. That lesson connects directly to my future plans. At Hampton University, I plan to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business. I want to learn how branding, communication, finance, and strategy can help small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs grow. My long-term goal is to build a career that makes opportunities more reachable for people who already have talent but do not always have access, guidance, or visibility. Service has already taught me that giving back must be practical. Through Boy Scouts, where I became a Life Scout, I completed more than 200 hours of service and learned that community work is often quiet, consistent, and hands-on. In the future, I hope to give back by mentoring students from single-parent households, supporting youth who are trying to plan for college, and using my marketing skills to help local businesses and community organizations tell their stories more clearly. Coming from a single-parent household did not make my educational journey easy, but it gave it purpose. My father taught me that stability is something you build, not something you wait for. I plan to honor that lesson by earning my degree, serving my community, and helping others turn hard work into lasting opportunity.

A $40 Meta ad first showed me what I want my future to be. In my father’s Indianapolis auto repair business, I learned that good service still needs the right message to reach people. I could make a Canva graphic, write a caption, or help explain something to a customer, but the real lesson was bigger than marketing. I saw how visibility can affect whether a small business grows, whether a family has stability, and whether hard work gets noticed. My plan is to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business at Hampton University and build a career helping small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs communicate clearly, compete fairly, and reach the customers who need them. I want to learn how branding, finance, data, and global strategy work together so that I can eventually help business owners who have strong ideas but limited access to resources. Long term, I hope to create work that supports local entrepreneurs, strengthens communities, and opens doors for people who are often overlooked. My path to college has been shaped by responsibility and perseverance. My father raised me in a single-parent household, and watching him lead, work, and serve others taught me that success is not only about talent. It is about consistency, sacrifice, and purpose. At Shortridge High School, I challenged myself through IB academics, maintained a 3.92 weighted GPA, and became part of the High GPA Group. Outside the classroom, I continued growing through service as a Boy Scouts Life Scout with more than 200 service hours and through real work experience in my father’s shop. This scholarship would help me take the next step with less financial pressure as I begin college. The award would help cover education-related costs such as books, technology, transportation, and supplies for my first year at Hampton. Even a smaller scholarship matters because every dollar gives me more room to focus on learning, building my portfolio, pursuing internships, and preparing for the future instead of worrying about how each expense will be covered. I know college is not just a personal achievement. For me, it is a foundation for impact. I want to use my education to become a stronger communicator, a better problem solver, and a leader who helps others turn effort into opportunity. The Bright Lights Scholarship would support a student who is already working toward his future and who plans to use that future to make other people’s paths brighter too.

I used to think marketing was mainly about making something look good, until a $40 Meta ad taught me that math is what tells the truth. In my father’s Indianapolis auto repair business, I can create a Canva graphic, write a caption, and help explain a service to a customer, but the numbers show whether the message actually reached people. Reach, cost, timing, response, and budget all turn creativity into a decision. That is why I love math. It gives ideas a way to be tested. Math does not care if something sounds impressive; it asks whether it works. A percentage can show growth. A budget can show what is possible. A pattern can explain why one choice is stronger than another. Even when the answer is not easy, math gives me a process: slow down, organize the information, look for relationships, and solve one step at a time. At Shortridge High School, challenging IB classes and the High GPA Group taught me discipline, but working around a small business showed me math in real life. I saw how pricing, inventory, time, and customer trust all connect. A business cannot grow on effort alone; it needs clear thinking and measured choices. As I prepare to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business at Hampton University, I know math will stay part of my future. I want to use data, finance, and marketing strategy to help small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs become more visible and stable. I love math because it turns uncertainty into direction, and it helps people build better plans from real evidence.

The Plan Before the Dream At my father’s auto repair shop, I learned that a plan is not a big speech. It is the list you actually follow when the day gets busy. Since 2023, I have helped in his Indianapolis business as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. I have made Canva graphics, written captions, helped with customers, and watched how much organization it takes to keep a small business moving. A $40 Meta ad taught me that even a small tool can create momentum when it is used with intention. That experience shaped my goal: I want to study Business Marketing with a concentration on International Business at Hampton University, then build a career helping small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs grow through clear branding, digital strategy, and customer trust. My plan has four stages. During my first year at Hampton, I will build my foundation: complete required business courses, meet with academic advising, join a business or entrepreneurship organization, and maintain the study habits that helped me graduate from Shortridge High School with a 3.92 GPA and a place in the High GPA Group. I will also organize my schedule around ADHD-friendly systems: calendar reminders, weekly checklists, and study blocks. During my second year, I will build a portfolio. My goal is to complete at least five sample projects, such as social media calendars, simple ad campaigns, customer profiles, and brand audits for student organizations or small businesses. I will also pursue practical training in Excel, Google Analytics, Canva, Meta advertising, and basic accounting, because marketing decisions should be creative and measurable. During my junior and senior years, I will seek internships in marketing, business development, or community-based entrepreneurship programs. If a traditional internship does not open immediately, my backup plan is to keep gaining experience through campus organizations, local businesses, volunteer projects, and part-time work. By graduation, I want to have a resume that shows both academic preparation and real results. The resources I need include tuition support, books, technology, software, transportation, professional clothing, certifications, mentors, and time. If awarded this $1,315 scholarship, my planned budget would be: $450 for books and course materials, $350 for laptop/software support and reliable digital tools, $200 for transportation to interviews or internships, $165 for career certifications or application fees, and $150 for professional clothing, supplies, or emergency college expenses. I also plan to keep applying for scholarships, compare my financial aid award with actual costs, and track every expense in a spreadsheet before each semester begins. My father taught me that dreams become real through repeated, practical steps. Joe Gilroy’s motto, “Plan Your Work, Work Your Plan,” describes exactly how I want to enter college. I am not just hoping business will change my future. I am building the plan, the skills, and the discipline to make it happen.

Next Point, Next Step Before every tennis match, my dad reminded me that I could not control the other side of the net. I could only control my preparation, my footwork, and the next point. That lesson describes my family, my schooling, and the future I am trying to build. My name is Marleigh Hicks, and I was raised in Indianapolis by my father, Michael-Bryant Hicks. Being raised by a single parent taught me early that family is not only who is in the house but who shows up, sacrifices, and keeps pushing when life is difficult. My father is a Juris Doctor and a small business owner, but what has shaped me most is not just his titles. It is watching him work, solve problems, and still make sure I have guidance. Since 2023, I have helped in his auto repair business as a shop associate and digital marketing manager, learning customer communication, responsibility, and the value of earning trust. Sports gave those lessons another form. In tennis, there is no huddle after every mistake and no teammate who can swing the racquet for you. You have to reset quickly, think clearly, and compete with discipline even when the match is not going your way. That mindset helped me outside of athletics. At Shortridge High School, I challenged myself in the International Baccalaureate program, earned a 3.92 GPA, and became part of the High GPA Group. I also learned to manage ADHD by building routines, staying organized, and asking for support when I needed it. I am proud of my grades because they represent more than academic ability; they represent consistency. My schooling also taught me that I am not only preparing for my own future. As a Boy Scouts Life Scout with more than 200 service hours and as a peer Mandarin instructor, I learned that leadership is often quiet. Sometimes it is helping someone understand a lesson, serving in the community, or being dependable when others are counting on you. My future plans are to attend Hampton University and study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business. I want to use marketing, communication, and global business strategy to help small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs become visible, trusted, and stable. My experiences with English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, and my connections to different cultures, have helped me see that talent exists everywhere, but access does not. Stephan Laurence Wolley’s story reminds me that family, faith, and competition are not separate values. They all ask a person to care about something beyond himself. I carry that same mindset into college. I want to honor my father’s sacrifices, continue developing as a student-athlete and leader, and build a future where my education helps not only me but the people and communities I serve. Like tennis, I know I cannot control every challenge ahead. But I can control how I prepare, how I respond, and how I play the next point.

Signal or Static: The Real Connection Challenge If I got to design a new Love Island challenge, I would call it “Signal or Static: The Real Connection Challenge.” The point would be simple: find out whether a couple can understand each other when the usual flirting, one-liners, and perfect timing get interrupted. The villa would become a bright connection studio with neon microphones, caption screens, music cues, and message cards. Each couple would wear matching headsets, but they would not always be allowed to speak directly. They would have to use tone, body language, memory, rhythm, and honest description to prove whether their connection is real or just good television. Round One is “Say It Another Way.” One Islander pulls a card with a relationship situation, such as needing reassurance, feeling jealous, wanting space, or feeling misunderstood. They have sixty seconds to explain the emotion without using the obvious word. Their partner earns one point for guessing the feeling and two points for repeating it back with empathy. As someone who has studied English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, I know that communication is not just translation. It is making sure the other person actually feels understood. Round Two is “Tempo Check.” Couples move through a small obstacle course while one partner can only guide the other using claps, taps, or short sound cues. A slow rhythm means pause, a quick rhythm means move, and a double beat means trust me. It would be funny to watch, but it would also reveal patience. My music background taught me that timing can change everything. The same is true in relationships. Round Three is “Caption the Connection.” Since I am interested in marketing and storytelling, this would be my favorite part. Each person writes a short caption for their partner that could appear on the villa screen, but it cannot mention looks. It has to describe something deeper: how that person handles pressure, makes others feel safe, shows loyalty, or brings energy into the villa. The other Islanders vote for the caption that feels most honest. The final twist is called “Signal or Static.” The couple with the most points can either keep their prize privately or share a smaller reward with another couple they believe showed real growth. That choice would reveal whether they only want to win or whether they understand connection beyond themselves. This challenge would add excitement because it still has humor, pressure, competition, and awkward moments, but it also gives viewers something real to root for. Love Island is fun because of the drama, but the best moments happen when people stop performing and start communicating. “Signal or Static” would test exactly that.

Growth Without Losing the Spark I am a fan of Sabrina Carpenter because her career feels like proof that growing up does not have to mean becoming less of yourself. What stands out to me most is the way she moved from a character people knew on Girl Meets World into a music career built around timing, confidence, humor, and storytelling. That kind of transition is not easy. It takes discipline to let people know one version of you and then ask them to take the next version seriously. As someone who has studied piano and IB Music, I pay attention to performance differently. I notice timing, tone, pauses, confidence, and whether an artist seems to understand the feeling behind the sound. Sabrina's songs like "Espresso" and "Please Please Please" stand out because they are catchy, but they are not only catchy. They show how personality can become part of the music itself. Her delivery feels intentional, playful, and controlled, which is harder than it looks. Her career impacts me because I am also in a transition. I am leaving Shortridge High School, where I challenged myself academically and creatively, and I am preparing to attend Hampton University. In high school, music taught me that growth takes practice long before anyone sees the finished version. You repeat the same measure, listen to what is off, adjust, and try again. Sabrina's evolution reminds me of that process. She did not stay in one category just because it was familiar. She kept developing her voice. I also connect her career to my interest in Business Marketing and International Business. Sabrina's success shows that artistry and branding are not separate when they are done well. Her image, humor, sound, and audience connection all work together, but they still feel personal. That balance is something I want to understand as I learn how to help artists, small businesses, and underrepresented voices communicate who they are. Sabrina Carpenter has impacted me because her career proves that creativity can be both polished and authentic. She reminds me that growth is not about replacing who you were. It is about taking every earlier version of yourself and turning it into something stronger, clearer, and more confident.

What the Spotlight Leaves Behind The Taylor Swift performance I find most moving is her 2019 NPR Tiny Desk Concert because it proves that the most powerful spotlight is not always the biggest one. When people think of Taylor Swift, they often imagine stadium lights, costume changes, huge screens, and thousands of fans singing at once. Those performances are impressive, but the Tiny Desk Concert moves me differently because almost everything is stripped down. She is not relying on spectacles. She is relying on songwriting, timing, voice, memory, and the courage to let the work stand close to the audience. As someone who has studied music, taken IB Music, and played piano for many years, I understand how exposed a performer can feel when there is not much to hide behind. A full production can be exciting, but a small performance reveals the structure underneath. You can hear the phrasing, the pauses, the way a song changes when it is carried by one instrument and one voice. That kind of performance requires discipline. It also requires trust: trust in the song, trust in preparation, and trust that honesty can hold people's attention without needing to overwhelm them. What moves me most is that the performance shows the work behind the spotlight. Taylor Swift has built one of the most visible careers in music, but in that room, she makes success feel connected to craft instead of just fame. She talks about writing, then performs in a way that reminds me that creativity is not magic that appears all at once. It is revision, practice, observation, and emotional courage. That lesson matters to me because music has helped me build confidence and expression, but it has also taught me patience. Piano taught me that a performance is shaped long before anyone hears it. That is also how I think about my future. I plan to study business marketing and international business at Hampton University, and I want to help artists, small businesses, and underrepresented communities tell their stories clearly. A performance like the Tiny Desk Concert reminds me that strong communication does not always require the loudest platform. Sometimes it requires knowing what matters, removing what distracts from it, and presenting it with purpose. To me, that performance is moving because it shows a different kind of showmanship. It is not only about being seen. It is about being understood.

A Career That Helps People Find Their Way When I think about a career that helps people, I do not only picture a hospital, courtroom, or classroom. I also picture a person who is confused, overwhelmed, or overlooked finally receiving information in a way they can understand. I learned that kind of care in my father’s auto repair shop in Indianapolis. My father, Michael-Bryant Hicks, raised me as a single parent, and since 2023, I have helped in his business as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. I have seen customers walk in worried because their car problem was also a work problem, a family problem, or a money problem. In those moments, clear communication mattered. Explaining a service honestly, creating a simple Canva graphic, writing a caption, or helping a customer feel respected could turn stress into trust. That experience taught me that communication is not small. It can be the bridge between a person’s need and the help they are trying to find. My career goal is to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business at Hampton University and use those skills in a service-centered way. I want to help community organizations, educational programs, and underrepresented small businesses reach the people they are meant to serve. Many families miss opportunities not because they lack motivation, but because resources are hard to find, hard to understand, or not marketed to them at all. I want my career to change that. Service has already shaped how I see leadership. As a Boy Scouts Life Scout with more than 200 service hours, I learned that helping others usually starts with paying attention. As a peer Mandarin instructor, I learned that education access can begin with one student taking the time to explain something in a less intimidating way. Mandarin challenged me, but it also gave me a way to support classmates and connect across cultures. Studying English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, along with experiences connected to Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda, has helped me understand that people may live in different places but still face similar barriers: access, confidence, visibility, and opportunity. At Hampton, I want to build the skills to make my service more effective. Marketing will teach me how to understand an audience, tell the truth clearly, build trust, and measure whether a message is actually reaching people. International business will help me think beyond one neighborhood or one country. My long-term goal is to work with mission-driven businesses, nonprofits, youth programs, and community initiatives that support education, economic mobility, and small-business growth. Receiving this scholarship would help reduce the financial pressure of college and allow me to focus on becoming prepared for that work. I come from a family where opportunity has required sacrifice, planning, and persistence. I do not take college lightly because I know it is not only for me. It is a chance to turn what I have learned from my father, my service experiences, and my education into a career that helps people feel seen, informed, and capable of moving forward. To me, a career that cares is one that notices what people need and uses its skills to meet them there. I want my career to do exactly that.

Title: Learning That Thinks, Thinking That Learns Selected Passage: "The Master said, 'Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous.'" - Confucius, Analects, Book II, Chapter 15. Also rendered in Chinese as: 子曰：「學而不思則罔，思而不學則殆。」 Learning That Thinks, Thinking That Learns Confucius argues that education becomes meaningful only when learning and reflection discipline each other. In this passage, he is not simply advising students to study harder or think more deeply. He is warning against two opposite failures of the mind: knowledge that is gathered but never examined, and opinion that is formed without enough knowledge to support it. The underlying meaning is that true education requires balance. Learning gives thought its foundation, while thought gives learning its purpose. The sentence is built on a clear symmetry: "Learning without thought" is placed against "thought without learning." Confucius does not treat learning and thinking as separate talents. He makes them dependent on each other. This matters because both halves of the sentence describe something that looks productive from the outside. A student who memorizes lessons, repeats correct answers, and fills notebooks may appear educated. A student who speaks confidently, questions everything, and forms opinions quickly may appear intelligent. Confucius looks beneath those appearances. He suggests that both can be incomplete and even harmful if one is separated from the other. The first warning, "Learning without thought is labor lost," criticizes passive education. Learning, in the Confucian sense, includes study, listening to teachers, reading inherited wisdom, observing others, and practicing what has been taught. But without thought, learning becomes accumulation instead of transformation. A person may collect words, rules, facts, and formulas without ever asking what they mean, why they matter, or how they should shape conduct. The phrase "labor lost" is important because it does not say learning itself is worthless. The labor becomes wasted only when the learner refuses to engage with the material with judgment. Effort alone is not enough. Discipline must be joined to reflection. The first half of the passage also contains a quiet moral concern. Knowledge without reflection can make a person skilled but shallow. A student may know how to pass an exam without understanding the value of the subject. A leader may know strategies without considering their consequences. A businessperson may know how to attract attention without asking whether that attention serves people honestly. Confucius implies that learning is not complete until it enters the conscience. To think about what one learns is to ask how information should be used, not just how it can be stored. The second warning, "thought without learning is perilous," is even stronger. Confucius does not merely call unsupported thought useless. He calls it dangerous. Thought without learning can become arrogance, because it trusts itself too quickly. It can become confusing because it lacks the grounding of evidence, tradition, and experience. It can also become isolation, because the thinker refuses to be corrected by teachers, texts, history, or community. In this sense, learning is not the enemy of independent thought. It is what keeps independent thought honest. The word "perilous" gives the passage ethical weight. Confucius understands that ideas lead to actions. A person who thinks without learning may make decisions based on impulse, pride, or incomplete understanding. This is dangerous not only for the individual but also for the people affected by that person’s choices. A false idea confidently held can cause more harm than ignorance admitted. By pairing thought with learning, Confucius teaches intellectual humility. He reminds the reader that serious reflection begins with the willingness to be taught. The structure of the passage also shows that Confucius is not choosing between tradition and originality. He rejects both blind obedience and empty speculation. Learning must not become mechanical repetition, but thought must not become detached self-confidence. The ideal person studies deeply, then reflects carefully. This balance is central to the Confucian vision of character. Education is not just preparation for a career; it is a process of becoming trustworthy, disciplined, and useful to others. This is why the passage is especially powerful in a modern academic setting. Many students are pressured to treat education as a race for grades, resumes, and credentials. In that environment, "learning without thought" can happen easily. Students may focus on completing work rather than understanding it. At the same time, modern culture often rewards quick opinions. People are encouraged to react, post, argue, and brand themselves before they have studied enough to speak wisely. That is "thought without learning." Confucius’s warning still applies because he identifies a permanent human weakness: the desire to look educated without being changed by education. As a student who has studied Mandarin Chinese and helped peers with the language, I see this passage as more than an abstract idea. Mandarin cannot be learned only through memorizing vocabulary lists. Characters, tones, structure, culture, and context require attention and reflection. At the same time, reflection without disciplined practice does not build fluency. The language itself has taught me the truth of Confucius’s balance. I have to listen, repeat, study, and respect the material, but I also have to think about meaning, pattern, and connection. That same balance shaped my experience in the International Baccalaureate program, where strong work required more than completing assignments. It required asking better questions. This passage also connects to the kind of education I hope to pursue at Hampton University in business marketing and international business. In business, learning without thought can become an empty technique: data, advertising, and strategy without purpose. Thought without learning can become unrealistic ambition: big ideas without research, discipline, or respect for the people being served. Confucius offers a better model. A responsible business leader must learn from markets, communities, customers, history, and mentors, but must also reflect on how that knowledge should be used. The goal is not simply to know more or speak louder. The goal is to act with wisdom. The underlying meaning of this passage is that education is a relationship between receiving and examining. Learning teaches us that we do not begin with all the answers. Thought teaches us that we are responsible for what we do with the answers we receive. When one exists without the other, education becomes either an empty effort or dangerous pride. When they work together, education becomes character. Confucius’s sentence is brief, but its demand is serious. It asks the learner to be humble enough to study and courageous enough to think. It reminds us that knowledge should not sit untouched in the mind, and thought should not wander without a guide. True learning is not passive. True thinking is not careless. The educated person is the one who allows both to correct, strengthen, and deepen each other.

Built to Create Stability I did not choose business from a textbook. I chose it by watching my father build stability, one repair, one customer, and one long workday at a time. My father, Michael-Bryant Hicks, raised me as a single parent, and his auto repair shop in Indianapolis became one of my first classrooms. I saw that running a business is not only about making money. It is about solving problems that people depend on you to fix. When a customer brings in a car, they are often bringing in more than a mechanical issue. They may need to get to work, pick up their children, or keep their household moving. Watching my father treat people with patience and respect helped me understand that business can be personal, practical, and deeply connected to a family’s stability. Since 2023, I have worked in his shop as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. I helped with customers, created Canva graphics, wrote captions, and learned how to explain services clearly. One of my biggest lessons came from a $40 Meta ad. It was not a large campaign, but it showed me how strategy can stretch limited resources. I learned that the right words, image, timing, and audience can help a small business reach people who need its services. That experience made marketing feel real to me. I was not just promoting a product. I was helping a family business be trusted, noticed, and supported. I chose Business Marketing because I want to understand that process at a deeper level. I enjoy the combination of creativity, analytics, communication, and human behavior. I like asking why one message connects and another does not, why one customer chooses to trust a business, and how a small idea can become a plan that creates growth. My experiences with English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese have also shown me that communication changes across cultures. That is why I want to study Business Marketing with an international business focus at Hampton University. Earning this degree would change my life because it would give structure to the lessons I have already started learning through work, school, and service. At Shortridge High School, I challenged myself through the IB Diploma Programme, earned a 3.92 weighted GPA, and became part of the High GPA Group. Through Boy Scouts, I became a Life Scout and completed more than 200 service hours. Those experiences taught me discipline and responsibility, but college will help me turn those qualities into professional skills. As someone from a low-income, single-parent family, I understand that a degree is not only a personal achievement. It is a chance to create more security, more choices, and more impact. A business degree would help me build a career where I can support my family, eventually create my own business, and help other small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs grow with the tools I am learning. My goal is to become the kind of business leader who remembers where he started. I want to use marketing not just to sell, but to solve problems, build trust, and create opportunity. A degree in this field would help me take what I first learned in my father’s shop and turn it into a future of stability, service, and ownership.

Thinking Three Moves Ahead The first thing chess taught me is that moving fast is not the same as moving with purpose. When I play chess, even a small move can change the whole board. A pawn may look simple, but it can protect a stronger piece, open a lane, or become part of a plan that only makes sense several moves later. That lesson connects directly to my career goals. I plan to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business at Hampton University, and I want to use those skills to help small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs become more visible, trusted, and competitive. I saw how much strategy matters while working in my father’s auto repair business in Indianapolis. Since 2023, I have helped as a shop associate and digital marketing manager by creating Canva graphics, writing captions, speaking with customers, and learning how to explain services clearly. One of the most important lessons came from a $40 Meta ad. It was a small move, but it showed me that the right message, placed in the right way, can bring attention to a business that may not have a large marketing budget. In chess, one thoughtful move can change momentum. In business, one thoughtful strategy can help a family business be seen. Chess has also taught me patience. Sometimes the best move is not the most obvious one. Sometimes you have to pause, study the board, accept that you do not control everything, and adjust. That mindset helped me as an International Baccalaureate student at Shortridge High School, where I earned a 3.92 GPA and became part of the High GPA Group. It also helped me manage ADHD by building systems, slowing down when I needed to, and learning that preparation matters more than panic. Another lesson from chess is that every piece has value. That idea fits the kind of leader I want to become. As a Boy Scouts Life Scout with more than 200 service hours and as a peer Mandarin instructor, I have learned that leadership is not about being the loudest person in the room. It is about seeing what others can contribute and helping them move forward. Speaking English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, and learning through experiences connected to Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda, has also shown me that talent exists everywhere, but access does not. My long-term goal is to build a career in marketing that helps overlooked businesses, artists, and community organizations tell their stories without losing their identity. I want to work with people who have skills and purpose but may not have the resources, branding, or digital strategy to reach the customers and communities they deserve. Chess reminds me that success is rarely one move. It is planning, patience, adaptation, and respect for the whole board. Those are the same skills I will carry into college, business, and service. At Hampton, I hope to keep learning how to think several moves ahead, not just for myself, but for the communities and entrepreneurs I want to help win.

Communication That Makes Service Reach People The first time I realized service needed good communication, I was not standing in front of a crowd. I was helping my father’s auto repair shop in Indianapolis get seen. Since 2023, I have worked in his shop as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. I created Canva graphics, wrote captions, helped customers understand services, and learned that people are more willing to trust a business when the message is clear. One $40 Meta ad taught me a lesson I still think about: a small message, placed in front of the right people, can help an overlooked business gain attention it could not afford through a large campaign. That experience shaped how I think about nonprofit work. Many community organizations already have purpose, compassion, and solutions, but they also need visibility, storytelling, and outreach so the people who need them can actually find them. I want to pursue nonprofit and mission-driven communications because I believe service should not stop at good intentions. It should reach people. As a Boy Scouts Life Scout with more than 200 service hours, I have participated in projects that taught me how much small acts of service can matter. Whether through community cleanups, food-related service, youth support, or helping others learn, I saw that people often need more than resources. They need someone to notice them, listen to them, and help connect them to support. That is also why peer teaching became meaningful to me. As a peer Mandarin instructor, I helped other students feel more confident in a subject that can be intimidating. Teaching taught me patience, but it also taught me that access often begins with explanation. If a student feels lost, the right guidance can change their confidence. If a family does not know about a program, the right outreach can change their options. If a small nonprofit cannot explain its mission clearly, the people it wants to serve may never hear about it. At Hampton University, I plan to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business. I want to use that education in communication-based work that supports nonprofits, community programs, and underrepresented entrepreneurs. My background in English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, along with experiences connected to Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda, has shown me that communities may look different, but many challenges are connected: access, visibility, education, and opportunity. The causes I care about most are youth mentorship, educational access, and economic empowerment. I want to help organizations that serve students, families, and small businesses tell their stories in ways that build trust and bring support. My long-term goal is to help mission-driven organizations use branding, digital strategy, and community outreach to expand their impact, especially in communities that are too often overlooked. This scholarship would help me take the next step toward that goal by reducing college costs and allowing me to focus on building the skills I need. I do not see nonprofit leadership as only holding a title. I see it as using whatever skills you have to make the service stronger. For me, that skill is communication. I want to help good work become visible, trusted, and reachable enough to change lives.

Service That Makes People Visible At my father’s auto repair shop in Indianapolis, I learned that service does not always look like a microphone, a march, or a title. Sometimes it looks like helping a customer understand what is wrong with their car, designing a simple Canva graphic, or writing a caption that helps a small business finally be seen. Since 2023, I have worked in my father’s shop as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. My father raised me as a single parent, and watching him build a business taught me that hard work alone is not always enough. Many Black and underrepresented business owners have skill, discipline, and value, but they are still overlooked because they do not have the same access to branding, technology, or marketing support. One of the first times I understood that was after helping with a $40 Meta ad. It was not a huge campaign, but it showed me how the right message can help people notice a business that was already serving the community. That is why I plan to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business at Hampton University. I want to use my education to help small businesses, community organizations, and young entrepreneurs tell their stories clearly and compete with confidence. To me, positive impact means helping people turn talent into stability, visibility into opportunity, and ownership into generational change. The causes I care about most are service, mentorship, and access to opportunity. As a Boy Scouts Life Scout with more than 200 community service hours, I have learned that service is not about doing something once so it can be listed on a resume. It is about becoming the kind of person who notices what needs to be done and does it. Through neighborhood cleanups, food drives, youth support, and community projects, I saw how consistent small acts can make people feel remembered instead of forgotten. I have also served as a peer Mandarin instructor, helping other students feel less intimidated by a language that can seem difficult at first. That experience mattered to me because I know how important encouragement can be. I speak English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, and my global experiences connected to Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda have shown me that talent exists everywhere, but access does not. At Shortridge High School, I challenged myself in the International Baccalaureate program, earned a 3.92 GPA, and became part of the High GPA Group. Those accomplishments reflect discipline, but they also remind me that success means more when it helps other people rise too. If awarded this scholarship, I would use it to reduce the financial pressure of starting college at Hampton. It would help with books, supplies, and college expenses, but it would also remind me that my service and goals matter. I want my business education to honor leaders like Addie James Hamerter, whose legacy shows that change can come from courage, listening, and steady commitment. My goal is to carry that same spirit into business by helping overlooked people and communities become visible, supported, and empowered.

I believe I should be considered for this scholarship because my life, experiences, and work ethic reflect a consistent commitment to growth, service, and excellence. I am Marleigh Hicks, a 17-year-old Black/African American student from Indianapolis, adopted and raised by my father, Michael, a single parent who has worked tirelessly to give me opportunities he didn’t want me to take for granted. Even with his education, our family operates on a limited income, which has shaped my understanding of responsibility, resourcefulness, and the value of hard work. Academically, I have pursued the International Baccalaureate Diploma with a 3.92 GPA, a curriculum known for its rigor and global perspective. Balancing IB courses is challenging for any student, and it is made even more so by my ADHD, which requires me to develop careful strategies for focus, organization, and time management. Despite this, I have consistently earned high marks, achieving Magna Cum Laude once and Cum Laude twice, demonstrating that discipline and persistence can overcome obstacles. I have also maintained a 1260 SAT score, proving my dedication to standardized testing and college readiness while managing a full schedule of extracurriculars. Beyond academics, my life has been a blend of arts, athletics, service, and global exposure. I am a classical pianist with 12 years of experience, winning American Piano Awards, which taught me discipline, patience, and the joy of crafting something meaningful over time. Music has been more than a hobby; it has been a tool for focus and expression, helping me maintain balance amid a demanding academic schedule. My artistic interests also extend to photography and the Jazz Club, which provide creative outlets while connecting me to communities where collaboration and appreciation of talent thrive. Athletics has been another critical part of my life. I participate in varsity track & field, tennis, swimming, pickleball, badminton, and ping pong. These sports have taught me resilience, teamwork, and strategic thinking. Whether it’s sprinting for a personal best in track or coordinating doubles in tennis and pickleball, I have learned that preparation, practice, and adaptability translate to all areas of life. Physical challenges have reinforced mental ones, strengthening my ability to focus, recover from setbacks, and consistently perform under pressure. Service has been a cornerstone of my identity. Through the Boy Scouts of America since 2018, I achieved the rank of Life Scout and have held leadership positions including Patrol Leader, Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer. These roles required me to organize projects, manage volunteers, and mentor younger Scouts. I’ve led neighborhood cleanups, food drives, and service initiatives at the Martin Luther King Community Center, completing over 200 hours of service. Service has taught me that leadership is not about recognition; it is about creating opportunities for others, supporting growth, and stepping back so others can succeed. In addition, I have applied my skills and global perspective to education. As a peer Mandarin instructor at Shortridge High School since 2024, I voluntarily teach classmates who have never been exposed to the language. Most of them never imagined learning Mandarin was possible, especially from someone who looks like me. By breaking down complex tones and patterns, I provide both instruction and representation, showing that Black students can thrive in global spaces. These moments—watching students’ confidence grow, seeing them grasp a difficult concept—are as meaningful as any award. My work experience also demonstrates responsibility and real-world impact. Helping run social media marketing for my father’s auto shop has taught me resourcefulness and creativity. I manage Facebook and Meta ads, create graphic designs, and ensure every marketing dollar counts. This experience has strengthened my understanding of business fundamentals and prepared me for a career in business marketing. It also shows my commitment to helping my family, taking active responsibility for contributing to household income and long-term success. What sets me apart is not just achievements, but how I integrate them to create impact. My global experiences—studying and living in China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda—have shown me how different communities solve problems and maximize limited resources. These experiences have instilled empathy, cultural awareness, and an understanding of sustainable solutions. I aim to use my business degree to support underserved communities, helping small and minority-owned businesses grow and thrive. Whether it is through marketing strategies, mentorship programs, or community projects, my focus is on creating opportunities that last. I have faced challenges, including managing ADHD while navigating demanding academics, extracurriculars, and a busy athletic schedule. The lessons I learned from these challenges—discipline, time management, and prioritization—have prepared me to handle the pressures of college and beyond. They also guide how I mentor others: I understand that obstacles can be overcome with strategy, persistence, and support. Ultimately, I should be considered for this scholarship because I am committed to excellence, service, and leadership. I have demonstrated academic success, global awareness, creative achievement, athletic dedication, and consistent community service. I have shown that I can take initiative, manage responsibility, and contribute meaningfully to my family, school, and community. With this scholarship, I can pursue my business marketing degree at Hampton University without the constant worry of financial strain, allowing me to expand my service, leadership, and impact. I intend to graduate equipped not just with a degree, but with the skills, experience, and mindset to create lasting change—for my family, for my community, and for the wider world.

Making Help Feel Normal I did not learn to manage ADHD by pretending it was not there. I learned by building systems around it. As a student in the International Baccalaureate program at Shortridge High School, I had to manage long assignments, multiple deadlines, music practice, service hours, and responsibilities outside of school. There were times when ADHD made simple things feel harder than they looked from the outside. Staying organized, starting tasks early, and keeping my focus were not automatic for me. I had to learn how to break work into smaller parts, write things down, ask for clarification, and create routines that helped me keep moving even when my mind felt scattered. That is why mental health matters to me as a student. It affects how people learn, communicate, handle pressure, and see themselves. When mental health or attention challenges are ignored, students can start believing they are lazy, careless, or not smart enough. I know that feeling is dangerous because it can make someone give up before they understand what support or strategy could help them succeed. For me, learning to manage ADHD was also learning not to measure myself only by the moments that were difficult. I am proud that I graduated with a 3.92 weighted GPA and became part of the High GPA Group at Shortridge, but those achievements matter to me because they came with growth. They remind me that success does not always mean having a perfect path. Sometimes it means learning how your brain works, being honest about what you need, and refusing to let a challenge decide your future for you. I advocate for mental health in my community in quiet but meaningful ways. As a peer Mandarin instructor, I helped other students with a subject that can feel intimidating. I tried to be patient because I know what it is like when learning does not happen instantly. Instead of making someone feel embarrassed for not understanding, I wanted them to feel like questions were normal and progress was possible. Through Boy Scouts, where I became a Life Scout and completed more than 200 service hours, I also learned that leadership is not about acting like you have everything figured out. It is about showing up consistently, paying attention to others, and helping people feel supported. Whether I was serving in the community, helping younger scouts, or encouraging classmates, I tried to lead in a way that made people feel seen rather than judged. At Hampton University, I plan to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business. My long-term goal is to help small businesses, underrepresented entrepreneurs, and community organizations tell their stories clearly and reach the people they serve. I believe mental health awareness belongs in that work too, because communities thrive when people are not ashamed to ask for help, build support systems, or talk honestly about pressure. To me, advocacy does not always begin with a microphone. Sometimes it begins with patience, honesty, and the decision to make help feel normal. I want to keep using my education and experiences to create spaces where students and young people understand that needing support does not make them weak. It makes them human, and it can be the beginning of strength.

Visibility Before Being Counted Out The impact I want to make is to help overlooked people become visible before they are counted out. I first learned that lesson in my father’s auto repair shop in Indianapolis. Since 2023, I have worked there as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. I helped customers, created Canva graphics, wrote captions, and learned how to explain services clearly so people could trust us. One of my biggest lessons came from a $40 Meta ad. It was not a huge campaign, but it showed me that the right message can bring attention to a small business that does not have a large marketing team behind it. That experience changed how I saw business. Marketing was not just about selling. It was about access, confidence, and helping hardworking people be seen. My father inspires that vision. He raised me as a single parent, taught me discipline in everyday ways, and showed me that work has dignity even when it is not always recognized. Around age 11, he taught me how to cook oatmeal, and that small moment turned into a love for cooking and learning from him. In his shop, I saw the same kind of lesson: skills matter, but so does the ability to communicate your value to the world. I plan to use my education at Hampton University to study business marketing with an international business focus. My goal is to help underrepresented entrepreneurs, family-owned businesses, and community organizations build stronger brands, use digital tools, and reach wider markets without losing their identity. I want to create work that helps a barber, mechanic, artist, nonprofit, or youth program move from being overlooked to being trusted and supported. My experiences have prepared me for that kind of impact. At Shortridge High School, I challenged myself in the International Baccalaureate program, earned a 3.92 GPA, and became part of the High GPA Group. As a Boy Scouts Life Scout with more than 200 service hours, I learned that leadership means serving consistently, not just when people are watching. As a peer Mandarin instructor and a student of English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, I learned that communication can open doors across cultures. Through experiences connected to Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda, I also learned that talent exists everywhere, but opportunity is not distributed equally. Sloane Stephens’ work with underserved youth reminds me that access to education, sports, mentorship, and safe spaces can change how young people see themselves. As someone who has played tennis and understands the confidence that comes from growth, practice, and support, I want to carry that same belief into business. Young people and small businesses both need someone to believe they are worth investing in. The change I am determined to create is economic empowerment that feels personal. I want my education to help me build strategies, programs, and eventually business services that make visibility more accessible to people who already have talent but need tools, guidance, and opportunity. If my father’s shop taught me anything, it is that one clear message can open a door. I want to spend my career helping others find that door and walk through it with confidence.

A $40 Lesson in Opportunity A $40 Meta ad taught me that opportunity is not always about who has talent. Sometimes it is about who has the resources to be seen. Since 2023, I have worked in my father's auto repair business in Indianapolis as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. My father raised me as a single parent, and being around his business showed me how hard people can work while still struggling to get the visibility and support they deserve. I created Canva graphics, wrote captions, helped with customers, and learned how to explain services clearly. When we ran a small $40 ad, I saw how one affordable tool could help a local business reach people who might have overlooked it. That moment helped shape the way I see scholarships. They are not handouts. They are tools that can help motivated students move from surviving to building something stronger. Students from disadvantaged backgrounds deserve opportunities because potential is not distributed by income, zip code, or family resources. Many students are already working, helping at home, managing financial stress, or figuring out college without the same safety net others may have. What they need is not pity. They need access. A scholarship can provide books, transportation, technology, tuition support, or simply the breathing room to focus fully on school. I have worked to overcome my own obstacles by staying disciplined and using every resource available to me. At Shortridge High School, I challenged myself in the International Baccalaureate program, earned a 3.92 weighted GPA, and became part of the High GPA Group. Managing ADHD has taught me that success is not always about having a perfect system from the beginning. It is about learning strategies, staying organized, asking for support, and continuing to revise yourself when something is not working. Through Boy Scouts, I became a Life Scout and completed more than 200 service hours. As a peer Mandarin instructor, I learned that leadership also means sharing what you know so someone else can grow. At Hampton University, I plan to study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Marketing. My goal is to use digital strategy and storytelling to help small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs become visible, trusted, and competitive. I know what it feels like to watch a small business fight to be noticed, and I want to turn that experience into a career that creates access for others. This grant would help reduce the financial pressure of college and allow me to focus on building the skills I need to serve my future community. My effort, academic growth, service, and goals all come from the same belief: when students from underserved backgrounds receive real opportunities, they do not just succeed for themselves. They open doors for others.

The Kid Who Did Not Fit One Box Most people can describe themselves with one simple label. I have always felt a little more like a combination that does not immediately make sense. I am the student who can spend years practicing classical piano, then switch to Mandarin homework, then go to my father’s auto repair shop and get excited about a Canva graphic or a $40 Meta ad. My “awkward” thing is that I do not fit neatly into one box. For a while, that made me feel different in a way I did not always know how to explain. I was not only a music student, but I also studied classical piano for 12 years and took IB Music HL. I was not only a language student, but I also speak English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, and have helped teach Mandarin to other students. I was not only the service kid, but I became a Boy Scouts Life Scout and completed more than 200 service hours. I was not only the business kid, but since 2023, I have worked in my father’s Indianapolis auto repair business as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. At first, all those parts of me felt scattered. Over time, I realized they were actually connected by one thing: communication. Piano taught me how to express emotion without words. Mandarin taught me patience and the courage to sound imperfect before I improved. Boy Scouts taught me that leadership means showing up for other people. My father’s shop taught me that even a small business with real skill can be overlooked if people do not understand its story. One of the clearest examples came from a $40 Meta ad I helped create for the shop. It was a small budget, but it showed me how the right message could help people notice a local business they might have passed by. That moment made me look at marketing differently. It was not just about selling something. It was about helping people be seen, trusted, and understood. Being a mix of different interests has also helped me in school. At Shortridge High School, I challenged myself in the International Baccalaureate program, earned a 3.92 GPA, and became part of the High GPA Group. I learned that standing out does not always mean being the loudest person in the room. Sometimes it means staying consistent, being curious, and letting your unusual combination of interests become a strength. As I prepare to attend Hampton University and study Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business, I no longer see my “awkward” mix as something I need to explain away. I see it as the reason I can connect with different people and ideas. My goal is to use marketing, creativity, and global communication to help small businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs tell their stories clearly. What makes me stand out is not one talent or one title. It is the fact that I am still building myself from many different pieces. That used to feel awkward. Now, it feels like a purpose.

I learned economic empowerment in a repair bay, not a boardroom. Since 2023, I have worked in my father’s Indianapolis auto repair business as a shop associate and digital marketing manager. My father raised me as a single parent, so I have seen the pressure behind every invoice, customer call, and slow week. In our shop, business is not just about profit. It is transportation for someone trying to get to work, trust for a customer afraid of being overcharged, and stability for a family trying to keep moving forward. One of the clearest lessons I learned came from a $40 Meta ad. That small budget could not compete with large companies, but it taught me that the right message can help a local business be seen. I designed Canva graphics, wrote captions, helped with customers, and learned how to explain services honestly and clearly. That experience changed how I saw marketing. It was not just about selling. It was a tool for access. My vision for economic empowerment starts there. Many Black and underrepresented entrepreneurs already have the skill, discipline, and creativity to serve their communities, but they are often missing the resources that make growth possible: branding, digital strategy, customer data, funding knowledge, and access to wider markets. Business innovation can help close that gap. When a small business gains visibility, it can hire, mentor, sponsor community events, and show young people that ownership is possible. That kind of change lasts because it not only helps one person succeed. It builds systems that keep opportunity circulating. At Hampton University, where I am beginning my undergraduate journey in Business Marketing with a concentration in International Business, I want to prepare for that work with purpose. Hampton matters to me because an HBCU environment does more than educate Black students. It affirms our excellence while challenging us to use it responsibly. My goal is to learn how to build brands, study markets, and create campaigns that help underrepresented businesses compete without losing their identity. My global experiences have also shaped this vision. Through connections to Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda, I have learned that talent exists everywhere, but opportunity does not. In China, I noticed how different school systems shaped discipline and expectations. In Uganda, riding through communities where clean water was not always accessible made me more aware of how basic resources affect a person’s future. Those experiences made me grateful, but they also made me responsible. If I am given access, I should use it to create access for others. That belief is also personal. As a Boy Scouts Life Scout with more than 200 service hours and as a peer Mandarin instructor, I have learned that leadership is not about being the loudest person in the room. It is about making what you know useful to someone else. Even while managing ADHD, I pushed myself through the IB Diploma Program, earned a 3.92 weighted GPA, and kept improving because I understood that discipline could open doors. My career goal is to use business marketing and international strategy to help underrepresented entrepreneurs tell stronger stories, reach broader customers, and turn visibility into economic power. Social equity and justice are not only fought for in courtrooms or speeches. They are also built through businesses that create jobs, protect dignity, and give communities the power to define themselves. I know what it feels like to watch a small business fight to be noticed. Now I want to build a career helping more businesses be seen, supported, and strong enough to change the communities around them.

I want to build a future where small businesses, young people, and communities that are often overlooked have the tools to be seen, supported, and taken seriously. For me, building is not just about creating something new. It is about taking what is already valuable and helping it grow. I learned this lesson inside my father’s auto repair shop. I have watched him work hard, serve people honestly, and carry responsibilities as a single father while still teaching me the importance of discipline and integrity. At the shop, I began helping with digital marketing and online outreach. I learned that even a small budget, like a $40 Meta ad, could make a difference when it was used with creativity and purpose. That experience showed me that marketing is more than selling. It is storytelling, problem-solving, and connecting people to services they need. As an incoming undergraduate student at Hampton University, I plan to study Business Marketing with a focus on International Business. I want to build the knowledge, confidence, and professional skills to help small and minority-owned businesses grow beyond the limits placed on them by lack of exposure, resources, or opportunity. My goal is to one day create a business or marketing agency that helps local entrepreneurs strengthen their brand, reach new customers, and compete in a changing global economy. I also want to build relationships across cultures. Learning Spanish and Mandarin Chinese and studying in places like Ecuador, Taiwan, China, and Uganda taught me that opportunity does not look the same everywhere, but ambition exists everywhere. These experiences helped me see the value of communication, respect, and understanding people beyond my own environment. I want to use that perspective to build bridges between communities and create opportunities that reach beyond one neighborhood or one country. My commitment to service also shapes what I want to build. Through Boy Scouts, community service, and teaching Mandarin to peers, I learned that leadership is not always about being the loudest person in the room. Sometimes it means being patient, showing up consistently, and helping someone else believe they can do something difficult. The future I am building is rooted in faith, hard work, and responsibility. I want my education to help me become the kind of leader who creates impact, not only income. If I can use business to help families, strengthen small businesses, mentor young people, and bring more opportunity into my community, then I will know I built something that matters.

My background has been shaped by both limitation and opportunity. I was raised by a single father who worked hard to provide for me, even when our resources were limited. Growing up, I saw firsthand what it meant to sacrifice for someone else’s future. That example stayed with me and continues to influence how I show up for both my family and my community. At home, contributing means stepping up where I’m needed. I’ve helped support my father’s auto shop by managing social media marketing, creating graphics, and running Facebook ads to attract customers. It may seem small, but I’ve seen how those efforts translate into real income and stability for our household. That experience taught me that contribution is not about how big the role is, but how intentional you are in showing up. In my community, I’ve taken that same mindset into service. Through Boy Scouts, where I’ve completed over 200 hours of community service, I’ve been involved in projects like neighborhood cleanups, food drives, and mentoring younger Scouts. Serving as a Patrol Leader showed me that leadership is less about being in charge and more about being responsible for others. I’ve learned how to guide, support, and create an environment where others can grow. One of the most meaningful ways I contribute is through education. After studying Mandarin abroad, I returned to my high school and began teaching it to my peers. Many of them had never been exposed to the language and didn’t see themselves in global or multilingual spaces. I wanted to change that. Teaching them wasn’t just about language; it was about expanding what they believed was possible for themselves. Seeing their confidence grow has been one of the most rewarding parts of my experience. After college, I plan to continue serving my community through my business career. I want to use marketing not just as a profession, but as a tool to support underserved communities, especially small, minority-owned businesses that lack access to resources and visibility. I’ve already seen how effective marketing can impact a business through my father’s shop, and I want to scale that impact on a larger level. Beyond my career, I plan to stay involved through mentorship and community programs. I want to create or support initiatives that provide young people with access to skills like digital marketing, language learning, and global exposure. My goal is to help others see opportunities they might not have considered before, just like someone once did for me. My background has taught me that contribution is not defined by circumstance, but by action. Whether it’s supporting my family, mentoring others, or building opportunities through my future career, I am committed to showing up consistently and making a meaningful impact.

Selflessness, to me, means using what I’ve been given to create opportunities for someone else. It is not always about grand gestures. Sometimes it is choosing to step in, give your time, and help people believe in themselves when they are struggling to do so on their own. One of the clearest examples of this in my life started after I returned from a Mandarin immersion program in Tainan, Taiwan, and additional study programs in Nanjing, China. Learning Mandarin was one of the hardest things I had ever done. At first, I struggled with pronunciation, confidence, and even believing I belonged in those international spaces. But over time, I grew conversationally fluent and began to understand how language can connect people across cultures. When I returned to Shortridge High School, where I am currently an IB Diploma candidate, I realized that many students around me did not see themselves pursuing opportunities like studying abroad or learning Mandarin Chinese. As a Black student in advanced international programs, I understood that feeling personally because I had once questioned whether I belonged there, too. Instead of keeping those experiences to myself, I volunteered to become a peer Mandarin instructor after school. At first, only a few students attended. Many were hesitant and lacked confidence. Some openly said they were “not smart enough” to learn a language like Chinese. I made it my goal to change that mindset. Rather than teaching like a traditional classroom, I focused on making students comfortable with making mistakes. I shared stories about my own struggles learning Mandarin and taught through conversation, culture, and practical examples. One student especially stood out to me. During the first few sessions, he barely spoke and often avoided participating because he was afraid of getting things wrong. Over time, though, he slowly became more confident. Weeks later, he was speaking phrases out loud, helping classmates pronounce words correctly, and laughing at mistakes instead of shutting down. Watching that transformation reminded me that helping someone in need is not always about solving problems for them. Sometimes it is about helping them see potential in themselves that they could not see before. That same mindset has shaped other areas of my life. Through Boy Scouts of America, where I have served for over seven years and achieved the rank of Life Scout, I have completed more than 200 hours of community service. Whether organizing neighborhood cleanups, leading projects at the Martin Luther King Community Center in Indianapolis, or mentoring younger Scouts, I learned that service is about consistency and reliability. People may forget what you say, but they remember who showed up for them. Selflessness has also shaped how I contribute to my family. Since 2023, I have worked in my father’s auto repair business as a Digital Marketing Manager and shop associate. Growing up in a single-parent household taught me responsibility early. I helped build the business’s online presence from scratch, running Meta advertising campaigns, designing marketing graphics, and working in the shop itself. For me, helping my father sustain and grow the business was never just work. It was a way to support my family and contribute to something bigger than myself. Through all of these experiences, I have learned that selflessness is not about recognition. It is about using your abilities, experiences, and time to uplift others whenever you can.

One of the most meaningful volunteering events I organized was a community service project at the Martin Luther King Community Center in Indianapolis through my Boy Scout troop. As a Patrol Leader and Life Scout, I wasn’t just participating. I was responsible for planning, coordinating, and making sure the project actually made an impact. The goal was simple: serve the community in a way that was consistent and useful, not just a one-time effort. I worked with my troop to organize a cleanup and support initiative that included preparing the space, assisting with local programs, and contributing to ongoing community needs. That meant coordinating schedules, assigning roles, and making sure everyone understood why the work mattered. It wasn’t always easy getting everyone on the same page, but that’s where leadership really came in. For me, volunteering has never been about checking a box. Through Boy Scouts, where I’ve completed over 200 hours of service, I’ve learned that showing up consistently matters more than doing something once and calling it done. Whether it’s neighborhood cleanups, food drives, or mentoring younger Scouts, I’ve always approached service as something that should leave a lasting effect. When I mentor younger Scouts, I don’t just teach them skills like tying knots or organizing gear. I help them understand responsibility, teamwork, and how to lead in their own way. Outside of Scouts, I’ve also found ways to give back through education. After studying Mandarin abroad and becoming fluent, I started teaching it to my peers at Shortridge High School. Most of them had never been exposed to the language before, and some didn’t believe they could learn it. As a Black student teaching Mandarin, I knew I was also challenging assumptions about who belongs in global and academic spaces. I kept showing up after school, breaking things down, and helping them build confidence. For me, that’s also service. It’s not always physical work. Sometimes it’s expanding someone’s mindset. Leadership through service, in my experience, means putting others in a position to succeed, even if you’re not the one in the spotlight. When I organized the project at the Martin Luther King Community Center, my goal wasn’t to stand out. It was to make sure the work got done and that everyone involved understood their role in it. The best leaders I’ve learned from, including my father, don’t lead for recognition. They lead because they know others are depending on them. Growing up in a single-parent household, I’ve seen what that kind of leadership looks like every day. My father has always shown me that leadership is about consistency, sacrifice, and showing up even when it’s not easy. I’ve carried that into how I serve my community. Service has taught me that impact doesn’t come from one big moment. It comes from repeated actions, done with intention. Leadership makes that possible. It brings people together, gives direction, and turns effort into real change. That’s the kind of leader I continue to grow into, someone who serves first, leads with purpose, and helps others rise along the way.

The person who has supported me most in my educational journey is my father, who raised me alone. Being a single dad meant he carried every responsibility by himself, from providing for our daily needs to making long-term decisions about my education and future. The obstacles he faced were not just financial, but also emotional and physical exhaustion that comes with being the only parent in the house. Still, he never allowed those challenges to define what was possible for me. One of the biggest obstacles my dad overcame was limited financial stability while still trying to give me access to opportunities beyond our environment. I watched him carefully plan and sacrifice so I could experience more than what was immediately around me. Even when it would have been easier to stay local, he found ways for me to study and live in places like China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. Those experiences were not just educational trips. They were intentional investments in my future. Because of him, I became trilingual in English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, and I began to understand that my identity and potential were not limited by where I started. What stayed with me most is how consistent he was, even when things were hard. There were days when I could see the pressure he was under, but he still showed up with structure and expectation. He made sure I stayed focused on school, discipline, and responsibility. That consistency shaped my own mindset. I learned that success is not about motivation in the moment, but about showing up even when life is difficult. Living with ADHD made school more challenging for me, especially during the IB Diploma Programme, but my father’s example became my anchor. I currently maintain a 3.92 GPA, not because everything comes easily, but because I learned from him how to build discipline through repetition and accountability. He taught me that excuses do not change outcomes, but effort and consistency do. Being raised by a single father also shaped my values. I learned gratitude in a very real way. I understood early that every opportunity I received came from sacrifice. That awareness made me more intentional about how I use what I’ve been given. It is also why I give back, such as teaching Mandarin Chinese to peers at my school who have never been exposed to the language. I want others to experience the same kind of access my father fought to give me. My vision for the future is rooted in what I watched him do. I want to enter business, not just to succeed personally, but to create opportunities for families like mine. Whether through marketing, entrepreneurship, or community development, I want to help others build stability the way my father worked to build ours. His journey taught me that strength is not about having everything together, but about continuing to provide and lead even when you don’t. I am who I am because my father refused to let his circumstances limit my future. Everything I strive for is a reflection of his sacrifice and belief in me.

One of the most meaningful relationships in my life is the one I have with my father. It has shaped not only who I am as a student and leader, but also how I build connections with others. Through him, I learned what it means to lead with consistency, to listen with intention, and to support others in ways that are practical, not just verbal. Growing up, I saw my father carry the full responsibility of raising me on his own. He was not just a parent in the traditional sense. He was a provider, teacher, coach, and constant source of structure. The challenges he faced as a single father were visible even when he tried to hide them. There were moments when finances were tight or when exhaustion showed in his silence, but he never allowed those moments to change how he showed up for me. That consistency became the foundation of our relationship. One memory that stands out is how he made education something active in our lives, not just something that happened in school. Even when resources were limited, he prioritized experiences that would expand my worldview. Because of his sacrifices, I was able to live and study in countries like China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. At the time, I did not fully understand the weight of what he was doing. Looking back, I realize those experiences required him to let go of comfort and certainty so I could grow. Those years shaped me into someone who is trilingual in English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese and someone who is comfortable in environments far beyond my original surroundings. That relationship also shaped how I approach challenges. I live with ADHD, and in an academic environment like the IB Diploma Programme, staying consistent has not always been easy. There were moments when I struggled with focus and structure. But my father never allowed me to view those challenges as permanent barriers. Instead, he modeled discipline in a quiet but powerful way. Watching him manage responsibility alone taught me that consistency is built, not inherited. That is why I have been able to maintain a 3.92 GPA. My academic performance is not just personal achievement, but a reflection of the discipline I learned at home. Our relationship also shaped how I connect with other people. I do not see leadership as authority, but as service. That mindset comes directly from watching my father lead our household. It is why I committed myself to the Boy Scouts of America, where I served as Patrol Leader, Treasurer, and Webmaster, and completed over 200 hours of community service. It is also why I chose to teach Mandarin Chinese to my peers at Shortridge High School. Many of them had never been exposed to the language, and I wanted to give them access to something that expanded their opportunities. I learned from my father that real support is not abstract. It is showing up, teaching, and making things possible for others. In the way I build friendships and teamwork, I try to carry the same consistency he showed me. I pay attention to people’s needs, I follow through on commitments, and I try to be someone others can rely on. Whether it is in athletics, academics, or service, I value trust over recognition. Ultimately, my relationship with my father taught me that connection is built through action. It is not what you say in big moments, but what you consistently do in ordinary ones. That lesson shapes how I lead, how I learn, and how I plan to contribute to the world through business in the future.

Speech and debate taught me how to speak. My father taught me why it matters. Growing up in a single-parent household, I’ve watched my dad build a life for us through consistency, sacrifice, and quiet faith. He runs our family’s auto repair business, and from a young age, I saw what it meant to take responsibility without excuses. There were long days, unexpected challenges, and moments where things could have easily fallen apart, but he stayed steady. He didn’t just tell me the importance of education; he showed me through his actions that growth requires discipline, patience, and a willingness to keep going even when it’s hard. That example is a big part of why I’ve chosen to pursue higher education. I want to build on the foundation he created, not just for myself, but for the opportunities it can open for our family and others. Watching him navigate business decisions without formal training also pushed me toward studying business marketing and international business. I’ve seen firsthand how knowledge can expand what’s possible, and I want to combine real-world experience with formal education to take what we’ve started even further. My decision to join speech and debate came from a different kind of challenge. I’ve always had ideas, but putting them into words, especially in front of others, didn’t come naturally. Living with ADHD, staying organized during preparation, and focusing under pressure were difficult. I didn’t join because I was confident. I joined because I wasn’t. At first, it was uncomfortable. Organizing arguments, thinking on my feet, and speaking in front of judges pushed me out of my comfort zone quickly. But over time, I started to see growth. I learned how to structure my thoughts, communicate clearly, and most importantly, listen. Debate taught me that communication isn’t just about speaking, it’s about understanding different perspectives and responding with intention. That skill has impacted more than just competitions. It’s shaped how I approach my education and future career. Whether I’m working on marketing strategies for our family business or planning to engage in global markets, the ability to communicate matters effectively. Speech and debate gave me a space to develop that skill in a way that was challenging but necessary. It also influenced how I share my faith. Conversations about belief can be complex, and not everyone sees the world the same way. Debate taught me to approach those conversations with respect, preparation, and clarity. Instead of trying to “win” a conversation, I focus on being intentional with my words and grounded in my values. I’ve applied the same mindset when teaching Mandarin to my peers. Many of my students start off unsure of themselves, just like I did in speech. I’ve learned to meet them where they are, break things down, and create an environment where they feel comfortable learning. That experience reinforced something my father has always modeled: growth takes patience and consistency. Speech and debate challenged me to grow. My father showed me why growth matters. Together, those influences have shaped my decision to pursue higher education with purpose, discipline, and a clear sense of direction.

During one Boy Scouts service project at the Martin Luther King Community Center in Indianapolis, I remember organizing a small food drive that turned into something much bigger than I expected. What started as a simple collection effort became a lesson in leadership, communication, and responsibility. I had to coordinate volunteers, manage donations, and motivate younger Scouts who were unsure of their roles. That experience showed me that impact is not about position or age, but about willingness to step up and serve with intention. Growing up with a single father shaped how I approach moments like that. My father didn’t just raise me; he built pathways for me to see beyond our circumstances. Through his sacrifices, I was able to live and study in countries like China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. Those experiences expanded my understanding of people and culture, but they also made me aware of how much potential exists when opportunity is accessible. As a Black student often entering spaces where I was underrepresented, I learned to adapt instead of withdraw, and to lead instead of hesitate. Higher education is the next step that will allow me to turn these experiences into structured skills and long-term impact. I plan to study business, specifically marketing, and I see college as the environment where I can finally connect my real-world experience with formal training. While I have already helped manage social media marketing for my father’s auto shop, I know higher education will teach me how to refine strategy through data analysis, consumer behavior, and advanced digital marketing systems. It will also provide access to internships, mentorship, and collaborative environments where I can learn directly from professionals who have built scalable businesses. Just as important, college will challenge me to grow in discipline and consistency. Living with ADHD has required me to develop systems that help me stay focused and organized, especially while balancing IB coursework, varsity sports like track and field and tennis, and over 12 years of classical piano training. Higher education will push me to strengthen those systems in a more demanding environment, preparing me for the structure and pressure of the business world. My long-term goal is to use business and marketing not just for profit, but for access. I want to help small and minority-owned businesses, especially those with limited resources, build visibility and compete in larger markets. I understand firsthand how strong ideas and hard work can still go unnoticed without the right marketing tools. Through digital strategy, branding, and advertising, I want to close that gap and help businesses grow sustainably. Beyond that, I plan to invest in people through mentorship and education. I already see this in small ways through teaching Mandarin Chinese to my peers at school. Many of them had never considered learning a language like Mandarin, and I want to show them that global spaces are not out of reach. In the future, I hope to expand that mindset through structured programs that combine business education, language learning, and leadership development for students who may not yet see those possibilities for themselves. Higher education is not just the next academic step for me. It is the training ground where my experiences, discipline, and purpose will be refined into impact. I am pursuing it so I can build a career that does more than create success for myself. I want to build systems, opportunities, and pathways that others can step into and grow from.

I grew up in a household where it was just my dad and me, and that shaped everything about who I am. There was no shared load, no second parent to fall back on. It was just him figuring things out in real time, making sure I had what I needed while carrying responsibilities most people never see. I didn’t fully understand it when I was younger, but I could always feel it in the way he showed up every day, steady, present, and intentional. Being raised by a single father meant I saw sacrifice up close. I watched him stretch limited resources to give me opportunities that didn’t seem possible for our situation. Somehow, I ended up studying and living in places like China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. Those experiences changed me. They pushed me to become trilingual in English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, but more than that, they expanded how I saw the world and my place in it. I realized early on that my life wasn’t going to be defined by limitations. It was going to be defined by how I responded to them. One of the biggest realizations I had came when I started teaching Mandarin to my peers at school. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I just wanted to help a few classmates who were curious. But I quickly noticed something deeper. Many of them believed they couldn’t learn the language before they even tried. Some felt it wasn’t “for them.” As a Black student teaching Mandarin, I realized I was also challenging assumptions about who belongs in certain spaces. That experience changed how I understood both myself and others. I saw that confidence isn’t always about ability. Sometimes it’s about access and belief. My dad had given me both, even when it cost him something. For my classmates, that access didn’t always exist. Teaching them made me realize that what I had been given wasn’t just an advantage, it was a responsibility. Support is not meant to stop with you. It’s meant to be passed forward. Growing up in a single-parent household also taught me discipline and consistency. Maintaining a 3.92 GPA in the IB Diploma Programme while managing ADHD hasn’t been easy. There were moments where staying focused felt like a constant battle. But watching my dad never make excuses made it harder for me to make my own. I learned to build systems, stay consistent, and push through even when it wasn’t convenient. Everything I’ve accomplished is tied back to how I was raised. My father didn’t just provide for me. He showed me what it means to invest in someone fully, even when it’s difficult. That understanding has shaped my goals moving forward. I plan to pursue a career in business, not just to succeed, but to create opportunities for others the way he did for me. My upbringing taught me that success is not just personal. It is shared. And the realization I carry with me is this: when someone believes in you, it changes what you believe is possible.

The first time I realized I could teach something I loved was after school, standing in front of a whiteboard, trying to explain Mandarin tones to a classmate who had never heard the language before. He looked at me, confused, then laughed and said, “I didn’t think someone like you would know this.” I smiled, broke the word down again, and when he finally got it right, his face lit up. That moment stayed with me. It wasn’t just about language. It was about possibility, both his and mine. My name is Marleigh Hicks. I am a 16-year-old Black student from Indianapolis, raised by my father, a single parent who has shaped my understanding of discipline, humility, and purpose. Being adopted into a household where hard work was non-negotiable, I learned early that opportunities are not guaranteed; they are built. Even though my father holds a law degree, our family operates on a limited income, which has made me more aware of responsibility and the value of every opportunity I’m given. Academically, I’ve challenged myself through the International Baccalaureate Diploma, maintaining a 3.92 GPA while managing ADHD. That balance has not come easily. Staying organized, focused, and consistent requires intentional systems and discipline. ADHD is both a weakness and a strength. It can make focus difficult, but it has also pushed me to develop resilience, adaptability, and self-awareness. Earning Magna Cum Laude and Cum Laude honors reflects not just intelligence, but persistence. Outside the classroom, I’ve spent 12 years as a classical pianist. Music has been one of the most grounding parts of my life. Practicing for hours, refining the smallest details, and performing under pressure have taught me patience and precision. At the same time, I’ve explored creativity through photography and the Jazz Club, where collaboration and expression matter just as much as technical skill. Athletics is another space where I’ve grown. Competing in varsity track & field, tennis, swimming, and other sports has taught me how to handle pressure, work within a team, and push past limits. Whether it’s improving a sprint time or adjusting strategy in a match, I’ve learned that progress comes from consistency and accountability. Service is where my values come into action. Through Boy Scouts, where I am a Life Scout, I’ve completed over 200 hours of community service and held leadership roles, including Patrol Leader. I’ve led projects at the Martin Luther King Community Center, organized food drives, and mentored younger Scouts. These experiences taught me that leadership is not about being in charge; it’s about serving others and helping them grow. My global experiences have also shaped who I am. Living and studying in China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda exposed me to different cultures, challenges, and ways of thinking. These experiences expanded my perspective and inspired my desire to pursue a career in business. I want to use business not just to succeed personally, but to create opportunities for underserved communities, especially minority-owned businesses that often lack access to resources and visibility. Currently, I’ve already begun that path by helping manage social media marketing for my father’s auto shop. From running Facebook ads to designing graphics, I’ve learned how strategy and creativity intersect in business. It’s shown me how small changes can create real impact, especially when resources are limited. Looking ahead, I see myself earning a degree in business marketing and using those skills to build systems that empower communities. I want to create platforms, mentorship programs, and strategies that help others grow sustainably. My goal is not just success, but impact, measured by how many people I can help along the way. This scholarship is essential to that journey. It will reduce the financial burden on my family and allow me to focus fully on my education, growth, and service. More importantly, it will give me the opportunity to continue building toward a future where I can give back on a larger scale. Everything I’ve experienced—my challenges, my achievements, and my responsibilities—has shaped my direction. I am not just working toward a career. I am working toward a life of purpose, where success is defined by contribution.

My name is Marleigh Hicks, a trilingual Black/African American student raised by a single father in Indianapolis. Being adopted into a household earning under $30,000 a year, I learned early that opportunity is not given, it is built. My father, who runs an auto shop, showed me that through his consistency and sacrifice. Even with limited resources, he made sure I experienced more than our circumstances, sending me to study and live in China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. Those experiences shaped how I see the world and what I believe is possible. Growing up, I often found myself in spaces where I was underrepresented. Whether learning Mandarin Chinese, performing classical piano, or studying abroad, I had to adapt and grow. Becoming fluent in Mandarin Chinese and Spanish pushed me beyond my comfort zone, while my time abroad showed me how culture, language, and business are connected. Those experiences gave me direction. I want to pursue Business Marketing to connect people, ideas, and opportunities across communities. My journey has also included challenges. Living with ADHD while completing the International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme required discipline that did not come naturally. I had to build systems to manage my time, stay organized, and remain consistent. Instead of lowering expectations, I learned to work through difficulty. That mindset has helped me maintain a 3.92 GPA and earn Magna Cum Laude and Cum Laude honors twice. Leadership and service have shaped how I apply what I’ve learned. Through Boy Scouts of America, I earned the rank of Life Scout and completed over 200 hours of community service, including cleanups, food drives, and mentoring younger Scouts. These experiences taught me that leadership is not about recognition, but about creating opportunities for others. I carried that into my school by teaching Mandarin Chinese to peers who had never been exposed to the language. Watching them grow in confidence showed me how education can expand what people believe is possible. I have also gained real-world experience through social media marketing for my father’s auto shop. Managing Facebook and Meta ads taught me how communication and strategy directly impact business success, especially with limited resources. It showed me how many small businesses lack visibility, not potential. Attending Hampton University represents more than a degree. It represents growth, community, and purpose. I want to learn in an environment that challenges me while allowing me to fully develop as a student and leader. In the future, I plan to use my Business Marketing degree to help small and minority-owned businesses grow by improving their visibility and access to resources. My goal is to create opportunities not just for myself, but for others. My journey has been about making the most of what I’ve been given. Hampton is not the end goal. It is the next step toward building something greater for my family, my community, and the future I am working toward.

Education has always been more than school for me. It has been the clearest source of direction in my life, especially growing up in a household led by my father, a single parent who carried every responsibility alone. From an early age, I learned that education is not just something you attend, but something that can reshape your future if you take it seriously. My father did not just encourage education; he made it a priority even when it required sacrifice. We did not have unlimited resources, but he consistently found ways to invest in experiences that expanded my learning beyond the classroom. Because of him, I was able to study and live in countries such as China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. These were not just travel experiences. They became defining parts of my education. I learned how people live differently, how culture shapes communication, and how perspective changes problem-solving. These experiences deepened my curiosity and pushed me to become trilingual in English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese. When I reflect on how education shaped my goals, it began in those moments outside traditional classrooms. In China and Taiwan, I saw how language opens doors that would otherwise remain closed. In Ecuador and Uganda, I saw how communities solve problems with limited resources but strong creativity and resilience. These experiences made me realize I wanted a future where I could connect people, ideas, and opportunities across different environments. That is where my interest in business began, especially marketing, because I saw how communication and strategy can directly influence real outcomes. At the same time, my education has come with challenges that tested my discipline. One of the biggest challenges has been managing ADHD while taking on the demands of the International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme. IB is rigorous, but for me, it required building a structure where focus does not always come naturally. I struggled with organization, time management, and consistency. Instead of lowering expectations, I learned to create systems, break tasks into smaller steps, and rely on discipline rather than motivation. Over time, I realized that success is not about perfection, but about consistency, especially when it is difficult. Despite these challenges, I have maintained a 3.92 GPA while balancing academics with athletics, music, leadership, and service. I have been a classical pianist for 12 years and competed in varsity athletics, including track and field, tennis, swimming, pickleball, badminton, and ping pong. I also stayed active in the Jazz Club and photography. Each of these experiences shaped how I understand education. Piano taught me patience and repetition. Sports taught me resilience and teamwork. Academics taught me focus and critical thinking. Together, they shaped how I approach learning not as an obligation, but as a long-term investment in who I am becoming. Education has also shaped me through leadership and service. Through Boy Scouts of America, I earned the rank of Life Scout and served as Patrol Leader, Assistant Patrol Leader, Treasurer, and Webmaster. I completed over 200 hours of community service, including neighborhood cleanups, food drives, and youth mentorship. These experiences taught me that education is not only about personal achievement, but also about responsibility to others. I learned how to lead, organize, and support people who are still building confidence and direction. I also experienced the power of education through teaching. As a peer Mandarin Chinese instructor at my high school, I voluntarily teach students who have never been exposed to the language. Many of them never imagined they could learn Mandarin, especially from someone who looks like me. Teaching them showed me that education builds confidence as much as knowledge. When students begin to understand something they once thought was impossible, their mindset shifts. In those moments, education becomes empowerment. Another important part of my education has been my work experience in social media marketing and graphic design for my father’s auto shop. Managing Facebook and Meta ads taught me how business operates in real time. I saw how visibility, communication, and strategy directly affect income and opportunity. This experience connected classroom learning to real-world application and confirmed my interest in business. It showed me that education is not separate from life, but deeply connected to it. My challenges, especially ADHD, have shaped how I approach learning and how I understand others. I no longer see challenges as limitations, but as systems that need to be managed. This mindset has helped me stay consistent, patient, and focused on growth. Looking ahead, I plan to pursue a degree in Business, focusing on marketing and entrepreneurship. My goal is to use education not only to build a successful career but to create opportunities for others, especially small and underserved businesses. Many businesses do not fail because of a lack of effort, but because they lack visibility and resources. I want to change that by helping them grow and compete through strategic marketing. Ultimately, education has given me direction by showing me both who I am and what I can contribute. It has taught me discipline, adaptability, and purpose. It has shown me that my background does not define my future, but it does shape my responsibility. As I continue my education, I carry with me everything I have learned from my father, from my global experiences, and from the challenges I have faced. My goal is not only to succeed, but to use education to create lasting impact and expand opportunities for others, just as it has done for me.

Growing up in the inner city of Indianapolis shaped how I see the world, myself, and what is possible. Life in my community was full of contrasts. On one hand, there was a strong sense of culture, resilience, and connection. On the other hand, there were limitations that often made opportunity feel distant or dependent on circumstance. From an early age, I learned that potential does not always match environment, and that success requires intentional effort even when systems around you are not always designed to support it. Being raised by my father in this environment added another layer to my experience. As a single parent, he carried every responsibility alone, from financial provision to emotional support and guidance. I saw firsthand how much effort it took for him to make sure I had access to opportunities beyond our immediate surroundings. Even when resources were limited, he found ways to invest in my growth, including allowing me to study and live in places such as China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. These experiences were not common for someone from my community, and they showed me that my environment did not have to define my limits. One of the biggest challenges I faced growing up in the inner city was learning how to navigate expectations versus reality. I often found myself balancing different worlds: the discipline required in my IB Diploma Programme, the responsibilities at home, and the realities of my community. Managing ADHD made this even more complex, especially when structure was not always easy to maintain. There were times when I had to learn the hard way that talent alone was not enough. I needed systems, discipline, and consistency to succeed. Over time, I learned how to overcome these challenges by building structure into my daily life. I developed habits that helped me stay organized, manage my time, and stay focused on long-term goals rather than short-term distractions. This is how I have been able to maintain a 3.92 GPA while also participating in varsity athletics, classical piano for 12 years, Boy Scouts leadership roles, and multiple service commitments. Each responsibility taught me how to balance pressure while still performing at a high level. Growing up in the inner city also shaped how I connect with others. I became more aware of how access can change someone’s trajectory. This is why I chose to teach Mandarin Chinese to my peers at Shortridge High School. Many of them had never been exposed to the language and did not see themselves as capable of learning it. As a Black student teaching a global language, I wanted to challenge assumptions about who belongs in international spaces. Watching my peers gain confidence as they learned something new reminded me that representation and access matter as much as instruction. Despite the challenges, I do not view my upbringing as something that held me back. Instead, it taught me resilience, adaptability, and purpose. It taught me that success is not about where you start, but about how you respond to your environment and the opportunities you create for others. Ultimately, growing up in the inner city gave me both urgency and direction. It pushed me to think beyond my circumstances and commit to building a future in business where I can help create opportunities, support families, and strengthen communities like the one that raised me.

Faith is not something I separate from the rest of my life. As a Christian, I see God’s presence in how I think, how I work, and how I treat people. My faith is not just a belief. It is discipline, direction, and trust that God is shaping my life even when I cannot fully see the outcome. A lot of my understanding of faith started with my father. As a single parent, he raised me with consistency and sacrifice, always making sure I had opportunities to grow even when things were not easy. Watching him taught me that faith is active. It looks like showing up every day, making hard decisions, and trusting God even in uncertainty. His example helped me understand that faith is not passive. It requires action, patience, and endurance. In my own life, faith has helped me stay grounded in academics and personal growth. I am currently in the IB Diploma Programme with a 3.92 GPA, and maintaining that standard has taken discipline, especially while managing ADHD. There are days when focusing feels overwhelming or when my thoughts move faster than my ability to organize them. In those moments, my faith reminds me that temporary struggles do not define my worth. It pushes me to keep going, to reset, and to trust that God has given me the ability to persevere. I do not pursue academic success only for recognition. I pursue it because I believe my gifts are meant to be developed with purpose. Faith also shows up in how I serve others. Through the Boy Scouts of America, where I earned the rank of Life Scout and served in leadership roles such as Patrol Leader and Treasurer, I have learned that leadership is responsibility, not status. I have contributed over 200 hours of community service, including neighborhood cleanups, food drives, and mentoring younger Scouts. At the Martin Luther King Community Center in Indianapolis, I helped organize service projects that reminded me how small actions can create real change. My faith teaches me that serving others is one of the clearest ways to reflect God’s love in daily life. Another way my faith has shaped me is through teaching Mandarin Chinese to my peers. After studying and living abroad in places like China and Taiwan, I realized many students had never been exposed to global languages or cultures. I started teaching Mandarin after school, not just to share language skills, but to help others believe they could step into spaces they once thought were out of reach. My faith reminds me that people are capable of more than they often believe, and that part of my purpose is to help them see that. Looking ahead, I plan to pursue a career in business, especially marketing. I want to use those skills to build opportunities for underserved communities and help small or minority-owned businesses grow. My faith will continue to guide me on that path by keeping my focus on purpose over profit. It reminds me to lead with integrity, to treat people with respect, and to measure success not only by achievement, but by impact. Ultimately, my faith in God is what gives my life direction. It has helped me stay grounded through challenges, stay disciplined in my goals, and stay committed to serving others. In my future career, it will continue to be my foundation, shaping not just what I do, but why I do it.

One moment that challenged me most because of my upbringing happened the summer before my junior year, when I was accepted into a short-term academic program in Taiwan. It was an opportunity I had worked toward for years through my language studies, but when the acceptance email came in, my first reaction wasn’t excitement. It was silence. I knew what it would cost, and I knew my father was already stretching every dollar just to keep things steady at home. That night, I found him at the kitchen table going over bills. I remember standing there, holding my phone, trying to figure out how to even bring it up. Growing up with a single parent meant I was always aware of what things cost, even when he tried to shield me from it. Opportunities didn’t just appear. They had to be chosen, and sometimes sacrificed. When I finally told him, he didn’t hesitate the way I expected. He didn’t say we couldn’t afford it. He just asked, “Is this something that’s going to move you forward?” I said yes. And that was enough for him. But it wasn’t enough for me to just say yes and leave the burden there. That moment forced me to step into a different role. Instead of being the kid receiving opportunities, I had to take ownership of making them possible. I spent the next few weeks applying for small scholarships, reaching out to program coordinators about financial aid, and picking up extra work through social media marketing projects I had been doing on the side. I redesigned ad creatives, managed Facebook campaigns, and saved everything I earned. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine. At the same time, I adjusted how I approached everything else in my life. I became more intentional with my time, more disciplined with my academics, and more aware of the responsibility I carried. Balancing a 3.92 GPA in the IB Diploma Programme while managing ADHD had already required structure, but now it required purpose. Every assignment, every late night, every decision felt connected to something bigger than just grades. When I finally got on the plane to Taiwan, I knew that experience represented more than travel. It represented a partnership between my father’s sacrifice and my effort to meet him halfway. Living there pushed me even further. Being immersed in Mandarin every day challenged me to grow quickly, not just academically but personally. As a Black student in an international space where people didn’t expect me to speak the language, I had to constantly prove that I belonged. Instead of shrinking back, I leaned into it. I asked questions, made mistakes publicly, and kept going until I improved. That same mindset later led me to start teaching Mandarin to my peers back home, because I understood how access and confidence can change someone’s path. Looking back, that moment at the kitchen table changed how I approach my future. It taught me that my circumstances don’t limit me, but they do require me to take responsibility. I don’t wait for opportunities to be handed to me without effort. I build toward them. It also shaped how I define success. For me, success isn’t just about personal achievement. It’s about honoring the sacrifices that made those achievements possible and extending that impact to others. As I pursue a career in business, I carry that perspective with me. Watching my father run his auto shop showed me how a business can directly support a family, but my experience taught me how fragile that stability can be without resources and strategy. That’s why I want to use my skills in marketing to help small businesses, especially those in underserved communities, grow in ways that create lasting opportunity. That moment didn’t just challenge me. It clarified who I needed to become.

I used to think something was wrong with me. I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was younger, but for years, that diagnosis felt more like a limitation than an explanation. In school, I would watch other students sit still and focus for hours while my mind moved in ten directions at once. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t force my brain to work the way theirs did. Teachers would tell me to “try harder,” as if effort was the issue. It wasn’t. My brain just worked differently, and for a long time, I didn’t know how to live with that. That was my adversity — not just ADHD itself, but the belief that it made me less capable. The turning point came when I stopped trying to fix myself and started learning how to work with the way I think. Instead of seeing ADHD as something holding me back, I began to recognize what it actually gave me. My mind moves fast. I make connections others might miss. When I’m engaged, I don’t just focus — I hyperfocus. I started applying that to the things that mattered to me. In classical piano, where I’ve trained for over twelve years, I learned to channel that intensity into performance. In Mandarin Chinese, I pushed myself to fluency and now teach it to my peers after school, opening doors for students who never saw themselves in global spaces. Outside the classroom, I used those same skills to build social media strategies for my father’s auto shop, turning creativity into something practical and impactful. But overcoming this adversity wasn’t about suddenly becoming perfect. There are still days when executive dysfunction makes even simple tasks feel overwhelming. What changed was how I responded to those moments. I stopped hiding it. I started having real conversations with my father, my teachers, and eventually my peers about what ADHD actually looks like — especially for someone like me, a Black student in rigorous academic spaces where struggles are often misunderstood. Through that, I learned discipline in a different way. Not the traditional idea of forcing myself into a box, but building systems that work for me. Breaking tasks down. Using structure intentionally. Giving myself grace without lowering my standards. That’s how I’ve been able to earn a 3.92 GPA in the IB Diploma Programme while balancing athletics, music, leadership, and service. This experience has shaped how I see myself and how I show up for others. As a leader in Boy Scouts and as a peer instructor, I’m intentional about mentoring younger students who might feel out of place the way I once did. I understand what it means to struggle silently, and I refuse to let others believe they’re alone in that. If I could give advice to someone facing the same adversity, it would be this: stop measuring yourself by how well you fit into someone else’s system. Take the time to understand how you work, because there is strength in that difference. Advocate for yourself, even when it feels uncomfortable. And most importantly, don’t let anyone convince you that your challenges define your limits. My ADHD is still part of my life. But it no longer defines what I can’t do. It has become a part of how I succeed.

Growing up in a single-parent household with limited income taught me the value of perseverance, discipline, and resourcefulness. My father, carrying the full responsibility of raising me, always prioritized giving me opportunities to grow—even when it required stretching every dollar. Through his example, I learned that challenges are not barriers but invitations to push harder. Living with ADHD, balancing a 3.92 GPA in the IB Diploma, and staying active in sports and music, I’ve had to develop systems and resilience to succeed despite obstacles. I’ve turned these lessons into action. I teach Mandarin to peers who never thought they could learn the language, helping them expand their horizons the same way my father opened doors for me. I also assist with social media marketing for my father’s business, learning how strategic work can directly support a family and community. In the future, I plan to use my business career to help underserved communities grow and thrive. Whether it’s mentoring, creating marketing opportunities for small businesses, or developing programs that give others access to education and global experiences, I want my journey to multiply the support I received. My upbringing has instilled in me the drive to turn challenges into opportunities—not just for myself, but for everyone I can help.

The person who has supported me most in my educational journey is my father. As a single parent, he has carried the full responsibility for raising me while ensuring I had opportunities to grow, even when it was not easy financially or personally. His support has never just been about providing. It has been about showing me what consistency, discipline, and sacrifice look like every day. Growing up, I watched my father stretch every dollar to make sure I had access to experiences that would shape my future. Even with limited resources, he found ways for me to study and live in places like China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. Those experiences changed how I see the world. They pushed me to become trilingual in English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese and showed me that my future could extend beyond the environment in which I was raised. More importantly, they showed me that someone believed I was worth investing in. I honor my father’s support through how I show up in my life. Maintaining a 3.92 GPA while completing the IB Diploma Programme is one way I reflect the value he has placed on education. Living with ADHD has made that journey more challenging, but his example has taught me not to make excuses. Instead, I’ve learned to build discipline and find ways to stay consistent, even when it is difficult. My academic success is not just for me. It is a reflection of everything he has poured into me. His support has also shaped how I give back to others. After becoming fluent in Mandarin, I started teaching it to my peers at school. Many of them had never been exposed to the language and didn’t think they were capable of learning it. I saw an opportunity to give others the same kind of access my father gave me. Watching them grow in confidence reminded me that support is something you pass forward, not just something you receive. In my future goals, I plan to build on my father’s support by creating opportunities for others through my business career. Helping with social media marketing for his auto shop showed me how a business can directly support a family. I want to take that further by helping underserved communities and small businesses grow, using marketing as a tool to create stability and opportunity. That is how I will continue what he started, by turning what I’ve been given into something that benefits others. Growing up in a single-parent household has made his support even more meaningful. There was no one else to share the responsibility, no backup plan. Everything he did required intention and sacrifice. That has pushed me to take my education seriously and understand that success is not just about personal achievement, but about honoring the people who made it possible. My father’s support has been instrumental because it gave me both opportunity and perspective. It taught me that success is built on consistency, not shortcuts. As I work toward my dreams, I carry that with me. I don’t just want to succeed for myself. I want to make sure that everything he invested in me continues to grow and impact others.

Faith is not something I separate from the rest of my life. It shapes how I think, how I work, and how I treat people. As a Christian, I’ve learned that faith is not just about belief. It is about consistency, discipline, and how you show up for others even when no one is watching. Growing up, my understanding of faith came from watching my father. As a single parent, he carried the responsibility of raising me while still making sure I had opportunities to grow. His actions showed me what faith looks like in real life. It looks like sacrifice, patience, and trusting that your work will lead somewhere, even when things are uncertain. That example has influenced how I approach both my academics and my future goals. In school, my faith pushes me to pursue excellence with purpose. Maintaining a 3.92 GPA in the IB Diploma Programme has required discipline, focus, and consistency, especially while managing ADHD. There are moments when staying on track is difficult, but my faith reminds me to stay committed and keep going. It gives me a sense of accountability, not just to myself, but to something greater. I don’t just aim to do well for recognition. I aim to use my abilities in a way that reflects the values I believe in. Faith has also shaped how I use my skills to serve others. After becoming fluent in Mandarin Chinese through studying abroad, I started teaching it to my peers at school. Most of them had never been exposed to the language and didn’t think it was something they could learn. I saw that as an opportunity to serve. Teaching them was not just about language; it was about helping them believe they were capable of more. That mindset comes directly from my faith, which calls me to use what I’ve been given to uplift others. My experiences around the world have also strengthened my faith and perspective. Living and studying in places like China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda showed me different ways people live, struggle, and support each other. In many of those places, I saw resilience and community in ways that challenged me. It made me more aware of how much impact one person can have when they are intentional about helping others. The people who have pushed me to pursue higher education start with my father, but they also include mentors, teachers, and the younger students I’ve worked with. My father set the foundation by showing me what hard work and perseverance look like. My teachers challenged me to think bigger and take on opportunities like the IB Diploma. The students I teach and mentor remind me that what I do matters beyond myself. They look to me as an example, and that responsibility pushes me to keep going. In the future, I plan to pursue a career in business, specifically marketing, and use those skills to create opportunities for underserved communities. My faith plays a role in that goal because it keeps my focus on impact, not just success. I want to help small and minority-owned businesses grow, provide mentorship to young people, and create systems that give others access to opportunities they might not otherwise have. Faith, for me, is not separate from my goals. It is the reason behind them. It gives me direction, keeps me grounded, and reminds me that success is not just about what I achieve, but how I use it to serve others.

Service has never been something I do occasionally. It is something I live out daily, shaped by how I was raised and the opportunities I’ve been given. Growing up with a single father, I saw what it meant to serve someone else consistently, without recognition. My dad didn’t just provide; he sacrificed, and that example taught me early that service is not about attention. It is about responsibility. I embody a life of service by showing up where I am needed and using what I have to help others grow. Through Boy Scouts, where I’ve completed over 200 hours of community service, I’ve organized neighborhood cleanups, led food drives, and mentored younger Scouts. As a Patrol Leader, I learned that leadership is not about being in charge; it is about being accountable for others. One of the most meaningful projects I led was at the Martin Luther King Community Center, where I coordinated volunteers and helped create a space that better served the community. What mattered most to me was not the outcome alone, but watching others step into leadership and take ownership of the work. Service for me also shows up in education. After studying and becoming fluent in Mandarin Chinese, I returned to my high school and started teaching it to my peers after school. Most of them had never been exposed to the language and didn’t believe they could learn it. As a Black student teaching Mandarin, I understood that I was also challenging what people think global education looks like. I didn’t just teach vocabulary or tones. I helped students build confidence and see themselves in spaces they hadn’t considered before. That is the kind of service that stays with people. Even at home, service is part of my daily life. I help my father by running social media marketing for his auto shop, managing Facebook ads, and creating graphics that bring in customers. That experience has shown me that service can also be practical. It can support a family, create stability, and turn effort into real results. As a Christian, my faith reinforces this mindset. I believe service is not optional. It is a way of living that reflects humility, consistency, and care for others. It is not about doing something once. It is about committing to people and showing up even when it is not convenient. In the future, I plan to use my education in business, specifically marketing, to serve others on a larger scale. I want to help underserved communities, especially small and minority-owned businesses, gain visibility and access to resources. I have already seen how effective marketing can change the trajectory of a small business through my father’s shop. I want to expand that impact by helping more businesses grow, which in turn supports families and strengthens communities. Beyond business, I plan to continue mentoring and creating opportunities for others, especially students who may not see themselves in global or professional spaces. Whether through teaching, mentorship programs, or community initiatives, I want to make sure others have access to the same kinds of opportunities that shaped me. Service, for me, is not a moment. It is a mindset. It is how I lead, how I learn, and how I plan to use my education to create opportunities that extend beyond myself.

Making a positive impact on the world, for me, starts with understanding that impact doesn’t always begin at a global level. It starts with what you have, where you are, and how consistently you choose to show up. My life so far has taught me that even small, intentional actions can create opportunities that extend far beyond yourself. I was raised by a single father who worked hard to give me access to opportunities he didn’t have. Even with limited resources, he made sure I experienced the world beyond our circumstances. Because of that, I’ve lived and studied in places like China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. Those experiences didn’t just expose me to different cultures; they showed me how uneven access to opportunity can be. In some places, I saw people doing more with less, building businesses, supporting families, and finding ways to grow despite limited resources. That stayed with me. Right now, I try to make an impact in ways that are practical and immediate. I help run social media marketing for my father’s auto shop, using skills like Facebook ads and graphic design to bring in real customers. It may seem small, but I’ve seen how that directly supports our household. I also give back through service. With over 200 hours through Boy Scouts, I’ve been involved in community cleanups, food drives, and mentoring younger Scouts. I’ve learned that leadership is not about being in charge, it’s about being responsible for others. One of the most meaningful ways I’ve made an impact is through education. After becoming fluent in Mandarin Chinese, I started teaching it to my peers at school. Many of them had never been exposed to the language and didn’t think it was something they could learn. I wanted to change that. Teaching them wasn’t just about language; it was about expanding what they believed was possible for themselves. That experience showed me that impact can start with simply opening a door for someone else. In the future, I plan to make a larger impact through my career in business, specifically marketing. I’ve seen how marketing can help a business grow, and I want to use that skill to support underserved communities, especially small and minority-owned businesses that often lack access to resources and visibility. When businesses grow, they create jobs, support families, and strengthen communities. I want to be part of that process. I also plan to build platforms and programs that provide access to skills and opportunities, whether that’s through mentorship, digital marketing education, or global exposure. I know from my own experience how much access can change the direction of someone’s life. If I can help provide that for others, then I’m creating impact that goes beyond myself. Making a positive impact is not about doing one big thing. It’s about doing the work consistently and intentionally. It’s about using what you’ve been given to create opportunities for others. That’s how I plan to move forward, building, serving, and making sure that the impact I create continues long after I’m done.

Sustainability should be a priority in business because business decisions shape how resources are used, how products are made, and how communities are affected. It is not separate from success; it defines whether that success can last. As someone who plans to pursue a career in business, specifically marketing, I see sustainability as both a responsibility and an opportunity to create meaningful impact. My understanding of sustainability is not just theoretical. Growing up in a single-parent household, I learned early on how to be resourceful. Watching my father run his auto shop, I saw how every decision mattered, from how money was spent to how resources were used. When I began helping with social media marketing and advertising for the shop, I learned how to stretch limited budgets and still reach real customers. That experience showed me that efficiency and sustainability often go hand in hand. Using less but doing more with it is something I carry into how I think about business today. My global experiences have also shaped how I view environmental responsibility. Living and studying in places like China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda exposed me to different ways communities interact with their environment. In some places, I saw the effects of overconsumption and pollution. In others, I saw communities making the most of limited resources and building systems that were naturally sustainable. Those experiences made it clear to me that sustainability is not just about protecting the environment; it is about protecting people and their future. In the field of business and marketing, sustainability should be a priority because companies influence consumer behavior. Marketing is powerful. It shapes what people value, what they buy, and how often they consume. I want to use that influence responsibly. Instead of promoting overconsumption, I want to help businesses communicate value in a way that encourages smarter, more sustainable choices. This could mean highlighting product longevity, ethical sourcing, or environmentally responsible practices. In the future, I see myself helping reduce environmental impact by working with businesses to develop sustainable marketing strategies. This includes helping brands transition toward more eco-friendly practices and ensuring that those efforts are communicated honestly and effectively. I also want to support small and minority-owned businesses in adopting sustainable approaches, making sure that sustainability is not just accessible to large corporations but to everyone. Additionally, I plan to be intentional in how I build and run any business ventures of my own. From choosing sustainable materials to minimizing waste in operations and using digital strategies to reduce environmental impact, I want my work to reflect the values I believe in. Even small decisions, when made consistently, can lead to meaningful change. Sustainability is not just a trend; it is a necessity. As someone entering the business world, I understand that the choices I make will have an impact beyond profit. I want to be part of a generation of leaders who recognize that long-term success is tied to responsibility. By combining my background, my experiences, and my skills in marketing, I am committed to helping build a future where businesses grow while also protecting the world we all share.

Paying for college is something I think about now, not just something I’ll deal with later. Growing up in a single-parent household, I’ve seen how far careful planning and hard work can go, but also where financial gaps still exist. Because of that, I am intentional about minimizing student loan debt while preparing to manage it responsibly if needed. Right now, I am actively working to reduce future debt by applying to scholarships and maintaining strong academic performance. Earning a 3.92 GPA in the IB Diploma Programme is not just a personal achievement; it is part of my strategy to qualify for merit-based aid. I also dedicate time to applying for scholarships consistently because I understand that every award reduces the financial burden on my family and my future. In addition, I plan to take advantage of work opportunities during college that align with my career goals. I already have experience in social media marketing, including running Facebook and Meta ads and creating graphic design content. I plan to build on these skills by working part-time or freelancing while in school, allowing me to earn income while gaining relevant experience in business and marketing. This approach will help me cover personal expenses and reduce the need to rely entirely on loans. If I do take on student loans, I plan to manage them with a clear repayment strategy. I intend to borrow only what is necessary and prioritize federal loans with lower interest rates and more flexible repayment options. After graduation, my goal is to enter a stable career in business marketing, where I can apply my skills to generate consistent income. With that, I will commit to paying more than the minimum required payments whenever possible to reduce interest over time and shorten the repayment period. Long term, I also plan to use my business knowledge to create additional income streams. Whether through marketing services, consulting, or entrepreneurial ventures, I want to build financial stability that allows me to pay off debt efficiently while continuing to grow professionally. I see my education not just as an expense, but as an investment that will equip me with the skills to create value and generate income. Most importantly, I approach student loan debt with a mindset of responsibility and discipline. I have learned from my father the importance of living within your means, planning ahead, and staying consistent. Those values guide how I make financial decisions now and how I will continue to manage them in the future. Addressing student loan debt is not just about repayment; it is about preparation, strategy, and accountability. By combining scholarships, work experience, careful borrowing, and disciplined repayment, I am committed to minimizing debt and managing it in a way that supports both my education and my long-term goals.

I see myself as a positive force in my community by showing up as the bridge-builder others didn't have—the Black trilingual pianist who mentors, teaches, and leads without waiting for an invitation. Raised by a single dad in Indianapolis, adopted and wired for hustle despite ADHD, I've turned being "the only one" into my superpower. My 3.92 GPA and full IB Diploma reflect discipline in Mandarin Chinese, English Literature, History, Biology, Math, and Music. I juggle varsity track & field, tennis, swimming, pickleball, badminton, ping pong, 12 years as a classical pianist (American Piano Awards, Magna Cum Laude, two Cum Laude), photography, and Jazz Club. Summers living in China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda made me fluent in English, Spanish, and Mandarin. I even run social media marketing for my dad's auto shop—crafting Facebook Meta ads and graphics that stretch tiny budgets into real customer wins. But my true force? Over 200 hours of service via Boy Scouts and peer teaching, proving I don't just talk change—I deliver it. Social norms shaped my thinking from the start: Black kids from low-income families don't globe-trot, lead troops, or teach "exotic" languages. In Ecuador's classrooms, China's markets, and Taiwan's friend groups, I was often the lone Black face, facing stares and assumptions that I was out of place in "international" arenas. That could've isolated me; instead, it sparked fire. Norms screamed, "Stay in your lane." I paved new roads. As a Boy Scout since 2018—holding roles like Patrol Leader, Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer—I've organized neighborhood cleanups that cleared blocks of trash, food drives feeding hundreds, and hands-on projects at Indianapolis' Martin Luther King Community Center. I mentor younger Scouts not for claps, but to drill leadership, outdoor survival, and civic duty so they step up independently. Since 2024 at Shortridge High School, I have voluntarily taught Mandarin after school, demystifying it for peers with zero prior exposure. As a Black instructor, I dismantle the norm that global education excludes us—watching their faces light up on first tones or phrases is proof. My business edge? It amplifies this: marketing my dad's shop taught me visibility changes games. I'm a positive force because I shatter norms through sweat—every mentee leading their own cleanup, every student bridging cultures, every ad boosting a family business creates ripples. Social expectations forged my defiance; now I forge theirs, flipping "only one" into "pathfinder for many." At Hampton, pursuing Business Marketing, I'll scale this: cross-cultural campaigns empowering Black entrepreneurs. In my community, that's unstoppable force—consistent, norm-busting change.

Speech and debate taught me how to speak. My faith taught me why it matters. At first, I joined speech and debate to challenge myself. I’ve always had ideas, but putting them into words, especially in front of others, didn’t come easily. Living with ADHD, staying organized and focused during preparation was already a challenge, and speaking under pressure made it even harder. But over time, I learned how to structure my thoughts, build arguments, and communicate clearly. More importantly, I learned how to listen. Debate isn’t just about proving a point. It’s about understanding different perspectives, responding with intention, and staying grounded even when conversations get difficult. That skill has shaped the way I approach sharing my Christian faith. Faith conversations can be just as complex as any debate round. People come from different backgrounds, beliefs, and experiences. Before speech and debate, I might have avoided those conversations or felt unsure about what to say. Now, I approach them with confidence, not because I have all the answers, but because I’ve learned how to engage with respect and clarity. One of the biggest lessons I’ve taken from debate is the importance of preparation. Just like I would research both sides of an argument, I’ve taken time to understand my own faith more deeply. I’ve asked questions, studied, and reflected so that when I speak about what I believe, it comes from a place of understanding rather than assumption. That preparation allows me to share my faith in a way that is thoughtful and genuine, not forced. At the same time, speech taught me that delivery matters just as much as content. How you say something can determine whether people are willing to listen. Through practices and competitions, I learned how to adjust my tone, connect with an audience, and communicate in a way that feels real. That has directly influenced how I talk about my faith. Instead of speaking in a way that feels distant or scripted, I focus on being honest and relatable. My experiences teaching Mandarin to my peers also reinforced this. Many of my students had never been exposed to the language before, and some doubted their ability to learn it. I had to meet them where they were, break things down, and create an environment where they felt comfortable trying. Sharing my faith works the same way. It’s not about overwhelming someone with information, it’s about meeting them where they are and walking with them at their pace. Speech and debate also taught me how to stay composed in challenging situations. Not everyone will agree with me, and that’s something I’ve learned to respect. Instead of seeing disagreement as conflict, I see it as an opportunity for conversation. My goal isn’t to win an argument. It’s to reflect my faith through both my words and my actions. Growing up in a single-parent household, I’ve seen what quiet faith looks like through my father’s consistency and sacrifice. That example, combined with the communication skills I’ve developed through speech and debate, has shaped how I share what I believe. Speech gave me the tools. Faith gave me the purpose. Together, they’ve prepared me not just to speak, but to speak with intention, respect, and conviction.

Service has never felt like something separate from my life. It shows up in the moments when I see a gap and decide to step in. One of the most meaningful times I helped someone in need started after I returned from studying in Taiwan. I had spent months immersed in Mandarin Chinese, pushing myself to become fluent in a language that felt completely unfamiliar at first. When I came back to Shortridge High School, I realized something that stayed with me: most students didn’t see themselves in global spaces like that. Especially students who looked like me. So I started teaching Mandarin after school. At first, it was just a small group. A few students were curious but hesitant. Some told me they didn’t think they were “smart enough” to learn a language like Chinese. Others said it felt too far removed from their reality. I understood that feeling because I had once thought the same thing. Instead of teaching like a formal class, I focused on making it approachable. I shared how I struggled in the beginning, how I made mistakes, and how learning a new language isn’t about being perfect, it’s about being willing to try. I broke things down in a way that made sense, mixing in culture, conversation, and real-life examples. Over time, those same students who doubted themselves started showing up consistently. What stood out to me the most wasn’t just their progress in the language. It was their confidence. I remember one student who barely spoke during the first few sessions. He was quiet, unsure, and ready to give up early on. But weeks later, he was practicing phrases out loud, helping others, and even laughing at his own mistakes. Seeing that shift reminded me that sometimes helping someone isn’t about giving them all the answers. It’s about helping them believe they’re capable of finding those answers themselves. For me, that experience went beyond teaching Mandarin. It was about representation and access. It was about showing other students that opportunities like studying abroad or becoming multilingual weren’t out of reach. They just needed someone to show them it was possible. That same mindset has shaped how I approach service in other areas of my life. Through my time in Boy Scouts, where I’ve completed over 200 hours of community service and served in leadership roles like Patrol Leader, I’ve learned that helping people isn’t always about big, visible actions. It’s about consistency. Whether I was organizing cleanups, mentoring younger Scouts, or leading projects at the Martin Luther King Community Center, the goal was always the same: show up, do the work, and leave things better than you found them. Helping others has also been influenced by my experiences outside the U.S. Traveling to places like Uganda showed me communities that had far less but still found ways to support one another. That perspective stayed with me. It reminded me that service isn’t defined by resources, it’s defined by intention. That moment, teaching Mandarin to my peers, stands out because it reflects the kind of impact I want to continue making. I don’t just want to succeed for myself. I want to create pathways for others, especially those who might not see those paths yet. Helping someone in need doesn’t always require something big. Sometimes, it just starts with showing up and choosing to make a difference where you are.

I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was younger, and for a long time, I thought it meant something was wrong with me. In school, I'd watch other students sit still and focus for hours while my mind raced in ten directions at once. Teachers would tell me to try harder, as if effort was the problem. It wasn't. My brain just worked differently. The turning point came when I stopped trying to fix myself and started learning to work with the way my mind operates. ADHD means I think fast, make connections others miss, and bring energy to everything I do. When I'm engaged — whether it's playing classical piano, studying Mandarin, or building a social media strategy for my father's auto shop — I don't just focus. I hyperfocus. That's my superpower. But I won't pretend it's been easy. There are days when the executive dysfunction wins, when assignments pile up and the overwhelm feels crushing. What changed everything was being honest about it. Talking to my father, my teachers, and eventually my peers about what ADHD actually looks like — not the stereotype of a kid who can't sit still, but a young man pursuing an IB Diploma while managing a brain that doesn't always cooperate. At Hampton University, I want to be open about my ADHD because I know there are other Black students who've been told they're "lazy" or "unfocused" when they're actually dealing with something real. Mental health in the Black community still carries stigma, and I want to be part of changing that. My 3.92 GPA, my trilingual abilities, and my IB Diploma aren't achievements despite my ADHD. They're achievements that include it.

When my father's auto repair shop in Indianapolis began losing customers to larger chain competitors, I realized the problem was not the quality of his work—it was visibility. Local families who had relied on his shop for years were being drawn to flashy advertisements from national brands, while my father's business had no digital presence whatsoever. So I created one. At sixteen, I became the Digital Marketing Manager for the shop. I built social media profiles across Instagram and Facebook, designed a content calendar that highlighted customer testimonials and educational posts about vehicle maintenance. I created promotional graphics and learned to analyze engagement metrics. Within six months, the shop's social media following grew from zero to over three hundred local followers, and new customers were mentioning they had found us online. The solution I created was not technically complex, but it addressed a real problem: a small, Black-owned business was being outcompeted not because of inferior service but because of inferior marketing infrastructure. I learned that the gap between a great product and a successful business is often a communication gap—and that gap disproportionately affects entrepreneurs in underserved communities. This experience taught me that problem-solving is not always about inventing something new. Sometimes it is about applying existing tools in ways that serve people who have been overlooked. My father had decades of expertise, but he had never been taught how to translate that expertise into a brand. I became that translator. If I had the money and resources to solve a larger problem, I would build a nonprofit digital marketing incubator for Black-owned small businesses. The problem is systemic: Black-owned businesses are significantly less likely to survive their first five years, and a major contributing factor is limited access to marketing resources. My incubator would operate in three phases. First, I would recruit local business owners through partnerships with community organizations and chambers of commerce. Each cohort of fifteen entrepreneurs would participate in an eight-week program covering social media strategy, brand identity development, content creation, and customer relationship management. Second, each participant would be paired with a marketing mentor—a college student studying marketing—who would help them implement what they learned. I would recruit mentors from HBCUs like Hampton University, where I will study Business Marketing, creating a direct connection between academic learning and community impact. Third, the incubator would provide each business with a starter digital toolkit: a professionally designed logo, a basic website, social media templates, and a ninety-day content plan. These deliverables would give business owners the foundation to maintain their digital presence independently. The total cost for a pilot program serving fifteen businesses would be approximately fifty thousand dollars. I believe this investment would generate returns far exceeding its cost—not just in revenue for the businesses served, but in jobs created and communities strengthened. Richard Neumann believed that problem-solving and creative thinking were forms of art. I believe they are also forms of justice. When I created a marketing strategy for my father's shop, I was solving one family's problem. When I build this incubator, I will be solving a community's.

My introduction to technology did not happen in a computer lab or a coding bootcamp. It happened in my father's auto repair shop in Indianapolis, where I watched him diagnose engine problems using diagnostic software and manage his small business with tools that were increasingly digital. When he asked me to help build an online presence for the shop, I discovered that technology was not just about circuits and code—it was about connection, communication, and the power to transform how businesses reach people. I am Marleigh Hicks, a senior at Shortridge High School completing the full International Baccalaureate Diploma with a 3.92 weighted GPA. I was adopted by a single father and diagnosed with ADHD at a young age, challenges that taught me to approach problems creatively and persistently. I have earned Magna Cum Laude honors once and Cum Laude honors twice, and I speak three languages: English, Mandarin Chinese, and Spanish. I will attend Hampton University in the fall to study Business Marketing, with a specific focus on how digital technology reshapes the way businesses communicate with their audiences. My most significant experience with information technology has been my role as Digital Marketing Manager for my father's auto repair business. In this position, I manage social media campaigns across multiple platforms, design promotional graphics using digital tools, analyze engagement metrics to optimize content strategy, and maintain the business's online presence. This work has given me hands-on experience with content management systems, social media analytics platforms, and graphic design software. I have learned how to interpret data to make strategic decisions—understanding which posts drive customer engagement, which platforms yield the highest return, and how to tailor messaging for different audiences. Through the IB program, I have developed strong analytical and research skills that complement my technology interests. My Extended Essay required extensive use of digital research databases, citation management tools, and collaborative platforms. In my IB Business Management course, I studied how companies leverage technology for competitive advantage, from data-driven marketing to customer relationship management systems. These academic experiences have deepened my understanding of the intersection between technology and business strategy. My involvement in Boy Scouts of America also connected me to technology in meaningful ways. As Webmaster for my troop, I was responsible for maintaining the troop's digital communications, updating the website, and coordinating information sharing among members and families. This role taught me the practical side of information technology—managing digital infrastructure, troubleshooting issues, and ensuring that technology serves the needs of a community. What excites me most about the technology field is its potential to level the playing field for underrepresented entrepreneurs. I have seen firsthand how a strong digital presence can transform a small, Black-owned business from a neighborhood shop into a competitive enterprise. My long-term goal is to build a marketing consulting firm that uses technology to amplify the voices of businesses that have been historically underserved. I want to help entrepreneurs harness digital tools—social media algorithms, search engine optimization, data analytics—to reach customers they never could have accessed before. As an underrepresented minority in both the technology and business fields, I bring a perspective that is often missing from the conversation. I understand the barriers that small business owners in communities like mine face, and I am committed to using technology to break those barriers down. This scholarship would support my journey toward becoming a leader at the intersection of technology, marketing, and social impact.

The first time I sat in a meeting about my 504 Plan, I was in elementary school, and I did not fully understand what was happening. My father sat across from a table of teachers and administrators, his hands folded, his expression calm but determined. They were discussing accommodations for my ADHD—extended time on tests, preferential seating, check-ins with teachers to make sure I was staying on track. I remember feeling like the room was talking about someone else, someone who needed fixing. It would take me years to understand that what was actually happening in that room was my father fighting for me to have the same chance as everyone else. Growing up with ADHD in a traditional school environment felt like trying to run a race with invisible weights strapped to my ankles. I could see the finish line. I knew I was capable of reaching it. But the path between where I stood and where I needed to be was filled with distractions, detours, and moments of frustration that my classmates never seemed to experience. My mind moved in twelve directions at once—brilliant in its energy, exhausting in its refusal to focus on the one thing that mattered at any given moment. My 504 Plan was the first structure that helped me channel that energy. The accommodations were not crutches—they were tools. Extended time on exams did not make the material easier; it gave my brain the space to process information without the panic of a ticking clock. Preferential seating was not about privilege; it was about reducing the sensory noise that made concentration feel like swimming upstream. These accommodations taught me something that no textbook ever could: that asking for support is not a sign of weakness. It is a strategy for success. But the real transformation came not from the accommodations themselves but from the teachers who implemented them with genuine care. At Shortridge High School, where I enrolled in the full International Baccalaureate Diploma program, I encountered educators who saw my ADHD not as a limitation but as a different way of processing the world. My IB History teacher noticed that I absorbed information better through discussion than through reading, so she would pull me aside after class to talk through complex topics. My Spanish teacher recognized that my multilingual brain—I speak English, Mandarin Chinese, and Spanish—sometimes tangled languages together, and she helped me develop techniques to compartmentalize my thinking during exams. These experiences did not just help me academically. They inspired me to pursue higher education with a sense of purpose I might never have found otherwise. When I earned Magna Cum Laude honors on the National Latin Exam and Cum Laude honors twice on the National Spanish Exam, those achievements felt like proof that the system my father had fought for in that elementary school meeting was working. My 504 Plan had not lowered the bar—it had given me the ladder to reach it. My experience with challenge and difficulty has played a role in my life that extends far beyond the classroom. I was adopted as an infant by a single father who raised me as his first child. He ran an auto repair shop and worked long hours, but he never missed a parent-teacher conference, never failed to ask about my homework, and never let me use my diagnosis as an excuse. He taught me that difficulty is not something that happens to you—it is something you move through. And the way you move through it defines who you become. When I struggled with focus during my seven years of classical piano lessons at the Martin Luther King Community Center, my father did not let me quit. He sat in the car during every lesson, waiting, because he believed that discipline was the antidote to distraction. When I came home from school frustrated because I could not keep up with the pace of my IB classes, he sat me down at the kitchen table and said, "Break it into pieces. One piece at a time." That advice became my mantra—not just for homework, but for life. Today, I carry a 3.92 weighted GPA. I have studied abroad in Taiwan, Nanjing, and Uganda. I have been accepted to Hampton University, where I will study Business Marketing. I serve as the Digital Marketing Manager for my father's auto repair business, where I apply the same strategic thinking that my 504 accommodations helped me develop—breaking complex problems into manageable pieces, finding creative solutions to challenges that seem overwhelming, and never assuming that the first approach is the only approach. The challenges I have faced—ADHD, growing up in a single-parent household, navigating a rigorous academic program with a brain that works differently—have not held me back. They have propelled me forward. They have given me empathy for others who struggle, resilience in the face of setbacks, and an unshakable belief that every student deserves the support they need to succeed. Rick Levin understood that. His thirty years of SPED teaching were built on the same principle that my father taught me at the kitchen table: that every person has potential, and sometimes all they need is someone willing to help them find it. I am that potential realized. And I intend to spend my life paying it forward.

When I was seven years old, my father handed me a wrench and told me to hold it while he worked under the hood of a 1998 Honda Accord. I did not understand what he was fixing, but I understood what he was teaching me: that you show up, you work with your hands, and you build something that matters. That lesson has shaped every academic and professional goal I have set for myself since. My name is Marleigh Hicks. I am a senior at Shortridge High School in Indianapolis, completing the full International Baccalaureate Diploma with a 3.92 weighted GPA. I was adopted as an infant by a single father who raised me as his first child, and I was diagnosed with ADHD before I started elementary school. For years, that diagnosis was used to lower expectations for me—teachers assumed I could not focus, counselors assumed I would not thrive, and the system assumed I would fall behind. But my father never accepted those assumptions, and neither did I. I have earned Magna Cum Laude honors once and Cum Laude honors twice through the National Latin Exam and National Spanish Exam. I speak three languages—English, Mandarin Chinese, and Spanish—and I have studied abroad in Taiwan, Nanjing, and Uganda. I have been accepted to Hampton University, where I will study Business Marketing in the fall. My professional goal is to build a marketing consulting firm that serves Black-owned businesses and underrepresented entrepreneurs who have powerful products and services but lack the platforms to reach broader audiences. Community service has been the backbone of my development. Through Boy Scouts of America, where I served as Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer, I logged over two hundred hours of service through food drives, neighborhood cleanups, and youth mentoring programs. I organized supply drives for families in my neighborhood during the pandemic and volunteered at community events through the Martin Luther King Community Center, where I also studied classical piano for seven years. These experiences taught me that giving back is not a separate activity from personal growth—it is the engine of it. One moment that crystallized this for me was mentoring a younger Boy Scout who reminded me of myself—quiet, easily distracted, unsure of his place. I sat with him during meetings, helped him work through his merit badge requirements, and told him something my father once told me: "You don't have to be the loudest person in the room. You just have to be the most prepared." Watching his confidence grow over the following months showed me that impact does not require a stage. Sometimes it just requires presence. That experience inspired my broader vision. I want to use my marketing expertise not only to build businesses but to build communities—to create campaigns that highlight the stories of people who are overlooked, to amplify voices that deserve to be heard, and to prove that a kid from Indianapolis who was adopted by a single dad and diagnosed with ADHD can become exactly the kind of leader the world needs. Every hour I have spent serving others has reinforced my belief that success is not measured by what you accumulate but by what you contribute.

My name is Marleigh Hicks, and I am a senior at Shortridge High School in Indianapolis, Indiana. I was adopted as an infant by a single father who raised me as his first child—a man who taught me that greatness is not inherited but built, one deliberate choice at a time. Growing up in a household shaped by discipline, faith, and hard work, I learned early that the obstacles in front of me were not walls but hurdles, and I was built to clear them. I was diagnosed with ADHD at a young age, and for much of my childhood, that diagnosis felt like a sentence. Teachers lowered their expectations. Classmates assumed I couldn't keep up. But my father refused to let anyone else define my ceiling. He enrolled me in classical piano lessons at the Martin Luther King Community Center, where I studied under Seth David for seven years through the Butler Community Arts School program. That discipline—the patience of learning one note at a time, one measure at a time—became the foundation for everything I have accomplished since. Today, I carry a 3.92 weighted GPA and am completing the full International Baccalaureate Diploma at Shortridge. I have earned Magna Cum Laude honors once and Cum Laude honors twice through the National Latin Exam and National Spanish Exam. I am trilingual, speaking English, Mandarin Chinese, and Spanish, and I have studied abroad in Taiwan, Nanjing, and Uganda. I have been accepted to Hampton University, where I will study Business Marketing beginning in the fall. Athletics and community service have been central to my identity. Through Boy Scouts of America, I served as Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer, logging over 200 hours of community service through food drives, neighborhood cleanups, and youth mentoring. Sports taught me the same lessons my father taught me at his auto repair shop: show up, work harder than everyone else, and never make excuses. Whether on the field or in the classroom, I have carried that mentality with me every single day. I currently serve as the Digital Marketing Manager for my father's auto repair business, where I manage social media campaigns, design promotional materials, and help drive customer engagement. This role has given me real-world experience in the field I plan to study and has deepened my understanding of how marketing can empower small, Black-owned businesses to compete in larger markets. This scholarship would help me in ways that extend far beyond tuition. As a student from a low-income, single-parent household, every dollar matters. My father has sacrificed enormously to give me the opportunities I have had—study abroad programs, IB exam fees, college application costs—and I want to ease that burden as I transition to Hampton University. This scholarship would allow me to focus fully on my academics, my leadership development, and my long-term goal of building a marketing consulting firm that serves underrepresented entrepreneurs. Kalia D. Davis's legacy reminds me that life is precious and that every opportunity we are given should be honored with effort, gratitude, and purpose. I carry that belief with me every day. I am not just a student seeking financial support—I am a young man with a plan, a purpose, and the discipline to see it through. This scholarship would be an investment not just in my education, but in the community I intend to serve for the rest of my life.

The first time I truly used my voice, I was standing in front of a classroom in Nanjing, China, and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I was sixteen years old—a Black teenager from Indianapolis who had been adopted by a single father, diagnosed with ADHD before I could spell the acronym, and raised in a household where the loudest sound was usually a wrench hitting the floor of my dad's auto repair shop. I had traveled halfway around the world on a study abroad program, and my Mandarin teacher had volunteered me to give a short presentation about American culture to a room full of Chinese university students. In Mandarin. I stood at the front of that room, and for the first time in my life, I felt the full weight of what it means to be voiceless. Not because I had nothing to say—I had everything to say. But because the words wouldn't come. My tones were off. My grammar was shaky. The students stared at me with a mixture of curiosity and polite confusion. I could feel sweat pooling at the base of my neck. My ADHD brain was firing in twelve directions at once, and none of them led to the next sentence in my script. So I stopped trying to be perfect. I took a breath, smiled, and said in broken Mandarin: "I am Marleigh. I am from Indianapolis. My father fixes cars. I am here because I want to understand your world." The room erupted in applause. That moment broke something open in me. Not because I had delivered a flawless speech—I hadn't. But because I learned that the power of voice is not about perfection. It is about presence. It is about the willingness to stand in a space where you don't belong, where no one expects you to be, and speak anyway. Growing up, I struggled with my voice in ways that had nothing to do with language. As a Black boy adopted by a single father, I existed in a space that American society didn't have a script for. People didn't know how to categorize us. Teachers assumed I came from a broken home. Counselors lowered their expectations. When I was diagnosed with ADHD, the narrative got even narrower—I was the kid who couldn't focus, couldn't sit still, couldn't perform. Nobody asked what I had to say. They were too busy telling me what I couldn't do. My father was the first person who taught me that my voice mattered. He didn't do it with speeches or lectures. He did it by listening. When I came home frustrated from school, he didn't dismiss me. He sat me down at the kitchen table, looked me in the eye, and said, "Tell me what happened." And then he waited. He gave me the space to find my own words, even when those words came slowly, even when they came out tangled and emotional and imperfect. He taught me that communication is not about eloquence—it is about honesty. That lesson carried me further than any textbook ever could. When I joined the IB program at Shortridge High School, I was one of the few Black male students in the cohort. The academic rigor was intense, and the social dynamics were complicated. There were moments when I felt invisible—when class discussions moved too fast for my ADHD brain to keep up, when my contributions were overlooked, when I wondered if I had earned my place or if I was just filling a diversity seat. But I kept speaking. I raised my hand even when I wasn't sure of the answer. I asked questions that other students were afraid to ask. I challenged assumptions in history class about whose stories get told and whose get erased. And slowly, something shifted. My classmates began to listen. My teachers began to see me—not as the kid with ADHD, not as the adopted son of a single father, but as a student with ideas worth hearing. By the time I earned Magna Cum Laude honors for the first time, I understood that my voice had been my most powerful tool all along. Not because it was the loudest or the most polished, but because it was mine. It carried the weight of my father's sacrifice, the discipline of seven years of classical piano at the Martin Luther King Community Center, the courage of studying three languages, and the resilience of a kid who was never supposed to make it this far. Today, as I prepare to attend Hampton University to study Business Marketing, I think constantly about how I will use my voice in the future. I want to build a marketing consulting firm that amplifies Black-owned businesses—companies that have brilliant products and services but lack the platforms to be heard. I want to be the person who gives other people's voices the reach they deserve, the way my father gave mine the space it needed. I also want to mentor young Black boys who are growing up the way I did—in households that don't look like the ones on television, with diagnoses that make the world underestimate them, in communities where ambition is treated as an anomaly rather than an expectation. I want to sit across from them the way my dad sat across from me and say, "Tell me what happened." And then I want to wait. Because sometimes the most powerful thing you can do with your voice is use it to create silence—the kind of silence that tells someone else: I am listening. You matter. Speak. That moment in Nanjing taught me that voice is not about volume. It is about vulnerability. It is about standing in the gap between who the world says you are and who you know yourself to be, and choosing to speak from the second place. I have been doing that my entire life. And I have no intention of stopping.

Mrs. Chen didn't look like any teacher I had ever had. She was a first-generation Chinese American woman standing at the front of a Mandarin Chinese classroom in Indianapolis, Indiana—a city where most people couldn't point to China on a map, let alone imagine a Black teenager choosing to study its language. But that was exactly what drew me to her class, and what she did with that curiosity changed the entire trajectory of my life. I walked into Shortridge High School's IB Mandarin program as a sophomore with ADHD, a complicated relationship with traditional classrooms, and a chip on my shoulder about what school could actually offer me. I had spent most of my academic life being told to sit still, pay attention, and stop fidgeting. Mrs. Chen never said any of those things. Instead, she handed me a calligraphy brush and told me to breathe. She taught Mandarin the way my father taught me to fix cars—through patience, repetition, and the understanding that mastery is not about speed but about showing up. Every stroke of every character had to be deliberate. There was no rushing through a worksheet. There was no shortcut. For a kid with ADHD who had spent years feeling like his brain was moving too fast for the world around him, calligraphy became the first thing that actually slowed me down—not because it dulled my mind, but because it demanded my full presence. Mrs. Chen saw something in me that I didn't see in myself. When I struggled with tones, she stayed after school. When I wanted to quit before our first oral exam, she recorded herself speaking the passages so I could practice at home. And when I told her I wanted to study abroad in Taiwan, she didn't laugh or hesitate. She helped me apply, wrote my recommendation letter, and told me something I will never forget: "Marleigh, the world is not as small as Indianapolis. Go see it." I went. I spent time in Taiwan and later in Nanjing, China, immersing myself in a language and culture that most people in my neighborhood had never encountered. I came back different—not because I had traveled, but because Mrs. Chen had given me permission to believe I belonged in spaces that weren't designed for me. A Black boy adopted by a single father from Indianapolis, speaking Mandarin in Taipei. That image didn't exist in any social norm I had ever been shown. Mrs. Chen made it real. Her influence extended far beyond language acquisition. She taught me that discipline is not punishment—it is devotion. She showed me that the hardest things are often the most worthwhile. And she modeled what it looks like to be a bridge between cultures, something I now aspire to be in my own career. Today, I am a trilingual IB Diploma candidate with a 3.92 GPA who has earned Magna Cum Laude once and Cum Laude twice. I have been accepted to Hampton University to study Business Marketing, where I plan to build a consulting firm that helps Black-owned businesses compete in global markets. None of this would exist without Mrs. Chen. She didn't just teach me Mandarin. She taught me that the most radical thing a young Black man can do is refuse to accept the boundaries the world draws around him—and then cross them anyway, one brushstroke at a time.

The first time I watched The Pursuit of Happyness, I was sitting next to my father on our living room couch. I didn't know then that the movie would become a mirror—one I'd return to again and again as I grew older and began to understand the weight of what my father had done for me. The film follows Chris Gardner, a single father fighting to keep his son close while battling homelessness, financial ruin, and a world that seems designed to break him. What struck me wasn't the Hollywood ending. It was the middle—the grinding, unglamorous middle where Chris sleeps in a bathroom with his son, where he runs across the city in dress shoes, where he smiles through exhaustion because his child is watching. That middle is where my father has lived most of his life. My dad adopted me as his first child. He chose to become a single father—not because it was easy, but because he believed he could give me a life worth living. Like Chris Gardner, my father built everything from scratch. He opened an auto repair shop in Indianapolis, working sixteen-hour days while making sure I had dinner, did my homework, and knew I was loved. There were no backup plans, no safety nets. Just a man and his son, figuring it out together. What The Pursuit of Happyness taught me is that sacrifice doesn't always announce itself. My father never complained about the long hours or the tight budgets. He never made me feel like a burden. Instead, he made me feel like the reason he kept going. Chris Gardner does the same thing in the film—he transforms his struggle into fuel, not for himself, but for his son. That kind of love doesn't just sustain you. It shapes you. I was diagnosed with ADHD early in life, and there were years when the world felt like it was moving too fast for me to keep up. Teachers doubted me. Systems weren't built for the way my brain works. But my father—like Chris Gardner—refused to let anyone else's limitations become mine. He sat with me through homework that took three times longer than it should have. He found programs, like the piano lessons at the Martin Luther King Community Center, that gave me structure and purpose. He enrolled me in immersion programs that sent me to Taiwan and China, because he believed his son deserved to see the world, not just survive in it. The result of that relentless belief is a 3.92 weighted GPA, Magna Cum Laude honors, a full IB Diploma candidacy, fluency in three languages, and acceptance to Hampton University. But the numbers don't capture the real impact. The real impact is that I watched my father refuse to quit, and I learned to do the same. There's a scene near the end of the film where Chris Gardner gets the job. He walks out onto the street, tears streaming down his face, and he claps. He doesn't scream or celebrate. He just claps—quietly, privately, overwhelmed by the fact that his persistence finally paid off. Every time I watch that scene, I think of my father. I think of the day I got my acceptance letter. I think of the look on his face—not surprise, but relief. The relief of a man who bet everything on his son and watched it pay off. The Pursuit of Happyness didn't just impact my life. It explained it.

My father taught me what entrepreneurship looks like before I ever learned the word. When he opened his auto repair shop in Indianapolis, it wasn't just a business—it was a statement. A single Black father, raising his adopted son, building something from nothing in a community where people were more accustomed to watching businesses leave than watching them grow. I was his first employee, his sounding board, and eventually, his Digital Marketing Manager. At seventeen, I was running Meta ad campaigns on a $40 budget, designing social media content, and learning that every dollar spent had to work twice as hard when you're building in an underserved neighborhood. That experience didn't just teach me marketing—it taught me that the businesses our communities need most are the ones least likely to receive support. My legacy will be changing that equation. After graduating from Hampton University with a degree in Business Marketing, I plan to build a consulting firm that serves Black-owned small businesses and entrepreneurs in communities like mine. The model is simple but radical: provide the same caliber of digital marketing, branding, and business strategy that Fortune 500 companies access, but make it affordable and culturally relevant for the businesses that anchor Black neighborhoods. I've seen firsthand how a well-targeted social media campaign can bring new customers through the door. I've also seen how many talented Black business owners struggle not because their products are inferior, but because they lack the marketing infrastructure to compete. My light shines through service, and it always has. For seven years at the Martin Luther King Community Center, I studied classical piano and began mentoring younger students—showing kids from my neighborhood that art belongs to them too. Through Boy Scouts of America, I logged over 200 hours of community service as Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer, organizing food drives, neighborhood cleanups, and mentoring sessions. When my high school Chinese teacher needed help, I stepped in to assist with Mandarin classes, becoming a bridge for students who never imagined they could access a global language. What connects all of these experiences is a refusal to accept limitations. I was diagnosed with ADHD as a child, and for years, the world told me what I couldn't do. But my father—who chose me, who adopted me as his first child and raised me on his own—never let me believe those limitations were permanent. He taught me that discipline isn't about being perfect; it's about showing up every single day. That lesson carried me to Magna Cum Laude honors once and Cum Laude honors twice, and it will carry me through building a business that outlasts me. My legacy won't be measured in revenue alone. It will be measured in the number of Black entrepreneurs who finally have someone in their corner who understands their struggle, speaks their language, and fights for their visibility. It will be measured in the young people from communities like mine who see my story and realize that being adopted, having ADHD, and growing up low-income are not disqualifications—they are the very experiences that make us uniquely equipped to lead. I shine my light by refusing to dim it. And I plan to spend my career making sure others never have to dim theirs either.

When my father started his auto repair business in Indianapolis, I didn't just watch from the sidelines—I became his Digital Marketing Manager. At seventeen, running Meta ad campaigns on a $40 budget while also working the shop floor, I learned that entrepreneurship in underserved communities isn't just about profit. It's about visibility, survival, and proving that Black-owned businesses can compete and thrive. But the project closest to my heart began at the Martin Luther King Community Center. For seven years, I studied classical piano through the Butler Community Arts School program under my instructor Seth David. What started as lessons evolved into something bigger. I began working alongside younger students at the center—kids from neighborhoods like mine who had never touched a piano, who had never been told that classical music could belong to them too. I didn't just play; I showed up consistently, helping create a space where Black and brown kids could see themselves in an art form that rarely reflects them. Through Boy Scouts of America, I logged over 200 hours of community service while serving as Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer. I organized service projects in our Indianapolis community, learning that leadership means doing the work others overlook. These weren't glamorous projects—they were neighborhood cleanups, food drives, and mentoring sessions that addressed real, immediate needs. My most innovative project combined my trilingual abilities with community impact. After becoming fluent in Mandarin Chinese through years of immersion study in Taiwan and Nanjing, my high school Chinese teacher asked me to assist with junior and senior Mandarin classes at Shortridge High School. I became a bridge—a Black student helping other students access a language that opens doors to the world's largest economy. In a school where many students come from low-income families, providing peer-level language support meant making global opportunity feel accessible rather than elite. During a service trip to Uganda with my father in 2025, I witnessed Chinese nationals working on infrastructure and business projects across the country. That experience crystallized my vision: marginalized communities need representatives at the global table. I saw firsthand that the communities being left out of international business conversations are the ones that look like mine. As I prepare to attend Hampton University to study Business Marketing, I am building on every self-initiated project I've led. From growing a family business on a shoestring budget, to making classical music accessible at the MLK Center, to bridging language barriers in the classroom, each project was born from the same conviction—that underserved communities deserve innovative solutions created by people who actually understand their needs. I don't just want to succeed; I want to build pathways so others from communities like mine can follow.

When I read Dr. Jack Terry's story, I felt something I rarely feel when reading about historical figures — recognition. Not because my circumstances mirror the horrors of the Holocaust, but because the architecture of his journey echoes mine: a child separated from his origins, taken in by someone who saw potential where the world saw tragedy, and determined to build a life worthy of that second chance. Jack Terry lost his entire family. He survived three concentration camps. At fifteen, he arrived in America with no education beyond elementary school and no English. Yet he became a geological engineer, a psychoanalyst, a military officer, an athlete, a father, and a grandfather. What strikes me most is not the list of accomplishments — it is the decision behind them. Jack Terry decided that his suffering would not be the final word on his life. That decision is one I understand deeply. I was adopted as an infant by Michael-Bryant Hicks, a single Black man in Indianapolis who chose fatherhood before he had a partner, a blueprint, or a guarantee. My dad did not inherit me through circumstance — he pursued me with intention. He became my family by choice, and that choice gave me a foundation many people take for granted. But having a loving father did not erase the questions that come with being adopted. Who were my biological parents? Why did they let me go? Am I enough? Those questions grew louder when I was diagnosed with ADHD. Suddenly, the classroom — the one place where I was supposed to prove myself — became my greatest challenge. My mind moved faster than my ability to focus. While classmates absorbed lectures effortlessly, I fought to stay on task. Teachers saw potential but also frustration. I saw myself falling behind. But like Jack Terry, I refused to let my circumstances write my story. I developed systems — color-coded planners, timed study sessions, movement breaks — that turned my ADHD from a limitation into a launchpad. I earned Magna Cum Laude honors once and Cum Laude twice while pursuing the full International Baccalaureate Diploma at Shortridge High School, one of the most demanding academic programs in Indiana. I did not succeed despite my ADHD. I succeeded because managing it made me more disciplined than I would have been without it. Jack Terry devoted his later years to sharing his story with students, spreading knowledge and hope. That commitment to giving back resonates with my own vision. I plan to attend Hampton University to study business administration with the goal of becoming a sports agent and entrepreneur. I want to help athletes — especially those from underrepresented communities — navigate the business side of their careers with integrity. Too many talented young people from backgrounds like mine lack access to guidance that can transform raw talent into lasting success. But my ambition extends beyond sports. Working alongside my dad at his auto repair shop, managing digital marketing and learning the mechanics of small business ownership, I have seen how entrepreneurship can transform a community. I want to build businesses that create jobs, mentor young people, and prove that where you start does not determine where you finish. Dr. Jack Terry arrived in America with nothing but his survival and his will. My dad chose me when I had nothing but my potential. Both acts of faith — Jack's in himself, my father's in me — taught me the same lesson: adversity is not a verdict. It is an invitation to become extraordinary. I intend to honor that invitation every day.

My name is Marleigh Hicks, and my story begins with a choice — not mine, but my father's. As an infant, I was adopted by Michael-Bryant Hicks, a single Black man who decided that his first act of parenthood would be one of pure, intentional love. He did not stumble into fatherhood; he chose it. That choice has shaped everything about who I am and who I am becoming. Growing up in Indianapolis as an adopted child raised by a single dad, my family never fit neatly into any box. I learned early that different does not mean less than. My dad, a Phi Beta Kappa graduate and small business owner, taught me that excellence is not about where you start — it is about the standard you set for yourself. He raised me with the belief that every obstacle is an opportunity to prove what you are made of. That belief was tested when I was diagnosed with ADHD. Suddenly, the classroom became a battlefield where my mind raced faster than my ability to focus. While other students could sit still and absorb lectures, I struggled to stay on task. But rather than let ADHD define me, I developed strategies — color-coded planners, timed study blocks, movement breaks between subjects — that transformed my challenge into a system for success. The result: I earned Magna Cum Laude honors once and Cum Laude twice while pursuing the full International Baccalaureate Diploma at Shortridge High School, one of the most rigorous academic programs in Indiana. Beyond academics, I have poured myself into my community. For seven years, I have studied classical piano at the Martin Luther King Community Center, where music became a bridge connecting families from every background. As a Boy Scout working toward Eagle Scout, I have led service projects that taught me the power of showing up for others. I play varsity soccer and run track, learning that teamwork and discipline on the field translate directly to life. I also work alongside my dad at his auto repair shop, managing digital marketing and learning firsthand what it means to build something from the ground up. I plan to attend Hampton University to study business administration, with the goal of becoming a sports agent and entrepreneur. I want to help athletes — especially those from underrepresented backgrounds — navigate the business side of their careers with integrity and intelligence. My own experience being different taught me that the people who succeed are not the ones who fit in, but the ones who stand out and lift others as they rise. The adversity I have faced — adoption, ADHD, growing up in a single-parent household — could have been reasons to give up. Instead, they became the foundation of my resilience. My dad always says, Marleigh, I chose you because I saw greatness in you before you could see it in yourself. Now, I see it. And I am determined to use my education to create opportunities for others who, like me, were told their story was not enough. It is more than enough. It is extraordinary.

Boldly, Unapologetically Me The first time someone asked where my "real" parents were, I was seven years old. I remember the confusion on their face when I pointed to my dad — a single Black man who had chosen me, his first child, before I could even choose him back. Growing up adopted by a single father meant my family never looked like the ones on television or in my classmates' family photos. For years, I carried a quiet shame about being different, about not fitting the mold of what a "normal" family was supposed to look like. The pressure to conform intensified in middle school. I wanted to blend in, to have a story that didn't require explanation. But my dad taught me something powerful: that being chosen is its own kind of extraordinary. He would say, "Marleigh, I didn't stumble into fatherhood — I ran toward it." That reframing changed everything. I stopped apologizing for my story and started owning it. When I was diagnosed with ADHD, I could have let that become another thing that made me "different." Instead, I developed systems — color-coded planners, timed study sessions, movement breaks — that helped me earn Magna Cum Laude honors once and Cum Laude twice in the International Baccalaureate program. Being unapologetically myself means embracing every part of my journey — the adoption, the ADHD, the single-dad household — as sources of strength, not shame. Creating Connection As a Boy Scout working toward Eagle Scout, I have spent years learning that true community is built through service and showing up for others. But my deepest understanding of connection came through an unexpected place: the piano bench at the Martin Luther King Community Center. For seven years, I have studied classical piano there, and what started as lessons became something much larger. The center serves families from every background — immigrants, single-parent households, kids in foster care — and music became our common language. I organized informal recitals where younger students could perform for their families, creating spaces where nervous kids felt celebrated rather than judged. I watched a shy eight-year-old who barely spoke English light up when the audience clapped for her first piece. That moment taught me that belonging is not about having the same story — it is about creating spaces where every story matters. Through Scouting, soccer, and community service, I have carried that lesson forward, always working to make sure no one feels like the outsider I once felt like. Because I know what it means to wonder if you belong, I am fiercely committed to making sure others never have to wonder.

I've never met Mrs.Aserina Hill, but I know her. I know her because she reminds me of the women in my own family — the ones who went without so that someone younger could go further, like my beloved late grandma. The ones who slipped money into your hand at the door and said, "Don't tell nobody." The ones who never walked across a graduation stage themselves but made sure you had a pressed shirt and a full stomach on the day you walked across yours. That kind of love is the reason I'm here. My name is Marleigh Hicks, and I'm a senior at Shortridge High School in Indianapolis, where I've been proud to take part in the Baccalaureate Diploma Programme. I speak three languages — English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese — and I've studied abroad in Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda. I've played varsity soccer and run track for four years, studied classical piano for twelve, and served as Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer in the Boy Scouts of America. Through Scouting and the Martin Luther King Community Center, I've completed over two hundred hours of community service — organizing neighborhood cleanups, mentoring younger Scouts, and learning that showing up for people is the most important skill you can develop. This fall, I'll attend Hampton University to study Business Marketing with a focus on international business. My family's income is under thirty thousand dollars per year, and my father runs a small auto repair business where I've managed social media marketing since I was fourteen. I know what it means to build something from nothing. I also know that the people who helped my family along the way — the ones who gave quietly, without recognition — are the reason I have a chance at all. That's why, if I could start a charity, I would call it Bridge Builders, and its mission would be simple: give Black and low-income high school students the tools to access global opportunities they've been told aren't for them. When I traveled to Taiwan to study Mandarin, I was the only Black student in the program. When I studied in Ecuador, most of my classmates back home had never left Indiana. The world is wide open, but only if someone shows you the door exists. Bridge Builders would provide three things. First, study-abroad micro-scholarships for students from underserved communities — small grants of five hundred to two thousand dollars to cover passport fees, program deposits, and travel costs that keep low-income students from even applying. Second, language mentorship, pairing bilingual and trilingual college students with high schoolers who want to learn a second language but don't have access to immersion programs. I already do this informally — I teach Mandarin to my peers at Shortridge, and watching a Black student in Indianapolis realize he or she can speak Chinese is one of the most powerful things I've ever witnessed. Third, volunteers would lead monthly workshops on international career paths, helping students see that global business, diplomacy, and cross-cultural work aren't reserved for the privileged. Mrs. Aserina Hill gave everything she had so others could reach their goals. She didn't wait for permission. She just gave. If this scholarship allows me to honor her legacy, I promise to do the same.

My name is Marleigh Hicks, a trilingual Black/African American young man raised by a single dad in Indianapolis. Adopted into a family earning under $30,000 a year, I've learned early that hard work builds bridges over obstacles. My dad, grinding every day at his auto shop, stretched our budget to send me on life-changing summers abroad—to China, Taiwan, Ecuador, and Uganda. Those trips ignited my passion for global business, sharpened my Mandarin and Spanish, and showed me how interconnected our world is. Back home, I've channeled that into a 3.92 GPA with a full IB Diploma, as well as varsity track & field, tennis, swimming, pickleball, badminton, and ping pong. As a classical pianist with 12 years of training (including American Piano Awards), photographer, and Jazz Club member, I've balanced arts, sports, and academics despite ADHD. Magna Cum Laude once, Cum Laude twice—proof that discipline turns challenges into strengths. My journey to this point? It's been about leading, serving, and multiplying every opportunity. Leadership has defined me since joining the Boy Scouts of America in 2018. I climbed to Life Scout, serving as Patrol Leader, Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer. Those roles weren't titles—they were tools to rack up 200+ community service hours. I organized neighborhood cleanups, food drives, and youth mentorships, leading projects at the Martin Luther King Community Center. I mentored younger Scouts in leadership, outdoor skills, and civic responsibility, watching them grow just as my dad had grown me. At Shortridge High School, I've volunteered as a Peer Language Instructor for Mandarin Chinese since 2024, teaching after school to classmates with zero exposure. As a Black student excelling in global languages, I challenge stereotypes—showing that excellence in international spaces isn't reserved for anyone but earned by all. I've also hustled in social media marketing for my dad's shop, crafting Facebook/Meta ads and graphic designs on shoestring budgets to drive real customers. That resourcefulness? It's the same grit fueling my dream of a Business Marketing degree. Attending an HBCU like Hampton University means everything to me as a leader and son of a single Black dad. It's more than a school—it's a homecoming to a legacy of resilience. HBCUs built leaders like me: unapologetically Black, globally minded, and unbreakable. Growing up adopted in predominantly non-Black spaces, I often felt like the outlier—the trilingual pianist coaching Mandarin while sprinting varsity tracks. Hampton flips that script. It means thriving in a community that celebrates my full self, from my multicultural experiences to my drive for impact. Here, I'll connect with brothers and sisters who share the weight of representation, turning "first" into "we." It's where my piano keys, camera lens, and business hustle converge with a network that amplifies Black excellence. For my family, it's breaking cycles—my dad sacrificed for my abroad adventures; Hampton honors that by investing in the leader he's raised. Through my actions and Business Marketing studies, I plan to make a tangible difference for my family and community. First, financially: every scholarship dollar closes the gap between aid and Hampton's costs, freeing me to focus without side gigs pulling me from class. I'll graduate debt-light, then launch a marketing firm targeting small Black-owned businesses like my dad's auto shop. Drawing from my Meta ads experience, I'll teach entrepreneurs to stretch budgets digitally—food drives for visibility, graphic designs for growth. Globally, my time in China and Uganda inspires campaigns bridging cultures, like Mandarin resources for Black diaspora youth. Locally, I'll expand my Scout mentorships and language classes into Hampton initiatives, leading service projects that blend business skills with community impact—think pop-up markets funding MLK Center programs. I've earned my spot through sweat and service. Hampton isn't the end; it's the launchpad. Let's build legacies together.

Justice and equality aren't abstract concepts to me — they're personal. I was adopted as a newborn, and my story didn't begin with equality. But when a single Black father chose me as his first child, everything changed. He gave me a name, a home, and a belief that every person deserves a fair chance — no matter where they start. My father didn't just raise me — he invested in me with a purpose. He found a way to send me to Ecuador to learn Spanish, to China and Taiwan to study Mandarin, and to Uganda to understand what community looks like when people have almost nothing but still show up for each other. Those weren't vacations. They were lessons in what inequality looks like across the world — and what it takes to overcome it. In Ecuador, I watched families build businesses with no safety net, communicating across language barriers just to survive. In Uganda, I saw children walk miles to attend schools with no electricity, hungry but determined. And every time I came home to Indianapolis, I saw versions of the same struggle — just dressed differently. Communities on my side of town with underfunded schools, limited access to healthy food, and young Black men who were told their ceiling was lower than everyone else's. That's why I chose the IB Diploma Programme at Shortridge High School. I believe education is the most powerful equalizer, and I wanted to prove — to myself and to everyone watching — that a Black student from Indianapolis could thrive in one of the most rigorous academic programs in the world. I did. My GPA climbed from 3.47 to 3.92, I earned Magna Cum Laude once and Cum Laude twice, and I did it all while managing ADHD — a diagnosis that once made me believe something was wrong with me, but that I've since learned to channel as a strength. When I teach Mandarin to my peers at Shortridge, I'm not just sharing a language — I'm expanding what they believe is possible for themselves. When a Black student in Indianapolis learns Chinese, it challenges every assumption about who belongs in global spaces. That's justice in action. Not a protest sign, but a paradigm shift. At Hampton University, I'll study Business Marketing with a focus on international business. My goal is to help underrepresented communities access global markets that have historically been closed to them. I want to build bridges between cultures the same way my father built a bridge for me — with intention, sacrifice, and an unshakable belief that where you start doesn't have to determine where you end. Justice isn't just about protest — it's about building systems that include everyone from the start. My father built that system for me when he adopted a newborn and decided that child would see the world. Now it's my turn to build it for others.

The first time I spoke Mandarin in front of my classmates at Shortridge High School in Indianapolis, someone laughed. Not because my pronunciation was off — it wasn't. They laughed because a Black kid speaking Chinese didn't fit the picture they'd been given of who gets to be global. That laugh became my mission. The initiative I plan to address is the global access gap in Black and low-income communities. In my neighborhood, most students have never left Indiana. Study abroad is unattainable. Learning Mandarin or Spanish beyond a classroom feels pointless. The world tells Black students in cities like Indianapolis that international spaces aren't for them — and most of them believe it, because they've never seen someone who looks like them prove otherwise. I decided to be that proof. After studying Mandarin through immersion programs in Taiwan and China, I came back to Shortridge and started teaching the language informally to my peers. I didn't wait for a program or a budget. I just started. I'd stay after school, walk classmates through basic phrases, and watch something shift in their faces when they realized they could actually do this. One student told me it was the first time he'd ever imagined himself traveling outside the country. That single sentence confirmed everything I believed: representation isn't just about seeing someone on a screen. It's about seeing someone in your hallway doing something you were told wasn't for you. Beyond language, I've completed over two hundred hours of community service through the Boy Scouts of America and the Martin Luther King Community Center, where I served as Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer. I organized neighborhood cleanups, mentored younger Scouts, and learned that leadership is consistency, not titles. At Hampton University this fall, I plan to expand this work by launching a structured language mentorship program that pairs bilingual college students with high schoolers from underserved communities. I also want to raise money to create a micro-scholarship fund — even small grants of five hundred dollars for passport fees or program deposits — to remove the financial barriers that keep low-income students from applying to study-abroad programs. The gap isn't talent. It's access. And access is something I can build. That laugh in my classroom didn't stop me. It showed me exactly where the work needed to start.

I learned what marketing really means before I ever heard the word. I was fourteen, standing in my father's auto repair shop on the east side of Indianapolis, watching him lose customers to chain garages with bigger signs and louder ads. His work was better. His prices were fairer. But nobody knew he existed. So I asked him to let me try something. I built a Facebook page for the shop that weekend. I taught myself how to run Meta ad campaigns, designed graphics in Canva, wrote copy that spoke directly to our neighborhood, and launched everything with a forty-dollar budget. Within a month, new customers were walking in saying they found us online. My father looked at me like I'd performed a magic trick. But it wasn't magic. It was marketing — and it was the first time I understood that the right message, delivered to the right people, can change a business and a family. My name is Marleigh Hicks. I'm a senior at Shortridge High School in Indianapolis, Indiana, where I'm completing International Baccalaureate coursework with a 3.92 GPA. I speak three languages — English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese. I've studied abroad in Taiwan, China, Ecuador, and Uganda. I've played varsity soccer and run track for four years, studied classical piano for twelve, and completed over two hundred hours of community service through the Boy Scouts of America and the Martin Luther King Community Center. This fall, I'll attend Hampton University to study Business Marketing with a concentration in international business. But the career I'm building started in that shop. Growing up in Indianapolis in a household earning under thirty thousand dollars a year, I saw firsthand what happens when talented, hardworking people don't have access to the tools that make businesses visible. My father is a skilled businessman. He's also a member of Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity and holds a Juris Doctor degree. He chose to run his own shop because he believes in ownership — in building something that belongs to you. But ownership without visibility is a slow death for any small business, and that's the reality for thousands of Black-owned businesses across this country. My career goal is to change that equation. I plan to build a marketing consultancy that serves Black-owned and minority-owned small businesses — the barbershops, restaurants, repair shops, and cleaning services that hold communities together but can't afford the agencies that Fortune 500 companies use. I want to bring enterprise-level marketing strategy to Main Street, at prices that don't bankrupt the people who need it most. What makes me different from other students with this dream is that I've already started. I've managed real ad campaigns with real budgets and tracked real returns on investment. I've also lived and studied on four continents, which means I understand how markets work across cultures — not from a textbook, but from sitting in classrooms in Taipei, Quito, and Kampala. When I help a business in Indianapolis reach customers, I'm drawing on a perspective that most marketing professionals twice my age don't have. The positive impact I want to make isn't abstract. It's a Black-owned shop in Indianapolis that stays open because someone finally showed the owner how to reach the people who need him. It's a woman in Lagos or Lima who can sell her products to American consumers because someone built her a bridge. It's every small business owner who was told the market was too big for them — until someone proved it wasn't. I'm from Indianapolis. I'm building for the world. And I'm just getting started.

There is a version of my story that sounds impressive on paper: trilingual student, IB Diploma coursework, 3.92 GPA, accepted to Hampton University. But there is another version — the one I actually lived — and it starts with a diagnosis I didn't want and a bank account that never had enough. I was diagnosed with ADHD in middle school, and for a while, it felt like a sentence. I couldn't sit still long enough to finish a test. I'd read the same paragraph four times and retain nothing. Teachers assumed I wasn't trying. Some of my classmates assumed I wasn't capable. When I transferred to Shortridge High School and enrolled in the full International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme — one of the most demanding academic tracks in the world — people told me I was setting myself up to fail. A kid with ADHD doesn't survive IB, they said. He definitely doesn't thrive in it. They were wrong. My GPA went from a 3.47 my first year to a 4.44 by the second semester of my junior year. I didn't do it by pretending ADHD didn't exist. I did it by learning how my brain actually works — color-coded notes, movement breaks between study sessions, recording lectures so I could replay them at my own pace. ADHD taught me that intelligence isn't about sitting still. It's about finding the system that lets your mind do what it was built to do. But academic challenges were only half the fight. My family's household income is under thirty thousand dollars a year. My father owns a small auto repair business in Indianapolis, and I've watched him choose between inventory and groceries more times than I can count. There is no college fund. There is no safety net. When I received my acceptance to Hampton University, the pride lasted about ten minutes before the math set in. Tuition, room, and board total over forty-three thousand dollars a year. My family cannot cover that. Not even close. I've applied for every scholarship I can find because I refuse to let money be the reason I don't walk across that stage. I've worked in my father's shop since I was fourteen — managing his social media, running ad campaigns, learning what it means to stretch every dollar. I've completed over two hundred hours of community service through the Boy Scouts and the Martin Luther King Community Center. I've studied Mandarin in Taiwan and Spanish in Ecuador, not because my family could afford luxury travel, but because I found immersion programs that believed in me enough to make it possible. This scholarship would directly reduce the gap between what my family can afford and what Hampton costs. Every dollar matters when you're building a future from the ground up. I'm not asking for a handout. I'm asking for an investment in a young man who has already proven he can turn obstacles into momentum — and who has no intention of stopping.

The first business lesson I ever learned didn't come from a textbook. It came from watching my father decide between restocking brake pads and paying the electric bill at his auto repair shop in Indianapolis. I was fourteen, sitting behind the counter after school, and I asked him why he didn't just run ads online like the bigger shops did. He said he couldn't afford it. So I told him I'd figure it out. That week, I taught myself how to run Facebook and Meta ad campaigns. I built graphics in Canva, wrote copy that spoke to our neighborhood, and launched a campaign with a forty-dollar budget. Within a month, new customers were walking in saying they'd found us online. My father's shop didn't just survive that quarter — it grew. That was the moment I realized entrepreneurship isn't about having the most money. It's about solving problems with whatever you've got. Since then, I've managed the shop's entire social media presence, tracking engagement metrics, adjusting ad spend based on return on investment, and learning in real time what works and what doesn't. But more importantly, I learned that small businesses in communities like mine — Black communities, low-income communities — don't fail because their owners lack talent. They fail because they lack access to the marketing tools and strategies that larger companies take for granted. That gap became my mission. At Hampton University this fall, I'm pursuing a Business Marketing degree with a focus on international business and entrepreneurship. My academic goal is to combine the real-world marketing experience I've built in my father's shop with formal training in business strategy, consumer behavior, and global commerce. I speak three languages — English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese — and I've studied and lived in Ecuador, China, Taiwan, and Uganda. That global perspective isn't decoration on a resume. It's the lens through which I plan to build a business that helps small, minority-owned companies compete in markets they've been shut out of for generations. My entrepreneurial goal is to launch a marketing consultancy that serves Black-owned and underrepresented small businesses — the barbershops, auto shops, restaurants, and cleaning services that hold communities together but can't afford a marketing agency. I want to offer affordable, culturally competent digital marketing strategies that help these businesses reach new customers, build online presence, and grow sustainably. I've already done it once at a kitchen table with a forty-dollar budget. I plan to do it at scale. But giving back isn't something I'm waiting until graduation to start. I've already logged over two hundred hours of community service through the Boy Scouts of America and the Martin Luther King Community Center in Indianapolis, where I served as Assistant Patrol Leader, Webmaster, and Treasurer. Through Scouting, I organized neighborhood cleanups, mentored younger Scouts, and learned that leadership means showing up consistently — not just when it's convenient. When I returned from studying Mandarin in Taiwan, I started teaching the language to younger students at Shortridge High School, most of whom had never heard Chinese spoken by someone who looked like them. Watching their faces change when they realized they could learn something the world told them wasn't for them — that was service at its purest. Entrepreneurship, to me, is just service with a business model. Every dollar I earn through the company I build will be reinvested into the communities that raised me. That's not a dream. It's a plan I've already started executing — one forty-dollar ad campaign at a time.

The first time I understood the weight of money, I was standing in my father's auto repair shop watching him decide which bills to pay first. There was no dramatic moment, no single crisis. It was simply the quiet arithmetic of a small-business owner in Indianapolis trying to keep the lights on, the parts stocked, and his family fed. That evening, I asked why he did not just put everything on a credit card. He explained interest rates, minimum payments, and how debt grows faster than income if you are not careful. I was fourteen, and that conversation became the most important financial education I have ever received. Growing up in a low-income household taught me lessons no textbook could replicate. I learned that budgeting is not optional when every dollar has a purpose. My mother kept a handwritten ledger of household expenses, and I watched her stretch a modest paycheck across groceries, utilities, and school supplies. When I began managing social media for my father's shop, I saw the business side of that same discipline: tracking advertising costs against new customer revenue, calculating return on investment, and understanding that cash flow determines whether a small business survives or closes. These experiences shaped my relationship with money long before I studied economics in my International Baccalaureate courses at Shortridge High School. In IB Business Management, I learned formal vocabulary for concepts I had already lived. Terms like opportunity cost, liquidity, and break-even analysis were not abstract ideas; they were the daily reality of my family's livelihood. My 3.8 GPA reflects not only academic effort but also the motivation that comes from knowing education is the clearest path out of financial instability. Financial literacy also became personal when I started saving for college. I opened my first bank account at sixteen and set a goal of depositing a portion of every dollar I earned. It was not much, but the habit mattered more than the amount. I researched the difference between savings accounts and certificates of deposit, compared interest rates, and learned that even small choices compound over time. I also began exploring scholarships, understanding that reducing student loan debt before it begins is one of the smartest financial decisions a young person can make. My plan is to carry these lessons into Hampton University, where I will major in Business Marketing with a concentration in international commerce. I want to combine the entrepreneurial instincts I developed in my father's shop with the global perspective I gained through Mandarin immersion programs and travel to Taiwan, China, and Ecuador. I aim to help small and minority-owned businesses develop marketing strategies that are financially sustainable, so they can grow without falling into debt traps. Beyond my career, I intend to give back by teaching financial literacy in my community. As a former Boy Scout who completed over two hundred hours of service, I understand the power of giving back. I envision leading workshops for high school students on credit scores, student loan repayment, and basic investing, the very subjects I wish someone had taught me earlier. Financial knowledge should not be a privilege reserved for those who can afford private advisors; it should be accessible to every young person from backgrounds like mine. Every lesson I have learned about money began at a kitchen table or a shop counter, not in a classroom. Those experiences fuel my ambition to build a future where financial literacy is a foundation, not an afterthought.

There is a moment in jazz when every musician in the ensemble locks into the same groove, and the music stops being a collection of individual parts and becomes something larger. I first felt that moment during a rehearsal with the Shortridge High School Jazz Band, and it reminded me of something I had been learning alone at the piano bench for over a decade: music is never really about you. It is about what you give to the people around you. I began studying classical piano at age six. For twelve years, I have practiced scales, worked through etudes, and prepared for competitions including the American Piano Awards. Classical training taught me discipline in its purest form. There were no shortcuts. If a passage was not clean, the only answer was to sit down and play it again — slowly, deliberately, and honestly. That process shaped how I approach every challenge, from preparing for IB exams to managing social media campaigns for my father's business. The piano taught me that mastery comes not from talent alone but from the willingness to show up and do the work when no one is watching. When I joined the Jazz Band at Shortridge, I discovered a different dimension of musicianship. Classical piano is precise and structured, but jazz demands something more vulnerable. It asks you to listen before you play, to respond to what your bandmates are doing in real time, and to take creative risks. The first time I was called on to improvise, I froze. I was so accustomed to reading every note on the page that creating something spontaneous felt terrifying. But my bandmates nodded me on, and I played. The phrase was simple, but it was mine, and the rhythm section caught it and carried it forward. That experience changed how I understood music and, more importantly, how I understood collaboration. Being part of the Jazz Band taught me that leadership does not always mean standing at the front of the room. Sometimes it means laying down a steady comping pattern so a younger musician feels confident enough to solo. Sometimes it means arriving early to help set up or staying late to walk a fellow player through a difficult chord progression. The strongest ensembles are built on trust, and trust is built through small, consistent acts of support. Those lessons have carried into every part of my life — in group projects, on the soccer field, and in the Boy Scout troop where I served as Assistant Patrol Leader. Music has also given me a global perspective. Growing up in Mandarin immersion programs and spending summers in Taiwan, China, and Ecuador, I have seen how music crosses every cultural boundary. Jazz itself is a uniquely American art form born from the African American experience, and playing it connects me to a tradition of resilience, creativity, and excellence that I carry with pride. As I prepare to attend Hampton University this fall, I know that the discipline of classical piano and the collaborative spirit of jazz will continue to guide me. I plan to major in Business Marketing with a focus on international commerce, and the skills I developed through music — patience, adaptability, active listening, and the courage to improvise — will serve me in boardrooms just as they have on the bandstand. Cass Mosson understood that band is more than music; it is where young people learn who they are and who they can become. I am grateful for every note that has shaped me into the person I am today.

In a classroom in China, I once found myself in the middle of an unexpected cultural exchange. My classmates excitedly asked me about Beyoncé and Rihanna, artists they admired and whose music they followed closely. We laughed as they showed me Chinese versions of dance styles inspired by Black American music. Those conversations were fun, but they also made me realize something important: around the world, people often know Black American culture through music and entertainment, yet far fewer encounter Black Americans in spaces like international business, diplomacy, or global leadership. My name is Marleigh Hicks, and I am a senior at Shortridge International Baccalaureate High School in Indianapolis, Indiana. I have spent nearly my entire academic life in Mandarin immersion programs and have also studied Spanish, becoming fluent in three languages. Summers spent living and studying in Taiwan, China, and Ecuador gave me the chance to experience how interconnected the modern world has become. At the same time, those experiences made me realize how little exposure many young people in Black communities have to the international systems that influence our economy and shape our opportunities. My commitment to higher education is rooted in a desire to change that reality. This fall, I will attend Hampton University, where I plan to major in Business Marketing with a focus on international business. Hampton is more than a school to me—it represents a tradition of excellence and service that stretches back generations. I believe historically Black institutions like Hampton can serve as bridges between American students and international partners, and I want to be part of building those connections. My interest in global partnerships deepened in the summer of 2025, when I spent time in Uganda with my father. I saw firsthand how Chinese companies are heavily involved across Africa in industries connected to minerals, infrastructure, and energy. That experience confirmed my belief that Black students need greater access to the global economy—not only through cultural influence, but through education and business leadership. At Hampton, I hope to help lead student efforts to expand study-abroad opportunities for students who are often excluded by upfront costs like passports, visas, and airfare. By working with Hampton's alumni network and corporate sponsors, I want to help raise funding so that more students can gain global experience. I also hope to help Hampton connect with Chinese institutions to strengthen Mandarin study and deepen global partnerships. Beyond college, my goal is to become a successful entrepreneur who creates opportunities for others. Whether through international consulting, marketing, or business development, I want to use my trilingual abilities and global perspective to open doors for more young people from communities like mine. Evangelist Nellie Delores Blount Boyce dedicated her life to uplifting others as an educator, social worker, and community leader. In my own way, I hope to carry forward that same spirit—helping open doors for more students to participate in and shape the global economy. I am committed to pursuing higher education because I know it is the foundation for the impact I want to make. With a degree from Hampton University, I will have the tools, the network, and the knowledge to turn my vision into reality.