If you gave me $100 and a completely free Saturday, I would sleep. The money could wait. Working in my family’s restaurant has made a day without anyone needing me sound almost extravagant. Right now, it feels like my time is not even my own, and that's what it means to own a business. Always on call, always available, always needed. I helped build Tamal Express believing it could give my family a better future. I handled everything from payroll to cooking and cleaning, and eventually pushed for an expansion into a ghost kitchen downtown. I thought we could make it work while I attended school for radiologic technology, but I severely underestimated how much both would demand. The expansion failed, my education suffered, and the financial strain followed us home. For a while, we were three months behind on our apartment rent because so much of our money went into keeping the restaurant open. During that period, a teacher from across the street asked, in front of several colleagues, why we didn’t offer teacher discounts. I looked down at the register and laughed awkwardly. I didn’t know how to explain that we were already putting our own paychecks into their meals. The moment stayed with me because I like giving and having to admit that I couldn’t afford to was painful. Working alongside my parents has also made me understand how easily giving becomes something you continue doing long after you’re exhausted. When my grandmother died, my mother traveled to Mexico to grieve. For two weeks, one employee and I ran the restaurant from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. and it was brutal. A lack of supplies here, a leaking roof over there, and a customer, using her outdoor voice complaining about there being no Kale for her green juice. Keeping my responses polite took more effort than I’d like to admit during that time period. Still, covering those shifts meant my mother could be away. I wanted her to be away, to have that time she needed to be with her mom in her final moments. I still feel that same pull when I study now. Knowing my parents are working makes me want to close my books and help. My mother’s knees have made walking increasingly difficult, and seeing both my parents manage pain while continuing to work has changed how I think about success. I want my education to lead to a point where they can go home without worrying about who will keep everything running. The lesson I’ll carry is that I have to account for what a commitment asks of the people I love. If I open another business, my planning will include how we can take time off. I know exactly what I’d do with mine, starting with that Saturday nap. Once rested, I might finally have the patience to make my favorite menu addition again: pozole with a broth inspired by tonkotsu. I made it once, letting the broth develop for hours, and it was heaven. I’d finish it with chili oil infused with oregano, cilantro. Of course it would also be topped with avocado, shredded cabbage, potato flautas on the side, and a boiled runny egg. It’s the kind of cooking I want time for again. I still have ideas I’m excited to try in the kitchen, I just want to be able to spend hours making something because I’m enjoying it, then sit down with my family and eat.

Growing up in a low-income immigrant family taught me early that progress usually comes from hard, consistent work rather than immediate rewards. My family did not always have the luxury of choosing the easiest or most convenient option. Money had to be stretched, purchases had to be considered carefully, and we learned to make the most of what we already had. Those experiences shaped me into someone who values practicality, humility, and perseverance. One small but lasting lesson from my upbringing is that cost and quality are not always connected to a brand name. I developed a resistance to buying expensive items simply because they are popular or recognizable. If a generic product is equally useful—or sometimes even better—I would rather choose it and use the difference for something that truly matters. Although this may seem like a minor habit, it reflects a larger value I carry with me: I try to judge people, opportunities, and possessions by their substance rather than their appearance or status. My background also taught me to remain humble. Financial hardship can affect hardworking and capable people, and circumstances can change more quickly than many realize. Because of this, I try not to judge someone by what they own, where they live, or the kind of work they do. I understand that needing assistance does not make someone lazy or less deserving. At the same time, I believe support should be combined with opportunity, encouragement, and the expectation that we continue working toward improvement. As a first-generation college student, I earned an associate degree in Biotechnology while navigating financial pressure and the uncertainty of being a DACA recipient. My educational journey has not followed a simple or predictable path. I have faced unexpected changes that required me to reconsider my plans and find new ways forward. These experiences taught me that resilience is not always dramatic. Sometimes it means continuing to study, work, and plan even when the reward feels far away. I carried these lessons into becoming a co-founder and operations manager of a small restaurant business in the Bronx. Running a business taught me how difficult it can be to create financial stability, especially when expenses continue regardless of how much revenue comes in. It also taught me to solve problems with limited resources, accept responsibility for difficult decisions, and keep working when progress is slow. I learned that leadership is often less about recognition and more about being dependable when other people are counting on you. My primary goal for the future is stability, not only for myself, but for my family. I want to build a meaningful career that allows me to use my education, technical abilities, and problem-solving skills while escaping the constant cycle of financial uncertainty. I also want to be in a position to help my family pursue opportunities that may otherwise feel out of reach. Growing up with limited resources did not make me value expensive possessions. It made me value security, education, useful skills, and the people who supported me. Most importantly, it taught me that hard work may not produce immediate results, but consistent effort creates opportunities that would not exist otherwise. That belief continues to guide the choices I make and the future I am working to build.

Math has not always been my favorite subject. It challenges me, and I sometimes find it frustrating. What I appreciate most, however, is that learning it gives me tools to do something meaningful. As a student pursuing radiologic technology, I am learning to see mathematics through its practical applications. Understanding measurements, proportions, and the relationships between imaging settings matters when producing images that help physicians make diagnoses. Accuracy contributes to image quality and patient safety. That gives me a reason to work through concepts that might otherwise feel abstract. My experience helping manage a family restaurant also showed me how often we depend on math. Payroll, ingredient costs, pricing, and daily sales required careful calculations. Numbers helped us understand whether our decisions were sustainable and where we needed to make changes. What I value about math is the way it pushes me to slow down, examine a problem, and check my reasoning. An answer needs more than confidence; it needs a process that holds up. My relationship with math is still developing. I want to become more comfortable with it because I understand the responsibility that comes with my future profession. Each concept I learn is another tool I can bring into my work, and each problem I solve builds confidence that I can improve through practice.

When I think about what I have learned from books, my first reaction is: what haven’t I learned? During my self-help reading phase, I turned to books for help understanding myself, communicating with others, and building a more stable future. I wanted to do better, but I did not always know how to turn that desire into action. Reading gave me different ways to approach those questions. The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem helped me reflect on the relationship I had with myself. During periods of academic frustration and business setbacks, it was easy to let disappointing results influence how I judged my entire worth. My takeaway was that respecting myself also meant taking responsibility for my choices and making an effort to live in ways I could feel proud of. That remains a work in progress, but it has influenced how I approach returning to school. Don’t Believe Everything You Think encouraged me to question my internal commentary. When something goes wrong, my mind can quickly turn one setback into a prediction about my whole future. Reading helped me pause and consider whether a thought deserved the authority I was giving it. That perspective matters when I am studying something difficult or trying again after a disappointment. How to Talk to Anyone introduced another area of growth: the way I connect with people. Helping run my family’s restaurant required conversations with employees, customers, contractors, accountants, and lawyers. Reading about communication encouraged me to pay closer attention to how I listened and expressed myself. I now see those skills as part of my preparation for healthcare, where a clear explanation or a patient response can make an unfamiliar situation easier to navigate. My reading also included 12 Rules for Life and numerous Rich Dad books about real estate. I was drawn to questions about responsibility, financial independence, and creating opportunities. At the time, I wanted to understand how people built a life with more security and freedom. Operating a business later gave me practical experience with the risks behind those ambitions. I still value what those books prompted me to explore, while recognizing that advice must be weighed against my circumstances and experience. Today, I am attending Hostos Community College and pursuing a path toward radiologic technology, with the goal of eventually expanding into MRI. My ambitions include dependable employment, supporting my family, and having enough stability to help others without putting myself in financial difficulty. Books helped me ask what kind of future I wanted; experience has helped me make that picture more specific. Perhaps the most lasting lesson reading has given me is that I can keep learning even when my previous approach has failed. I can reconsider an idea, seek another perspective, and try a different method. A book cannot study for me, repair a business, or make a difficult decision on my behalf. It can give me language for a struggle I could not explain and a starting point for the next step. That is why reading continues to matter to me.

Diabetes has become a shared concern in my family. After being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, I began taking Trulicity. My A1C improved from above 6.5% to 5.7%, but my doctor advised continuing treatment. My father also has diabetes and takes Trulicity. His experience has involved a greater need for treatment, including insulin. Having this condition myself, while knowing that my father has needed more intensive care, has made the importance of ongoing support personal to me. Our experiences remind me that even people within the same family can have different treatment needs. Although type 2 diabetes differs from autoimmune conditions such as type 1 diabetes, it has given me a personal connection to the responsibilities of managing a chronic illness. I want to bring that awareness into healthcare while remembering that each patient’s experience is their own. I am attending Hostos Community College and working toward a career in radiologic technology. After completing my education and becoming a radiologic technologist, I plan to pursue additional training in MRI. Through this work, I hope to help patients with diabetes and chronic autoimmune conditions receive accurate imaging and feel supported throughout their examinations. My contribution would begin with how I communicate. I want to explain examinations clearly, listen to concerns, and give patients room to ask questions without feeling rushed or embarrassed. Someone living with chronic illness may arrive exhausted from managing appointments, medications, work, and family responsibilities. I want to recognize that the person in front of me has a life beyond the examination room. I also plan to develop the technical skills and judgment needed to provide dependable care. That means learning proper imaging techniques, following safety procedures, and communicating relevant concerns to the healthcare team. For patients who experience pain, fatigue, or difficulty moving, I want to work with my colleagues to make examinations as manageable as possible while meeting clinical requirements. When a concern falls outside my role, I will seek help from the appropriate professional. Growing up in a low-income family and helping operate our restaurant have also shaped my understanding of practical barriers. Taking time away from work or finding money for another expense can be difficult. I want to listen before making assumptions about someone’s circumstances. As an English and Spanish speaker, I hope to help patients feel comfortable communicating, while following workplace policies and using qualified interpreters when needed. Beyond my daily work, I hope to participate in community health education efforts and help people locate reliable information and available support. I would especially value opportunities to reach families who feel overwhelmed or unsure where to begin. My father’s experience and my own treatment have strengthened my motivation to complete my education. I want financial stability for my family and a career in which I can contribute to someone else’s well-being. I hope to become the kind of professional we would want caring for either of us: patient, attentive, technically capable, and respectful of the daily effort involved in managing a chronic condition.

My plans for the future begin with something I have spent years trying to build: financial security. I want to earn a dependable income, pay down debt, save for emergencies, and build a home with the woman I love. I also want a career that makes my daily work useful to others. Becoming a radiologic technologist would bring those goals together. I am a Mexican immigrant raised in the Bronx and a first-generation college student. I earned an associate degree in Biotechnology and am now attending Hostos Community College to restart my path toward radiologic technology. My immediate goal is to complete the coursework needed to move forward in that field, develop strong clinical skills, and meet the requirements to enter the profession. Eventually, I hope to advance into MRI. This is a path I have already invested in deeply. I previously studied radiologic technology at JPU, but uncertainty surrounding my program’s eligibility for New York licensure led me to withdraw with two semesters remaining. I was left with approximately $30,000 in student loans and an unfinished qualification. Returning to school means carrying those financial consequences while working toward another opportunity to finish. My family’s business experience has made my goals more urgent. As a co-founder and operations manager of Tamal Express, I helped grow our Bronx restaurant and expand into Manhattan. We worked to create lasting security, but serious setbacks followed. Our family is now preparing to leave the business. I want our next chapter to include greater stability and fewer decisions driven by financial emergencies. I know that reaching that future will require more than motivation. My plan is to organize assignments each week, study in manageable sessions, and use practice questions to identify what I do not understand. I intend to ask instructors and tutoring resources for help before difficulties accumulate. I also want to understand the full cost of my remaining education so I can plan for required materials and avoid unnecessary spending. The Bright Lights Scholarship would provide practical help during this transition. A $550 award could contribute toward textbooks, required course materials, or tuition expenses. That would reduce what I need to find elsewhere or potentially borrow. With existing student debt and uncertainty around our family’s business income, assistance with a specific educational expense matters. Beyond graduation, I want to become a healthcare professional who combines careful technical work with patient communication. Medical imaging interests me because it contributes information that clinicians use to guide care. I want patients to feel respected, informed about the examination within my role, and comfortable asking questions. I also want financial stability because I enjoy giving. When I have extra, I happily share it, and sometimes I give even when I cannot comfortably afford to. I am learning that generosity needs limits if it is going to last. My goal is to build enough security to help family, support someone’s education, or meet a need without putting my own bills at risk. I want to keep that giving part of myself while becoming more responsible about what I can offer. My future is still taking shape, but its direction is clear. I want to complete my education, serve patients, and create a stable life for my family. This scholarship would help me take the next step with less financial pressure and more room to focus on the work ahead.

What We Ask of Reality In section eight of the Enchiridion, Epictetus makes a demanding claim: living well depends on bringing our wishes into agreement with events, rather than making events answer to our wishes. His sentence relocates the possibility of a good life from what happens to how we desire. I find that argument powerful, but its force depends on recognizing how far it goes. Epictetus asks us to want reality as it unfolds. My disagreement begins where accepting a painful fact becomes an obligation to welcome it. Selected paragraph: “Don't demand that things happen as you wish, but wish that they happen as they do happen, and you will go on well.” — Epictetus, Enchiridion, section 8, translated by Elizabeth Carter The opening verb, demand, establishes the problem as a particular relationship between a person and the world. A demand assumes authority: someone or something is expected to comply. Applied to events, it suggests that personal wishes should govern circumstances. In this translation, Epictetus begins by questioning that expectation. A person may have understandable desires without possessing the power to make reality satisfy them. This distinction matters because expectations can quietly acquire the force of demands. I can begin by hoping that my effort produces success and gradually come to believe that success is owed to me because I worked hard. When the outcome disappoints me, I then experience two injuries: the practical loss and the apparent violation of an agreement. The passage exposes the second injury. Reality never entered the agreement I imagined. Yet the sentence does not stop after prohibiting demands. Its central turn introduces a positive instruction: desire should conform to the events themselves. The reader is not left without wishes. Instead, the object of wishing is changed. What happens becomes the standard against which desire must be corrected. The repeated vocabulary makes this reversal unusually compact. In the first clause, events are supposed to follow wishes; in the second, wishes are supposed to follow events. Almost the same words produce an opposite direction of authority. The repetition suggests that the difficulty lies less in the existence of desire than in what we expect desire to govern. Epictetus preserves the activity of wishing while withdrawing its claim to dictate circumstances. This is also where the passage becomes uncomfortable. Adjusting a plan after disappointment is one thing. Wishing for the disappointment itself is another. If I reduce the instruction to practical flexibility, I make it easier to accept, but I also weaken what the sentence actually says. Someone may adapt skillfully while continuing to wish that an event had never occurred. Epictetus’s instruction reaches into that remaining resistance. His wording also refuses to divide events into convenient categories. The instruction does not apply only when the disappointment is minor, deserved, or eventually useful. Its breadth gives the sentence its ambition, but creates its greatest difficulty. Would the same alignment of desire be appropriate in the face of preventable harm? The paragraph offers no explicit exception. A serious reading has to acknowledge that absence rather than quietly supply a reassuring qualification. The final promise helps explain why Epictetus asks so much. He connects living well to this reorientation of desire. He does not promise to replace disappointing events with favorable ones. Instead, the sentence makes a better life available through a change in the person encountering them. On my reading, this separates well-being from the requirement that circumstances first become satisfactory. There is freedom in that proposal. If my ability to live meaningfully depends on undoing every loss, I have placed it beyond my reach. But there is also a risk in taking the promise too simply. Grief, financial pressure, and distress do not disappear because someone identifies a mistaken expectation. I understand the paragraph as prescribing a discipline, not demonstrating that it can be accomplished immediately or without support. Its concise form should not make us underestimate the difficulty of practicing it. My own experience makes both sides of the argument visible. My family and I worked to build a restaurant business and expanded into another location. When serious setbacks followed, I struggled with more than financial consequences. I had connected the outcome to whether I deserved my family’s trust. I wanted our effort to guarantee that their faith in me would be rewarded. Epictetus helps me question that imagined guarantee. He does not persuade me that I should wish for the losses themselves. I sometimes describe my situation as trying to eat soup with a fork. The image is funny because effort and effectiveness have become disconnected. I can keep moving my hand and remain hungry. Applied to the passage, however, the metaphor reveals a disagreement. Looking for a spoon accepts the circumstances while trying to change my means of acting within them. That is a practical response I can endorse. It does not yet fulfill the stronger instruction to make my wishes agree with events. I therefore take something from Epictetus without pretending to accept his entire demand. I can acknowledge that an event occurred, stop treating my preferred outcome as something the world owed me, and still judge the event regrettable. That position is more limited than the one his sentence appears to prescribe. Naming the difference matters: otherwise, interpretation becomes a way of making an uncomfortable writer say only what I already believe. The passage’s value for me lies in the question it leaves unresolved: how much agreement with reality does living well require? Epictetus’s answer challenges the authority I give my expectations. My answer preserves room for grief, criticism, and efforts to improve conditions. I am learning to begin with the circumstances I actually face, without requiring myself to call every loss desirable. I can release the demand that life reward my effort while remaining responsible for deciding where that effort should go next.

I am returning to college with an unfinished career path, student debt, and a clearer understanding of why I want to be there. As a first-generation student raised in the Bronx, I have learned that an educational journey can include both graduating and starting over. When I was younger, learning came easily. I rarely needed to study extensively, so I reached college without the habits that harder coursework required. I wanted to succeed, but knowing I needed to study and getting myself to act were frustratingly different things. Stress and depression made those years difficult. I eventually earned my associate degree in Biotechnology with a GPA below 2.5. I was proud to finish, even though I knew my performance did not reflect what I hoped to achieve. Later, I pursued radiologic technology at JPU and improved my GPA to approximately 2.8. I had found a direction that connected my interest in science with practical patient care. Then uncertainty surrounding my program’s eligibility for New York licensure led me to withdraw with two semesters remaining. I was left with approximately $30,000 in student loans and no completed qualification for the career I had been working toward. My family’s restaurant business, Tamal Express, brought additional lessons. I helped grow our Bronx location through improved ordering systems and delivery platforms, and we expanded into Manhattan. Serious setbacks followed. Our family is now preparing to leave the business, and that transition has strengthened my determination to pursue a dependable healthcare career. These experiences affected my confidence, but my family and my partner, Kay, continued to support me. Their encouragement helped me see that a setback did not have to become a permanent stopping point. I have now returned to Hostos Community College to restart my path toward radiologic technology, with the eventual goal of advancing into MRI. This time, I am approaching education with a plan that goes beyond wanting good grades. I intend to break studying into manageable sessions, track assignments consistently, use practice questions, and ask for help before I fall behind. My earlier struggles taught me that understanding material quickly and knowing how to learn through difficulty are different skills. This scholarship would help cover tuition, books, and required course materials while reducing the pressure to take on additional debt. As my family leaves the restaurant business, that assistance would give me more room to focus on building a stable future. I want to become a healthcare professional who brings patience to people facing uncertainty. My own path has taught me how much encouragement matters when someone is struggling to see progress. I am proud that I finished my first degree, improved afterward, and found the determination to return. Now I want to turn that persistence into a career that supports my family and serves others.

My aunt survived breast cancer that nearly took her life. Today, she is doing well, and she went on to have three more children afterward. When I think about why breast health education matters, I think about her and the years of life she has been able to experience since then. Her story makes the subject personal. It reminds me that behind every discussion of breast health is someone with relationships, plans, and a future that matters. I cannot speak to every medical detail of my aunt’s experience, but I know how close our family came to losing her. Knowing that she is here today gives me a deep appreciation for the people who dedicate their careers to caring for patients facing breast cancer. It also makes me want to understand how education can help people ask questions, seek guidance, and participate in decisions about their health. I am a Mexican immigrant raised in the Bronx, a first-generation college student, and a returning student pursuing radiologic technology at Hostos Community College. I previously earned an associate degree in Biotechnology. My interest in science developed into a desire to work in medical imaging, where technical knowledge and patient care come together. My long-term goal is to become a radiologic technologist and eventually advance into MRI. Breast health education matters to me partly because I want to become a healthcare professional whom patients can trust. Learning how to perform a procedure is essential, but I also want to understand how to communicate with someone who may be frightened by it. A patient should feel comfortable asking what an examination involves, who will explain the results, and where to direct further concerns. I want my education to prepare me to answer appropriately within my role and connect patients with the right professionals when their questions extend beyond it. My aunt’s experience also reminds me that family members need opportunities to learn. When someone we love faces a serious illness, concern does not automatically give us the knowledge to be helpful. I believe education can help relatives become more thoughtful sources of support: listening to the patient, respecting their decisions, and seeking reliable information rather than making assumptions. I would want any support I offer to begin with understanding what the person actually needs. Growing up in a low-income immigrant family has shaped how I think about access. I know what it means to consider costs carefully and make decisions under financial pressure. For that reason, I want breast health education to feel practical and approachable. Information should be understandable to someone without a medical background, and people should feel able to ask about costs, available resources, and next steps without embarrassment. As an English and Spanish speaker, I also value communication that helps people feel included. In my future work, I hope to help create a welcoming environment for patients from different backgrounds. I want to listen carefully, explain information clearly within my responsibilities, and recognize when additional communication support is needed. No patient should feel that asking for clarification makes them difficult or undeserving of attention. My own educational journey has included setbacks. Uncertainty surrounding my previous radiologic technology program’s eligibility for New York licensure led me to withdraw with two semesters remaining. Returning to school has required renewed commitment while carrying debt from that earlier attempt. Nevertheless, I still want to work in imaging. This scholarship would help me continue building the foundation for that career and deepen my understanding of the patients I hope to serve. I am still early in my professional development, and I do not claim to know exactly where every step will lead. What I do know is that my aunt’s survival gives breast health a lasting place in my understanding of healthcare. Her life after cancer—including welcoming three more children—is something our family can be grateful for. It reminds me to see patients as people whose lives continue far beyond an appointment. Breast health education is important to me because I want people facing uncertainty to have access to knowledge, respectful care, and someone willing to listen. As I continue my education, I hope to develop both the technical ability and the patience to contribute to that experience.

My interest in healthcare grew from wanting to use science in a practical way while building a dependable future for my family. I earned an associate degree in Biotechnology, but radiologic technology gave me a clearer picture of the work I wanted to do: combine technical knowledge, problem-solving, and direct patient care. I am drawn to a profession where understanding equipment and treating people thoughtfully are both essential. Medical imaging interests me because it helps make the unseen visible. Producing useful images requires knowledge, attention, and care, and those images contribute to decisions that can change a patient’s life. I want to develop that expertise and become someone patients and colleagues can rely on. My long-term goal is to become a radiologic technologist and eventually advance into MRI. My commitment to this career has survived an interrupted educational path. While attending JPU, I improved academically and reached the point where I had only two semesters remaining. Then uncertainty surrounding my program’s eligibility for New York licensure led me to withdraw. I was left with approximately $30,000 in student loans and an unfinished qualification. Losing that progress was discouraging, but my interest in the profession remained. I am now attending Hostos Community College to restart my path toward radiologic technology. My experiences outside the classroom have also shaped the professional I hope to become. As a co-founder and operations manager of our family restaurant, Tamal Express, I learned to solve problems, adapt to unfamiliar systems, and take responsibility for decisions affecting other people. We grew our Bronx business and expanded into Manhattan, but serious setbacks followed. Our family is now preparing to leave the business. That experience strengthened my desire for stability and taught me how much uncertainty can weigh on a person. Financial stress and educational difficulties also affected my mental health. Support from my family and my partner, Kay, helped me through difficult periods. Their patience is something I want to carry into healthcare. I understand that someone can appear composed while feeling frightened or overwhelmed. A patient arriving for an examination may be carrying concerns that have little to do with the procedure itself. I plan to make a difference through the everyday details of patient care: introducing myself, explaining what will happen within my role, listening to concerns, and checking understanding without making someone feel embarrassed for asking questions. As someone who speaks English and Spanish, I also hope to help Spanish-speaking patients feel welcomed while following workplace policies for qualified interpretation when needed. Technical competence will be equally important. I want to develop careful habits, follow safety procedures, accept feedback, and continue learning throughout my career. Compassion matters most when it is accompanied by reliable, responsible work. This scholarship would help reduce the financial pressure of returning to school while my family transitions away from the restaurant business. My goal is to build a stable life through work that serves others. I have had to begin again, but I am returning with a clearer purpose: to become a skilled healthcare professional who helps patients feel informed, respected, and cared for.

My definition of the American dream is probably familiar: a suburban house, a wife, three to five children, a stable income, emergency savings, and the ability to take a family vacation at least once a year. That is the life I picture. The older I get, the more I understand how much work it takes to make something that sounds so ordinary possible. Each part of that dream means something to me. A house means having a place where my family can settle and grow. A dependable income means paying bills without constantly wondering which expense will have to wait. Emergency savings mean that a broken car or an unexpected setback does not undo years of effort. A vacation means having both the money and the time to enjoy being together. I want to provide for my family and also be present in the life we build. I was born in Mexico and grew up in the Bronx. As a noncitizen and DACA recipient, I have pursued education and work while living with uncertainty about my future. The United States is where I grew up, earned my first degree, and helped build a family business. My understanding of the American dream comes from those experiences and from wanting our efforts to lead to lasting security. As a co-founder and operations manager of Tamal Express, I worked to help our Bronx restaurant grow. We improved our systems, reached more customers through delivery platforms, and expanded into Manhattan. We believed that building a business could create opportunities for our family. There was real progress, but there were also serious setbacks. Expansion did not bring the stability we hoped for, and our family is now preparing to leave the restaurant business. That experience made the financial reality of my dream much clearer. Working hard does not prevent every loss, and taking a chance does not guarantee success. It is painful to invest so much into a future and then have to reconsider the path toward it. Still, my desire for a stable home and family has remained. My educational journey has also required starting again. I earned an associate degree in Biotechnology, then pursued radiologic technology before uncertainty surrounding my previous program’s eligibility for New York licensure interrupted that path. I am now studying at Hostos Community College to restart my journey toward becoming a radiologic technologist, with the eventual goal of advancing into MRI. Healthcare offers a direction that connects my interest in science with meaningful work and the stability I want. Receiving this scholarship would help reduce the financial pressure of continuing my education while my family works through a difficult transition. I cannot pretend that I approach every setback with endless optimism. Sometimes I keep going because standing still will not improve our circumstances. But underneath that necessity, I still have a clear picture of what I am working toward: children growing up in a secure home, time with my wife, and enough savings to face an emergency without panic. To me, the American dream is the opportunity to build that life through honest work, with room to recover when plans fail. I am still pursuing it, one class and one decision at a time.

My name is Jose Altamirano, and I am a first-generation college student from a low-income immigrant family in the Bronx. I earned an associate degree in Biotechnology and am now restarting my path toward radiologic technology at Hostos Community College. My journey has included academic struggles, business setbacks, and depression. These experiences have changed how I understand achievement, family relationships, and the importance of support. When I was younger, learning came easily. I could understand material without reading extensively or developing consistent study habits. When coursework became more demanding, I did not know how to adapt. I wanted to succeed and understood that I needed to study, but I struggled to turn that intention into action. The gap between knowing what to do and getting myself to do it became deeply frustrating. My first degree took three difficult years. Stress and depression accompanied that experience, and I graduated with a GPA below 2.5. Academic difficulty became tied to how I judged myself. Having once found learning easy, I struggled to accept that doing well now required skills I had not yet developed. Looking back, I needed a better understanding of how to learn, along with support for the emotional difficulties I was experiencing. Family life also brought challenges. While an older family member lived with us, frequent arguments with their spouse sometimes escalated over seemingly small issues. These conflicts were difficult to live around. I have wondered whether an underlying mental health concern contributed, but there has been no diagnosis, and I cannot identify the cause. Things have improved since then. Still, the experience showed me how distress and unresolved conflict can affect an entire household, and how difficult it can be when concerns about seeking support are not shared. Later, helping build our family restaurant, Tamal Express, brought another kind of pressure. We grew our Bronx business and expanded into Manhattan, but serious setbacks threatened the security we hoped to create. At the same time, uncertainty surrounding my previous radiologic technology program’s eligibility for New York licensure interrupted my education. Carrying student debt while worrying about my family’s livelihood contributed to a period of severe depression. My family and my partner, Kay, were an important source of support. They continued to care for me when I struggled to see my own worth. Their presence helped me understand that I did not have to be successful to deserve love. Experiencing both conflict and support within family life has taught me to value patient communication, while recognizing that compassion can coexist with boundaries. My family is now preparing to leave the restaurant business, and I am pursuing healthcare with renewed focus. I want a stable career that allows me to support them and care for others. This time, my academic plan includes manageable study sessions, practice questions, and seeking assistance before difficulties accumulate. Mental health struggles have made my path harder, but they have also changed how I want to treat people. As a future radiologic technologist, I hope to remember that a patient’s distress may extend far beyond the examination room. I want to offer patience rather than assumptions. I am still rebuilding, but I now understand that progress includes accepting support and learning new ways to move forward.

During my first degree, I understood that I needed to study, and I wanted to succeed. Yet there was a frustrating disconnect between that intention and my ability to act. I felt lost and confused, watching responsibilities accumulate while struggling to get myself moving. The resulting stress and depression made those three years incredibly difficult. I graduated with an associate degree in Biotechnology, but my GPA was below 2.5. I am seeking another chance because that record captures a difficult period, not the limit of what I can become. Later, while studying radiologic technology at JPU, I raised my GPA to approximately 2.8. That improvement mattered to me. Unfortunately, uncertainty about my program's eligibility for New York licensure led me to withdraw with two semesters remaining. I was left with student debt and an unfinished career path. My experience helping build and operate our family restaurant, Tamal Express, further clarified what I want from my future. We grew our Bronx business and expanded into Manhattan, but serious setbacks followed. Our family is now preparing to leave the business. After experiencing the uncertainty of entrepreneurship, I am determined to pursue a dependable healthcare career that offers both meaningful work and financial stability. I have returned to school at Hostos Community College to restart my path toward radiologic technology. I am early in this new chapter, so I cannot point to a completed Hostos academic record yet. What I can offer is a clearer purpose and a practical plan. My plan is to organize deadlines each week, divide studying into manageable sessions, and use practice questions to check my understanding. When I struggle, I intend to seek help from instructors and tutoring resources before falling behind. I also want to recognize emotional difficulties early and stay connected to the people who support me. I know that renewed motivation alone is not enough. Success will require consistent habits, accountability, and asking for help when necessary. My goal is to become a radiologic technologist and eventually advance into MRI. This opportunity would help me build a future where I can support my family, care for patients, and demonstrate through my work that academic growth remains possible. Since my first academic struggles, I have gained a much clearer understanding of what instability costs. At that time, I wanted to do well, but I struggled to translate that desire into action. Today, my goals are connected to specific experiences and responsibilities: finishing my education, developing a healthcare career, and helping my family move toward greater security. Running a restaurant taught me to work through practical problems, learn unfamiliar systems, and take responsibility for decisions. It also taught me that effort does not guarantee the outcome we hope for. Expanding the business and then facing serious setbacks forced me to reconsider my direction. Our decision to leave the business gives me another reason to commit to education. I also understand the importance of support differently now. My family and my partner, Kay, stood beside me through difficult periods. Their encouragement has helped me feel better and approach this next chapter with renewed determination. I want to apply that lesson academically by asking for assistance instead of treating every difficulty as something I must handle alone. I am better equipped now because I can name both my goal and the obstacles I need to address. My improvement to approximately a 2.8 GPA at JPU showed me that my earlier performance was not fixed. Returning to Hostos gives me the opportunity to build on that progress through structure and consistency. I cannot promise a path without setbacks, but I am prepared to approach them with greater honesty, support, and a concrete plan.

Failure feels different when the consequences reach people who trusted you. Losing your own livelihood is frightening enough. Knowing that your family could suffer because they placed their faith in you adds a weight that is difficult to explain. My experience with mental health grew out of that fear, alongside business setbacks and an interrupted education. At one point, I became extremely depressed. What helped me move forward was not simply deciding to work harder. It was having people who continued to value me when I struggled to value myself. I grew up in a low-income immigrant family, where hard, consistent work mattered. As a first-generation college student and DACA recipient, I understood that opportunities required effort and could come with uncertainty. I earned an associate degree in Biotechnology and later pursued radiologic technology. I wanted a career that combined science, practical skills, and helping people. I also wanted something deeply important to my family: stability. My educational path became complicated when uncertainty surrounding my previous radiologic technology program's eligibility for New York licensure forced me to reconsider continuing. I withdrew with only two semesters remaining. I had already invested time, effort, and approximately $30,000 in student loans. Being so close to finishing, yet unable to confidently move forward, was discouraging. The debt remained, but the career I had expected to build was no longer within immediate reach. Alongside my educational journey, I became a co-founder and operations manager of Tamal Express. Our Bronx restaurant opened in March 2023. Building it required much more than having food to sell. There were daily operations to manage, customers to reach, expenses to cover, and constant decisions about how to improve. I introduced a Clover point-of-sale system, expanded our presence on delivery platforms, and worked on our menu and ordering experience. We increased daily revenue from roughly $400 to more than $1,000. Those improvements represented real effort and gave us reasons to believe we could grow. We also pursued expansion into a second location in Manhattan. I wanted our work to create greater opportunity, not just keep us surviving from one day to the next. But growth did not translate into lasting security. The Manhattan location ultimately failed, and the Bronx business faced serious difficulties of its own. More recently, water intrusion and a ceiling collapse added another crisis. Instead of planning how to expand, I found myself working through selling business assets, lease concerns, and how to limit further damage. The emotional impact was not just disappointment that a business had struggled. My family had put their faith in me. I felt responsible for what these setbacks could mean for them. Looking at the scale of the losses, alongside my interrupted education and existing debt, made it difficult to see progress anywhere. Multiple attempts to improve our future seemed to have created more uncertainty. I began to struggle with separating failed plans from my worth as a person. During that period, my family and my partner, Kay, became an essential source of support. They wanted to see me succeed, but their love was not reserved for a successful version of me. They stood beside me while I was struggling. Their willingness to keep supporting me sometimes felt greater than what I believed I deserved. Looking back, that difference matters: how little I felt worth was not an accurate measure of what I meant to them. That experience changed my understanding of relationships. Support is not always having the right solution or being able to remove someone's debt. Sometimes it is continuing to show someone that their life matters while they cannot see beyond what has gone wrong. My family and Kay reminded me why surrounding yourself with loving, dependable people is so important. I want to offer that same loyalty without making others feel they must first prove they deserve it. It also changed how I see other people's struggles. I still believe in hard work, but I no longer see effort as a complete explanation for someone's circumstances. A person can be trying sincerely and still be overwhelmed. Someone can continue handling responsibilities while feeling deeply depressed. I want to approach people with more patience and less certainty about what they should have done differently. Now, I am restarting my radiologic technology journey at Hostos Community College with renewed focus and a stronger drive. My family has decided to leave the restaurant business soon, which makes pursuing this career even more important to me. Stepping away from something we worked hard to build is difficult, but I want our next chapter to bring greater stability. I feel better having a direction again, even though the financial consequences remain. My goal is to become a radiologic technologist and eventually advance into MRI, building a dependable career that allows me to support my family without the constant uncertainty we experienced in business. As a future healthcare professional, I want to remember what it felt like to carry concerns that were not immediately visible. Patients bring more than a medical condition into an examination room. They may also bring fear, financial stress, or the feeling that their lives are slipping beyond their control. I want my patience and communication to reflect that understanding. I was fortunate to have a strong support circle. That has strengthened my belief that people without one still deserve accessible, compassionate mental health care. Love mattered enormously in my experience, but it should not be someone's only available resource. My journey has taught me that resilience can include accepting support and starting over. The future I am building is about financial recovery, but it is also about becoming someone who helps others feel valued before they have everything figured out.

My unique contribution would be helping create a modern network of publicly funded mental health sanctuaries: safe, humane facilities where people can receive care regardless of their income, insurance, or ability to advocate for themselves. Too often, individuals experiencing severe mental illness are given only two options: a short emergency-room visit or no meaningful care at all. Many eventually become homeless, incarcerated, or trapped in repeated crises. I believe we need more psychiatric hospitals and long-term residential treatment centers, but they must be fundamentally different from the institutions of the past. They should protect patients’ dignity and rights while providing therapy, medication management, medical care, education, job training, and supportive housing in one connected system. Care should exist at different levels, from free counseling and community clinics to crisis stabilization and long-term residential support. People should be able to enter the level of care they need and gradually transition toward greater independence rather than being discharged without a realistic plan. My goal would be to combine compassion with practical structure. Mental health care cannot be considered accessible if help is technically available but unaffordable, overcrowded, or too temporary to create lasting change. Everyone deserves a safe place to recover, including those whose conditions require intensive or lifelong support. A society should not abandon people simply because their needs are complex.

The person who has most shaped the way I see myself as a leader is my mother. As an immigrant from Mexico, she built a life and raised a family in a country where stability was never guaranteed. Watching her persevere taught me that leadership is not defined by a title or by being the loudest person in the room. It is shown through consistency, sacrifice, and the willingness to keep moving forward when others depend on you. Her example has deeply influenced my journey as a first-generation college student. I earned an associate degree in Biotechnology while navigating the financial and immigration challenges that often accompany being a DACA recipient. My educational path has not always followed a straight line, and unexpected setbacks have sometimes forced me to reconsider my plans. However, my mother taught me that changing direction is not the same as giving up. Resilience means adapting while continuing to work toward a better future. I have carried that lesson into my role as a co-founder and operations manager of a small restaurant business in the Bronx. Managing a business has required me to solve problems under pressure, support employees and family members, and make difficult decisions whose consequences affect more than just me. Through that experience, I have learned that good leadership begins with listening and that people are more likely to grow when they feel respected, supported, and trusted. My mother’s example has also motivated me to give back by helping create opportunities for the people around me. I try to support my family not only financially, but also by encouraging their education, ambitions, and personal growth. In my work, I have helped others learn new systems, adapt to changing responsibilities, and recognize the value of their contributions. I want the people around me to feel that their goals matter, especially when circumstances make those goals seem distant. The legacy I hope to build is one of stability that extends beyond myself. My long-term goal is to establish a meaningful career that uses my education, technical abilities, and problem-solving skills to improve people’s lives. I also want to become someone my family and community can rely on—someone who creates pathways instead of simply benefiting from the sacrifices of those who came before him. As a first-generation student, my achievements are connected to my mother’s courage and perseverance. Her support has taught me that the best way to honor her sacrifices is not only to succeed, but to carry others forward with me. That is the kind of leader I am continuing to become and the legacy I hope to leave behind.