Just as some may say, coming from a single-parent and low-income household has shown me how to be strong, accountable, and even self-sufficient when facing challenges. Nevertheless, the greatest lesson I could have ever learned from my mother was the importance of consistent advocacy. Coming from a young, single-parent, and low-income household, we didn't have the best healthcare in our area. This became a significant problem as I suffered from chest pains and shortness of breath, but I was written off as having anxiety or puberty. However, these pains persisted, leaving me to believe they couldn't be as simple as puberty or anxiety; neither did my mother. She spent hours away from work, repeatedly expressing our concerns to anyone who'd listen, and eventually, I was seen by a cardiologist. Only because of my mother's consistent advocacy was my life saved. This trait has been my rock; if she can fight for not only herself but her loved ones, then I can do it too. In this, I advocated for the SAVE Promise Club in my high school, guaranteeing funding for the next year after I graduated. I worked with my tennis team to build awareness about the dangers of our courts, gaining the attention of our athletic director. These may seem small to anyone else, but being able to apply the lessons from my mother to my community, it gave me strength. Using this strength, I'm a first-year student at the University of Massachusetts- Amherst, volunteering at the campus urgent care, studying the Psychology and Pre-Medical majors in hopes of becoming a pediatric cardiologist, supporting children in low-income rural areas with little medical access. I want to help rebuild the healthcare system that listens when a child advocates for their pain, without invalidating their pain, and effectively treating them.

Before my own personal challenges influenced and inspired me to pursue a career in medicine, my mother was the first to inspire me. She had plans to go straight from high school into college to later become a nurse, but became pregnant with me and had to put her dreams on hold to become a teenage single parent, with little support from our family. Yet, she didn't let me stop her from following her dreams. I just put her on a little side-quest, and later I got to witness her graduate from trade school and become an RN. She never let her child, money, or even work stop her from pursuing her career in medicine. However, being the daughter of a low-income single parent had its own challenges that led me to my dreams today. For about a third of my life, I didn't have a relationship with my father, and then when he did finally show up, our relationship didn't grow much. However, I held my head high and tried and tried and tried to reach for him, but it always seemed I wasn't good enough. But that's not what this is about. While it seemed my dad had no obligations to be my emotional support, he had no choice but to be a part of my financial support, especially regarding my healthcare. Yet, whenever I truly desperately needed him for simple things, such as health insurance, the check would always bounce back to my mom, leaving her with a massive bill and me with little treatment, such as my inhalers. I thought this would change over time as my father began to have my siblings and finally seemingly began to mature. However, this wasn't true; just recently, I had believed each medical bill was properly being sent to my father, and we were just receiving copies of each bill. It wasn't until I went to an orthodontist appointment, where they informed me that no co-pay had been signed and paid, and if I wanted the appointment, I would need to pay at least half of it upfront that same day. I called and called my dad, with no answer, and in the end, I ended up paying for it myself. I drained my savings because my father hadn't been properly taking care of any medical bill and in turn, he wasn't taking care of me. I then understood a piece of how my mother felt all those years covering for my father, and I decided then and there that no single parent should ever feel the way my mother did, and a child should never feel the way I felt that day. I aspire to become a pediatric cardiologist who supports rural and low-income families. I want children to receive the medical care they need, regardless of its severity, without worrying about their financial status. I never want a child, parent, or family to wonder if they or their child will forever have to suffer due to the negligence of another or the affordability of treatment.

My "pie in the sky" isn't unheard of and pretty common, but to me it feels like an impossible goal, one I won't stop working towards until I physically can't anymore. I want to become a pediatric cardiologist who works in rural, low-income communities, and eventually, I would like to reach a point in my career where I can open cardiovascular centers either in local hospitals that lack them or create them on my own. Before anything else, I have to finish my undergraduate degree at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. While I'm expected to graduate in 2029, I plan to work as hard as I can to graduate at least a semester early. In this early graduation, I want to take the time to focus on studying for the MCAT. With extra time, I plan to work and volunteer to both build my bank account and build my resume, as the next step will be to apply and be accepted into Medical School, hopefully Tufts University, which is neither cheap for a low-income household nor easy. I want to pursue such a path because I want children to not only find results to their pains, but also trust the healthcare system without exception. I want children in low-income communities to have an easier time getting access to cardiology, unlike the experience I had. When I was a child, I became vastly mistrustful of my healthcare system. For over 3 months, I was told the chest pains I would describe as a hundred weights weighing on my chest, the countless emergency rooms my mother constantly had to bring me to, only to be disregarded and labeled as anxiety due to me entering puberty. It wasn't until one appointment that my mother strongly advocated for me to be seen by anyone necessary to truly identify what this pain I was experiencing was, because she wouldn't accept that her child was only going through anxiety that would shake her so severely awake at night. Through her advocacy, we got an appointment with a cardiologist; however, not only did we have to wait weeks for an appointment, but we also had to drive more than an hour and a half away to be seen, costing my mother both time and money, and as a single mother, time and money encompassed our lives and made the world go round. Later, we discovered that I had a heart murmur; it wasn't just anxiety. I believe assisting, helping, and saving children should never be like a "Pie in the Sky," yet it's the process of getting there that will be such a challenge. Regardless of how difficult a challenge it may be, I plan to strive forward. My dream is to help as many children as I can; nothing is going to stop that from happening, and I'm not saying it'll be easy because, of course, it won't, but I have support and a dream, I can reach that "pie in the sky," and once I reach it, I will enjoy it.

I've been pondering what and how to talk about myself. I feel like telling you about myself is both simple and very complex. On the one hand, I believe myself to be a very interesting person, and on the other, I feel that my life has been no different from that of any other female teenager. I come from two homes, my mother's, where I'm an only child, and my father's, where I'm the eldest of two younger siblings. In one house, I'm expected to be quiet and keep to myself most of the time, or to be cuddly and extremely close to my mom, which, of course, I am; we basically grew up and navigated the world with just the two of us. In the other house, I'm expected to be the third parent, only called upon when my younger siblings need anything, and of course, I always try to provide that anything I can. However, under so many expectations, I started to forget who I was; I felt like I couldn't be myself within either of my homes. Some days I wanted to be quiet in both homes, yet I was accused of shutting myself off and being disconnected from one family, and other times I wanted to be loud and spontaneous, yet I was then called over-dramatic or "too much." So I began playing the character of anyone or anything anyone needed from me, and for a while, that made me happy; I could please everyone. In doing this, I learned to be a listener, and thank God for this trait I developed, or else I would have continued to follow the pack; I would've continued to block out my brother's cry for help. I could've written about how expectations shaped me, but as for my education and career choices, it was my little brother who shaped them. He, to put it bluntly, was the black sheep of our family and would constantly lash out, becoming very defensive and aggressive whenever anyone seemed to disregard him, and for a time, I was like this too. I didn't realize that was his cry for help. That is, until I genuinely sat down with him and reasoned with him. That day was the calmest I had ever seen him; he cleaned his room without a fuss, he didn't talk back, he asked me questions, and he genuinely just talked to me as a child should. However, I was only visiting my dad's house that day, and after a week, I went back, and it seemed he had reverted to his old self and began showing the same aggression again. While I have a few desires on where to be in the medical field, my brother lit this flame under me to possibly become a child psychologist. I want to be a constant in any child's life to ensure they don't revert to aggression to be heard or feel seen. I want to be a child psychologist based in rural low-income communities, supporting children whose parents don't have the resources to provide them with therapeutic help, avoiding what happened with my family. While I couldn't completely provide this help to my little brother, I want to be able to do it for others. I believe that helping children in situations like my brother's and mines, it will prevent such aggression or identity issues later into adolescence and therefore protect the child's adulthood, creating a new generation of individuals ready to healthily communicate not only their feelings, but also how to make sure people hear and really see them.

I'm a college student who had to overcome the fear of going to the doctor. Regardless of my pain or discomfort, I wait until the very last minute to even imagine going to the doctor's office. This fear sprouted from my middle school era; I would often get these horrible chest pains that would flare randomly, whether it was the middle of the night, the beginning of school, or on the car ride to the gas station, my chest would randomly feel like a million pounds were sitting on me. The first couple of times it happened, it woke me from my sleep, and I told my mother, and we went off to the emergency room. However, the emergency staff didn't attend to me right away, and because I saw almost no one in the waiting room, I thought they didn't care about me. These thoughts were only encouraged when I was finally seen, and the doctor who was attending to me said it was probably just anxiety and that I should take a few deep breaths. But this doctor wasn't listening when I told him I couldn't breathe! He sent my mother and me on our way home, and while the pain wasn't as intense, it was definitely still present. I eventually did get the help I needed. After months of advocating for myself, we finally got an appointment with a cardiologist, who discovered I had a mild to severe heart murmur, which was causing the vast majority of my chest pains. While this all happened years ago, it left a lasting impact on my image of doctors. I would genuinely suffer and make every situation worse before even setting foot in a doctor's office. It wasn't until I had to go alone for a physical that I met an amazing pediatric nurse, who felt my fear. She moved slowly, listened to me, and even asked me questions that seemed to have nothing to do with my physical. She treated me as a human being, and slowly I began to share my small concerns with her after she reassured me that I was in a safe space, that what I was going through was real, and that she wanted to know about it all. Both experiences became my guiding light to my current aspirations; I want to become a pediatric cardiologist. I want to inspire children, adolescents, and teenagers to know that if they're hurting in any way, shape, or form, the minimum that needs to be done is to come to the doctor's office, tell someone what's going on, and be seen. I want them to know that the smallest ouch and boo-boo deserves to be seen, and it's okay to be seen. I want to be what that nurse was for me; however, I want to go beyond just being a great nurse. I want to be a readily available pediatric cardiologist, based in a rural, low-income community, such as the one I grew up in. Being in such a community was part of the reason it felt like ages to finally be seen by a cardiologist, since there were none available in my community. Becoming part of the rural pediatric cardiologist community will help address the approximately 86% of American counties without access to a cardiologist. I want to be the cardiologist who provides answers, who gives others a sense of relief by finding the problem, building a solution, and being ready to monitor any individual's concerns, rebuilding individuals' trust in our healthcare system.

Ever since I was a little kid, I've always been a listener. I never had much to talk about, so I'd listen to everyone else. That's been my superpower: listening to my family and friends' stories. I think this has a major impact on people's mental health, having someone there to listen to them. My little brother is a prime example of this, someone who struggles with many, many, many things, yet has no one to listen to him, and in turn he "acts out" but it is just a cry for help, a cry for attention, for someone to show him he is seen. I know this because whenever I am around and I listen to him and actively ask him about his day, week, or month he talks and he is so expressive and animated, once we get over the surface level stuff. I've seen how he acts towards people who treat him like the black sheep compared to those who treat him like a human. Through my time at UMass Amherst, I plan to study psychology in hopes of becoming the active listener for anyone who needs it. However, I want to learn not only how to be a better active listener, but someone who can offer support and teach other children how to cope with those who won't listen to them and the positive and negatives of their lives as well as teaching these same children how to be active listeners. Resulting in children begin able to grow up and freely express themselves, raising a new generation of individuals who aren't held back by silence and are happy to be heard and to listen.

My name is Nyomi Johnston, and I attend the University of Massachusetts Amherst as a first-year student majoring in psychology and in the Pre-Medical track. I'm African American, Jamaican, and Puerto Rican, which I have been told is quite the combo, especially entering the psychology field, because only about 5% of the field are African American and about 9% are Hispanic. I am an only child on my mother's side, and I'm the eldest sibling of two little ones on my father's side. I've never considered myself to be their half-sister; I am their sister. I've watched them as much as I could, and I've been a safe space as much as I could. There is nothing half about my relationship with them. I love my siblings, but unfortunately, I wasn't always able to be there to shield them from the horrors of the world, our family, and their own families. I've watched my brother suffer from the traumas of his side of the family, and then watched him become isolated in our own family. I witnessed him become violent to get attention and be heard, yet no one would listen. So I decided to study the brain and become a child psychologist so I could be a safe space for children, just like my little brother, who wants to be heard but doesn't have the people to listen to them. This is how I plan to help my community. If I decide to fulfill this career goal, I don't want children of color to feel as though they have no one to talk to about anything and everything, I don't want them to feel as though they have to sit in a sterile office and watch someone blankly listen to their concerns or day. I want these children to enjoy talking about what's affecting them, whether positive or negative. I want these children to feel that they matter more than they may initially believe, and, in turn, as they get older, they will teach their children the importance of their own mental health and of expressing themselves. In turn, this will create a generation or at least a community based on healthy communication and expression, in hopes of avoiding any family trauma and family isolation. As another career option, I strive to become an anesthesiologist, which is why I'm on the Pre-Medical track. This career choice is vastly different from becoming a child psychologist, but it has similar ambitions. My little sister once had to get surgery and went under, and the anesthesiologist who worked with her disregarded her fears and performed the tasks needed. This frustrated me to no end because she was just a small child and was nervous beyond belief. I want to be a doctor who can make anyone feel safe or even slightly comforted, regardless of the situation. With both careers having similar backstories, I believe I can inspire the next generation to increase the likelihood of Black and Hispanic individuals entering both the medical and mental health fields by following through on what I say I'm going to do. There are so many more people in this world who could benefit from more then 3% of Blacks and Hispanics being in the anesthesiology field. I believe there are far too many people in this world who say one thing but do the opposite. I believe people need to see it to believe it, so I will do it and hopefully be among the best in either career path.

When I read the phrase "not all stars must fall," I took it literally and, at first, thought that stars don't fall; they burn out. However, when I really unpack the phrase, burning out is a form of falling. There are so many forms of falling that never truly get addressed, and by the time they do, the star has already begun its descent. I will admit I've never faced a severe fall, as many other stars have, but burnout has always been my biggest challenge. I have always been a very independent person, even as a kid, but that independence has constantly hindered me because I put everything on myself. I'm the person who is constantly on the move, so much so that I made it my whole personality, and I started to lose myself in all my activities. Specifically, I remember my senior year of high school, I had so much on my plate, from eight competitive dance routines, to daily varsity tennis matches, to working during my free time, to somehow studying for all my classes; I became the definition of busy, and I believed I liked it. Now I wasn't really failing in any of my activities; I was actually doing pretty well in everything I did. I thought I was unstoppable. Yet, one assignment would be the straw that broke my back or the switch that turned out the lights. I began falling behind while trying to catch up, and I couldn't figure out why. How could I, who's engaged in everything, who's on top of everything, fall behind? I was worried about anything and everything, including that I had stopped eating, I stopped sleeping, and I even stopped caring about my well-being. It was almost as if I stopped being human; I was just a robot, no longer a star. As you can imagine, I got a break on a long weekend, yet I had no idea what to do with myself. Most of that weekend, I slept, and it felt like I slept because I was bored; In reality, I had tasks to do, but I couldn't find it in me to keep the robot running. I was stuck in mud, and it was swallowing me up, until my dad visited the jungle and pulled me out. He came over and asked, "Nyomi, are you okay?" At first, I smiled, then I blinked and saw him, and soon a stream of tears that knew no end. I wasn't okay. I was so tired, and I could only cry about the work I still needed to do and feel frustrated, because was I really sitting there crying about it practically and not doing the work that needed to get done? Yes, I was. And later, I learned that it is more than okay to sit there and cry. Almost as if crying is the gaslight that'll reset the burning out star. With my dad, we made a plan for the rest of my senior year to hopefully avoid a situation like that again. We realized together that there is a point between good stress and too much stress. I found a healthy medium: I worked fewer hours and left a gap in my schedule for small moments, like taking a walk to the convenience store before dance. Soon, I began adding balance to my life, something that wouldn't tip the scale, because there was no way balance ever could. I really began to shine again once I realized I didn't need to be the balancing act as long as I actually had the balance; I wouldn't be acting. I began making a plan for my future, something flexible and manageable, a roadmap of sorts. This roadmap held constant reminders that there will be bumps and blocks ahead, and that's what we want; that's how we learn. That's how I continued my senior year, taking each moment one at a time, instead of anticipating it as I did before, because that never led to any good. Living in those small, balanced moments of my life led me to succeed even more than I had before, when I thought I was at my best. I ended my high school career in the top 10 of my class and was accepted into a beautiful school on the Pre-Med and psychology track. Finding that beautiful balance between hard work and myself has helped me avoid becoming the old, burnt-out, fallen star; instead, I'm shining as bright as ever.

There have been numerous challenges throughout my life, some great and some small. I think one of the most notable and life changing challenge in my life that is most memorable was when I was in 5th grade, and we had just gotten a new teacher. This teacher wasn't one of patience or kindness, and during this time, I started to leave class for extra lessons due to a learning disability, and it was all still new to me. Along with learning this new information, I learned that I had an astigmatism and needed glasses, so on top of having trouble keeping up in class, I also had a hard time seeing what was going on in class. When I had asked for extra help during class, my teacher constantly accused me of not paying attention or fooling around. She insisted that what I was going through wasn't a serious problem; she even went so far as to send me further to the back of the class. Not only did I become so afraid to ask for help, but I started feeling unsafe in my classroom, which I had believed was never possible and should never happen. Not only did I retreat into myself, but I also started to fail in my classes and soon was required to spend the majority of my time in specified supplemental classes. To top it off, I began a 504 plan and received extra accommodations that made others look at me differently. I thought so stupid and like I was a freak compared to everyone else in my class. It felt almost impossible to feel normal and fit in after the judgment I faced, and as a middle schooler, the one thing you want to do is fit in. I went through the entirety of 5th grade feeling like this, but I would soon read a book called "The Four Agreements" by Don Miguel Ruiz. I first didn't understand the importance of the book, because as a middle schooler, who wants to pay attention to a self-help book. After hearing constantly that it was unfair for me to receive accommodations, it's hard to listen to a self-help book and not the school, and it hurt me to the point I started to play the role of someone who really did need extra help. I would purposefully take long, answer wrong, and essentially "play dumb." Yet, doing this didn't get me anywhere; in fact, it made everything worse, as I was seriously limiting my own abilities, further ruining my image and, honestly, my self-esteem. However, after doing a project on the book, I realized that I was way too worried about what everyone else thought about me, and that was severely limiting me. Once I realized that, I began to utilize my accommodations and extra help resources, I took my time on tests, I started asking for help again, and soon I began seeing results. My grades began to rise to the point that I was offered a spot in the Junior National Honor Society, regardless of my learning impairments. Since than I've been at the top of my classes and continued from the Junior National Honor Society to the National Honor Society to the top ten of my graduating class.