Community service, to me, means making sure people are not left out simply because they communicate differently. I have tried to strengthen my community by using my time, education, and personal background to support people who are often overlooked. I grew up as the hearing child of two Deaf parents, and American Sign Language was my first language. From an early age, I saw how communication barriers could affect daily life. I watched people speak around my parents instead of directly to them, underestimate their abilities, or fail to make information accessible. These experiences taught me that a strong community is not one where everyone is the same. It is one where people make deliberate efforts to ensure that everyone can participate. One of the most meaningful ways I have contributed to my community is through volunteering with the Southern Lakes Association of the Deaf. This organization supports Deaf individuals and families by creating opportunities for connection, cultural involvement, and access to resources. My work with the organization has allowed me to give back to the community that helped shape my identity. It has also reinforced the importance of supporting cultural spaces where Deaf people can communicate freely without constantly having to explain or defend their needs. I have also served others through my undergraduate clinical experience in Communication Sciences and Disorders. Under the supervision of speech-language pathologists, I helped lead group sessions for adults with intellectual disabilities. Some clients communicated through speech, while others relied on gestures, visual supports, communication boards, or augmentative communication devices. Because the clients had different needs, I spent time creating weekly materials that allowed each person to participate. I developed communication boards, adapted activities, provided visual choices, and changed my instructions when someone appeared confused. The clinical work was unpaid, but I did not view it as something to complete only for academic credit. I viewed it as a responsibility to the people who were trusting us to support them. During group activities, it was sometimes faster to answer for a client or move on after receiving a brief response. Instead, I learned to wait. I offered choices, used gestures, and gave clients enough time to communicate their own opinions. Helping someone express a preference may appear like a small contribution, but being able to make choices is closely tied to dignity and independence. Every person deserves the opportunity to speak for themselves, regardless of whether that communication occurs through speech, signs, pictures, or technology. These experiences have shaped my long-term commitment to service. My goal is to become a school-based speech-language pathologist, where I can help students participate in class, form friendships, advocate for themselves, and feel confident in their identities. I also hope to continue working with nonprofit organizations that improve access to communication and educational resources for children, adults, and families. The good I contribute is not defined by one event or one large project. It is shown through consistent choices: preparing accessible materials, volunteering my time, listening patiently, and noticing when someone is being excluded. I want to continue building communities where people are not merely present, but fully heard, respected, and included.

Science became meaningful to me when I realized that understanding information is only one part of making a difference. Scientific knowledge has the greatest impact when it can be clearly communicated to the people who need it. As a hearing child of two Deaf parents, I grew up using American Sign Language and often saw how communication barriers could make important information less accessible. This experience sparked my interest in health science and eventually inspired my goal of becoming a speech-language pathologist. One of the most important ways I pursued my interest in science during high school was through HOSA–Future Health Professionals. I became involved because I wanted to explore healthcare beyond textbooks and ordinary classroom assignments. HOSA challenged me to research complex health topics, understand scientific evidence, and communicate that information in a way that was organized, accurate, and understandable.I competed in HOSA’s Public Health event at both the state and national levels. Preparing for these competitions required much more than memorizing facts. My team and I spent a significant amount of time researching our topic, evaluating reliable sources, organizing the information, and deciding how to present it effectively to an audience. We practiced repeatedly because we wanted our presentation to be both scientifically accurate and engaging. The amount of work involved made the experience even more rewarding. I enjoyed taking a large amount of complicated information and transforming it into something that other people could understand and remember. Advancing through the state competition and earning the opportunity to compete at the international level showed me what I could accomplish when I combined curiosity with discipline. It also helped me understand that science communication is a skill of its own. A person can have valuable scientific knowledge, but that knowledge cannot create change unless it is shared effectively.Through HOSA, I advocated for science by helping present evidence-based public health information in a clear and approachable way. Although the competition itself was important, the larger lesson was that scientific advocacy can take many forms. It can involve correcting misinformation, teaching others about health risks, making research easier to understand, or encouraging people to make informed decisions. I have continued carrying these lessons into my studies in Communication Sciences and Disorders. I am especially interested in the science of language, hearing, neurological function, and communication. My experiences have taught me that access to scientific and healthcare information is not equal for everyone. Language differences, disabilities, and communication barriers can prevent people from receiving information that affects their health and quality of life.When science is not championed, misinformation can fill the gap. People may make important decisions based on fear, confusion, or unreliable sources. That is why the future of science depends not only on researchers, but also on professionals who can connect scientific discoveries to real people. Through HOSA and my future career as a speech-language pathologist, I hope to continue making science understandable, accessible, and useful to the communities I serve.

There have been times in my life when I have questioned whether I was capable of becoming the person I wanted to be. During periods of stress, self-doubt, and uncertainty, my faith helped me understand that my worth is not determined by how perfectly I perform or how quickly I reach my goals. Instead, I believe God has given my life purpose and has called me to use my experiences and abilities in service to others. I grew up as the hearing child of two Deaf parents, with American Sign Language as my first language. From an early age, I witnessed how communication barriers could cause people to feel excluded, underestimated, or misunderstood. I often found myself moving between Deaf and hearing environments and becoming aware of differences that other children did not always notice. Although this experience occasionally made me feel uncertain about where I belonged, my faith helped me recognize that it was not an obstacle placed in my path without meaning. It was preparing me to understand people whose voices and needs are too often overlooked. I began finding greater purpose when I used my background to serve others. Through volunteering with the Southern Lakes Association of the Deaf, I have been able to support a community that has shaped my identity and values. My faith reminds me that service should not be motivated by praise or recognition. It should come from compassion, humility, and a sincere desire to improve another person’s life. That belief became even stronger through my undergraduate clinical experiences. Under the supervision of speech-language pathologists, I helped lead sessions for adults with intellectual disabilities. Some clients communicated through speech, while others benefited from gestures, visual choices, communication boards, or augmentative communication devices. I created materials based on their individual communication goals and learned to focus on what each person could do rather than defining them by their limitations. These experiences showed me that service is not always dramatic. Sometimes it means being patient, adapting a task, noticing when someone is frustrated, or finding another way to help a person express a thought. My faith will continue guiding me as I pursue a career in speech-language pathology. Healthcare professionals are trusted during vulnerable moments, so knowledge and technical skill must be accompanied by integrity. I want to treat every client with dignity, remain honest about what I know, and make decisions based on what will genuinely benefit the person in front of me. Faith will also help me remain grounded when the work becomes emotionally challenging or when progress occurs more slowly than expected. I hope to become a school-based speech-language pathologist and eventually support nonprofit efforts that expand access to communication services and educational resources. My personal struggles once made me question my direction, but faith helped me find purpose through service. I now believe that success is not measured only by what I accomplish for myself. It is measured by whether I use my education, opportunities, and voice to help others discover the power of theirs.

Growing up as the hearing child of two Deaf parents often made me feel as though I was standing in the doorway between two different worlds. American Sign Language was my first language, and Deaf culture shaped my family, my values, and the way I learned to communicate. Outside my home, however, I entered a hearing world that did not always understand my family. Olivia Rodrigo’s music resonates with me because she gives language to the complicated emotions that can exist at the same time: confidence and insecurity, gratitude and frustration, belonging and isolation. In “all-american b****,” Olivia sings, “I’m so tired of being the girl that I am.” That lyric captures the exhaustion I sometimes felt while growing up. I loved my parents and was proud of my family, but there were moments when constantly moving between Deaf and hearing spaces felt overwhelming. Communication was not always as simple as speaking or signing. I had to consider who could understand which language, how information should be explained, and whether hearing people would treat my parents with the respect they deserved. At times, I felt pressure to make interactions easier for everyone. Even when nobody directly asked me to take responsibility, I became highly aware of communication barriers. I noticed when someone spoke without facing my parents, failed to provide an interpreter, or assumed that being Deaf meant being incapable. I also experienced moments when my hearing peers could not understand why my household operated differently from theirs. Like the conflicting emotions in Olivia’s songwriting, I could be proud of my identity while still wishing that navigating the world did not require so much explanation. Another lyric that stays with me comes from “hope ur ok”: “I hope you know how proud I am.” It reflects how my perspective has matured. When I was younger, I occasionally focused on the challenges of being raised by Deaf parents. As I have grown, I have realized that my parents are not the reason communication was difficult. The true difficulty came from a society that frequently treats spoken language as the only normal or valuable form of communication. My parents taught me that communication is much larger than sound. It can exist through hands, facial expressions, movement, patience, technology, and the willingness to understand another person. Their experiences inspired me to study Communication Sciences and Disorders and pursue a career as a speech-language pathologist. During my undergraduate clinical experiences, I have already worked with adults who use gestures, communication boards, speech, and augmentative communication devices. Because of my upbringing, I do not view one method as automatically superior to another. My goal is to help each person communicate in the way that is most effective and meaningful for them. Olivia Rodrigo’s lyrics remind me that growth does not require rejecting the frustrated or uncertain versions of ourselves. My challenges taught me empathy, adaptability, and the importance of access. I once felt caught between two worlds, but I now recognize that I can help connect them. That is one of my greatest triumphs and the foundation of the professional I hope to become.

Challenge Name: “Couple’s Chaos: Lost in Translation” My brand-new Love Island challenge would be called “Couple’s Chaos: Lost in Translation.” It would test how well each couple can communicate, improvise, and laugh together while completing a ridiculous series of tasks. At the beginning of the challenge, each couple would be separated by a brightly colored wall. One Islander would become the “Director,” while the other would be the “Performer.” The Director would receive a card showing a strange scene that the couple must recreate, such as proposing to a pool float, escaping from an imaginary swarm of bees, giving a dramatic speech to a plate of nachos, or acting out a romantic movie scene while pretending to be farm animals. However, the Director would not be allowed to say any of the most obvious words connected to the scene. For example, during the imaginary proposal, the Director could not use words such as “marriage,” “ring,” “love,” or “kneel.” The Director would have sixty seconds to explain the scene using only indirect clues. The Performer would then have ninety seconds to act it out using costumes and props placed around the course. After the first round, the couple would switch roles. Each pair would complete three scenes, with every round becoming more difficult. In the final round, both Islanders would have to perform a surprise scene together without speaking. They might have to act like two detectives investigating who stole the villa’s last iced coffee or two contestants dramatically fighting over a completely ordinary flip-flop. The other Islanders would watch from a designated viewing area and vote on the funniest performance. However, the challenge would not be based only on comedy. Couples would earn points for correctly identifying the scene, following all forbidden-word rules, using the props creatively, and working together without becoming frustrated. The couple with the highest score would win a private dessert date and the title of “Villa Comedy Champions.” This challenge would add excitement because it would reveal which couples naturally understand each other and which ones struggle to communicate under pressure. It could also create memorable inside jokes, playful disagreements, and hilarious moments that fans would quote long after the episode ended. Most importantly, it would allow the Islanders to stop worrying about recouplings and drama for a moment and simply have fun together. “Couple’s Chaos” would combine everything viewers love about Love Island: romance, competition, personality, and completely unpredictable entertainment.

Should I start with a funny story, or introduce with my family history? Hmm no, neither option feels right. Maybe I should explain what happened first, or is that too dramatic? OK, let's just start out simple and introduce me. No, no, that's stupid. I can't even decide on how to start, let alone write the rest of it. I'm not good enough. Delete. Restart. Delete. Restart. For most people, those thoughts may sound like a brief moment of indecision. For me, that was how nearly every school related task, assignments, and everyday responsibility began. I could see countless ways to approach a task, but instead of helping me, the options only overwhelmed me. I would spend so much time deciding where to begin that I often would not begin at all, or till the last minute. Even when I cared deeply, my brain seemed unable to organize the steps needed to complete it. This made me feel inferior to everyone. Throughout my childhood and high school years, I experienced symptoms of ADHD and anxiety without understanding at all what they were. I struggled to focus, manage my time, organize my thoughts, and complete responsibilities. Additionally, I had a lot of difficulty regulating my emotions. As minor as it sounds the smallest of disappointments would feel enormous to me, and once I became upset, I couldn't explain what I was feeling or why my reaction seemed so intense. I would be stuck in this upset cycle and never knew how to stop, it consumed me. Because I had no explanation, I believed the problem was my character. I thought I was lazy, overly sensitive, unmotivated, and simply not good enough. Each forgotten responsibility was more evidence that I was failing, regardless of how much effort I had actually put into it. My struggles also affected my family. Both of my parents are Deaf, and we communicate through American Sign Language. There were times when they did not understand why I was so upset or why I reacted in ways that seemed disproportionate to the situation. The truth was that I genuinely did not understand myself either. Our confusion sometimes became frustration. At one of my lowest points, I believed that being raised by Deaf parents was the reason I was struggling. I questioned whether I would have been different if I had been raised by hearing parents. Now I know how far from untrue that belief was. It came from feeling desperate for an explanation, not from reality. My parents’ Deafness did not cause my struggles. In fact, they are among the greatest reasons I have become as successful, resilient, and compassionate as I am today. Last year, I was diagnosed with ADHD and generalized anxiety disorder. The diagnoses did not by any means make my challenges disappear, but they finally gave my family and me a way to understand them. I began learning strategies such as breaking tasks into smaller steps, creating routines, and communicating my needs before I reach a breaking point. Most importantly, I began replacing self-blame with patience. That made all the difference to me. I am capable of great things. These experiences have shaped my goal of becoming a speech-language pathologist. I know what it feels like to have others notice your behavior without understanding the struggle behind it. As an SLP, I will look beyond a student’s frustration, or emotional response and consider what they may actually be trying to communicate, to help others understand that struggling does not make them a failure, and that needing support does not make you any less capable.