At thirteen, back in Egypt, I was calling suppliers, printing receipts, and learning how to keep both fish and a small business alive. I sold pet birds, fish, and supplies; bred the animals; promoted my business on social media; and made a profit. Behind each sale were market trips to find better deals and hours studying species, diets, and nesting requirements. My customers depended on knowledge I had to earn. At sixteen, I turned another skill into a service: teaching children video editing. I had developed my abilities through YouTube videos, paid editing work, and district competitions. Teaching required a different skill set. I planned lessons, prepared projects, created engaging games, managed students, and marketed through parents’ group chats, Facebook groups, and word of mouth. Collecting payment was challenging, especially when parents questioned whether someone my age could deliver a legitimate service. Positive feedback mattered because it meant I was beginning to earn their trust. Now, I want to build CrocTek: a marketplace offering ready-made, browser-based software alongside a human-led custom development service. My goal is to help local businesses access useful technology without needing an internal software team. A customer could purchase an existing tool or work with an engineer and a data analyst to explain a problem and commission a solution. I want those conversations to begin with the business: What takes too much time? Where do errors happen? What improvement would justify the cost? The resulting tool should address a measurable need. My plan is to start with a narrow service offering, interview local business owners, and identify recurring problems that can be addressed through manageable projects. I would charge for clearly scoped custom work and make suitable, reusable tools available through the marketplace. Starting small would let me learn what customers actually value before expanding. My progress includes developing ScanBro, an inventory application, and working on FreshGuard, a food-quality monitoring prototype. These projects are opportunities to practice translating problems into tools, testing assumptions, and improving designs. These experiences are helping me build the technical judgment I will bring to CrocTek’s first customers. CrocTek’s intended distinction is the combination of accessible software and personal problem-solving. Customers would have someone who listens, explains tradeoffs, and helps determine whether a custom tool is worth building. My early businesses taught me that understanding the customer and delivering reliably are essential to earning repeat business. I anticipate challenges in customer acquisition, pricing, project scope, and ongoing support. I would especially value mentorship in validating demand, writing service agreements, and building a sustainable business model. I have learned that creating something and knowing how to sell and support it are separate responsibilities. I plan to use AI to assist with code drafts, documentation, test cases, and marketing. Human review would remain essential: engineers must verify functionality, protect customer information, and take responsibility for what they deliver. My Engineering Science studies at Middlesex College strengthen the mathematical reasoning and problem-solving skills behind this work. I want to apply that education to a practical service: helping business owners spend less time struggling with inefficient processes and more time serving their customers. From selling fish to teaching editing to developing software, my ambition has grown alongside the responsibility to deliver something useful.

I was eight years old when my father woke me up early on Eid al-Adha and asked me to come with him. He was carrying more than forty kilograms of meat. At the time, I did not understand why we were going from house to house delivering it to people I did not know. Years later, I learned who those families were: mothers and children whose husbands had been absent, leaving them without the support they normally depended on. My father knew that meat was expensive and difficult for many of these women to obtain, especially during a holiday when every family hoped to celebrate with a proper meal. He refused to let them go without it. I remember the weight of those bags. What stayed with me even more was that my father never treated what he was doing as extraordinary. He simply saw people who needed help and believed that, because he could help, he should. That became one of the earliest definitions of selflessness I ever learned. As I grew older, I began trying to live by the same principle in my own way. I have tutored students in math and science, not just to help them finish assignments, but to help them become confident enough to solve the next problem themselves. At my mosque, I have volunteered with Sunday school, food-distribution events, and youth activities. In high school, I founded the Senior Tech Aid Club after noticing how easily older adults can be excluded by technology that younger generations take for granted. I wanted students to use what they already knew to give senior citizens more independence. I have also volunteered remotely as a video editor for H-Funds, a nonprofit supporting Ukrainian refugees in Moldova. I could not travel there in person, but I had a skill the organization could use. That taught me another version of the same lesson my father showed me years earlier: helping someone does not require wealth or authority. Sometimes it simply requires asking, “What do I have that could be useful?” My own path has required perseverance. My family immigrated from Egypt, my father has remained overseas, and delays in immigration paperwork complicated my path to college. Because our asylum case is still pending, I have limited access to traditional financial aid. I work while attending school, help my mother with household expenses, and pursue Engineering Science while preparing to transfer into biomedical engineering. Those challenges have made me appreciate the people who have helped me along the way even more. They have also strengthened my belief that success carries responsibility. I want my future work as an engineer to follow the same principle I learned that Eid morning. Whether I am helping a student understand a difficult concept, helping an older adult use technology, supporting my family, or someday developing medical technology that improves someone’s life, I want what I build to matter beyond myself. I was eight years old when I helped my father carry those bags of meat. At the time, I thought he was teaching me how to carry something heavy. I understand now that he was teaching me who to carry it for.

I came to the United States from Alexandria, Egypt, during high school, carrying a future I could not yet see clearly. My family did not arrive with wealth, connections, or a perfect plan. We arrived with uncertainty, hope, and the need to rebuild. In New Jersey, I continued my education while living in an overcrowded apartment with my family, trying to learn a new school system, overcome language barriers, adapt to a new country, and become useful quickly. I was still a teenager, but I understood early that education was not just about grades for me. It was a path toward dignity, stability, and the ability to help the people I love. As a low-income, asylee student, pursuing higher education in America has never been simple. College is not only an academic challenge; it is also a financial, immigration, and family challenge. There have been moments when I worked hard, built a strong record, and still felt as if my future depended on paperwork, aid policies, and doors that were not designed for students like me. That has been painful, but it also taught me something important: I cannot wait for perfect conditions to begin building. So I started building anyway. In school, I pushed myself through rigorous courses such as AP Biology and AP Calculus and developed a deep interest in biomedical engineering. I became fascinated by the idea that science could leave the textbook and become something useful: a diagnostic tool, a medical device, a lab system, or a technology that gives someone more time, mobility, safety, or understanding. That is the kind of work I want to spend my life doing. Outside the classroom, I began turning my curiosity into projects. While working in a clinical laboratory environment, I saw how much healthcare depends on accuracy, documentation, traceability, and communication. From those observations, I built ScanBro, a lab inventory and operations tool designed to improve purchasing review, QC visibility, shipment proof, audit history, and supervisor workflows. I also developed early biomedical ideas such as FingerClip, a concept to help protect and preserve severely injured fingers before medical treatment, and FreshGuard, a freshness- and safety-focused device concept to reduce food waste in fridges worldwide. These projects are still growing, but they represent the way I think: hardship should not only be endured; it should be converted into useful work. The person who inspires me most is my father. When I was young, I watched him quietly serve families in need, even though we didn't have much. One Eid morning, he carried heavy bags of meat from home to home for families whose fathers were absent or imprisoned. At the time, I did not fully understand the sacrifice. Years later, I realized that he was teaching me what success really means. Success is not only about escaping difficulty. It is becoming strong enough to ease others' difficulties. After graduation, I plan to become a biomedical engineer and build medical and life-science technologies that improve healthcare access, laboratory efficiency, and patient dignity. I want to create tools that help clinics, labs, families, and underserved communities. My long-term dream is to build companies and institutions that make science more useful, affordable, and humane. This scholarship would do more than help me pay for college. It would protect the path I have been fighting to build. It would give me more room to focus on my education, continue developing my projects, and move closer to becoming the kind of engineer, inventor, and servant-leader my family and community need.

I plan to make a positive impact on the world by building tools, opportunities, and systems that make people's lives easier when they are carrying more than they can explain. I learned the importance of service first from my family. Growing up in Alexandria, Egypt, I saw my father quietly help people, without waiting for recognition. One Eid morning, when I was young, he carried heavy bags of meat from home to home for families whose fathers were absent or imprisoned. At the time, I did not fully understand why he was doing it. I only knew he was giving away something valuable that many people would have kept for themselves. Years later, I understood the lesson: real impact is not always loud. Sometimes it is simply noticing who is struggling and refusing to walk past them. That lesson followed me when I moved to the United States. My family lived in an overcrowded apartment while I tried to rebuild my education, learn a new system, and prepare for college. Instead of letting hardship make me bitter, I tried to let it make me useful. I taught younger students through Sunday school, tutored classmates, and founded the Senior Tech Aid club at my school to help older adults (unfortunately, my school didn't support it at the end), and used video editing to support nonprofit work, including projects connected to Ukrainian refugees in Moldova. Service taught me that people do not always need someone impressive. Sometimes they need someone patient, present, and willing to help. My long-term goal is to become a biomedical engineer and build technologies that improve healthcare access, safety, and dignity. I am especially drawn to problems where science can become a practical rescue. I have developed early biomedical ideas such as FingerClip, a concept to help protect and preserve severely injured fingers before medical treatment, and FreshGuard, a freshness- and safety-focused device concept to limit food waste in fridges. I also built ScanBro, a lab inventory and operations tool designed to improve traceability, QC visibility, purchasing review, shipment proof, and supervisor workflows after seeing real problems inside a clinical lab environment. These projects are still early, but they represent the kind of impact I want to have. I do not want to build technology only for people who already have every advantage. I want to build for the worker who gets injured far from a hospital, the family that needs clearer health information, the lab team that needs safer systems, and the student who needs someone to make science feel possible. To me, ambition is not just wanting a successful career. Ambition is wanting to become strong enough to carry responsibility well. I want to use education, engineering, and service to create tools that reduce fear, save time, improve care, and open doors for others. I want to become the kind of person who can look at a problem and ask, "How can I make this easier for someone else?" My positive impact will not come from one single invention or one single act of service. It will come from a life built around usefulness. If I am allowed to continue my education, I will use it to become more capable, more generous, and more prepared to serve communities that need both compassion and innovation.

Science first captured me because it made the world feel readable. When I was younger, I did not only want to know that the heart beats or cells divide. I wanted to understand why. I wanted to know how invisible processes could create movement, pain, healing, memory, disease, and life itself. That curiosity followed me from Alexandria, Egypt, to NJ, where I continued building my future from a small desk in an overcrowded apartment. Science became more than a subject to me. It became a language. When life felt uncertain, science gave me a way to ask better questions. When my family faced hardship, science gave me a direction. When I entered a clinical laboratory environment and saw how much healthcare depends on accuracy, documentation, communication, and trust, science became even more personal. I began to understand that science is not only what happens in textbooks. It is what allows a patient to trust a result, a family to understand a diagnosis, and a community to make safer decisions. I am especially fascinated by biomedical engineering because it sits at the border between knowledge and rescue. A biology concept can become a diagnostic test. A mechanical design can become a brace. A software tool can make a laboratory safer and more efficient. A medical device can preserve independence or time with family. That is the kind of science I want to pursue: science that leaves the textbook and becomes useful in someone’s life. Beyond the classroom, I have worked to turn curiosity into creation. I earned strong results in AP Biology and AP Calculus, explored electronics and programming through Raspberry Pi and ESP32 projects, and began developing biomedical ideas such as FingerClip, a concept for helping protect and preserve severely injured fingers before medical treatment. I also built ScanBro, a lab inventory and operations tool designed to improve traceability, QC visibility, purchasing review, shipment proof, and supervisor workflows after I saw real problems inside a lab environment. But I do not believe science is complete if only experts can understand it. That belief led me to create biology animations and educational videos through BioVerse Studios. It also shaped my service: teaching younger students through Sunday school, tutoring classmates, and using video editing to support nonprofit work, including projects connected to Ukrainian refugees in Moldova. At first, these may seem like separate forms of service, but to me, they are connected by one belief: knowledge should not stay locked behind experts, expensive schools, or complicated language. Science loses power when people feel it is too distant from their lives. That is why scientific literacy matters. When people do not trust science, they may ignore health information, misunderstand technology, reject evidence, or become vulnerable to fear and misinformation. But when science is explained with patience and humanity, it becomes empowering. A student can begin to see themselves as a future researcher. A patient can better understand their care. A family can make wiser health decisions. A community can become harder to mislead. As I prepare to study Biomedical Engineering at NJIT, I want to become the kind of scientist-engineer who not only builds devices, but also builds trust. I want to create medical technologies, explain them clearly, and help make them accessible to the people who need them most. To me, advocating for science means standing between complexity and the public and saying: “This matters, and you are capable of understanding it.” Science gave me a way to turn hardship into purpose. Now I want to use science to help others see possibility where they once saw confusion, fear, or limitation.

My definition of the American dream is not simply becoming rich, famous, or comfortable. To me, the American dream is the chance to turn struggle into service. I moved to the United States from Alexandria, Egypt, in 2023. Like many immigrant students, I came with ambition, but also with uncertainty. My family lived in an overcrowded apartment with my retired grandparents. Money was tight, transportation was difficult, and I had to adjust to a new school system, a new culture, and a new language. At times, it felt like I was starting life again from zero. But I did not want my story to be only about hardship. I wanted it to be about what I did with hardship. In that small apartment, I turned a corner desk into my laboratory. I taught myself engineering, programming, electronics, design, and video editing. I built projects, worked on biomedical device ideas, created educational biology content, and began developing ScanBro, a laboratory inventory and traceability tool inspired by real workflow problems I observed while working in a healthcare laboratory (Hims & Hers Inc.). I am now preparing to study Biomedical Engineering at NJIT, where I hope to keep building technology that connects medicine, engineering, and human needs. Service has always been part of that dream. I taught Arabic and helped younger students through Sunday school. I edited videos for nonprofit work supporting Ukrainian refugees in Moldova. I tutored students, supported classmates, and tried to use whatever skills I had, language, technology, teaching, or design, to make someone else’s life easier. That is why I do not define the American dream as “making it” alone. If I succeed but forget the people around me, then I have misunderstood the opportunity I was given. My dream is to become the kind of engineer, researcher, and founder who can build medical devices, create jobs, support students, help families, and one day fund schools, hospitals, and community institutions. Being a non-citizen student has made the path harder. Financial aid is more complicated. Some doors close before I even get to prove myself. But those barriers have also taught me to become resourceful. I learned to apply for scholarships, work, build projects, ask for mentorship, and keep moving even when the system feels uncertain. To me, the American dream is not a guarantee. It is a responsibility. It is the freedom to become someone useful. It is waking up every day and asking, “How can I turn what I have been through into something that helps others?” My American dream is to become living proof that a student can come from a crowded apartment, from immigration uncertainty, from financial hardship, and still build something meaningful not just for himself, but for his family, his community, and the people who come after him.

When I moved from Alexandria, Egypt, to Jersey in 2023, I felt like I had arrived in a place I knew only through movies. Growing up, America was where Spider-Man swung between skyscrapers, where the streets of New York never slept, and where possibility seemed endless. But when I finally arrived, reality looked different. My family was living in an overcrowded apartment with my retired grandparents. Money was tight. I was adapting to a new language, a new school system, and an entirely different culture. At first, I felt out of place. Then New Jersey slowly became home. The more I explored, the more I fell in love with the state. I spent weekends playing soccer at Rahway River Park, hiking through Duke Farms, fishing at Lake Hopatcong, playing chess at the Woodbridge Public Library, and enjoying the beaches along the Jersey Shore. I began to understand why so many people loved this place. Sometimes I envy those who grew up here. Yet that feeling quickly turns into gratitude. New Jersey welcomed me when I was trying to rebuild my life. The apartment where my family lived was small, crowded, and noisy, but it became the foundation of my future. A tiny desk in the corner became my laboratory. There, I taught myself electronics using ESP32s and Raspberry Pis. I edited videos for nonprofits, created biology animations, and explored engineering projects late into the night. I learned to make the most of every square foot available to me. Over time, those small daily efforts grew into opportunities I never imagined. I became a QuestBridge Finalist, worked in laboratory operations at Hims & Hers Health, participated in research experiences, attended meetings with university researchers, competed in engineering competitions, started developing my own software platform, and began pursuing patents for inventions designed to improve safety and healthcare. The greatest lesson New Jersey taught me is that success does not depend on where you start. Innovation can begin at a small desk in a crowded apartment just as easily as it can begin in a world-famous laboratory. This fall, I will attend NJIT to study Biomedical Engineering. My goal is to bridge medicine and technology to create devices that improve lives and make healthcare more accessible. One day, I hope to build a medical technology company and bring meaningful innovations to patients around the world. This scholarship would help me continue that journey. It would allow me to focus more of my energy on learning, research, and building solutions that can serve others. Alexandria will always be part of who I am. It holds my childhood, my family history, and many of my happiest memories. But New Jersey gave me something equally important: the opportunity to grow into the person I want to become. And perhaps one day, a technology that improves healthcare for thousands of people will trace its origins not to a famous university lab, but to a small corner desk in a crowded New Jersey apartment.