To me, a “sense of presence” means helping students recognize that they matter, that their voice, their choices, and their feelings are valid and valuable. For students with special needs, especially those who are non-verbal or medically fragile, society often assumes limitations instead of seeking possibilities. But when you truly see a student for who they are, you can guide them to see it too. That’s when real transformation happens. This belief became a reality for me when I worked in a classroom with six medically fragile students and met a new student who was described with a long list of challenges: self-injurious behavior, elopement, non-verbal communication, and an inability to participate with peers. But what others saw as obstacles, I saw as opportunities to build trust. I approached this student with patience, using a communication device tailored to their interests. Slowly, the student opened up. They began participating in class walks, using the restroom independently, and communicating using an AAC device. These were things no one believed they could do, but all it took was someone who believed in them and took the time to connect. I helped that student find their “sense of presence”, the beginning of recognizing their own power and place in the world. My mission as a future special education teacher is to be that person for every student who has been misunderstood or underestimated. I want to create safe, respectful learning environments where students are seen, heard, and given the tools to succeed on their own terms. I believe every student deserves someone who believes in their potential and doesn’t give up. This mission can only continue with the support of scholarships like yours, as I come from a low-income background and am the first in my family to attend university. (Fairy Tale) Once upon a time, in a quiet village nestled between the hills of Hope and Courage, lived a young heroine named Minerva. She was known for her listening heart, a rare gift that let her hear even the softest voices in the wind, the trees, and most importantly, the voices others had forgotten. One day, Minerva entered the enchanted School of the Hidden, where children with magical abilities were kept behind walls because others could not understand their powers. Among them was a small boy named Orion, who never spoke and always ran away. He was called “The Silent Star,” and even the oldest teachers believed he would never shine. But Minerva believed otherwise. She crafted a glowing crystal that lit up when Orion touched symbols representing his favorite things: stars, warm bread, and the color blue. When Orion saw the light respond to him, his eyes widened. For the first time, someone understood him. Slowly, he joined morning walks through the meadows, found joy in naming constellations, and learned to bathe his hands in the starlight stream, something no one believed he could do. The village marveled. The Silent Star was silent no more. Minerva had helped him see his light. And from that day on, she vowed to help every hidden child in every corner of the world find their glow. With kindness as her compass and courage in her hands, she walked on.