I was in seventh grade when I first realized how hard my mom worked. It was four in the afternoon, but she was supposed to pick me up from school at two. The summer heat was beating down on my head, almost as hot as my temper. I waited impatiently, checking my watch and pacing across the playground. Where was she? It was nearly dark when my mom finally arrived. "Where were you?" I demanded. "Conferences," she said, giving an apologetic smile to the aftercare teacher as she signed me out. I opened my mouth to complain but then got a good look at her face. My mom was beautiful, she always was, but today she looked tired. New wrinkles lined her forehead, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. I swallowed my complaints and said, "Bad day?" But my mom only smiled. "It was fine,” she said. From that day on, I began to pay more attention to my mom’s daily routine. She was an elementary school teacher, so her days were spent teaching, grading papers, and planning lessons. Despite the demands of her job, she always had time for me, my siblings, and her students. Seeing her dedication gave me a newfound respect for teachers and their sacrifices. When I entered high school, I looked for ways to give back, and Teacher Appreciation Week gave me the perfect opportunity. Every year during that week, my high school partnered with Chick-fil-A to feed every public school teacher in the Meriden school district. Meriden has thirteen schools with over six hundred teachers, and our goal was to provide every single one a meal as a token of appreciation. I volunteered to help package chicken sandwiches, chips, and water. But when it came time to deliver the lunches, I had one specific request: I wanted to help distribute at my mom’s school. My request was granted, and soon I was in a courtyard, setting up folding tables and preparing lunch bags. We organized the tables so teachers could pick up a bag and walk through, selecting whatever lunch they wanted. A basket of candy bars was placed at the end, and personalized thank-you notes were slipped in every bag. Finally, we were ready for the first lunch wave. The teachers arrived one by one, their faces lighting up as they picked up their lunches. Hugs, handshakes, and words of thanks filled the air. Their gratitude was touching. It was clear to me how much effort these teachers put into their jobs, and it made me realize just how much dedication goes into our country’s everyday education. Seeing my mom among them made me proud of the sacrifices she and her coworkers make for their students. That day, I learned to truly appreciate the hard work of our nation's teachers and the power of community service. It's important to realize we don't have to do something big to make an impact. Sometimes, just a single lunch can make a difference. I want my community to take this mindset with them and recognize that small acts of gratitude can go a long way in showing appreciation for those who give so much.

Teenage years are filled with doubt and uncertainty, and few artists express this as authentically as Olivia Rodrigo. In her album ‘GUTS’, Olivia manages to capture all the conflicted emotions and experiences that come with this stage of life. Her observations of teenage life resonate deeply with listeners of all ages. The song “Ballad of a Homeschool Girl" particularly struck a chord with me. Being a teenager is an awkward phase where you’re stuck between childhood and adulthood. You’re given more freedom than you did as a kid, but you’re not quite mature as an adult. You feel strange, as if you don’t belong in your own body. In Olivia’s “Ballad of a Homeschool Girl”, she sings about feeling out of place. She goes on about how she hates all her clothes, and says, “feels like my skin doesn't fit right over my bones”. This lyric perfectly summed up how I felt all of my teenage years. The sensation of discomfort and disconnection that Olivia expresses reminds me of my own experiences. I remember looking in the mirror countless times only to see a stranger staring back at me. I struggled with my identity and who I really was. Every time I tried to fit in, it seemed as though I lost a piece of myself. I wasted so much time caring about what others thought, and yet I still didn't belong. It was an isolating experience that Olivia portrays in her gut-wrenchingly honest lyric. Olivia goes on in her song to address the struggles of navigating relationships and the desire for acceptance. As a younger teen, I desired acceptance so much that I would do anything for people to like me. I tried so hard to say the right things and wear the right clothes, but it was never enough. As soon as I made a single mistake, the fake life I had built for myself would come crumbling down. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it truly was okay to be myself. In Olivia Rodrigo's 'GUTS', she sings about the weight of expectations and the pressures of growing up. Olivia parallels common teenage experiences with her own narrative. Her lyrics comfort teenagers like me and make them feel heard and understood. 'GUTS', especially "Ballad of a Homeschool Girl", taught me that I wasn't the only one feeling lost. I wasn't the only one questioning my identity and wondering what it meant to be myself. Olivia's vulnerability allows listeners to embrace their own insecurities, and realize their emotions are just part of growing up. Understanding that it's okay to be myself has positively influenced my relationships. I feel free to let loose and stop worrying about others' opinions. Her music reminds me that even though teenage years can be challenging, I'm not alone in my struggles.

My favorite athlete to cheer for on Team USA is the famous gymnast, Simone Biles. She's known for breaking records, winning medals, and insane performances that leave audiences breathless. However, Simone Biles is more than just an athlete. She's an inspiration to everyone who hears her story. As a child, I attended a gymnastics class at my local YMCA. I learned cartwheels, handstands, and routines on the balance beam. After a few years, I lost interest and quit the class, but that didn't stop my love for gymnastics. I loved to watch old Olympic reruns of star gymnasts like Shannon Miller and Dominique Dawes with my mom, a former gymnast herself. These gymnasts were more than celebrities. To me, they were role models. The way they smiled, the way they conducted themselves; I was in awe of it all. That's when I began to notice a new gymnast on the scene. Simone Biles. She was a powerhouse gymnast. Her routines were consistent, her skills were advanced, and most importantly, she had a hunger for more. When the 2016 Olympics in Rio rolled around, she swept up four Olympic gold medals. She was officially a star. From that day on, Simone Biles was my hero. I read every book released about her. The more I learned, the more respect I had for her. Simone's life wasn't easy. Her parents struggled with drugs and alcohol and were unable to care for Simone or her siblings. When she was young, Simone had been adopted by her grandparents. She was diagnosed with ADHD as a child, and her grandparents entered a gymnastics class, thinking that it would be a healthy outlet for all of Simone's energy. I identified with Simone. It's not easy having ADHD, and gymnastics was a good outlet for me as well. Even though I gave up on gymnastics, I still saw myself in Simone. Despite Simone's rough start in life, she persevered and forged her own path. Today, Simone Biles has five gymnastic skills named after her. She has competed at three Olympic games, collected eleven Olympic medals, and still has the potential for more. Simone's my favorite Team USA athlete to cheer for because of her spunky spirit, sheer talent, and determination to do her best. Simone proves that challenges can be overcome, and inspires others to follow their dreams.

Since I was young, tests have loomed over me. At school, in life, and even in my dreams. They appeared as dark, shadowy monsters that lurked beyond my vision. I lived in fear of them, and that fear controlled me. Quizzes got me jittery, grades gave me anxiety. When it came to school, I was quite simply a nervous wreck. One day in the twelfth year of my life, everything changed. I was in the middle of a history test, pencil in one hand, paper in the other, and a strange feeling had settled in my chest. There was something comforting in the quiet classroom, in the faint breathing of the students around me. The terrifying test I had been worrying about wasn't so terrifying after all. In fact, I'd enjoyed it. And at that moment, it hit me. Test-taking... was fun? From that day onward, my attitude towards tests completely changed. Math, science, literature-- the subject didn't matter. From the moment I sat down at my desk to the moment I turned in my test, I had fun. I took every test with a smile on my face and I refused to let my old fear control me. It must be admitted, however, I didn't ace every test I took. I may have smiled as I wrote my answers, but that didn't mean my answers were correct. I made mistakes, but I learned from them. Every misstep taught me a lesson. Through trial and error, I learned how my brain processed information and the most effective ways to study. I realized the hard way that there was more to studying than just staring at a review sheet. Flashcards, practice quizzes, and repetition techniques were the strategies that worked for me, and I used them well. As I came to high school, I began hearing a word that made even the smartest students shudder in fear. SAT, they said. Except, they didn't usually say it as much as they whispered it. I quickly learned that the SAT was a standardized entrance exam that most colleges and universities looked at when considering applicants. However, as with most standardized tests, they were a force to be reckoned with. Students spent months preparing for this exam only to receive scores that made them cry in despair. Unfortunately, being the test-lover I was, I laughed this off. I loved tests! Tests were fun for me! What was there to worry about? I had no idea how wrong I was. It was only a month ago that I took my first SAT practice test out of curiosity. When the official College Board app revealed my score, I gasped. It was appallingly low. Since then, I have been studying like a fiend. I use every studying tool I can get my hands on. I watch Khan Academy review videos, take countless practice tests, and read every review book I can. My goal is to get a score of 1350. It's a lofty goal, to be sure, but it's what I'm aiming for nonetheless. The college I'd like to get into, Liberty University, offers a full tuition scholarship, but only to valedictorians with a GPA of 4.0 and an SAT score of 1350. I'm on track to become valedictorian of my class and I already have a 4.0 GPA. The only thing keeping me from my goal is that SAT score. I will do everything I can to reach my goal, even if it means studying tirelessly for this one SAT test.

Being raised in a household with two hard-working parents has impacted me and my future goals. For as long as I can remember, my parents have worked themselves to the bone to support my family. They inherited their drive and determination from their own parents, who hauled themselves out of poverty to stability. My paternal grandmother was raised penniless in the rural hills of Virginia until she met my paternal grandfather, who joined the military to escape the hardships of country life. Together, they did everything they could to ensure that my dad could go to a good college. They paid for years of schooling for him to get a degree and a stable job. Meanwhile, my maternal grandmother grew up in a little New England maple farm, barely making enough to scrape by. She fell in love and married my maternal grandfather, a Norwegian immigrant who labored day and night in construction to support his new wife. They lived paycheck to paycheck, sometimes unable to pay the bills. Still, they supported my mother through college, so that she could fulfill her dream of becoming a teacher. When my parents met, they continued the line of support that their own parents had extended. Education was important to them. They recognized that education led to success, and they knew that was what they wanted for their children. Since I was young, they worked full-time to pay private school tuition for my two brothers and me. They've sacrificed everything for me, and I want to honor that. Besides my parents, my local library has played a key role in my life. The librarians were my heroes, and I worshipped the ground they walked on. As a child, I attended every library program available, from ice cream socials to sing-along storytime. I refused to miss a single summer reading program and read everything I could get my hands on. From research books to graphic novels, I checked out every title I could. As a teen, I considered the librarians my friends. They shared book recommendations, and life stories, and even were some of my job references. The library and the librarians inside it were important influences on me, and I want to give back to them. Because of these impacts on my life, I want to use my talents to do good and help people, the same way my parents and family have helped me. Not everyone has supportive parents. Not everyone has support at all. My dream is to become a children's librarian so that I can reach out to those with no support. I want to be a role model in the same way my local librarians were a role model to me. I want to serve my community and reach out to those in need. With this scholarship, I will be one step closer to reaching my goal.

I would love to go to a trade school because I think it's important not to just learn through academics, but to learn through work. Academic studying can only take you so far. Sometimes it is important to learn with your own two hands. I've learned this from personal experience. For my entire high school career, I've worked hard for grades. However, it made me wonder, is there more to life than grades? I took a good look at my life and what I could and could not do. When my family's car broke, could I fix it? When the electricity in my brother's room went haywire, could I fix it? When the lawn grew too high, could I even figure out how to use a lawn mower? I was filled with a sense of helplessness. My grades might be good, but outside of school, I was as useless as a snowblower in the rain. I want to go to a trade school, any trade school, to learn skills I can use in my everyday life. To me, it doesn't matter which trade, as long as I can use it to help my friends and family.