I never imagined that I would be balancing graduate school papers with school lunches, bedtime routines, and doctor’s appointments, but becoming a single parent reshaped not only my life — it reshaped my purpose. When I returned to higher education as a single mother, I carried more than books in my bag. I carried responsibility, fear, and an unwavering determination to create a better future for my children. There were nights when I studied after everyone was asleep, mornings when I attended class with little rest, and moments when finances felt overwhelming. Yet each obstacle strengthened my resolve. I did not have the privilege of giving up; my children were watching. As a first-generation college graduate and international student, I had no roadmap. I learned to navigate financial aid, academic systems, and professional licensure on my own while raising a family. Over time, I earned my Master’s degree in Special Education, passed the Praxis, and became a certified Special Education teacher in Maryland. Today, I work with multilingual students who have disabilities — children who often feel invisible inside the classroom. I see myself in them: trying to belong, trying to succeed, and trying to be heard. My experience as a single parent has taught me resilience, empathy, and time management, but most importantly, it has taught me how to advocate. I now help families understand Individualized Education Programs, communicate with schools, and navigate systems that can feel intimidating. Parents frequently tell me, “You are the first person who explained this in a way I understand.” That is when I know my journey matters. Through my continued education, I plan to expand this impact beyond my classroom. I want to create literacy programs for multilingual learners with special needs, mentor new teachers — especially immigrant and first-generation educators — and advocate for policies that support families balancing work, school, and caregiving. I also plan to partner with community organizations to provide workshops that empower parents to become confident advocates for their children. Being a single parent did not slow my pursuit of higher education — it defined it. My children gave my goals direction, my struggles gave me compassion, and my journey gave me a voice. I now use that voice to ensure that no student or parent ever feels alone in the process of learning. I am here to provide support for my students’ learning through voice and choice and differentiated strategies. I empower parents with strategies to better support their children.

I still remember the day I stood in a U.S. classroom for the first time, surrounded by a language, culture, and school system I barely understood. I was an international student, far from my family in the Philippines, trying to navigate college as a first-generation student with no blueprint, no financial safety net, and no one who could tell me what came next. I only knew that failure was not an option. Being first-generation meant learning everything on my own — how to register for classes, how to speak to professors, how financial aid worked, and how to balance survival with studying. English was not my first language, and there were moments when I doubted whether I belonged in American higher education at all. At the same time, I was supporting my family back home while building a new life here, often working long hours while carrying a full academic load. The hardest part was not the workload — it was the loneliness of being the first in my family to walk this path. Despite these challenges, I earned my Master’s degree in Special Education from Cebu Technological University in the Philippines, passed the Praxis, and became a certified Special Education teacher in Maryland. Today, I work in Prince George’s County Public Schools with dually identified students — children who are both English Language Learners and have Individualized Education Programs. Every day, I see reflections of my younger self in their struggles to find their voice in a system not designed for them. The obstacles I faced as a first-generation international student did not weaken me — they shaped my purpose. I now serve students who feel invisible, misunderstood, and underestimated. I help them build language, confidence, and self-advocacy skills because I know what it means to sit silently in a room full of people and feel like you do not belong. Through my continued college studies in the United States, my goal is to expand my impact beyond the classroom. I plan to develop literacy programs for multilingual learners with disabilities, mentor new immigrant teachers, and advocate for equitable policies that recognize the needs of dually identified students. I want to help reshape how schools serve students who live at the intersection of language barriers and learning differences. My ambition is rooted in my story. My drive comes from every door I had to open myself. And my vision of impact is simple: to become the teacher and leader I once needed — someone who tells students, especially first-generation and immigrant learners, that their dreams are not too big, their voices are not too small, and their presence in this country matters.

Why I Am Passionate About Becoming a Special Education Teacher One of the most powerful moments in my classroom didn’t come from a test or a lesson plan. It came when a shy newcomer student stood up in front of her classmates and said, “I am brave because I am still here.” She was still learning English, still adjusting to life in a new country, and still struggling academically. But in that moment, she recognized her own strength. She saw herself. That is what Professor Harold Bloom means when he writes that the purpose of teaching is to bring students to a “sense of their own presence.” To me, this means helping students realize that they matter — that they are more than their test scores, labels, or challenges. For students with special needs, especially those who are also English learners, this sense of presence is often taken away before they even have a chance to find it. I earned my Master’s degree in Special Education from Cebu Technological University in the Philippines, passed the Praxis, and am now a certified Special Education teacher in Maryland. I currently work in Prince George’s County Public Schools with dually identified students — children who are both English Language Learners and have an Individualized Education Program. These students carry two invisible backpacks every day: one filled with language barriers, and another filled with learning differences. Too often, I hear what they can’t do. They can’t read fast enough. They can’t sit still long enough. They can’t write a paragraph the way others do. Over time, students begin to believe these things about themselves. They stop trying. They stop speaking. They start disappearing in the classroom. My mission is to make sure they don’t. I begin by building classrooms where students feel emotionally safe. I use visual supports, routines, and sentence frames so students always know how to participate. When students know what to expect, they take risks. They raise their hands. They try again after failing. I also redefine what success looks like. For one student, success might be writing a full paragraph. For another, it might be staying focused for five minutes or asking for help instead of shutting down. I celebrate these moments because they are not small. They are proof that a student is present and engaged in their own learning. I also teach students how to speak up for themselves. Many of my students do not yet have the language to explain what they need. I teach them simple phrases like, “I need more time,” or “Can you show me again?” These words change everything. When students can express their needs, they stop feeling powerless. Working closely with families is just as important. Many of my students’ parents are immigrants navigating special education for the first time. I take time to explain IEPs in plain language and reassure them that their voices matter. When families feel supported, students feel grounded. A Brief Fairy Tale Once upon a time, there was a teacher who taught in a school where many students thought they were broken. They had been told for so long what they lacked that they forgot to look for what they had. The teacher did not carry a magic wand or wear a crown. She carried sticky notes, colored markers, and an unshakable belief that every child had a story worth telling. There was a boy who hid under his hoodie because reading scared him. A girl who spoke three languages at home but none confidently at school. Another student who tore up her work whenever it felt too hard. The teacher did not try to fix them. She listened. She waited. She showed them how to find their words. Slowly, the hoodie came down. A hand went up. The papers stayed whole. And one day, the students realized something magical: they were not invisible anymore. Conclusion I am passionate about special education because I believe students do not need to be changed — they need to be seen. My ambition is to help them discover who they are. My drive comes from every student who has ever been overlooked. My passion comes from watching a child realize, “I belong here.” That is how I will guide my students to find their presence — by helping them see themselves first.