I will never forget one lesson from my seventh-grade math class. We were studying probability and statistics, learning how to calculate percentages of a population using fractions. To help us understand, my math teacher conducted polls among the students. After each scenario, we would raise our hands if we fell into the group. Then, my teacher created fractions based on how many students raised their hands, which we converted into percentages. We were prompted with different scenarios, like “Raise your hand if you have a pet,” or “Raise your hand if you like broccoli.” Suddenly, I heard my teacher say: “Raise your hand if one of your parents has a four-year college degree.” I looked anxiously around the room as more and more of my peers’ hands shot up. A second later, my hand was the only one that wasn’t raised. Out of that twenty-student class, I was the only person who would become a first-generation student. Nineteen out of twenty students, 95% of the class, had parents with a college education. It was then that I realized I was different from my peers in my middle-class New Jersey suburb. At first, I was embarrassed to be the daughter of parents who lacked the modern equivalent of a standard education. But over time, I realized how incredible my parents were. They worked harder to make their lives successful so that they could provide for our family. My mom grew up modestly among her siblings. She decided against attending college for four years. Even so, she ventured her way through the business industry and found a stable career. My dad is an immigrant who moved to America as a teenager. He came here speaking hardly any English, with nothing more than the clothes on his back and his seven siblings. College was never an option for him. Yet through sheer diligence, he succeeded in his life. After recognizing how hard my parents have worked to triumph for themselves and our family, I am proud. I am proud of myself, too, for defying the odds and paving a path for myself to attend college. Through various extracurriculars, I have been able to explore my curiosities. At the beginning of my freshman year, I joined a club called HOSA — Health Occupations Students of America. I met driven, ambitious dreamers. I saw myself in them. HOSA provided me with invaluable knowledge, from time management skills to the understanding of the vastness of healthcare. Above all, my experiences with HOSA affirmed my belief that I wanted to be a healthcare worker. Although, it was not until I began volunteering at my local first aid squad that I was certain that I wanted to provide patient care. Working with people of all different backgrounds at their most vulnerable moments and receiving a glimpse into their life stories is a privilege. Being an EMT has shaped me more than any other extracurricular activity could: it has allowed me to dive into a field where I can gain real experience with real patients and real emergencies. Through other extracurriculars, like the Red Cross Club, Youth Climate Action Coalition, and even Jazz Band, I have not only certified my love for medicine, but also cultivated new hobbies and interests, like altruism, activism, and music. I would not be the person I am today had it not been for the opportunity to participate in these activities. I am privileged to be defiant of the odds for first-generation students. My background and interests make me the person I am today, and they will also shape the person I will become.