When musicians improvise together, they communicate without speaking. In jazz, every note depends on listening — not just hearing sound, but understanding emotion, timing, and intention in real time. I realized this during rehearsals and performances with ensembles at Florida State University, where the best moments never came from individual talent alone. They came from trust, attention, and genuine connection between people. In a world increasingly shaped by technology, I believe those qualities are becoming both harder to find and more important than ever. Technology has transformed the way we communicate. We can instantly text, FaceTime, or connect with people across the world, but convenience does not always create closeness. Many conversations now happen through screens where attention is divided and responses are rushed. People are more connected digitally than ever before, yet many still feel isolated. I think authentic human connection requires presence — the willingness to fully listen, respond thoughtfully, and understand someone beyond a surface interaction. Music taught me that connection is built through vulnerability and collaboration. As a trumpet player, I learned that performing well is not about overpowering everyone else; it is about supporting the group and adapting to the people around you. When I began organizing a small ensemble outside of school, I saw how relationships create opportunities for growth. Bringing musicians together meant more than simply scheduling rehearsals. It meant creating an environment where people trusted each other enough to take risks, make mistakes, and improve together. Those experiences showed me that meaningful relationships are often what push people toward their greatest potential. I have seen the same thing in research and healthcare settings. As an undergraduate research assistant studying proteasome biogenesis, I work in an environment where collaboration and mentorship are essential. Scientific progress depends on people sharing ideas openly and learning from one another. Likewise, while volunteering in healthcare settings, I noticed that patients often remember how they were treated emotionally just as much as medically. A doctor can have perfect technical knowledge, but if a patient does not feel heard or understood, an important part of care is missing. Because of this, I believe the future of human connection is not about rejecting technology, but about using it intentionally. Technology should support relationships rather than replace them. It can help people find communities, collaborate creatively, and maintain relationships across long distances, but genuine connection still depends on empathy, attentiveness, and shared experiences. Whether through music, research, medicine, or everyday conversation, people still want to feel understood. In the future, I hope to pursue a career as a physician-scientist where I can combine medicine, research, and mentorship. No matter how advanced technology becomes, human connection will remain central to those fields. Scientific discoveries improve lives, but relationships are what give those discoveries meaning. My experiences in music, research, and service have taught me that the strongest communities are built when people truly listen to one another — and that skill may be one of the most valuable things we can preserve moving forward.

For a long time, I thought leadership meant being the loudest person in the room. I thought leaders were the people giving speeches, taking charge immediately, or always appearing confident. As I have grown older, though, I have realized that leadership is often much quieter than that. Sometimes leadership looks like encouraging someone who is doubting themselves. Sometimes it looks like continuing to show up consistently even when things feel difficult. Other times, it simply means setting a standard through your actions rather than your words. I have learned a lot about leadership through balancing academics, research, athletics, and music. Most of my days begin before sunrise with a run while the rest of campus is still quiet. Running taught me discipline long before I fully understood what discipline actually meant. Some mornings feel easy, while others feel exhausting before they even begin, but I learned that growth rarely depends on motivation alone. It depends on consistency. That mindset slowly carried over into every other part of my life. As a biochemistry student involved in medical research, I have spent countless hours learning how to work through failure and uncertainty. I still remember my first experiences working in a research lab. I was intimidated by how experienced everyone around me seemed, and I worried constantly about making mistakes. Experiments failed repeatedly, and there were times when I questioned whether I truly belonged in environments as demanding as STEM and medicine. Over time, however, I realized that leadership is not about pretending to have all the answers. It is about remaining calm, continuing to learn, and helping others feel supported even when challenges arise. One of the biggest lessons I have learned is how powerful encouragement can be. In competitive academic environments, many students quietly struggle with self-doubt. Having mentors who encouraged me and challenged me to grow made an enormous difference in my confidence. Because of that, I try to approach leadership by helping create spaces where people feel comfortable asking questions, making mistakes, and improving without fear of embarrassment. I believe people grow the most when they feel supported rather than judged. Music has also shaped my understanding of leadership in a major way. As a trumpet player involved in jazz and classical performance, I have learned that no ensemble succeeds because of one person alone. Great performances happen because people trust each other, listen carefully, and work toward a shared goal. Jazz especially taught me adaptability and communication. Even during improvisation, musicians rely on one another constantly. That experience taught me that leadership is not about controlling others; it is about contributing positively to the people around you and helping the group succeed together. In the future, I hope to combine medicine and research in a way that allows me to serve both individuals and communities. I want to contribute to advancements in healthcare while also mentoring younger students who may feel intimidated pursuing STEM or medical careers. I know firsthand how overwhelming those environments can feel initially, and I want to help others feel capable of succeeding within them. To me, leadership is ultimately about responsibility. It is about showing up consistently, helping others grow alongside you, and remaining willing to learn no matter how much experience you gain. More than anything, I hope to be the kind of leader who makes people feel encouraged, supported, and capable of reaching goals they once doubted were possible.

Most of my days start before sunrise. I usually begin the morning with a run while the rest of the campus is still quiet. Running has become one of the most important parts of my life because it taught me discipline long before I fully understood what discipline actually meant. Some mornings I feel strong, and other mornings I feel exhausted before I even begin, but the run still has to happen. Over time, I realized that consistency matters more than motivation. That lesson has shaped almost every part of who I am as a student, athlete, musician, and aspiring physician. I am currently studying biochemistry while balancing research, music, and endurance training. My days often move from the lab to rehearsals to late nights studying, and while that schedule can be overwhelming at times, it has taught me how to manage pressure and continue growing even when things feel difficult. One of the biggest things athletics taught me is that progress rarely happens all at once. Improvement comes from showing up repeatedly, especially on days when no one else sees the effort. Family has also played a major role in shaping my goals and work ethic. I was raised in an environment where hard work and perseverance were expected, even when the path forward was uncertain. My family has always encouraged me to pursue opportunities that could create a better future, and that support pushed me to challenge myself academically and personally. As I continue preparing to transfer and pursue broader research opportunities, I have become even more intentional about the kind of future I want to build for myself. Outside of academics, music has been another major part of my life. As a trumpet player involved in jazz and classical performance, I have learned how much trust and communication matter when working with other people. Music taught me how to listen, adapt, and contribute to something larger than myself. Whether performing in an ensemble or conducting research in a lab, I have learned that meaningful work almost always depends on collaboration. My experiences in research are a large part of why I plan to pursue medicine in the future. Working in a lab studying proteasome biology introduced me to the connection between scientific discovery and patient care. I became fascinated by how microscopic processes inside cells can have major impacts on human health. Research challenged me intellectually, but it also taught me patience and resilience. Experiments fail constantly, and learning how to respond to failure without losing motivation has been one of the most valuable lessons I have gained so far. In the future, I hope to combine medicine and research in a way that allows me to directly impact people’s lives while also contributing to scientific advancements. I also hope to mentor younger students who may feel intimidated pursuing STEM or healthcare careers. I know how overwhelming competitive environments can feel at first, and I want to help create spaces where students feel encouraged instead of discouraged. Athletics, music, research, and academics have all shaped me differently, but together they have taught me the same core lesson: meaningful growth requires consistency, humility, and the willingness to keep moving forward even when progress feels slow. Those are the values I hope to carry into every part of my future.

I used to think bravery always looked dramatic. I pictured it as a single moment where someone steps forward without fear. Over time, though, I have started to see bravery differently. I think it often looks quieter than that. Sometimes it looks like continuing to show up even when you feel out of place, overwhelmed, or unsure if you belong in the room at all. As an African American student pursuing biochemistry and medical research, I have experienced that feeling many times. I still remember the first few weeks I spent working in a research lab. Everyone around me seemed confident and experienced, while I felt nervous to even ask questions because I did not want to sound unprepared. The experiments were difficult, and many of them failed before they worked. There were nights where I stayed in the lab frustrated, wondering whether I was actually capable of succeeding in STEM and medicine. At the same time, I kept coming back because I realized I genuinely loved the process of learning, improving, and trying to solve problems that could someday impact people’s lives. What kept me going was understanding that growth does not happen when things feel comfortable. It happens when you continue learning despite uncertainty. That mindset has shaped the way I approach service, leadership, and community. Sgt. Albert Dono Ware’s legacy reminds me that service is not only about personal achievement, but about using your experiences to help others move forward as well. As I became more confident in research, music, and academics, I began to realize how important mentorship and representation are for students entering spaces where they may not immediately see people who look like them. Sometimes the difference between someone giving up and continuing forward is simply having another person encourage them and remind them that they belong there too. I have seen how easily talented students begin to doubt themselves when opportunities feel inaccessible or unfamiliar. In competitive academic environments, many students quietly convince themselves they are less capable than the people around them. I understand that feeling because I have experienced it myself. Having mentors who challenged and encouraged me made an enormous difference in my confidence and growth, and it showed me how powerful support systems can be. That is one reason mentorship has become so important to me. Music has also deeply influenced my understanding of community and leadership. As a trumpet player involved in both jazz and classical performance, I have learned that no ensemble succeeds through individual talent alone. Everyone has to listen to each other, support one another, and work toward something larger than themselves. Jazz especially taught me the importance of trust and communication. Even during improvisation, musicians depend on one another constantly. I believe communities function the same way. Many of the challenges facing the African diaspora in the United States today, especially in education and healthcare, are rooted in disconnection: unequal access to opportunities, underfunded schools, limited mentorship, and environments where students are taught to doubt themselves before they even begin. One of the reforms I believe is most important is expanding access to mentorship, research opportunities, and community-based educational programs for students in underserved communities. Too many talented students are never exposed to careers in medicine, science, or research early enough to imagine themselves pursuing them. Schools, universities, community organizations, healthcare professionals, and policymakers all need to work together to create stronger pipelines that support students academically, financially, and emotionally. In healthcare specifically, I also believe communities need greater access to preventative care, mental health resources, and physicians who understand the cultural and economic realities many families face. Representation matters, but support systems matter just as much. In the future, I hope to combine medicine, research, and mentorship in a way that allows me to serve both individuals and communities. I want to contribute to treatments for complex diseases while also helping younger students feel less intimidated entering STEM and healthcare spaces. I know firsthand how powerful encouragement can be when someone is struggling to believe in themselves. To me, Sgt. Ware’s legacy is a reminder that service is ultimately about responsibility. It is about continuing to push forward not only for yourself, but for the people who may one day follow the path you helped create.

The first time I worked on an experiment completely on my own, I remember being terrified of making a mistake. Everyone around me seemed more experienced, more confident, and more certain that they belonged in research than I did. I spent hours double-checking every measurement and protocol because I was afraid of failing. Ironically, the experiment failed anyway. Instead of discouraging me, though, that experience became one of the reasons I fell in love with STEM. What drew me to science was not the idea of always getting the right answer, but the process of learning how to think through difficult problems. I became fascinated by how research could slowly uncover answers to questions that directly affect human health. As a biochemistry student conducting research in proteasome biology, I have studied how small cellular processes can influence major diseases. The deeper I became involved in research, the more I realized how powerful science can be when paired with persistence and curiosity. One challenge I have overcome is learning to feel comfortable in spaces that initially felt intimidating or unfamiliar. Pursuing STEM can sometimes feel overwhelming, especially when surrounded by highly accomplished students and researchers. Early on, I often questioned whether I was truly capable of succeeding in environments as demanding as research labs, advanced science courses, and competitive academic programs. Over time, however, I learned that growth in STEM comes from being willing to ask questions, make mistakes, and continue learning even when things feel difficult. Outside of science, music has also played a major role in shaping who I am. As a trumpet player involved in both jazz and classical performance, I have spent years learning discipline, collaboration, and communication. Music taught me how to stay calm under pressure and continue improving after setbacks, skills that translated directly into research and academics. More importantly, music reminded me that technical ability alone is not enough to truly connect with people. Whether in science or performance, empathy and communication matter. In the future, I hope to combine medicine and scientific research to contribute to treatments for complex diseases while also working directly with patients. I am especially interested in pursuing a path that allows me to bridge research and healthcare because I want scientific discoveries to feel personal and meaningful rather than distant concepts confined to a laboratory. I also hope to mentor younger students who may feel intimidated entering STEM fields. I know how easy it is to doubt yourself in competitive environments, and I want to help create spaces where students feel encouraged to grow, ask questions, and believe they belong. To me, STEM is not just about innovation or achievement. It is about improving lives, solving problems that matter, and helping people feel seen and supported in the process.

One of the moments that pushed me toward healthcare happened late at night in my research lab after an experiment failed for what felt like the tenth time. I remember feeling frustrated and exhausted, but instead of wanting to quit, I wanted to understand why things went wrong and how I could improve. That experience helped me realize that I genuinely enjoy solving difficult problems, especially when those problems have the potential to improve people’s lives. It was one of the moments that confirmed for me that I wanted to pursue a career in medicine and health science. I am currently studying biochemistry while conducting research focused on proteasome biology and cellular processes related to disease. Through this work, I have learned how even the smallest changes inside a cell can have major effects on the human body. Research taught me patience, persistence, and critical thinking, but it also showed me the importance of collaboration and mentorship. Some of the most meaningful parts of my experience have come from learning alongside others and slowly growing more confident in spaces that initially felt intimidating. At the same time, music has shaped me just as much as science has. As a trumpet player involved in jazz and classical performance, I have spent years learning how to listen carefully, communicate with others, and remain calm under pressure. Performing music taught me that technical skill alone is not enough to connect with people. The performances that leave the strongest impact are the ones where people feel emotion, trust, and understanding. I believe healthcare works the same way. Patients want someone who not only understands the science behind treatment, but also genuinely listens to them and cares about their experiences. One of the reasons I chose healthcare is because it combines nearly everything I value: lifelong learning, human connection, teamwork, and the opportunity to make a meaningful difference in someone’s life. I am especially interested in pursuing a career that combines patient care with medical research because I want to contribute to advancements in treating complex diseases while remaining connected to the people those discoveries are meant to help. In the future, I hope to make a difference not only through research and medicine, but also through mentorship and encouragement. Entering research and healthcare environments can feel overwhelming, especially for students who are unsure if they truly belong there. I want to help create spaces where people feel supported, capable, and heard. Whether through treating patients, contributing to scientific discoveries, or mentoring younger students, I hope my career allows me to improve lives in ways both large and small.

The first time I stayed in the lab past midnight, I remember staring at bands on a gel that did not look the way I expected. After weeks of troubleshooting, failed experiments, and second-guessing myself, I felt frustrated and exhausted. At the same time, though, I realized I genuinely loved the process. I loved that science demanded patience, creativity, and persistence. That moment helped solidify my desire to pursue medicine and research, not because the work was easy, but because I found purpose in trying to understand problems that could someday impact people’s lives. As someone entering higher education without a clear family roadmap for pursuing research or medicine, much of my journey has involved learning through trial and error. Many of the opportunities I now value most—research, mentorship, and scientific collaboration—initially felt intimidating because I did not grow up fully understanding how to access those spaces. I had to learn how to ask questions, seek out mentors, and place myself in environments where I was often inexperienced compared to those around me. Over time, that uncertainty became motivation. Instead of viewing myself as someone who did not belong, I began to see education as a way to create opportunities not only for myself, but also for the people who come after me. My experiences in proteasome biology research deepened that perspective. Studying how cellular mechanisms contribute to disease showed me how interconnected science and medicine truly are. I became fascinated by the idea that discoveries made at the molecular level could eventually influence treatments for patients facing serious illnesses. Research taught me resilience and humility because progress rarely happens immediately. Experiments fail, data can be confusing, and answers often lead to even more questions. Still, those challenges made me more certain that I want a career built around lifelong learning and problem-solving. At the same time, music has shaped the way I approach both science and medicine. As a trumpet player involved in jazz and classical performance, I have learned discipline, communication, and the importance of listening carefully to others. Performing also taught me how to remain calm under pressure and continue improving even after mistakes. In many ways, music and medicine share similar qualities: both require technical skill, collaboration, empathy, and trust. My hope is to eventually combine clinical medicine with research so I can contribute to advancements in treating complex diseases while remaining connected to patients directly. Beyond scientific contributions, I also hope to mentor younger students who may feel intimidated entering higher education or research environments. I know how overwhelming those spaces can initially feel, especially without a clear guide. Through my career, I want to help others feel that they belong in those spaces too.

What inspired me to pursue a career in medicine was realizing how deeply science can impact people’s lives. I have always been curious about how things work, especially in biology, but my experiences in research helped me understand that science is much more than memorizing concepts or running experiments. It is about asking questions that could eventually improve someone’s quality of life. Through my research studying proteasome biology and cellular processes, I became fascinated by how microscopic changes within cells can contribute to major diseases. Learning about these mechanisms made me want to pursue a career where I could help bridge the gap between scientific discovery and patient care. Research also taught me resilience and patience. Experiments often fail, and progress can take weeks or months, but those experiences showed me the importance of persistence and critical thinking. I found that I genuinely enjoy working through difficult problems and collaborating with others to better understand complex systems. Medicine appeals to me for similar reasons because it combines lifelong learning, teamwork, and the ability to make a direct difference in someone’s life. At the same time, my background in music has strongly influenced the kind of physician I hope to become. As a trumpet player involved in both classical and jazz performance, I have learned discipline, communication, and the importance of listening carefully to others. Music has shown me how meaningful human connection can be, whether through collaboration in an ensemble or performing for an audience. It also taught me how to remain calm under pressure and continue improving through consistent effort. I believe these qualities are just as important in medicine as scientific knowledge. Patients are not simply symptoms or diagnoses; they are people with fears, experiences, and stories that deserve empathy and understanding. In the future, I hope to combine medicine and research to contribute to advancements in treating complex diseases while also providing compassionate patient care. I am especially interested in pursuing opportunities that allow me to work in both clinical and research settings because I want to contribute to discoveries that can improve treatment options while staying connected to the patients those discoveries are meant to help. Beyond research and patient care, I also hope to mentor and encourage younger students who may not initially believe they belong in science or medicine. Through my career, I want to make a difference not only by treating illness, but by helping people feel heard, supported, and inspired.

One of the things that has always made me stand out is that I live in two completely different worlds that most people do not expect to overlap. On one side, I spend hours in a biomedical research lab studying proteasome biogenesis and protein assembly as a biochemistry student on the pre-med track. On the other side, I spend nights playing trumpet in jazz ensembles, practicing improvisation, and obsessing over recordings from musicians most people my age have never heard of. I have always been the person carrying both a lab notebook and a trumpet case everywhere I go. Growing up, that combination felt awkward at times because people often expected me to fit into one category or the other. In science spaces, people were surprised that I was deeply involved in music. In music spaces, people were surprised that I spent so much time focused on research and medicine. Even socially, I often felt different because while other people were relaxing, I was balancing rehearsals, late-night practice sessions, science labs, research meetings, and classes all at once. For a long time, I thought I had to choose between those parts of myself. I worried that being serious about music would make people question my commitment to science, or that pursuing medicine would somehow mean letting go of music. Over time, though, I realized the thing that made me feel awkward was actually one of my greatest strengths. Music and science are more connected than people realize. Both require discipline, creativity, and comfort with failure. In jazz, improvisation teaches you how to adapt in real time when things do not go as planned. Research works the same way. Experiments fail constantly, and you have to think critically, adjust, and try again. Music also taught me how to collaborate with others, communicate without words, and stay calm under pressure — all skills that are incredibly important in medicine and research. Another thing that makes me stand out is how intensely curious I can be. When I become interested in something, I dive into it completely. Whether it is studying molecular biology, listening to old jazz recordings for hours trying to transcribe solos, or learning new concepts in physics and chemistry, I genuinely enjoy pushing myself to understand things deeply. I know that level of focus can seem unusual, but it has helped shape who I am. As I have grown older, I have become grateful for the parts of myself that once felt awkward. They have helped me connect with different groups of people, approach problems creatively, and build resilience. Being different taught me that success does not come from perfectly fitting expectations. It comes from being willing to fully embrace what makes you unique and using it to positively impact others. In the future, I hope to combine my passions for science, medicine, and mentorship to help others feel more confident pursuing paths that may not look traditional. I want younger students to understand that they do not have to limit themselves to one identity or one talent. Sometimes the things that make you feel out of place are actually the things that set you apart in the best way possible.

Some of the most influential teachers in my life never only taught a subject. They taught confidence, discipline, and belief in what was possible. As a Black student pursuing science, medicine, and research, I have realized how powerful representation can be in education. Sometimes simply seeing someone who understands your background, your struggles, or your ambitions can completely change the way you view your future. That realization is a large part of why I hope to become an educator and mentor alongside my future career in medicine and biomedical research. I am currently a biochemistry student at Florida State University on the pre-med track, where I also conduct biomedical research focused on proteasome biogenesis and protein assembly. Research has shown me how important education truly is because every scientific breakthrough depends on people who are willing to teach, mentor, and guide the next generation. Whether in the laboratory, the classroom, or healthcare, I have learned that knowledge only becomes meaningful when it is shared in a way that uplifts others. Outside of STEM, music has also shaped the way I think about education. As a trumpet player performing in high-level jazz ensembles, I have experienced firsthand how mentorship can transform someone’s growth. Many of the most impactful moments in my development as a musician came from older musicians and teachers who challenged me while also believing in my potential. Those experiences taught me that education is not simply about delivering information; it is about helping people recognize abilities in themselves that they may not yet see. As a future physician-scientist, I plan to make a positive impact through education in several ways. First, I hope to mentor students from underrepresented backgrounds who are interested in STEM and medicine. Growing up, I did not often see Black male scientists, physicians, or researchers represented in the spaces I aspired to enter. That lack of representation can quietly make students question whether they truly belong. I want to help change that by becoming someone younger students can look to and relate to. I also hope to eventually teach in academic medicine or research settings. Medicine and science are constantly evolving, and educating future students and healthcare professionals is one of the most important ways to improve patient outcomes and scientific progress over time. I want to create learning environments where students feel encouraged to ask questions, think critically, and approach challenges with confidence rather than fear of failure. One of the biggest lessons I have learned through research and music is that growth rarely happens comfortably. Whether learning a difficult musical passage or troubleshooting failed experiments in the lab, progress requires patience, resilience, and support from others. As an educator and mentor, I hope to help students develop not only academically, but personally as well. I want students to leave my mentorship understanding that intelligence is not fixed and that perseverance often matters just as much as talent. Ultimately, I want my impact to extend beyond any single classroom, lab, or hospital. I hope to contribute to a future where more students from underrepresented backgrounds feel empowered to pursue careers in STEM, medicine, education, and research. If I can help even a few students believe in themselves more fully and pursue opportunities they once thought were out of reach, then I will know I have made a meaningful difference.

Growing up, I was always fascinated by the connection between science and human life. I wanted to understand not only how the body works, but also how scientific discoveries can directly improve the lives of others. That curiosity eventually led me to pursue biochemistry on the pre-med track at Florida State University, where I now combine my interests in medicine, research, and problem-solving through biomedical research. The more experience I gain in STEM, the more certain I become that I want to spend my life contributing to both scientific discovery and patient care. Currently, I conduct research focused on proteasome biogenesis and protein assembly using yeast models. Through this work, I have learned how deeply interconnected research and medicine truly are. Even small discoveries at the molecular level can eventually contribute to treatments for diseases such as cancer and neurodegenerative disorders. Working in research has strengthened my analytical thinking, resilience, and ability to adapt when experiments fail or produce unexpected results. It has also shown me that meaningful scientific progress often comes from persistence and collaboration rather than immediate success. In the short term, my goals are to continue expanding my research experience, excel academically, and prepare for medical school while remaining involved in scientific and musical communities on campus. Long term, I hope to become a physician-scientist who combines patient care with biomedical research. I want to contribute to medical advancements while also serving patients directly, especially communities that are historically underserved or underrepresented in healthcare and STEM fields. Being an underrepresented minority in STEM has strongly influenced my goals and perspective. Growing up in an immigrant household, I often felt pressure to navigate opportunities independently while balancing cultural expectations and academic ambition. In many advanced science and research settings, I have noticed the lack of representation from students who share similar backgrounds to mine. Rather than discouraging me, that realization has motivated me to work harder and create opportunities not only for myself, but also for younger students who may not initially see themselves represented in medicine or scientific research. Representation matters because it changes what people believe is possible for themselves. I want to help mentor students from underrepresented backgrounds and show them that careers in medicine, research, and STEM are achievable. I know how important it can be to see someone with a similar story succeeding in spaces where people like you are often overlooked. This scholarship would significantly help relieve the financial pressure that comes with balancing higher education, research involvement, and preparation for medical school. As a student involved in demanding coursework and laboratory research, financial support would allow me to focus more fully on academic and professional development opportunities rather than the constant stress of educational expenses. It would help cover costs such as tuition, research-related expenses, conference opportunities, and academic materials that are essential to continuing my growth in STEM. More importantly, this scholarship would represent an investment in my future goals as both a scientist and future physician. I want to use my education not only to advance scientific understanding, but also to positively impact the lives of others through compassionate care, mentorship, and meaningful research.

At 3:00 in the morning, I was sitting in an airport terminal after my flight home from California had been delayed for hours. I had gone there for a trumpet audition, carrying a suit bag in one hand and my trumpet in the other, trying to balance my ambitions in music with the reality of college classes and research waiting for me back in Florida. By the time I finally landed, I had barely slept, but a few hours later I was sitting in class and then heading to the lab because I knew falling behind was not an option. That moment may not seem dramatic from the outside, but it represented something much bigger for me. Growing up, I learned early that if I wanted opportunities, I would have to create them for myself and fully commit to them, even when things became exhausting or uncertain. Coming from a non-traditional family background taught me independence at a young age. There was never room for excuses or waiting for perfect circumstances. I learned to adapt, stay disciplined, and continue moving forward regardless of setbacks. Balancing academics, biomedical research, and high-level music has often meant making sacrifices that many people do not see. While other students may spend breaks relaxing, I am often traveling for performances, rehearsing late into the night, studying for science exams, or working in the lab. As a biochemistry student on the pre-med track at Florida State University, I conduct research studying proteasome biogenesis and protein assembly in yeast models. Research has taught me patience and resilience because experiments fail constantly before progress is made. Music has taught me discipline, collaboration, and how to perform under pressure. Together, those experiences have shaped the way I approach challenges in every area of my life. One of the biggest lessons my upbringing taught me is that perseverance means continuing even when nobody is watching. It means showing up tired, uncertain, or overwhelmed and still giving your best effort because your future depends on it. Sitting in that airport, I realized that every opportunity I pursue carries the responsibility of making the sacrifices behind it meaningful. That mindset now drives the way I approach my future. I hope to become a physician-scientist who combines patient care with biomedical research. I want to contribute to discoveries that improve treatments for diseases while also becoming the kind of doctor who understands how deeply compassion and encouragement can affect someone during difficult moments in life. My experiences have shown me that resilience is not built through comfort, but through learning how to continue despite obstacles. In the future, I also hope to mentor younger students who may come from backgrounds similar to mine. Many students grow up believing that certain careers, schools, or opportunities are out of reach because they do not see people around them pursuing those paths. I want to help change that by showing others that it is possible to succeed through discipline, consistency, and belief in yourself even when circumstances are difficult. That night in the airport did not define my future by itself, but it reflected the mindset that now shapes everything I do: keep moving forward, stay committed to your goals, and make every sacrifice count.

When I first began working in a biomedical research lab, I expected science to feel precise and predictable. Instead, I quickly learned that meaningful progress often comes from persistence through failure. Experiments failed, results contradicted expectations, and some days ended with more questions than answers. Rather than discouraging me, those moments strengthened my desire to pursue medicine and scientific research because they taught me that making a difference requires patience, resilience, and a willingness to continue learning. To me, that is what it means to “B Moore.” As a biochemistry student at Florida State University on the pre-med track, I hope to become a physician-scientist who combines patient care with biomedical research. Currently, I conduct research studying proteasome biogenesis and protein assembly using yeast models. Through this work, I have learned how discoveries made at the molecular level can eventually contribute to treatments for diseases such as cancer and neurodegenerative disorders. Research has shown me that medicine is not only about treating patients in the present, but also about improving the future of healthcare through innovation and discovery. Outside the laboratory, music has shaped the way I approach leadership and service. As a trumpet player performing in high-level jazz ensembles, I have learned the importance of collaboration, discipline, and listening to others. In jazz, no performance succeeds because of one person alone. Every musician contributes, adapts, and supports the group in real time. I carry that same mindset into research and hope to bring it into medicine: great outcomes happen when people work together with empathy and purpose. I plan to “Be More” by using both science and compassion to create a lasting impact on others. I want to contribute to medical research that improves patient outcomes while also becoming the kind of physician who treats people with dignity and understanding during difficult moments in their lives. Brian Moore’s story reminds me that behind every illness is a person whose experience can be profoundly shaped by the care, dedication, and humanity of those around them. Through my education, I hope to continue growing not only as a scientist, but also as someone capable of uplifting others through service, mentorship, and innovation. Whether through research discoveries, patient care, or community outreach, I want my work to leave people healthier, more hopeful, and better supported than before.