For most Utah families priced out of homeownership, the obstacle isn't ambition or work ethic. It's land, and the way it's usually financed. Even a mortgage-ready family runs into the same wall: market-rate options assume a down payment and an equity cushion that most first-time buyers simply don't have. That's the problem I chose to spend my career solving, and it's why I moved into land development at a nonprofit. My path here has mostly run through nonprofit and community work rather than a traditional classroom, from coaching in a nonprofit youth program to working directly in nonprofit housing development. Along the way, I kept seeing the same pattern: capable people get shut out of opportunity, whether it's a spot on a team or a spot in a home, because of cost, not capability. That pattern is what led me to HomeOwnership4U, a mission-driven nonprofit working to unlock land, the biggest constraint on affordable, for-sale housing, through city and landowner partnerships instead of subsidizing the price of the home itself. As Director of Land Development, my job is the front end of that model: negotiating with cities and landowners to bring down the cost of building a home through partnerships that reduce costs like sales tax and through construction discipline that doesn't allow costly change orders. Those savings fund the rest of the model. A buyer finances only what it actually costs us to build their home, not its appraised market value. We cover the difference ourselves with a silent second position lien: no interest, no monthly payment, no AMI requirement, and no deed restriction on who can buy. The only condition is that they live in the home, not rent it out. After five years, we reduced that lien by 25 percent. When the family eventually sells, they pay off their mortgage and whatever remains of our lien, and everything left over is theirs. For most of our buyers, that's the first real equity they've ever held, and it becomes the down payment on their next home. My interest in this work is as much personal as it is professional. For several years, I've coached teenage girls in alpine ski racing at Snowbasin, work for which I was recognized as the program's Coach of the Year. Beyond the technical side, I worked hard to build a team culture where athletes support each other through pressure and everyday teenage stress, because performance only holds up when people feel like they belong somewhere. One of the clearest patterns I saw in that community was how often a talented athlete disappeared from the sport, not because she lost interest, but because her family couldn't afford it anymore. Housing works the same way: plenty of people who are financially ready to own a home simply run out of road before they find one they can afford, and that gap compounds for a lifetime. After finishing my master's degree at the University of Utah, I want to keep building my career in nonprofit housing development, refining and scaling models like this across Utah. The Future Nonprofit Leaders Award exists to support people who commit their careers to public good work rather than to the most visible or highest-paying path available to them. That's exactly the trade I've made. The nonprofit sector is where this problem actually gets solved, because the incentive lines up with the outcome: more families building real equity, not more margin on a deal. That alignment is what I want my career to be built on, and this scholarship would let me keep doing it while finishing my degree.

If you ski at Snowbasin, you’ve probably seen a girl carving clean train tracks, charging down icy pitches, testing the rebound of her skis, and cranking the ski’s radius tight—usually with a look of calm focus as she does it. They call her “Baby Shiffrin.” Not just because I share Mikaela’s love for slalom—my best discipline—but because I carry her spirit in my skiing: technically sound, quietly intense, and deeply connected to the sport. Mikaela Shiffrin is more than just my favorite Team USA athlete—she’s the compass point of my entire ski journey. Her blend of unmatched precision, quiet intensity, and unwavering discipline became my benchmark. As a coach and an athlete, I mirror her mindset in my training, my leadership, and my commitment to ski racing. When I step onto the mountain, whether I'm coaching or pushing my own limits, I bring the values she represents: consistency, humility, and fierce love for the craft. What sets Mikaela apart isn’t only her historic medal count or World Cup dominance. It’s the way she never chases greatness—it finds her through relentless daily work. Her turns are artful, her focus surgical. I try to instill that same dedication in the athletes I coach. I teach them to carve like they mean it, to pay attention in inspection, and to race with both heart and strategy. And they listen—because they know I learned by studying the best. But the moment that made Mikaela more human and more heroic to me wasn’t on a podium. It was watching her come back after tragedy, heartbreak, and most recently—after a crash that shook the ski world. Her fall during the 2024-25 season and the mental battle that followed spoke directly to me. I’ve struggled with mental blocks in GS—freezing up in the start gate, hesitating mid-course, second-guessing my edge sets. When Mikaela shared her fear and frustration about stepping back into that discipline after her crash, it hit me hard. If the greatest ski racer of our time can experience that kind of fear and still show up, so can I. Her honesty gave me the courage to keep showing up, too. That’s the kind of influence that goes beyond skiing. I work with U14 and U16 athletes, and I always remind them that being tough doesn’t mean being unbreakable. It means being brave enough to keep going. And when one of my girls faced a personal loss that nearly pulled her off the team, it was Mikaela’s interviews and story that brought her comfort. She watched, she cried, she skied again. At Snowbasin, I coach racing lines—but more importantly, I coach life. I coach resilience. I remind my team that we ski not just to win, but to find ourselves. Mikaela taught me that. Her legacy isn’t just in the record books; it’s in the way she makes people believe they can be better—not perfect, just better. Being called “Baby Shiffrin” is more than flattering. It’s a responsibility. It means I get to carry her torch—on powder days, on race days, on days that break you down and ask you to rebuild. Mikaela Shiffrin has inspired me to be a leader, a fighter, and a light in my ski community. And I hope to do for others what she’s done for me: make them believe that strength is quiet, courage is earned, and greatness is built one turn at a time.

I’ve always loved math because it’s one of the few languages that never changes. No matter where you are in the world, two plus two is four. That reliability gave me a sense of confidence from a young age—and later, it became the foundation for my career in finance and now, my graduate studies in real estate development. I earned my bachelor’s degree in finance, a field that thrives on numbers, models, and analysis. What fascinated me most wasn’t just balancing spreadsheets—it was using mathematical tools to tell a story, predict behavior, and make data-driven decisions. Whether it was forecasting cash flows, building risk models, or analyzing interest rate movements, math was always at the heart of the work. It helped me understand how systems operate and where opportunities for equity and growth exist. Now, as I pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED), I rely on math more than ever. From calculating project returns to evaluating financing structures and creating pro formas, my daily coursework is an extension of the same problem-solving mindset I developed in finance. Real estate may be built with bricks and mortar, but it’s driven by math: feasibility studies, investment metrics, and modeling that determines whether communities grow or stagnate. What I love most about math is that it’s not just theoretical—it’s incredibly practical. It gives us the tools to build better futures, not just for ourselves but for entire communities. I plan to use my math skills to develop projects that make housing more affordable, cities more sustainable, and opportunity more accessible. To me, math isn’t just numbers—it’s the engine behind change.

Leadership, to me, has always meant more than holding a title—it means stepping in when no one else will, listening when others don’t, and creating space where others feel safe to grow. One of the most formative leadership experiences of my life began not in a boardroom, but on a snowy mountain in Utah. After retiring from my own alpine ski racing career, I returned to the sport not as a competitor, but as a coach for a girls’ U16 team at the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation. Our athletes are between 14 and 16 years old—a stage where mental health challenges, academic pressure, body image issues, and competitive stress collide. Many girls leave the sport during this time, citing emotional burnout or financial strain. I took on the responsibility of not just teaching technique, but building an environment where girls could thrive as whole people, not just as athletes. At first, I struggled to gain credibility among other coaches—many of whom were older men with decades in the sport. But I stayed focused on what I knew mattered: the well-being of my athletes. I created a structure of regular one-on-one check-ins, established open conversations about stress and confidence, and incorporated emotional resilience into our training plans. I also helped a few athletes navigate deeply personal challenges, including grief and mental health crises, ensuring they felt seen and supported. The impact has been powerful. Athletes who once felt invisible or anxious now come to practice smiling and leave with a sense of purpose. I was honored with the 2024–2025 Coach of the Year award—not just for our results on paper, but for the culture I helped build. A culture where girls stay in the sport longer, feel empowered to speak up, and see leadership modeled by someone who understands their experiences firsthand. This role also exposed me to a major barrier facing youth sports: affordability. I’ve watched too many talented athletes walk away from skiing because their families couldn’t shoulder the costs. That heartbreak shaped my long-term vision. I’m now pursuing a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah with the goal of building sustainable infrastructure to support community-based sports programs. I want to lead real estate projects—such as community hubs, ski facilities, or mixed-use developments—that provide recurring funding for youth enrichment programs. By combining my background in finance, coaching, and development, I can be a leader who bridges economic gaps through innovative design and policy. Leadership isn’t always flashy—it’s often quiet, consistent, and focused on lifting others up. I’ve learned that the most effective leaders are those who listen closely, act with empathy, and never lose sight of the bigger picture. Whether I’m mentoring a young skier, leading a development project, or advocating for inclusive land use policies, I carry those values with me. Receiving the Future Leaders Scholarship would allow me to continue this work with less financial burden and greater impact. It would not only support my education, but also help propel my mission to lead projects that put community, equity, and the next generation at the center.

My commitment to community service began at age 12 when I set a personal goal to earn the President’s Volunteer Service Award by completing 100 hours in one year. I spent that year volunteering at the Marbles Kids Museum in Raleigh, North Carolina, as part of their STEM Play Corps. There, I led hands-on science experiments for young children—turning baking soda into volcanoes and playdough into circuits. I discovered the joy of teaching in environments that were passionate, imaginative, and empowering. That experience sparked my lifelong dedication to engaging with youth through enrichment opportunities outside the classroom. While pursuing my bachelor’s degree in finance at UNC Greensboro, I moved to Utah to continue my alpine ski racing career. Skiing had been my outlet and passion, but as a woman in a male-dominated sport, I often felt isolated and unsupported. I lacked female coaches and mentors to help me navigate the physical and emotional demands of competitive racing. When I retired from the sport, I returned as the coach I had always needed but never had. Today, I coach a team of U16 female alpine athletes at the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation in Utah. My coaching philosophy is rooted in creating emotionally safe spaces where young girls feel seen, heard, and valued—not just as athletes, but as whole people. I work with them through performance pressure, grief, school stress, and self-doubt. I make it clear: your worth is not tied to your race time. In 2024, I was honored with the Coach of the Year award, a meaningful recognition of my impact on and off the slopes. But I’ve also seen how financial hardship disproportionately pushes girls out of our sport. Alpine racing is prohibitively expensive, especially for athletes aged 14 to 16, when training, travel, and equipment costs spike. I’ve watched talented, hardworking girls walk away—not because they lacked drive, but because their families couldn’t afford to keep them racing. That reality has reshaped my future. I’m preparing to pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah to gain the tools needed to support grassroots sports programs like mine. I want to develop sustainable funding models—through community partnerships, facility development, and strategic planning—that remove financial barriers for girls in youth sports. I believe real estate, when designed with purpose, can be a platform for equity. My goal is to create inclusive spaces that serve families, promote mental health, and keep young women engaged in physical activity and community leadership. As Utah prepares to host alpine events for the 2034 Winter Olympics at Snowbasin, I see a once-in-a-generation opportunity to help my community grow in ways that truly uplift young women. With my background in finance, coaching, and soon real estate, I plan to lead that charge—ensuring that girls not only have access to sport but a sense of belonging within it. This scholarship would support my graduate studies and amplify my mission: to create systems that uplift women, especially young girls, in spaces where they’ve historically been left out. I’m committed to building that future—on the mountain, in our communities, and beyond.

My love for STEM began when I was twelve, volunteering over 100 hours in a single year at the Marbles Kids Museum in Raleigh, North Carolina. As a member of their STEM Play Corps, I helped teach young children science concepts through hands-on experiments—turning vinegar and baking soda into erupting volcanoes, building circuits with conductive playdough, and explaining the basics of density using same-sized cubes made of different materials and a tub of water. Watching their eyes light up with understanding was addictive. That experience opened my eyes to the joy of science and the power of interactive learning. It inspired me to apply to Wake STEM Early College High School, where I began a formal education in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics years ahead of most peers. Since then, STEM has shaped every step of my academic and professional journey. I earned my bachelor’s degree in finance, where I quickly realized I was stepping into a male-dominated world. In my undergraduate classrooms I was often one of the few women in the room—sometimes the only one. Now, as I pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED), I find myself again navigating a field where women are underrepresented, especially in leadership and technical roles. Yet rather than discouraging me, this imbalance has fueled my determination to thrive—and to create space for others like me. To many, finance and real estate development may not immediately come to mind when they think of STEM. But both fields are deeply rooted in mathematics, analytics, and problem-solving. Real estate development, in particular, integrates data science, urban planning, engineering, and environmental design—disciplines essential to building sustainable, efficient, and equitable communities. At the core of my work is the question: how can we use these tools to create environments that serve everyone, not just the privileged few? Throughout my education and early career, I’ve seen how financial systems and urban infrastructure can either uplift communities or leave them behind. I’ve also seen how the lack of diversity in decision-making rooms leads to blind spots that perpetuate inequality. Women bring different perspectives, especially when it comes to designing systems that support families, working mothers, and underserved populations. I believe increasing female representation in finance and real estate is not just about equality—it’s about better outcomes for everyone. My long-term goal is to lead real estate developments that directly address social and economic inequities. I want to build affordable housing, mixed-use spaces, and community hubs that are both financially viable and people-centered. I want to apply financial modeling, data-driven planning, and sustainable design to projects that support mental health, youth recreation, and family stability. In this way, I see myself contributing to a more inclusive and forward-thinking STEM landscape—one that values both technical expertise and human impact. Being a woman in these spaces is not always easy. I’ve faced doubts, been talked over in meetings, and felt the pressure to constantly prove myself. What keeps me going is the belief that my presence itself is powerful—that every deal I close, every building I help design, and every young woman I mentor helps chip away at the barriers that keep women out of these industries. Receiving the Women in STEM Scholarship would support my graduate studies while reinforcing my belief that STEM is a space for creativity, compassion, and community transformation. It would affirm that fields like finance and real estate aren’t just numbers and blueprints—they’re systems of opportunity. I’m committed to ensuring those systems reflect the diverse world they serve and that no girl is left out of the future she has the potential to build.

Mental health is the unspoken undercurrent of nearly every conversation I have with the teenage girls I coach in alpine ski racing. Whether it’s anxiety before a big race, the lingering effects of bullying at school, or the quiet grief of losing a parent, I’ve come to understand that beneath the helmets and goggles are young people navigating some of the hardest emotional moments of their lives. Coaching has become more than teaching technique—it has become an act of advocacy, compassion, and care. My awareness of mental health challenges began with my own journey. As a teenage alpine ski racer with immigrant parents, skiing was once my greatest passion—but it also became a source of pain. I faced harassment and exclusion from teammates and coaches, often singled out for my background and for being one of the few girls in a male-dominated space. Seeking a healthier environment, I left my original team and moved across the country to Utah. While the mountains were bigger, the emotional support remained scarce. I constantly felt the need to prove my worth, without the mentorship or psychological safety I needed. My confidence eroded, and the anxiety I carried on race days began to shape how I saw myself. Eventually, I retired from competition—not because I stopped loving the sport, but because the mental and emotional weight became too heavy. For a long time, I wrestled with the shame of “quitting” something I had once loved so deeply. That internalized pressure—the sense that I had failed—was a mental health challenge in itself. I didn’t have the words for it at the time, but I was grieving: not only the loss of my athletic identity, but the version of myself who had once felt like she belonged. And yet, I refused to let that experience define me. I returned to the mountains on my own terms, rediscovering the joy of skiing without judgment. That quiet period of rebuilding was essential to my healing. I began coaching not because I had all the answers, but because I knew what it felt like to be unsupported—and I was determined to be the coach I once needed. Now, as a U16 girls’ coach at the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation in Utah, I work with athletes aged 14 to 16—a time when mental health challenges often intensify. These girls are navigating academic stress, evolving identities, body image concerns, grief, and the mental toll of elite competition. I’ve supported athletes through cyberbullying, family separations, and post-race tears—not from disappointment alone, but from feeling like they weren’t enough. My coaching philosophy centers on emotional safety and holistic well-being. I make our mountain a place of belonging, not judgment. I check in individually, offer tools for managing stress, and create space for vulnerability. I often say, “You are not just a skier. You are a whole person, and that person matters more on this team.” In 2025, I was honored with the Coach of the Year award—an affirmation that this approach makes a difference. These experiences have profoundly shaped my beliefs about mental health. I’ve learned that emotional support can’t be an afterthought—it must be woven into how we teach, lead, and build communities. Early intervention, mentorship, and safe environments are some of our most powerful tools in preventing long-term mental health struggles. I’ve also come to see how systemic issues—like financial barriers, stigma, and lack of resources—can derail a child’s growth far more than any race outcome. Financial hardship, in particular, is one of the most heartbreaking reasons a child leaves our sport. Ski racing is prohibitively expensive, and I’ve seen talented, dedicated girls walk away simply because their families couldn’t afford to keep them involved. I know firsthand how devastating it feels when your passion is out of reach. This reality has shifted my career aspirations. I’m now preparing to pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah, where I’ll gain the tools to build sustainable funding models for youth sports and community wellness. My goal is to develop facilities, partnerships, and housing solutions that remove financial strain from families and allow kids—especially girls—to remain in the activities that support their mental and emotional health. I believe real estate can be a vehicle for healing. Whether through community centers, ski team clubhouses, or shared-use developments that fund nonprofit programs, I want to create spaces where young people feel safe, supported, and seen. I envision public-private partnerships that treat recreation and mentorship as essential mental health interventions. I want to collaborate with local governments to design land-use strategies that uplift underserved youth and embed belonging into our physical environments. These experiences have also changed how I form relationships. I now lead with empathy, listen without judgment, and treat mental health as central to every human interaction. I check in with my athletes, my peers, and my friends differently than I used to. I’ve become the adult I once needed—someone who notices, who asks, and who follows through. Ultimately, I believe mental health is not separate from education, sport, or community—it is foundational to all of them. My journey as an athlete, coach, and aspiring developer is grounded in the belief that when we nurture a person’s inner world, we unlock their ability to thrive in the outer one. Receiving the Elevate Mental Health Awareness Scholarship would not only support my graduate studies—it would affirm that mental health advocacy belongs in every field, including real estate. It would allow me to continue mentoring young women, expand my impact through sustainable development, and help build systems where no child is left behind due to emotional or financial barriers. When we invest in mental health, we invest in possibility. I’m committed to making that investment real—on the slopes, in our communities, and in every life I touch.

As a ski coach for teenage girls at the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation, I’ve seen firsthand how the slopes often mirror the emotional highs and lows my athletes experience in their daily lives. I coach U16 female athletes, many of whom are navigating not just race gates, but also grief, bullying, anxiety, and academic pressure. My role extends far beyond technical training—I am their mentor, emotional support, and often their most consistent adult advocate outside the home. I became the coach I wish I had when I was a teenage ski racer. During my own athletic career, I lacked mentors who acknowledged the emotional weight of competition or asked how I was doing beyond my performance. Now, I strive to be that presence for my athletes. Whether one of them is grieving the loss of a parent, struggling with school bullying, or feeling the crushing weight of perfectionism, I create a safe, judgment-free space for her to be heard, supported, and reminded that her worth isn’t tied to results. Our conversations often happen during chairlift rides or quiet moments at the lodge. I’ve helped athletes process panic attacks before races, offered support through family hardship, and coached girls through the stress of balancing athletics with school and social life. Many of these young women stay in the sport because of the emotional safety we build together. In 2024, I was honored with the Coach of the Year award; an affirmation of the trust my athletes and their families place in me. Now, as I pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) degree, I plan to use my career to advocate for the emotional well-being of athletes by creating sustainable infrastructure for community-based sports programs. My future work will combine nonprofit service, community planning, and mental health support to ensure all athletes—especially girls—have the resources they need to thrive, not just survive. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education and amplify my impact. Mental health support in athletics shouldn’t be a luxury—it should be embedded in every team, every training session, every community. Through my studies and career, I will continue to be that steady, compassionate force for the girls who need it most.

Since childhood, I’ve believed in the power of education to shape lives—not just through academics, but through relationships, mentorship, and community. Now, as a coach and mentor to young women in alpine ski racing, I’ve seen firsthand how guidance, access, and belief in a student’s potential can be transformative. With the opportunity to pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah, I am taking the next step toward a career that combines my background in finance, my nonprofit work, and my deep commitment to empowering others through access and opportunity. My passion for community service started at age twelve, when I volunteered at Marbles Kids Museum in Raleigh, North Carolina. I set a personal goal to earn the President’s Volunteer Service Award by completing over 100 hours of service in a single year. At the museum, I led hands-on science experiments and creative activities for children, and it was there that I discovered how meaningful it is to connect with youth in empowering environments. That experience set the tone for my service mindset, one that I carried with me throughout high school, college, and now into my adult life. It taught me the importance of showing up for others and creating spaces where young people can explore, take risks, and grow. While earning my bachelor’s degree in finance at UNC Greensboro, I continued to compete in alpine ski racing and eventually relocated to Utah to train on larger mountains and continue my competitive career. The transition was difficult, especially as a woman in a male-dominated sport. I lacked consistent mentorship and struggled to find coaches who recognized my potential. Though I found success on the slopes, I often felt isolated, unsupported, and unsure of my place in the sport. These challenges left a lasting impression and instilled in me a strong desire to create a better environment for the next generation of female athletes. After retiring from racing, I made a promise to myself that I would become the coach I had always needed but never had. Today, I work with the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation, a nonprofit ski team in Utah that serves youth athletes through technical training and character development. I coach a group of U16 girls, athletes between the ages of 14 and 16, a critical period where many young women drop out of sports due to social pressures, rising costs, or a lack of supportive mentors. My coaching philosophy centers on building emotionally safe environments that promote resilience, confidence, and belonging. I work hard to provide not only technical instruction but also emotional guidance through challenges like race-day nerves, injuries, and personal struggles. I want my athletes to feel seen, supported, and encouraged to grow both on and off the mountain. I work one-on-one with girls navigating difficult social dynamics, academic pressures, and mental health challenges, reminding them that their value extends far beyond performance. In 2024, I was honored to receive the Coach of the Year award, a recognition that affirmed the impact of my mentorship and the trust I’ve built with my athletes and their families. However, one of the greatest challenges I face as a coach is the financial barrier that keeps so many talented athletes from continuing in the sport. Alpine skiing is incredibly expensive, especially for teenagers. Equipment alone can cost thousands of dollars, not to mention travel, lodging, and coaching fees. Even though our team operates as a nonprofit and works hard to keep tuition accessible, I’ve seen too many athletes walk away simply because their families cannot afford to keep them racing. That reality has reshaped my goals and my understanding of what our sport truly needs. My goal in pursuing the MRED degree is to become a resource for organizations like Snowbasin and similar community sports programs. I want to help these organizations become financially sustainable by identifying and developing real estate solutions that support their missions. Whether that means helping clubs build their own training facilities, creating shared-use spaces that generate revenue, or partnering with local developers to offer affordable housing for seasonal staff, I believe there is enormous potential to build a better infrastructure for youth sports. I envision establishing nonprofit land trusts or engaging in mission-driven development projects that reinvest in the community. I also hope to work with municipalities and local governments to create land-use policies that prioritize community recreation and youth development. With Utah preparing to host the alpine skiing events for the 2034 Winter Olympics at Snowbasin, now is a crucial time for forward-thinking planning. My education in real estate development will equip me with the technical skills needed to engage in these conversations and advocate for solutions that benefit young athletes and their families. These partnerships could result in public funding for recreational facilities or long-term leases that support nonprofit initiatives. Beyond the technical skills, the MRED program will deepen my understanding of public-private partnerships, sustainable development, and financial modeling—all essential tools for creating lasting impact in the nonprofit sports sector. I envision a career where I bridge the gap between community needs and financial feasibility, ensuring that the doors to opportunity remain open for everyone, not just those who can afford it. Receiving the Pastor Thomas Rorie Jr. Furthering Education Scholarship would be a tremendous step toward achieving this vision. Graduate school is a significant financial commitment, and as someone working in youth sports and nonprofit education, I have chosen a path of service over financial gain. This scholarship would ease the burden of tuition and allow me to focus fully on my studies and the opportunities that lie ahead. More importantly, it would represent a belief in my vision—a belief that communities thrive when we invest in our youth, our mentors, and the environments that shape them. Ultimately, I want to create a world where no child has to abandon a passion because of financial barriers, and no young woman has to wonder if she belongs in a sport she loves. I want my athletes to grow up believing that they are worthy of support, opportunity, and leadership roles. I want them to look at their coach and see not just someone who believes in them, but someone who fought to make sure they never had to question their worth. My dreams are grounded in service, and my career will be built on ensuring that others, too, can dream without limitation. Education will give me the tools—but belief, community, and action will drive the change I hope to create.

I grew up in a sport that rarely made space for women. As a competitive alpine ski racer, I spent years on teams where female athletes were outnumbered, unsupported, and often unheard. I had coaches who never learned my name, dismissed my injuries, and expected me to shrink myself to fit into a system designed without me in mind. I stayed because I loved the mountain, but I always wished for a mentor who saw my full potential, both as an athlete and as a person. Today, I am becoming the mentor I once needed. I coach a team of U16 female athletes at the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation, a nonprofit in Utah. These girls are at a pivotal age, navigating race-day pressure, friendship dynamics, grief, self-doubt, and the very real question of whether they belong in a male-dominated sport. I show up for them in every way I can, on the hill and beyond. I teach them that strength isn’t about perfection but persistence. That their voices matter. That they deserve spaces where they feel safe, supported, and inspired. This past season, I was honored with the 2024–2025 Coach of the Year award, but the real reward is watching my athletes stand taller and believe more deeply in themselves. Alpine ski racing is an expensive sport, and I’ve seen girls step away simply because their families couldn’t afford to keep them in it. That reality has shaped my next dream. I’m preparing to pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah to gain the tools to financially support grassroots sports programs like ours. My vision is to create sustainable funding models for nonprofit ski teams through real estate partnerships, creative community planning, and facility development, so that no girl has to walk away from her passion because of money. I’m worth this dream because I’m building it not just for me, but for others. I know what it means to be the only girl in the room. I know what it feels like to doubt your place and push forward anyway. I’ve taken that lived experience and turned it into mentorship, advocacy, and purpose. And I’m just getting started. This Woman’s Worth Scholarship resonates deeply with me because it honors the strength women carry in showing up—unapologetically—for themselves and their communities. I aspire to build a future where more young women stay in the sports they love, rise as leaders, and never have to wonder if they are enough. Because they are. We are. And so am I.

My commitment to service began at age 12, volunteering at Marbles Kids Museum in Raleigh, North Carolina. I set a personal goal to earn the President’s Volunteer Service Award by completing 100 hours of service in one year. Leading hands-on science experiments for young children sparked my love for teaching and ignited a lifelong dedication to helping youth thrive in imaginative, empowering environments. Years later, that same mindset shapes my work at the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation, a nonprofit where I coach a team of U16 female alpine ski athletes. After retiring from ski racing myself, I returned to the sport as the mentor I had always needed but never had. My coaching philosophy centers on building emotionally safe environments where young athletes feel valued and supported, both on and off the hill. I help them manage challenges like race-day anxiety, peer pressure, and grief; because their success is not just about performance, but about personal growth. This past season, I was honored with the 2024–2025 Coach of the Year award. Despite our efforts to keep tuition affordable, ski racing remains one of the most financially burdensome youth sports. I’ve watched talented athletes step away—not for lack of passion, but because their families couldn’t manage the cost. That reality is what drives my career goals. This fall, I will begin a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah. My goal is to use that education to design sustainable, community-rooted financial solutions that support nonprofit ski programs like ours. This could mean partnering with clubs on land use, developing training facilities with shared revenue streams, or leveraging creative zoning to fund youth access. I want to ensure that future athletes don’t have to choose between financial stability and following their passion. With Utah preparing to host the 2034 Winter Olympics, I see a once-in-a-generation opportunity to expand equity in mountain sports. My combined background in coaching, finance, and nonprofit work uniquely positions me to make a lasting impact; not just for my team, but for underserved athletes across the state. The Charlene K. Howard Chogo Scholarship would help me take this next step, supporting my graduate education and my mission to uplift youth through service, access, and education. Like Charlene, I believe in the transformative power of mentorship, and I plan to carry that legacy forward by building inclusive spaces where young people can grow, lead, and belong.

My journey in service began when I was 12 years old, volunteering at Marbles Kids Museum in Raleigh, North Carolina. I set a personal goal to earn the President’s Volunteer Service Award by completing 100 hours of service within a year. At the museum, I led science experiments for children and guided them through interactive exhibits. I saw how joyful, hands-on learning could empower kids and spark their curiosity. That experience showed me the value of educational service and shaped my belief in building supportive, engaging environments for youth. Today, I continue that mission through my role as a volunteer alpine ski coach with the nonprofit Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation in Utah. I coach a team of female U16 athletes, helping them navigate not only skiing technique, but also the mental and emotional challenges of competition and adolescence. Many girls on the team are still learning to find their voice and confidence in a sport that can be intimidating and often lacks strong female mentorship. I provide support both on and off the mountain, offering guidance through race-day anxiety, school stress, social pressure, and even grief. In recognition of my commitment, I was honored as the 2024–2025 Coach of the Year by the foundation. Working in a nonprofit environment has also exposed me to the financial struggles many young athletes face. Alpine skiing is an expensive sport, and even at the recreational level, costs for equipment, training, and travel can make participation inaccessible for many families. I have witnessed dedicated athletes step away simply because they couldn’t afford to continue. That injustice motivates my long-term goal. I am preparing to pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah so I can help nonprofits like Snowbasin find long-term financial stability. I plan to use my background in finance and my future real estate training to develop creative funding models—such as club-owned facilities, rental income strategies, and community partnerships—that make youth sports more affordable. My goal is to eliminate cost as a barrier and ensure all kids, regardless of income, have the opportunity to participate in programs that build resilience, confidence, and belonging. With the 2034 Winter Olympics coming to Snowbasin, I see a major opportunity to expand access and support for youth athletes in our region. I want to help small community teams like ours benefit from that momentum by developing the infrastructure and financial tools needed to grow and thrive. This scholarship would help me continue serving my community through coaching, while preparing me to build sustainable systems that support nonprofits and empower the next generation. Service has always been at the center of my life. Whether in a museum, on a ski hill, or through future real estate projects, I am committed to giving back and creating opportunities for others to succeed.

My commitment to community service began at age 12, volunteering at Marbles Kids Museum in Raleigh, North Carolina. I set a personal goal to earn the President’s Volunteer Service Award by completing 100 hours of service in one year. At the museum, I led hands-on science experiments for children, igniting my love for teaching in passionate, imaginative, and empowering environments. That early experience shaped the foundation of my service mindset: engaging with youth through enrichment opportunities outside the classroom. While pursuing my bachelor’s degree in finance at UNC Greensboro, I moved to Utah to continue my alpine ski racing career. Though I found a new home mountain, I struggled to find the support and mentorship I needed as a female athlete in a male-dominated sport. After retiring from racing, I committed to returning as the coach I had always needed but never had. Today, I coach a team of U16 female alpine athletes at the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation. My coaching philosophy centers on building emotionally safe environments that foster belonging, confidence, and resilience. I go beyond technical instruction by offering mentorship through life’s challenges: race-day anxiety, personal grief, and peer pressure. I strive to be a role model, helping young girls stay engaged in a sport that often loses them during their teenage years. I was honored with the 2024–2025 Coach of the Year award. Alpine racing is a prohibitively expensive sport, especially for athletes aged 14 to 16, when equipment, race travel, and training costs peak at the recreational level. Despite our team’s efforts to keep tuition accessible, I’ve seen talented, passionate athletes step away simply because their families couldn’t afford to keep them racing. That reality has reshaped my goals. I’m now preparing to pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) degree at the University of Utah to gain tools to support small community ski teams like mine. Through the program, I aim to identify and develop real estate opportunities that generate sustainable funding for grassroots sports: club partnerships, facility development, or creative community planning. I want to remove financial barriers and create a future where kids don’t have to choose between passion and affordability. As Utah prepares to host alpine skiing and speed events for the 2034 Winter Olympics at Snowbasin, I believe I’m well positioned to help my community seize this unique opportunity. My coaching experience, service mindset, and training in finance and real estate development will allow me to advocate for the next generation of athletes, especially young women. I want them to see the mountain not just as a sport, but as a home. This scholarship would help me continue giving back to the community that has shaped me—and allow me to do the same for others.

I used to sit alone at lunch every day. Not because I didn’t have friends, but because I had severe food allergies that could trigger anaphylaxis. Out of concern for my safety, my school required me to sit at a separate table. I felt different, excluded, and embarrassed. But I was never truly alone. Every day, my grandmother brought homemade Czech meals and sat beside me. Her quiet presence reminded me that real strength isn’t always loud. It can be shown through love, consistency, and compassion. Living with life-threatening allergies and chronic eczema has forced me to confront adversity on a daily basis. I carry an EpiPen everywhere I go. I wear a respirator mask on airplanes. After developing a sudden allergy to dogs at thirteen, I could no longer visit many of my friends. I’ve experienced medical emergencies while traveling abroad, which left me fearful of food and coping with trauma. These conditions have affected every part of my life: social, emotional, and academic, but they have never stopped me. Instead of letting my health challenges define me, I’ve used them to build resilience and purpose. While balancing medical treatments and constant precautions, I’ve maintained a 4.0 GPA in a demanding pre-law curriculum. Each semester, I juggle work, school, and healthcare needs while staying focused on my long-term goals. My success is not in spite of adversity but because I’ve learned to manage it with discipline, adaptability, and perseverance. Giving back has been one of the most meaningful ways I’ve turned hardship into growth. I serve as a youth alpine ski coach for an all-female team, where I mentor girls facing the pressures of sport, school, and growing up. Many of them are still discovering who they are. I teach them not just how to ski but how to lead with confidence, fall with dignity, and support each other. I strive to be the coach I once needed; someone who sees the whole person behind the performance. Outside of coaching, I support my community in other ways. As a first-generation Czech-American, I help translate for local immigrant families navigating education and healthcare systems. I volunteer with food insecurity programs and assist in allergy safety education, helping families learn how to advocate for children with severe conditions. Whether through coaching, translation, or education, I’m committed to turning personal challenges into support for others. What drives me most is the belief that no one should feel invisible or excluded because of what makes them different. I plan to pursue a career in law focused on health equity and disability advocacy. I want to stand up for children and families navigating complex, often misunderstood conditions, just like my grandmother stood by me at that lunch table. The Alger Memorial Scholarship’s mission to honor resilience, service, and academic excellence resonates deeply with my story. Like the Algers, my family has sacrificed greatly to make my future possible. I carry their legacy forward in how I show up, give back, and work hard to create opportunities not only for myself but for others. Adversity taught me how to fight with patience, care with intention, and rise again after every setback. Helping others is how I continue that fight—not alone at a table, but alongside a community I am proud to support.

Mental health is important to me as a student because, for a long time, I didn’t know how much it mattered. I was convinced that the only way to succeed was to push myself to exhaustion. I filled my schedule with 4:30 a.m. figure skating practices, a rigorous STEM high school over an hour from home, endless studying, and weekend alpine ski races that took hours of travel. From the outside, I looked accomplished. But inside, I was slowly falling apart. By age 16, I was burned out. I was chronically sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and struggling to do basic things like eat regular meals, complete assignments, or even change out of the clothes I’d slept in. I blamed myself, thinking I wasn’t trying hard enough. But in reality, I was overloaded and had never been taught how to care for my mental health. The turning point came during the COVID-19 pandemic, when my intense routines suddenly stopped. I spent a ski season training in the mountains and completing schoolwork at my own pace. With more rest and space to reflect, I noticed how much lighter I felt. My mental clarity returned, and my energy, motivation, and relationships improved. I realized that mental wellness wasn’t just a side concern, but it was foundational to everything I wanted to achieve, both in and outside of school. Since then, mental health has become something I prioritize every day. I take fewer courses to focus more deeply on learning. I follow consistent sleep and exercise routines. I journal when I feel anxious and reach out when I need support. I’ve let go of the belief that rest equals weakness. Now, I view self-care as a strength and a strategy for sustainability. As I began taking better care of myself, I also became more committed to supporting others. Today, I coach an all-female U16 alpine ski team, and I’m the only young woman on the coaching staff. My athletes come to me not just for help with their technique, but also for emotional support, time management, and advocacy. Many of them face anxiety, grief, academic pressure, and the challenges of being teenage girls in a male-dominated sport. In our team environment, I advocate for mental health by being open about my own experiences. I normalize conversations about burnout and stress. I check in with athletes who seem withdrawn or overwhelmed. I help them communicate with teachers when school feels unmanageable or speak up when they face bullying or unsafe situations. I’m not a therapist, but I work to create a culture of trust and care where it’s okay to talk about what’s hard and where asking for help is seen as strong. What I’ve learned through both personal experience and coaching is that students can’t succeed if their mental health is ignored. No GPA, trophy, or college acceptance is worth sacrificing your well-being. I want to be part of changing the way we think about success by centering it on sustainability, wellness, and compassion, not just performance. My goal is to use my education to create programs that help young athletes, especially girls, stay in sport and school without burning out. But none of that work is possible unless I continue advocating for mental health, both in myself and in others. Mental health matters to me because I’ve lived what it’s like to break down and to rebuild stronger, with support. I believe students deserve that same chance: to be seen, heard, and helped, so they don’t have to choose between their goals and their well-being.

For most of my life, I believed that success required exhaustion. I wore my packed schedule like a badge of honor: 4:30 a.m. figure skating practices, a rigorous STEM high school an hour from home, hours of studying, and weekends spent driving four hours to compete as an alpine ski racer. I was constantly pushing myself, determined to be high-achieving, admired, and excellent. But underneath that drive was a level of burnout I didn’t yet have the words to describe. By the time I was 16, the signs were clear. I was chronically sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and struggling to complete basic tasks. I often skipped meals, slept in my clothes, or lost motivation for assignments I used to enjoy. I thought I was lazy or just not trying hard enough. In reality, I was mentally overloaded and disconnected from my own needs. When the COVID-19 pandemic paused my routines, I finally had space to reflect. For the first time, I experienced what it felt like to rest, sleep well, and live with room to breathe. I spent a full ski season in the mountains, training regularly while keeping up with school at my own pace. I felt mentally clearer and emotionally lighter. My grades improved. So did my energy, my relationships, and my love of learning. That season taught me something I had never fully understood before: my mental health is not separate from my goals; it is the foundation for achieving them. That realization changed how I live. I no longer define success by how many hours I work or how much I can cram into a schedule. Instead, I ask myself whether my choices align with what makes me feel healthy, grounded, and fulfilled. I take fewer classes to focus on learning deeply rather than simply checking boxes. I maintain consistent routines around sleep and exercise. I journal when I feel overwhelmed and talk through challenges instead of ignoring them. Most importantly, I give myself permission to slow down without guilt. Wellness is no longer optional for me. It is something I choose to practice every day. Today, I work as a U16 alpine ski coach for an all-female team. I am the only young woman on the coaching staff, and my athletes rely on me not only for technique, but also for emotional support, mentorship, and advocacy. I help them navigate anxiety, academic stress, grief, and the pressure of being teen girls in a male-dominated sport. I also support them with schoolwork, time management, and standing up for themselves in difficult situations, like reporting bullying or harassment. I love being a trusted guide for them, but I have also learned that I cannot support others unless I take care of myself first. Coaching can be emotionally intense. I have learned to set boundaries so that the stress of leadership does not take away the joy that skiing has always given me. I regularly check in with myself and give myself space to reconnect with the sport as something that inspires me, not just a job. This experience has shaped my vision for the future. I want to use my education to create programs that support young athletes, especially girls, so they can thrive in sport regardless of financial or structural barriers. But I know I can only do this work sustainably if I continue caring for my own mental health first. My journey has taught me that success is not about how much you achieve. It is about how much of yourself you are able to keep along the way.

Sustainability should be at the core of real estate development, particularly in mountain communities where the environment is both a livelihood and a legacy. As someone who has spent most of my life on skis and now coaches the next generation of young athletes, I have witnessed firsthand the fragility of mountain ecosystems and the urgent need to protect them. Rising temperatures and unpredictable snowfall patterns have already begun to shorten ski seasons and threaten the long-term viability of snow sports. This environmental shift is not just a recreational loss—it has deep economic and cultural consequences for entire communities that depend on winter tourism. I am pursuing a Master of Real Estate Development at the University of Utah with the goal of using the built environment to promote sustainability in ski towns like mine. My academic background in finance, paired with years of experience coaching youth alpine ski racing, has shown me how real estate decisions directly affect environmental resilience, community equity, and access to sport. As the cost of living in mountain towns rises, middle and low-income families are pushed out, and youth sports programs struggle to retain participants due to financial and geographic barriers. At the same time, unsustainable development—large luxury homes, poorly planned infrastructure, and excessive land use—puts increasing pressure on fragile alpine ecosystems. Through the MRED program, I aim to develop projects that balance community needs with ecological responsibility. This could include energy-efficient housing for seasonal workers, land-use plans that preserve open space, or community-owned facilities that reduce resource strain and promote public access. I believe the future of ski towns depends on a shift toward development that centers both environmental and social sustainability. In coaching young female athletes, I have learned that sport can be a powerful tool for empowerment and connection to nature. But that opportunity is increasingly out of reach for many kids. I want to be part of the solution by creating spaces where families can afford to live, train, and thrive—without compromising the landscapes that make it all possible. As Utah prepares to host skiing events during the 2034 Winter Olympics, the decisions made in the next decade will shape the region’s future. I want to help ensure those decisions reflect long-term thinking, environmental care, and a commitment to inclusion. Sustainability in real estate is not just about green buildings or solar panels. It’s about understanding the unique needs of a place and its people, and designing systems that reduce harm while enhancing quality of life. That is what I hope to bring to the field: a deep love of the mountains, a coach’s heart, and a developer’s toolkit. My goal is to bridge the gap between environmental consciousness and the practical challenges of building and planning in delicate ecosystems. Receiving this scholarship would support not just my education, but my mission to give back to the ski community in a meaningful, lasting way. With thoughtful, values-driven development, I believe we can preserve the magic of skiing for future generations while modeling what sustainable living can look like in even the most vulnerable environments.

My commitment to community service began at age 12 when I volunteered at Marbles Kids Museum in Raleigh, North Carolina. I set a personal goal to earn the President’s Volunteer Service Award by completing 100 hours in one year. Leading hands-on science activities for young children sparked a passion for teaching in empowering environments. That early experience shaped the foundation of my service mindset: creating opportunities for youth to learn, grow, and thrive beyond the classroom. While studying finance at UNC Greensboro, where I graduated with a 3.67 GPA, I moved to Utah to continue my alpine ski racing career. Competing in a male-dominated sport without strong mentorship, I often felt unsupported and out of place. After retiring from racing, I returned as the coach I had once needed—one focused not just on technical skills but on emotional support and personal growth. Today, I coach female U16 athletes at Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation. My coaching philosophy centers on fostering confidence, belonging, and resilience. I help athletes navigate challenges beyond sport, including race-day anxiety, grief, and peer pressure. In 2024–2025, I was honored with the Coach of the Year award for this holistic approach. I strive to keep girls engaged in a sport that often loses them during their teenage years. However, alpine skiing is an expensive sport. At ages 14 to 16, equipment, race travel, and training costs surge. Despite our team’s efforts to keep tuition low, I have seen many talented athletes leave the sport due to financial strain. This recurring heartbreak has inspired a new direction in my career. I will begin a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah to gain the tools to support grassroots ski programs through sustainable real estate initiatives. I aim to identify and develop projects—like training facilities, housing partnerships, or club-owned assets—that provide long-term funding for community teams. My background in finance will complement the MRED curriculum, equipping me to build systems that remove financial barriers and create more inclusive access to sport. Utah will host the alpine skiing and speed events for the 2034 Winter Olympics at Snowbasin, presenting a rare opportunity for growth and investment in local youth sports. With my experience as a coach and mentor, my academic training, and my service-driven mindset, I hope to help my community leverage this moment in a way that prioritizes inclusion and long-term development. I want young athletes to see the mountain not only as a place to compete but also as a place to belong. As a low-income student funding graduate school independently, this scholarship would help ease the financial burden of tuition and allow me to continue serving the community that has shaped me. More importantly, it would help me build a future where no child has to walk away from their passion due to cost. This next chapter in my education is driven by a desire to create systems of support, access, and opportunity—and with your help, I can make it happen.

I used to sit alone at lunch every day. Not because I didn’t have friends, but because of food allergies that could send me into anaphylaxis. My school, concerned for my safety due to other kids’ food, made me sit at a separate table. I felt different, embarrassed, and excluded. But I wasn’t truly alone. Every day, my grandmother brought homemade Czech food and sat with me. Dumplings, soups, stews—these were more than just meals. They were acts of love and quiet resistance. She didn’t ask for recognition; she simply showed up. Through her, I learned that strength isn’t always loud. It is consistent, compassionate, and resilient. Living with life-threatening allergies and chronic eczema has shaped how I see the world. I carry an EpiPen everywhere. I wear a respirator mask on airplanes. After developing a sudden allergy to dogs at age thirteen, I could no longer visit friends with pets. I’ve had medical emergencies abroad that left me fearful of food and struggling with trauma. Navigating daily life means constant vigilance and managing the unseen toll of anxiety and medical expenses. And still, I refuse to be defined by these conditions. I coach youth alpine ski racers and help kids navigate both the physical and emotional challenges of competition. Many of my athletes are still learning who they are. I teach them not just how to ski, but how to lead with courage, fall with grace, and support one another. Coaching has become my way of transforming hardship into guidance and building the kind of inclusive environment I once needed. I’m also a first-generation Czech-American raised by a family that values education and perseverance. Paying for college is a real challenge, especially with the added cost of managing chronic health conditions. Every semester requires balancing school, work, and medical care, but I’ve never stopped pushing forward. My experiences have inspired me to pursue a career in law focused on health equity and disability advocacy. I want to support children who feel invisible in classrooms, who live with misunderstood conditions, and who deserve more than accommodation. They deserve empathy and opportunity. I’ve experienced what it means to be “othered,” and I’m committed to using that understanding to protect the rights and dignity of others. What draws me to the Sloane Stephens Doc & Glo Scholarship is more than financial relief. It is the values behind it: resilience, compassion, and community. Sloane’s journey, from elite athlete to advocate, reminds me that adversity does not limit potential. It strengthens purpose. Her grandparents’ legacy, rooted in kindness and self-belief, reflects the lessons I’ve learned from my own grandmother. Showing up for others is a form of power. This scholarship would support not only my education, but my mission. I want to use my voice and experiences to create safer, more inclusive spaces for those who feel sidelined or silenced. Whether on the ski hill or in a courtroom, I want to be the person who sees the kid at the allergy table, understands their story, and fights for their right to belong.

Calculus has been one of the most transformative subjects in my academic journey, not only because of the mathematical rigor it requires but because of how deeply it has shaped my thinking across fields. From finance and real estate to physics and coaching alpine skiing, calculus provides a universal language for analyzing systems, solving problems, and making informed decisions. It connects disciplines in powerful ways. As I work toward my Master of Real Estate Development, it continues to underpin the logic and models I use to build a career in STEM with real-world impact. I first encountered calculus in college, and while it challenged me, it also shifted how I viewed the world. Concepts like derivatives, rates of change, and optimization were not just textbook problems. They became tools. During my bachelor’s degree in finance, I used calculus in courses on investments, risk modeling, and forecasting. Now, in my graduate studies in real estate development, I rely on integral calculus and financial modeling techniques to evaluate development feasibility, understand loan amortization, and make data-driven projections on land value over time. But calculus does not just live on spreadsheets or in investment models. It shows up in the work I care about most: coaching alpine ski racing. I currently work as a U16 alpine coach and lead an all-female team. On snow, I have taught athletes how to understand acceleration, trajectory, and slope gradient, all with a STEM lens that is grounded in basic physics and calculus principles. Racing lines are essentially real-time optimization problems. Athletes adjust their paths based on changing conditions, speed, and gate placement, aiming to minimize time. Teaching this requires translating complex motion into understandable segments, much like breaking down an equation into its variables. As the only young female coach on staff, I have also found that my influence extends beyond the slopes. I mentor athletes through academic stress, grief, mental health challenges, and the pressures of competitive sport. I help them organize study schedules during intense training weeks, talk through high school math homework, and navigate the emotional toll of being high-performing student-athletes. One of my greatest priorities is helping them balance a love for sport with success in school. Calculus has helped me do this in my own life. It taught me to appreciate complexity, to tackle problems systematically, and to persevere through challenge. These are the same lessons I hope to instill in my athletes. As I continue my academic and professional journey, I am passionate about creating infrastructure and funding opportunities that help youth athletes, especially girls, stay in sport. Skiing is expensive, logistically demanding, and often inaccessible to families without significant financial means. My education in finance and development, grounded in STEM, will help me advocate for better facilities, launch nonprofit initiatives, and design more inclusive race programs. Calculus helps me model the possibilities. Receiving this scholarship would not only affirm my commitment to STEM, but also support the next phase of my education and impact. I am dedicated to showing young athletes, especially girls, that math, science, and athletics are not separate paths. They intersect meaningfully. Calculus, while daunting to many, is one of the most powerful tools we have to navigate and shape that intersection.

For most of my life, I believed that success required exhaustion. I wore my packed schedule like a badge of honor: 4:30 a.m. figure skating practices, a rigorous STEM high school an hour from home, hours of studying, and weekends driving four hours to compete as an alpine ski racer. I was constantly pushing, determined to be high-achieving, admired, and excellent. But underneath that drive was burnout I didn’t yet have the language to name. By the time I was 16, the cracks were visible. I was chronically sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and unable to complete basic tasks—often skipping meals, sleeping in my clothes, or losing motivation for assignments I used to find exciting. I thought I was lazy or not trying hard enough. But in reality, I was mentally overloaded and completely disconnected from my needs. It wasn’t until the COVID-19 pandemic paused my normal routines that I had time to reflect. For the first time, I experienced what it felt like to sleep, rest, and live with space to breathe. I spent a full ski season in the mountains, training regularly while keeping up with school at my own pace. I felt mentally clearer and emotionally lighter. My grades improved. So did my energy, my relationships, and my passion for learning. I finally made the connection: my mental health wasn’t something to fix later. It was foundational to everything I cared about. That realization changed how I live. I no longer define achievement by how much I can squeeze into a schedule. Instead, I ask whether what I’m doing aligns with what makes me feel alive, connected, and well. I take fewer classes at once to prioritize depth over overload. I keep consistent sleep and exercise routines. I journal and reflect when I feel overwhelmed. Most importantly, I give myself permission to slow down when I need to. Mental wellness is now something I actively practice, not just something I hope for. Today, I work as a U16 alpine ski coach for an all-female team. I’m the only young woman on our coaching staff, and my athletes rely on me not just for technique, but for emotional support, mentorship, and advocacy. I help them navigate grief, anxiety, academic stress, and the pressures of being teen girls in a male-dominated sport. I support them with schoolwork, time management, and even reporting bullying or harassment when they feel unsafe. I love being this person for them, but I’ve also learned that I can’t give what I don’t have. Coaching can be emotionally heavy. I’ve learned to set boundaries so that the stress of coaching doesn’t steal my love for skiing, the sport that once gave me joy when everything else felt overwhelming. I check in with myself often and give myself permission to say no, take space, or refocus when I need to reconnect with skiing not as a job, but as a passion. My long-term goal is to use my education to support young athletes, especially girls, so they can stay in sport despite financial and structural barriers. But none of that is possible if I don’t first care for my own mind. My mental health journey taught me that success isn’t about how much you achieve. It’s about how much of yourself you get to keep along the way.

Growing up as the child of immigrants and a first-generation college student, I learned early to value perseverance, opportunity, and the importance of building something meaningful. My parents’ journey to the United States taught me the power of hard work and the responsibility to give back to the community that shaped me. This foundation is what fuels my passion for commercial real estate, a field where I can help design, develop, and sustain spaces that bring people together and foster long-term growth. As I pursue a Master of Real Estate Development (MRED) at the University of Utah, I am particularly focused on creating infrastructure that serves both the local community and the global stage. My home ski resort, Snowbasin, is preparing to host the alpine and speed events for the 2034 Winter Olympics. I want to contribute to the sustainable development of Olympic venues, affordable housing for workers, and athlete-centered facilities that can continue to serve the community long after the games have ended. I believe commercial real estate is more than just buildings; it is about building community, shaping experiences, and leaving a lasting positive impact. I currently coach the U16 alpine ski team at the Snowbasin Sports Education Foundation, a nonprofit that has given me the chance to develop young athletes and contribute to the ski racing community I care deeply about. Coaching has taught me how to lead, build trust, and support others through their growth, and I plan to bring these same leadership skills to my work in commercial real estate. I hope to one day develop athletic facilities that support both elite athletes and underserved youth, creating access to high-quality training spaces that can change lives. Financially, pursuing graduate school is a significant challenge for me. As a first-generation college student, I have worked hard to support my education while balancing coaching and other responsibilities. This scholarship would support my commitment to my studies and pursue leadership roles within the commercial real estate industry without the burden of financial strain. With your support, I would be able to focus on making a real difference in my community. The most influential person in my life is my mother. She showed me that education is the key to independence and opportunity. Watching her navigate life with grace and determination shaped my belief that I can create a better future for myself and others. Her support and quiet strength continue to guide me as I take on new challenges and set ambitious goals. This scholarship would not only ease my financial path but would also bring me one step closer to realizing my vision of creating spaces that elevate communities, empower young athletes, and inspire the next generation. I am excited to continue building relationships, fostering growth, and contributing to the future of commercial real estate.