I didn’t fall in love with reading because someone told me which books I was supposed to love. I fell in love with it because of Twilight. The first book pulled me in almost immediately. I loved how eerie and mysterious Forks felt, especially because Bella had no idea what was really happening around her. There was always this feeling that something was slightly off, and I wanted to keep reading until I figured it out. Then there was the fact that every vampire had their own ability. I thought it was so cool that becoming a vampire didn’t just make someone stronger, but could reveal something special about who they were. And honestly, some of my favorite parts were the ones that made me laugh. One scene I still remember is when Edward first sees Bella in biology class. The way he reacts to her is so unbelievably dramatic that he basically looks like she smells terrible. I remember laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation was. It was awkward, dramatic and honestly kind of ridiculous, but those moments are part of what made the books so fun. I wasn’t just reading to find out what happened next. I was laughing at the characters, getting invested in their weird situations and wondering what could possibly happen next. What I loved most was how easily the books made me disappear into another world. I could open a book after school and suddenly realize I had been reading for hours. Twilight showed me that reading didn’t have to feel like an assignment. It could be mysterious, funny, dramatic and completely impossible to put down. That changed the way I looked at books. Since then, I’ve learned that stories can teach you things without feeling like they’re teaching you anything at all. Reading has made me more curious about people and the reasons behind their choices. Even when I disagree with a character, I find myself wondering why they acted the way they did. That habit of looking deeper has carried into my own life. As a varsity soccer captain and youth soccer coach, I’ve learned that people are just as complicated as the characters I read about. Every teammate and every child I coach has a different personality, different strengths and different ways of handling challenges. I’ve become more patient about understanding people instead of assuming I already know what they need. Reading has also shaped the way I think about my future. I want to study business, and I know that success in business depends on understanding people just as much as understanding numbers. Whether I’m presenting an idea, leading a team or working with clients someday, I want to see things from different perspectives and communicate in a way that actually connects with people. But I don’t want reading to become something I only do when it is useful. I love books because they let me experience places I’ve never been, meet characters I would never know in real life and become completely invested in a story for a while. Sometimes I want to read something meaningful, and sometimes I just want something eerie, ridiculous and impossible to put down. That is what Twilight gave me: a genuine love of reading. It taught me that a book doesn’t have to change my entire life to matter. Sometimes it just has to make me laugh, keep me up way too late and make me excited to turn the next page. I hope I carry that feeling with me through college and long after, always making room for one more story.

For me, mental health is important because I’ve seen how easy it is for the pressures of being a student to become overwhelming. School, competition, social media and the expectation to constantly be productive can make it difficult to slow down and take care of yourself. I’ve also noticed how often people my age turn to their phones when they’re stressed, only to end up feeling even more distracted, disconnected and drained. This became especially real to me through DECA. I competed in the Independent Business Plan event with two other students, where we created a 20-page business plan and prepared a 10-minute pitch for a judge. Our idea was a productivity desk designed around a problem I had noticed in my own generation: excessive screen time and “doom scrolling.” We wanted to create something that could help people step away from their screens, regain focus and build healthier habits. We researched the effects of constant digital stimulation and how excessive screen time can be connected to stress, anxiety and other mental health challenges. Then, instead of simply talking about the problem, we tried to create a solution. That project changed the way I think about mental health advocacy. I realized that advocacy doesn’t always have to be a speech, campaign or organization. Sometimes it starts with noticing something people have accepted as normal and asking, “What if we could change this?” We could have created a desk focused only on productivity, but we wanted ours to help people create a healthier relationship with their technology. We wanted to make it easier to put the phone down, focus on one thing and give your mind a break. That mindset has shaped how I lead in my school community. As a DECA Vice President of Competition Preparation, I mentor other competitors and help them prepare for their events. Competition can be exciting, but it can also come with pressure to be perfect. I try to create an environment where people feel comfortable asking questions, making mistakes and admitting when they’re overwhelmed. I’ve learned that supporting someone doesn’t always require having the perfect answer. Sometimes it means listening, checking in or reminding them that one grade, presentation or competition does not define them. I carry that same attitude onto the soccer field. As a varsity captain, I’ve learned that being a leader means paying attention to the people around me, not just the scoreboard. If a teammate seems frustrated or overwhelmed, I try to check in. A team should be a place where people feel supported, not another place where they feel like they have to be perfect. As I move into college, I want to continue advocating for mental health in ways that are practical and lasting. I plan to study business and use my education to create solutions to problems affecting young people, whether through products, organizations or programs that make healthier choices more accessible. My DECA project taught me something I hope to carry throughout my life: I don’t want to simply notice problems. I want to do something about them. If I can use my education and my voice to help even one person feel less overwhelmed, more supported or more in control of their own life, that impact matters. I want to build a future where taking care of your mental health isn’t seen as falling behind, but as part of moving forward.

Every Monday, I stand in front of a group of kids with soccer balls at their feet and completely different personalities around me. Some run onto the field excited to play. Others hang back, unsure of themselves. My job as a youth soccer coach is to teach them how to pass, shoot and defend, but I’ve learned that what I’m really giving them is a place where they feel capable. I started coaching younger players through Global Futbol Training, working with children ages 5–12 throughout the year. At first, I thought the most important part of coaching would be teaching soccer. Instead, I found myself paying just as much attention to the moments between drills. I learned which players needed encouragement before they would try something new and which ones needed someone to believe in them before they believed in themselves. Watching a quiet player finally speak up, a nervous player take a shot or a frustrated player try again reminded me that access to sports can give kids much more than a skill. It can give them confidence, community and someone in their corner. That experience has shaped the impact I want to make in the future. I want to create opportunities for young people who may not have easy access to sports, education or mentors. I know firsthand how much a team can shape a person because soccer has shaped me. Some of my most important lessons have happened on a soccer field. I’ve learned how to handle failure, trust the people around me and keep going when things don’t go the way I hoped. As a varsity captain, I’ve also learned that leadership isn’t about being the loudest person on the field. It’s about noticing when someone needs support, bringing people together and making sure everyone knows they matter. I want to take those lessons with me into college and eventually into a career in business. I’m interested in the connection between business and sports, especially sports management and sports law, because I want to understand what happens behind the scenes of the opportunities athletes receive. My goal is to use that knowledge to help organizations grow while keeping their focus on the people they serve. I want to help create programs, partnerships and resources that make sports more accessible to young athletes, especially those who might otherwise be left out. The people who inspire me most are the ones who use what they have to help someone else. My coaches have taught me how much one person’s belief can change an athlete’s confidence. The children I coach have taught me that small moments can matter more than I realize. My family has taught me to work hard for the opportunities I’ve been given and never treat them as something I am entitled to. I don’t know exactly where my career will take me yet, and I’m okay with that. What I do know is that I want my success to reach beyond me. I want to build teams where kids feel like they belong, create opportunities that might not otherwise exist and use my education to make the path a little easier for the people coming after me. I’ve been lucky enough to experience what sports, education and supportive people can give someone. One day, I want to be the person who gives those things to someone else.

“Will I spend all the rest of my years wishing I could go back?” That question from Olivia Rodrigo’s “teenage dream” has stayed with me because I’m living through the exact moment it describes. I’m a senior, which means everyone keeps asking what comes next: Where are you going to college? What are you going to major in? What do you want to do with your life? I have answers to some of those questions, but lately, I’ve been thinking less about what comes next and more about how quickly this year is passing. For most of high school, I was always focused on the next goal. Get good grades. Stay near the top of my class. Become a varsity captain. Get into college. I was so focused on moving forward that I didn’t always stop to appreciate where I was. Senior year has made that harder to ignore. I spent an entire month making my senior overalls, adding little details because I wanted them to be something I could look back on. I’m excited for senior sunrise, homecoming, making a mum, prom and Senior Sunday. These might sound like small things, but I think they’re going to become the memories I care about most. That lyric makes me think about how easy it is to wish for the next stage of life without realizing that one day, you might wish you could return to the stage you were eager to leave. I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about grades, expectations and whether I’m doing enough. Sometimes I’ve accomplished something I worked incredibly hard for and immediately started thinking about what I needed to do next. “Teenage dream” made me realize that I don’t want to measure my life by the next achievement. I want to remember the life I’m working so hard to build. I’m still excited about the future. I’m excited about college, studying business and eventually building a career that combines my interests in business and sports. I’m excited to meet new people and figure out what I want my life to look like. At the same time, I’m learning that being excited for the future doesn’t mean I have to rush toward it. I can be ready for college and still get emotional thinking about leaving high school. I want to grow up while wishing I could slow down. That contradiction is what I love most about Olivia’s music. Her songs capture how you can feel two completely different things at once. You can be proud of how far you’ve come and still miss who you were. You can be excited about what’s ahead and scared that you’re leaving something behind. As a senior, I finally understand that feeling. So when I look at my senior overalls or think about the traditions ahead, I don’t want to rush through them just because graduation is coming. I want to wake up early for senior sunrise, get way too excited about my homecoming mum, take too many pictures at prom and stand at Senior Sunday realizing how much has changed. I want to remember the ordinary days too, because I have a feeling those might be the ones I miss most. I don’t know if I’ll ever have every part of my future figured out. But Olivia’s question has made me realize something I do know: I don’t want to spend my future wishing I had appreciated my present more. If I’m going to grow up, I want to do it without rushing past the parts of being young that I’ll someday wish I could experience again.

I have always been someone who likes having a goal to work toward. My long-term goal is to build a career in business, especially in an industry connected to sports. I plan to attend The University of Texas at Austin and pursue a business degree. I want to understand how organizations grow, how leaders make decisions and how businesses can succeed while still valuing the people within them. Being a competitive soccer player and two-year varsity captain has made me especially interested in sports management, but I want my business education to give me the flexibility to explore different opportunities and find where I fit best. My first step is getting to UT Austin. I want to attend UT because of its strong business programs, the opportunities available to students and its location close enough to home for me to stay connected to my family. During my senior year, I plan to complete my application, apply for scholarships and research financial aid opportunities. I also want to carefully compare the cost of attending with the financial resources available to me. Choosing a college is not just about finding the best academic fit. I also need to make sure I can realistically afford the education I am working toward. Once I am in college, I plan to focus on business coursework while gaining experience outside the classroom. I want to study areas such as management, finance, marketing and business law. I also plan to pursue internships every summer, especially with organizations connected to sports. I want to join student organizations, attend career events and build relationships with professors, alumni and professionals. My experience in DECA as Vice President of Competition Preparation has already taught me how to communicate ideas, prepare for professional situations and help other people succeed. I want to continue developing those skills and use them in real business settings. Paying for college will require its own plan. I will apply for scholarships throughout high school and college and complete the FAFSA each year. I also plan to work part-time when my schedule allows, using my income to help cover personal expenses. I will keep a budget for tuition, housing, books, transportation and other costs. If my financial situation changes, I will look for additional scholarships, adjust my spending or increase my work hours before relying heavily on loans. My goal is to graduate with as little debt as possible so I can focus on starting my career after college. My timeline is straightforward. My senior year will focus on college applications and scholarships. My first two years at UT will focus on building a strong academic foundation and exploring different areas of business. By my third year, I want to have completed internships and narrowed down the areas I enjoy most. During my final year, I want to turn those experiences into a full-time opportunity and graduate prepared to enter the business world. I know my plan may change as I gain experience. An internship could introduce me to an opportunity I never considered, or I could discover that something I expected to love isn't right for me. I don't see that as a failure. I see it as part of the process. I know where I want to go, I know the steps I need to take and I am willing to adjust when necessary. Joe Gilroy's motto was “Plan Your Work, Work Your Plan.” That is exactly how I want to approach my future.

I’ve always been the person who wants to know why. Why does the human body know how to heal itself? How can something microscopic inside a cell control what happens throughout an entire organism? How can a change in the environment affect an entire ecosystem? I don’t like simply knowing that something happens. I want to understand how and why it happens. That curiosity is what first drew me to science, especially biology. Science gives me a way to turn the questions I naturally ask into something I can investigate and understand. The more I learn, the more I realize how connected science is to the world around me. AP Biology was one of the classes that made me realize how much I enjoy science. I expected to memorize vocabulary, study diagrams and prepare for tests, but I found myself genuinely interested in what I was learning. The processes in our textbook weren’t just concepts. They were happening inside my body every second. Learning about cellular respiration made me think differently about something as simple as running across a soccer field. Studying genetics made me wonder how tiny differences in DNA can contribute to the differences between people. Learning about the immune system made me realize how much is happening inside my body without me even noticing. Biology took things I had always taken for granted and gave me a reason to wonder about them. My interest in science has continued through advanced coursework, including AP Biology and AP Environmental Science. I especially enjoyed seeing how different areas of science connect. Biology can’t always be separated from chemistry, and understanding living organisms often means understanding their environment. Environmental science made me think about how human choices can affect ecosystems over time, while biology helped me understand the organisms within them. I started noticing science in places I had never thought about before. Science became less like a subject I studied for a grade and more like a way I looked at the world. What I love most about science is that there is never really a point where you are finished learning. Every answer creates another question. The more I learn about cells, genetics, the human body and the environment, the more I realize how much remains unknown. Instead of making science feel overwhelming, that makes it exciting. I like that science requires patience and curiosity. Sometimes you have to look at a problem from multiple angles before it makes sense. Sometimes the answer you expect isn’t the answer you find. I enjoy that process because it pushes me beyond what I already know. That curiosity has also made me want other people to see science differently. I’ve noticed that some students decide they aren’t “science people” because a concept is confusing the first time they encounter it. When I help classmates, I try to explain ideas in a way that connects to something they already understand. I’ve learned that understanding science is only part of what makes it valuable. Scientific discoveries can change the world, but people have to understand them before they can appreciate why they matter. I believe that is why advocating for science matters. Science affects almost everything around us, from the environment we live in to the technology we use and the way we understand our bodies. I want to keep my curiosity with me as I continue my education. To me, science isn’t just about finding answers. It’s about caring enough to keep looking.

If you asked anyone who knows my mom to describe her, I’m almost certain the word “sweet” would come up. It always does. Friends, family, teachers and even people who have only met her a few times notice the same thing about her: she is genuinely kind. She doesn’t treat people well because she wants recognition. It’s simply who she is. My mom grew up in Japan her entire life before moving to the United States. She left behind everything familiar and built a new life in a completely different country. Watching her adjust to a new culture, language and way of life has always amazed me, but what has influenced me most isn’t where she came from or where she moved. It’s the way she has chosen to treat people wherever she is. My mom has the kindest heart I know. She puts me before herself every single time. Whether she is making sure I have what I need, listening when I’ve had a difficult day or doing something thoughtful without being asked, she constantly reminds me that caring for people is not something you do only when it is convenient. You do it because they matter to you. Growing up around that kind of kindness made me start noticing the people around me differently. I began paying attention to who was being left out, who needed encouragement and who might just need someone to believe in them. I saw this most clearly through soccer. As a varsity captain, I learned that being a leader wasn’t just about being a strong player or telling people what to do. They needed someone who would listen. I started making an effort to include quieter teammates, check in with people after hard practices and help create an environment where everyone felt comfortable being themselves. I wanted my team to feel like they belonged, because my mom had taught me how powerful that feeling could be. I carried that same mindset into volunteering as a youth soccer coach. Working with kids ages five to twelve, I quickly realized that some of the most important moments had nothing to do with soccer. A child who was nervous to participate might just need encouragement. A player who made a mistake might need someone to tell them to try again. Sometimes, being a good coach meant noticing something small that another person might have missed. My mom also influenced the way I approach leadership in DECA. As Vice President of Competition Preparation, I mentor other students as they prepare for competitions. I’ve helped students practice presentations, improve their projects and become more confident in their abilities. When our chapter had 19 members qualify for state competition, including three ICDC qualifiers, I was proud of what we accomplished. Still, the moments that stay with me are the ones where I watched someone who was unsure of themselves start to believe they belonged. My mom taught me that kindness doesn’t have to be loud to make an impact. She doesn’t need a title or an audience to help someone. She simply notices people, cares about them and makes them feel valued. That is the kind of person I want to be. I know I can’t repay my mom for everything she has taught me, but I can carry her example with me. Wherever I go, I want people to remember me the way everyone remembers her: as someone who made them feel cared for. It’s not about being the most impressive person in the room. It’s about making sure the people around you know they matter.

Math isn’t just numbers on a page. To me, it’s a language that somehow makes sense even when everything else doesn’t. I learned that long before I understood how math could shape businesses, technology, or the world around me. I learned it sitting at my kitchen table with my mom. My mom was born and raised in Japan, so while she could easily have a conversation with me in English, helping with my English or history homework was a different story. Sometimes we would stare at a question together, unsure of how to explain what it was asking. Math was different. She was good at it, and she could confidently guide me through it. Math gave us something we both understood and enjoyed working through together. Whether we were in Nagoya or Trophy Club, 1 + 1 would always equal 2. I remember sitting beside her, working through equations, with some days ending in tears of frustration and others ending in celebration when we finally got the answer. Those moments taught me that math can connect people even when language can’t. I also love math because it refuses to let me bluff my way through anything. In English or history, I can argue that my interpretation makes sense. Math is less forgiving: either the answer works, or it doesn’t. I might try three different methods and erase the same piece of paper until it’s practically transparent, but that only makes the final answer more satisfying. Math reminds me that persistence can turn confusion into understanding. That’s what makes difficult problems fun for me. I don’t see a complicated equation and immediately want to give up. I see a puzzle. I try one method, realize it doesn’t work, try another, and keep going until something clicks. There is nothing better than the moment when a problem that seemed impossible suddenly makes sense. Math has taught me to be patient, think logically, and keep going when the answer doesn’t come easily. My teachers have only made that love stronger. Their excitement about the subject taught me to appreciate problem solving. For me, math has never been just about getting the right answer. It has connected me with my mom, challenged me to think differently, and taught me that confusion is sometimes just where the solution begins. Even now, I still love that feeling when everything finally clicks.

Every Monday afternoon, I looked forward to coaching my youth soccer team. As soon as I walked onto the field, I would hear little footsteps racing toward me. Before I could even set my bag down, the kids would run up with huge smiles and wrap me in hugs. It became our routine, and it was something I never took for granted. Years from now, they probably won't remember every skill move, passing drill, or shooting exercise I taught them. They might forget the scores of our scrimmages or the games we played at practice. But I hope they'll remember how they felt encouraged, supported, and excited to be there. What surprised me most wasn't teaching soccer, it was becoming someone they trusted. Before practice even started, the kids would excitedly tell me stories about their day at school, a good grade they earned, something funny that happened, or a problem they were having with a friend. Sometimes they didn't need advice; they just wanted someone to listen. Their parents may have been busy, stressed from work, or juggling everything that comes with everyday life, so being another trusted adult who gave them my full attention meant more than I ever expected. Those conversations taught me that making a difference isn't always about having the perfect words or solving someone's problems. Sometimes, simply listening is enough. That experience completely changed the way I think about making a positive impact on the world. I believe this world needs more kindness. Life moves so quickly that it's easy to walk past people without thinking twice, but we never truly know what someone else is going through. A smile, holding the door open, asking someone how they're doing, or taking a few minutes to have a genuine conversation may seem like such small acts, but they can completely change someone's day. I believe everything starts small. Every time I hold the door open for someone, I notice their face light up with a smile. It's such a simple gesture, yet nowadays those moments of kindness are often overlooked. Taking an extra second to help someone or simply acknowledging them reminds people that they matter. We never know what someone is carrying with them, and a conversation that lasts only a few minutes could affect someone in ways we'll never understand. As I continue through college and into my career, I hope to carry this mindset with me. I want to use my education to create opportunities for others, continue serving my community, and lead with compassion. Success, to me, isn't measured only by achievements or job titles. It's measured by the way you treat people and the positive influence you leave behind. I know I can't change the entire world on my own, but I don't think that's how change happens. It begins with one person choosing kindness, then another, and another. Kindness creates a ripple effect that reaches farther than we often realize. If I can make one person feel valued, supported, or simply a little less alone, then I've made a difference. I hope to be someone who leaves every person I meet feeling just a little happier than they did before, because sometimes the smallest acts of kindness can have the biggest impact.

The first time I truly understood what Taylor Swift does on stage, it was not in a stadium. It was on my phone, alone at night, watching a clip of her performing “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” during the Eras Tour. I had planned to just watch for a minute, but I ended up sitting completely still until the video ended, like I had accidentally stepped into something I was not supposed to interrupt. What struck me immediately was the silence before she even sang. Even through a screen, you could feel thousands of people holding their breath at the same time. When the first notes started, it did not feel like a typical concert opening. It felt like a memory being reopened in real time. Taylor Swift did not rush into it. She let every second exist fully, like she understood the weight of what she was about to relive on stage. As the song continued, I noticed something I had never really paid attention to before in live performances. She did not try to smooth over the emotion. When her voice wavered slightly during certain lines, she did not step back from it or try to make it perfect. Instead, she stayed in it. That choice made the performance feel more honest than polished, like she was not just performing a song but revisiting a moment that still meant something to her. What moved me most was how something so personal could be shared with so many people without losing its meaning. The performance felt enormous in scale, with lights, stage design, and a crowd that seemed endless, but at the same time it felt incredibly intimate. It made me realize that Taylor Swift’s strength as a performer is not just her ability to command attention, but her ability to make vulnerability feel powerful in front of it. I remember realizing halfway through the video that I was crying without even noticing. It was not just about the song, but about how raw it felt to see someone fully sit in their emotions instead of hiding them. It made me think about the way I usually hold things in, acting like I am fine even when I am not. Something about the way she performed made it feel safer to admit that I feel things deeply too. After watching it, I found myself opening up more to people I trust, even in small ways, instead of keeping everything bottled inside. Watching that performance also made me think about how easily emotions can be hidden in everyday life. It is common to act like everything is fine, especially when things feel overwhelming. But seeing her fully lean into emotion on such a massive stage made me rethink that idea. There is something brave about not editing yourself down for the comfort of others, especially when you are being watched by the world. That is why this performance stays with me. It is not just about the song or the era it represents, but about what it shows me each time I revisit it: that being fully present in your own story, even the painful parts, can turn something personal into something unforgettable.

The first time I remember really noticing Sabrina Carpenter, I was sitting on the living room floor after school, half-watching Girl Meets World while doing homework I did not understand. Maya Hart instantly felt different from other characters I had seen on TV. She was sharp, funny, and a little messy in a way that felt real. I did not know it at the time, but I was drawn to how she could be both strong and vulnerable without needing to “fix” herself by the end of every episode. As I kept watching the show, Maya became something I returned to when life felt overwhelming. There were days when school felt like too much, friendships felt confusing, and I did not really know where I fit in. Maya’s attitude, especially the way she used humor to cover deeper emotions, made me feel seen in a way I did not expect from a Disney Channel character. Sabrina Carpenter made that character feel alive, not like a performance but like a real person trying to figure things out. Years later, I rediscovered Sabrina Carpenter while scrolling on TikTok. I kept hearing a sound that everyone was using, and at first I thought it was just a popular audio that would fade quickly. But something about it stuck with me, so I finally looked it up and realized it was “Espresso.” When I listened to the full song, I instantly connected with it. It felt confident, fun, and effortless in a way that matched moments when I wanted to feel more sure of myself. That led me to explore more of her music, and I found myself loving how each song had its own personality while still feeling authentic to her. What makes Sabrina Carpenter stand out to me is how she has grown without losing her personality. Watching her transition from acting to music made me realize that you are not supposed to have everything figured out early. You are allowed to change, try new things, and still build something meaningful. That lesson has stayed with me as I think about my own future and the pressure to choose a single path too soon. Now, when I look back at that younger version of myself sitting on the floor doing homework, I see how much those small moments shaped me. Sabrina Carpenter’s work was not just entertainment in the background. It became a quiet reminder that it is okay to be a work in progress. That message has stayed with me, and it continues to influence how I approach challenges, ambition, and self-confidence today.

Growing up, I was always hard on myself. Whether it was soccer, school, or opportunities I felt I had missed, every mistake felt enormous to me. I carried the pressure of perfection everywhere. When I failed, or even thought I had failed, I would shut myself in my room and cry until I could barely breathe. In those moments, the person who always followed me was my mom. She never came in angry or disappointed. Instead, she would sit beside me, rub my back, and remind me, “It’s not the end of the world.” To someone else, that phrase might sound simple, but to me it became grounding. My problems felt huge in my head, and somehow she always knew how to make them smaller, manageable, and temporary. After I had cried long enough for my eyes to puff up, something I still hate to this day, she would try to make me laugh. Sometimes she would joke that soon enough I would graduate, go to college, and not have to deal with these moments forever. Eventually, I would calm down enough to sleep, even if I woke up the next morning with twice the puffiness. Many of these moments happened because of soccer. Sports taught me discipline and ambition, but they also fed my perfectionism. I constantly replayed mistakes in my head and blamed myself for missed opportunities. My dad, who cared deeply about my future and wanted the best for me, often pushed me hard. At times, his words motivated me, but other times they made me feel afraid of disappointing him. Even asking for small things sometimes felt intimidating because I worried I would get yelled at. Still, my relationship with him is not defined by fear alone. There are many moments where he is loving, supportive, and proud of me. As I’ve grown older, I have started to understand that his pressure often came from wanting me to succeed in ways he may not have had the chance to himself. What shaped me most, however, was the balance my mom created. She became the person who reminded me that my worth was never dependent on a scoreboard, a missed opportunity, or a perfect performance. Her support taught me that strength is not about never crying or never failing. Real strength is learning how to recover, breathe again, and keep going. Because of her, I approach relationships differently now. I pay attention when people are overwhelmed, and I try to make others feel heard instead of judged. Whether I am mentoring younger students, working with teammates, or leading within organizations, I try to be the kind of person who brings calm into stressful moments the way my mom always did for me. I know firsthand how much a few comforting words can matter when someone feels like they are failing. Ironically, the perfectionism that once overwhelmed me has also become one of my greatest strengths. It pushed me to work hard academically, become involved in leadership, and constantly seek growth. However, my mom taught me how to channel that drive without letting it destroy my confidence. She showed me that ambition and compassion can exist together. The relationship I have with my mom has shaped not only who I am emotionally, but also who I hope to become professionally. In the future, I want to create meaningful impact through leadership and entrepreneurship, and I know success is built through human connection. No accomplishment matters much if the people around you feel unsupported or unseen. My mom taught me that the strongest people are often the ones who quietly help others carry their hardest moments. Earning this scholarship would give me the independence to take ownership of my future and grow into my own decisions as I transition into college life. Even now, whenever life feels overwhelming, I still hear her voice in my head saying, “It’s not the end of the world.” And every time, she is right.

Throughout my high school experience, soccer has brought me both happiness and tears. The journey has been a balance of physical exhaustion, academic pressure, and learning to compete at the highest level. As a freshman, I earned a spot on the varsity soccer team, but I was confronted by challenges. The upperclassmen were skilled, and many were already committed to Division I schools. I couldn’t help but compare myself to their accomplishments. Over time, soccer didn’t just teach me how to become a better player, it taught me how to become a better student. The biggest challenge was balancing my commitments. As a student in the top 10 of my class, academics had always been a priority. As a varsity athlete, practice, travel, and competition consumed much of my time. Soccer demanded everything I had, and at first, I couldn’t handle the stress. It felt like an uphill battle that would never end. In the beginning, it wasn't easy. After practice, I would sit down with my homework, but I was exhausted from a long day. I struggled to focus and often found myself wanting a break. How could I be a top student if I was drained from practice? How could I give my all to soccer if I was stressed about unfinished homework? My confidence began to waver, and I doubted my abilities every day. The breakthrough came when I learned the importance of balance. I had to prioritize sleep to regain energy for the long days ahead. I started going to bed earlier, waking up an hour earlier to finish assignments before school. Once practice was over, I didn’t allow myself to zone out. Between my second and third periods, I used my advisory class period to cut down on homework for the night. Time management was just one piece of the puzzle. One of the biggest lessons came from the field. As a freshman on varsity, I was surrounded by players heading to Division I programs. I didn’t want to disappoint my team, but I was so nervous before each game. I saw how agile and quick they were, how they anticipated every play, and I couldn’t help but compare myself. I eventually realized that this fear was holding me back. Instead of seeing my teammates as competition, I began to see them as mentors. They’d shaken off mistakes, setbacks, and frustrations. I realized I wasn’t going to be the player I wanted to be overnight, but if I worked harder, I could improve too. My friends and I stayed late after practice to work on the skills we struggled with. I shifted my mindset from comparison to growth. This shift extended beyond soccer. I learned to stop fearing failure and embrace mistakes as opportunities to grow. Balancing my workload with athletic commitments taught me to manage stress and prioritize tasks. More importantly, it taught me resilience, the ability to push through exhaustion and keep going, even when it felt like I couldn’t. As a sophomore now starting on varsity, I’m not just a better soccer player; I’m a better version of myself. Soccer has brought me closer to some of my favorite people. I understand now that life, like soccer, is about more than just the final score. It’s about how you handle challenges. Managing my time, overcoming self-doubt, and learning to balance my academic and athletic life have shaped me into someone who knows that persistence pays off. Through it all, soccer has been my greatest teacher, and I’m still learning each day.

Minecraft played a significant role in my childhood, being one of my favorite games to play as a child. It was one of the few things that brought my brother and me together, and we could laugh instead of yelling and screaming. One of my favorite memories is when we played together on our computers linked to the same world, so we could fight each other in the game. Looking back now, I realize that we probably turned to this game because we were allowed to fight in person. Before our grand fight, we would go into creative mode to get our armor and gear ready. My brother was much more tech-savvy with the game and knew how to craft and put extra sharpness and knockback on his sword while my gear was plain. After gathering our items, we created an arena made of obsidian with dim lighting for our grand battle. Once everything was ready, we would begin our fight. My game plan was to tame as many dogs as possible so that when I hit him, my stampede of loyal dogs would start to attack him. His tactic was to enchant his items to the max and place cobwebs at my feet to trap me so I couldn't move. It was time to fight, and it was a close match. He hit me in one shot, and it said "LittleTinkerBell was slain by BlueMan02jr." I was sad after all my hard work had gone down the drain but when we went downstairs he couldn't wait to talk to my parents. He walked over to my dad and couldn't stop talking about how I kicked his butt and how much better at Minecraft I was than him. I grinned as he talked to my dad knowing I was terrible at the game but made me feel good about myself. He is the best big brother I could ask for and now that we have grown up, we are friends but not best friends... yet. Every time Minecraft is brought up, this is the memory I think of, and it makes me giggle every single time.