I was a child born in the West African heat, yet I spent my earliest years cradling a miniature snow globe in my palm. My grandmother was an artisan and collector of the impossible while she gave my siblings practical trinkets, she entrusted me with a "snow globe". I flicked my wrist to stir a blizzard within the glass orb, watching silently, white flakes settled upon a quaint roofed cottage village and miniature snowman. My daily routine under the sun was never-ending. The Snowglobe was my first glimpse of "another beauty" aesthetic sanctuary that contrasts with the outside world. Witnessing the vibrant landscape of Nigerian homes being threatened by systematic corruption and the terrifying ascent of Safety, onc‌e guaranteed, was no longer an option. How come we gained so much traction, and still fail? Clearly, social media activism was futile. My family immigrated to America with nothing. My mother worked tirelessly between shifts. Being cramped in a two-bedroom apartment, surviving on a local stable of rice & soups. Playing Uno with siblings by candlelight when electricity was cut, chasing the "American Dream". That felt no longer attainable, in seeing the world imaginably the same. It wasn’t until my high school year, emerging from the isolation of the pandemic, because of my mom's grueling hours. Often being the last student picked up, I challenged my solitude by participating in environmental campaigns, conducting a fundraising campaign with members who shared the same interest. With raising $5,000 in school with my peers to support Slum2School, this impact helped over 30+ children with education and school supplies in West Africa. Being fortunate enough to have a strong foundation in life has allowed me to have a strong foundation for others. This momentum led me to poetry and literature that tackled social commentary. I entered the Scholastic Arts & Writing Awards. Writing deeply about my culture and disconnected name. I was awarded silver key and a free summer program. This sparked a conversation with my grandmother. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, slowly began to dismantle her own identity, often forgetting words from the past and stories of our ancestors. I was inducted into the National English Honor Society, my fascination with the “other world” of the snow globe transformed my deep love for literature. Conducting deep analysis into August Wilson Fences, and American-Born Chinese by Guan Luen Yang. I saw my work and identity being reflected. These works magnified the political and social inequalities faced by minorities surviving with limited opportunities and privilege. I began publishing my books, exploring raw moments of mental health and resilience, bringing a surge of readers. Realizing the voice I had suppressed and isolated was now a resonance thousands could hear and takeaway from. I cherished all the moments and memories, giving back when I had nothing to offer, leading a life rooted in helping others, not by being a savior complex, but by understanding the gratitude and respect that follow which each person I directed, led, and supported. I always hope to provide more than I received. When I state my name, I recognize the deep consternation of my ancestral lineage,life long stories shaping who I am guided by. When I’m gone I envision lifelong stories in which I impacted and continue the same legacy of helping others.

Our family’s idea of fun is a group project. My grandfather built the house I was born in, with my mom at the chop saw cutting lumber for my dad to nail in place. Growing up, I spent weekends weeding and mulching garden beds, harvesting potatoes, pressing cider, and hauling brush. I grew my self by working in the sphere of parents' enthusiasm.But I didn't fully understand the value of work until my family salvaged a grocery store. Roy's Market sits on Main Street. When the family who ran it announced they were leaving, we knew the town wouldn't be the same.Our first month was a fiasco. My family and I worked alongside volunteers scrubbing floors and counting inventory to reopen the store. Working behind the counter for the last two years, I've seen why so many pitched in. I am struck by the loyalty of the older population, and how each conversation in the checkout line is sustaining.My workday is filled with tasks. Groceries need fronting, expiration dates checked, floors mopped. With each completed action, I begin to feel something larger reverberating. Making straight lines with products i see how my love of a good project and my commitment to a job well done are the building blocks of connection. Taking on things together is how you grow a family, a town, a community. As I step into the world, I will carry this capacity with me and a faith in what small gestures of care can build.

My little brother has a star over his heart. A star choking on its last moments of life. A star looking outwards at its billions of brethren that fate and gravity never pulled close enough to meet. A star straining for one more hour, one more minute, pushing back the inevitable collapse of its core that will fling debris outwards and impale the loyal planets in its solar system. That’s what his scar looks like: The first millisecond of a shattering star. Astrea shows her face in the night sky for only one month each year, in the early autumn. Daughter of Demeter, she cares fondly for the early autumn months with supposed charming diffidence only a sparkling constellation could get away with. A deity only present for the death of the abundance of life her mother created, she has accepted the cycle of life with sanguinity that no human could ever understand. One must live among the stars, be so far removed from the selfishness and cupidity of humans, to see the beauty in our species that Astrea sees. Eight months, it turns out, was the most it could handle. It melted into light and seeped out of his chest. His heart, which had depended on the vitality of the star, stopped. Two fingers of the paramedic dug into his chest, begging his heart to start again. His weak chest could not handle the full force of adult CPR. Please, we coaxed, crushing relentlessly into his ribs. Come back. 548 seconds. Five hundred and forty-eight black holes could have collapsed into black holes in the time it took for my brother’s heart to start beating again. By then, a 549th was engraved into his chest: the paramedic’s fingernail had dug an asterisk-like pattern over where his heart is. Over many years, it will scar over white and memorialise the five months my little brother had a star next to his chest. It is hard to reconcile with the idea that an entity, supposedly omnipotent, could allow my little brother to suffer for so many years after those six minutes. But it is even harder to accept the prospect that what happened may have been completely, utterly random: that no greater being exists to provide meaning for a lifetime of suffering and no entity to blame the bad luck on. I find the former much easier. With age, I have embraced the latter. My anger on his behalf was really just hate for what had happened. Even without divine blessing, he is still as cheerful as he was before, if not more: quick to smile and even quicker to laugh. I catch him sometimes, wide-eyed (although now unseeing), grinning to himself at stories he makes up in his head. Over the years, my anger petered out. It had consumed me like the roaring bonfires Romans lit to appease their gods. Now, it’s a tidy flame in my living room fireplace that warms our moderately cold Philadelphian winters. My undirected frustration has shaped into a love for philosophy and the study of neuroscience. I hope, one day, to be like the doctor who left the star-shaped scar on my brother’s chest– not a taker of stars but a giver of life.

I was a child born in the West African heat, yet I spent my earliest years cradling a miniature snow globe in my palm. My grandmother was an artisan and collector of the impossible while she gave my siblings practical trinkets, she entrusted me with a "snow globe". I flicked my wrist to stir a blizzard within the glass orb, watching silently, white flakes settled upon a quaint roofed cottage village and miniature snowman. My daily routine under the sun was never-ending. The Snowglobe was my first glimpse of "another beauty" aesthetic sanctuary that contrasts with the outside world. Witnessing the vibrant landscape of Nigerian homes being threatened by systematic corruption and the phterrifying ascent of Safety, onc‌e guaranteed, was no longer an option. How come we gained so much traction, and still fail? Clearly, social media activism was futile. My family immigrated to America with nothing. My mother worked tirelessly between shifts. Being cramped in a two-bedroom apartment, surviving on a local stable of rice & soups. Playing Uno with siblings by candlelight when electricity was cut, chasing the "American Dream". That felt no longer attainable, in seeing the world imaginably the same. It wasn’t until my high school year, emerging from the isolation of the pandemic, because of my mom's grueling hours. Often being the last student picked up, I challenged my solitude by participating in environmental campaigns, conducting a fundraising campaign with members who shared the same interest. With raising $5,000 in school with my peers to support Slum2School, this impact helped over 30+ children with education and school supplies in West Africa. Being fortunate enough to have a strong foundation in life has allowed me to have a strong foundation for others. This momentum led me to poetry and literature that tackled social commentary. I entered the Scholastic Arts & Writing Awards. Writing deeply about my culture and disconnected name. I was awarded silver key and a free summer program. This sparked a conversation with my grandmother. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, slowly began to dismantle her own identity, often forgetting words from the past and stories of our ancestors. I was inducted into the National English Honor Society, my fascination with the “other world” of the snow globe transformed my deep love for literature. Conducting deep analysis into August Wilson Fences, and American-Born Chinese by Guan Luen Yang. I saw my work and identity being reflected. These works magnified the political and social inequalities faced by minorities surviving with limited opportunities and privilege. I began publishing my books, exploring raw moments of mental health and resilience, bringing a surge of readers. Realizing the voice I had suppressed and isolated was now a resonance thousands could hear and takeaway from. I cherished all the moments and memories, giving back when I had nothing to offer, leading a life rooted in helping others, not by being a savior complex, but by understanding the gratitude and respect that follow which each person I directed, led, and supported. Ialways hope to provide more than I received. When I state my name, I recognize the deep consternation of my ancestral lineage,life long stories shaping who I am guided by. When I’m gone I envision lifelong stories in which I impacted and continue the same legacy of helping others.

What does it mean to be a teen in a war zone? Technically, the surge of Book Harm (a terrorist group) was growing at an increasingly alarming rate, with no help from the systemically corrupted government. My family had to pull out of school for safety, and moved to the U.S. Gaining a world-wide attraction of the hashtag #Bring Back our Girls of millions of views and celebrity attraction, with still no solution provided for the vulnerable communities who were affected by the conflict. I felt protected, and sorrowful of a desperate need to be a source of stability for other West African girls. I organized members of 12 people of West African ancestry to conduct a fundraiser campaign for Slum2Schoolfor to support and provide education to young kids in underserved areas. My first time leading as total method of expertise, to motivate my team, we did a lot of activities and fundraising. Having witnessed how difficult it was for people in getting treatment or surgery back home in Nigeria. Most clinics require families to pay upfront before receiving medical treatment. Deepening my commitment to health equity, and my intent in bringing focus in community literacy into medicine, to dismantle barriers. Through all our effective causes, we raised $5,000, covering tuition and supplies for 30+ children.This pushed my motivation for conducting. a public health initiative, taking data about epidemiology into accessible preventive strategies. Over 2 years working on the project, I synthesized medical research into 200+ visual guides, specializing knowledge into free resources for the public. I transitioned my content creation into global advocacy for people. Launching a platform where people testify about their ongoing health conditions and their resilience in tough times. My projects advanced, i transition my content creation to global advocacy for people. I launched a platform where real people facing terrified about their ongoing health conditions, their resilience into tough times.This taught me that effective care for individuals into healthcare require massive radical empathy and deep scientific rigor into the Infectious cause and issue that damaging and affecting individuals who can't find a common cause for their illness. Deepening my commitment into health equity and my transformation into medicine, my ability to influence public health. I intend to bring this focus onto my community literacy, working to dismantle barriers. Working with Global health Institute in helping communities with preventive care that are designed to protect. Buildings a future where healthcare is accessible

What does it mean to be a teen in a war zone? Technically, the surge of Book Harm (a terrorist group) was growing at an increasingly alarming rate, with no help from the systemically corrupted government. My family had to pull out of school for safety, and moved to the U.S. Gaining a world-wide attraction of the hashtag #Bring Back our Girls of millions of views and celebrity attraction, with still no solution provided for the vulnerable communities who were affected by the conflict. I felt protected, and sorrowful of a desperate need to be a source of stability for other West African girls. I organized members of 12 people of West African ancestry to conduct a fundraiser campaign for Slum2Schoolfor to support and provide education to young kids in underserved areas. My first time leading as total method of expertise, to motivate my team, we did a lot of activities and fundraising. Having witnessed how difficult it was for people in getting treatment or surgery back home in Nigeria. Most clinics require families to pay upfront before receiving medical treatment. Deepening my commitment to health equity, and my intent in bringing focus in community literacy into medicine, to dismantle barriers. Through all our effective causes, we raised $5,000, covering tuition and supplies for 30+ children.This pushed my motivation for conducting. a public health initiative, taking data about epidemiology into accessible preventive strategies. Over 2 years working on the project, I synthesized medical research into 200+ visual guides, specializing knowledge into free resources for the public. I transitioned my content creation into global advocacy for people. Launching a platform where people testify about their ongoing health conditions and their resilience in tough times. My projects advanced, i transition my content creation to global advocacy for people. I launched a platform where real people facing terrified about their ongoing health conditions, their resilience into tough times.This taught me that effective care for individuals into healthcare require massive radical empathy and deep scientific rigor into the Infectious cause and issue that damaging and affecting individuals who can't find a common cause for their illness. Deepening my commitment into health equity and my transformation into medicine, my ability to influence public health. I intend to bring this focus onto my community literacy, working to dismantle barriers. Working with Global health Institute in helping communities with preventive care that are designed to protect. Buildings a future where healthcare is accessible

I was a child born in the West African heat, yet I spent my earliest years cradling a miniature snow globe in my palm. My grandmother was an artisan and collector of the imimpossible while she gave my siblings practical trinkets, she entrusted me with a "snow globe". I flicked my wrist to stir a blizzard within the glass orb, watching silently, white flakes settled upon a quaint roofed cottage village and miniature snowman. My daily routine under the sun was never-ending. The Snowglobe was my first glimpse of "another beauty" aesthetic sanctuary that contrasts with the outside world. Witnessing the vibrant landscape of Nigerian homes being threatened by systematic corruption and the phterrifying ascent of Safety, onc‌e guaranteed, was no longer an option. How come we gained so much traction, and still fail? Clearly, social media activism was futile. My family immigrated to America with nothing. My mother worked tirelessly between shifts. Being cramped in a two-bedroom apartment, surviving on a local stable of rice & soups. Playing Uno with siblings by candlelight when electricity was cut, chasing the "American Dream". That felt no longer attainable, in seeing the world imaginably the same. It wasn’t until my high school year, emerging from the isolation of the pandemic, because of my mom's grueling hours. Often being the last student picked up, I challenged my solitude by participating in environmental campaigns, conducting a fundraising campaign with members who shared the same interest. With raising $5,000 in school with my peers to support Slum2School, this impact helped over 30+ children with education and school supplies in West Africa. Being fortunate enough to have a strong foundation in life has allowed me to have a strong foundation for others. This momentum led me to poetry and literature that tackled social commentary. I entered the Scholastic Arts & Writing Awards. Writing deeply about my culture and disconnected name. I was awarded silver key and a free summer program. This sparked a conversation with my grandmother. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, slowly began to dismantle her own identity, often forgetting words from the past and stories of our ancestors. I was inducted into the National English Honor Society, my fascination with the “other world” of the snow globe transformed my deep love for literature. Conducting deep analysis into August Wilson Fences, and American-Born Chinese by Guan Luen Yang. I saw my work and identity being reflected. These works magnified the political and social inequalities faced by minorities surviving with limited opportunities and privilege. I began publishing my books, exploring raw moments of mental health and resilience, bringing a surge of readers. Realizing the voice I had suppressed and isolated was now a resonance thousands could hear and takeaway from. I cherished all the moments and memories, giving back when I had nothing to offer, leading a life rooted in helping others, not by being a savior complex, but by understanding the gratitude and respect that follow which each person I directed, led, and supported. I always hope to provide more than I received. When I state my name, I recognize the deep consternation of my ancestral lineage,life long stories shaping who I am guided by. When I’m gone I envision lifelong stories in which I impacted and continue the same legacy of helping others.

In my grandmother's village, healing was incorporated by traditional remedies to cure sickness, often utilized by the scent of crushed bitter leaf and spiritual practices of the low hum of hymns, praise and prayers. Growing up in Nigeria, I inhabited two different lineages. My traditional aunt used her kitchen to prepare remedies with a wooden mortar as she crushed dried hibiscus, ginger, bitter kola and agbo (herbal concoction). I watched as she closed her eyes in silent prayer for my cousin’s fever. Hours later, at a private hospital, I watched a physician prescribe acetaminophen with the same quiet reverence. I found the necessary duality of both ancestral folk medicine and modern science contributing to the healing of different aspects of the human body. My curiosity led me to examine the duality of the bitter beef efficiency and the chemicals it contains: alkaloids, flavonoids and saponus. Showing high-boosting properties to fight infections and improve heart health. Having witnessed how difficult it is for people to get treatment or surgery back home in Nigeria, since most clinics require families to pay upfront before receiving medical treatment, ultimately making their health worse or even death. Bringing my methodological findings, I began studying people's global health, eager to respect local traditional wisdom while implementing rigorous scientific knowledge of the safety of natural remedies. I'd like to learn different aspects of the way to treat the body, as I bring my own direct perspective on a comprehensive and effective future of global health. I took action and public health initiatives on social media, taking data about epidemiology into accessible preventive strategies. Over 2 years working on the project, I synthesized medical research into 200+ visual guides, specializing knowledge into free resources for the public. I transitioned my content creation to global advocacy for people. Launching a platform where people testified about their ongoing health conditions and their resilience in tough times. This taught me that effective care for individuals in healthcare requires massive radical empathy and deep scientific rigor in diagnosing. Deepening my commitment to health equity and transformation into medicine with my ability to influence public health. My extensive exploration into mental health and humanitarian crises solved my commitment to individuals in my career. I have carried that sentiment in everything I do, spent all of my academic career working. I carry all the mentorship and learning with me. I intended to leverage comprehensive academic rigor to transform ideas of limited resources in healthcare. Of a future where I build a clinic back in Nigeria and in the States where healthcare is low, affordable and is universal for undeserved communities. Specialized for communities facing major obstacles with affordability in healthcare. Using my education to build a life-saving system that ensures universal treatment for people where no individuals left behind.

I was a child born in the West African heat, yet I spent my earliest years cradling a miniature snow globe in my palm. My grandmother was an artisan and collector of miniature objects. While she gave my siblings practical trinkets, she entrusted me with a "snow globe". I flicked my wrist to stir a blizzard within the glass orb, watching silently, white flakes settled upon a quaint roofed cottage village and miniature snowman. My daily routine of the sun beaming around my forehead. The Snowglobe was my first glimpse of "another beauty" aesthetic sanctuary that contrasts with the outside world. Witnessing the vibrant landscape of Nigerian homes being threatened by systematic corruption and the terrifying ascent of Boko Haram. Safety, once guaranteed, was no longer an option. How come we gained so much traction, and still fail? Clearly, social media activism was futile. My family immigrated to America with nothing. My mother worked tirelessly between shifts. Being cramped in a two-bedroom apartment, surviving on a local stable of rice & soups. Playing Uno with siblings by candlelight when electricity was cut, chasing the "American Dream". That felt no longer attainable, in seeing the world imaginably the same. My first year of middle school was linguistic, as my name, “Oluwaseun Bankole” meaning The Lord has Done something Good, an ancestry of my Yoruba heritage. When teachers had trouble ?saying my name, I often met with negotiation. “Yes, everyone calls me Seun,” I explained to her in my accent, felt silent. “You can call me Sun,” I replied. As the word came out awkwardly. Having spent the previous night Googling a more Americanized name, a way to soften the "other". Retreating into a different version of myself that felt exactly like the Snowglobe; letting the white snowflake settle over my Yoruba roots. It wasn’t until my high school year, emerging from the isolation of the pandemic. Because of my mom's grueling hours. Often being the last student picked up, I challenged my solitude by participating in environmental campaigns, conducting a fundraising campaign with members who shared the same interest. In raising $5,000 to support Slum2School, this impact helped over 30+ children with education and school supplies in West Africa. Being fortunate enough to have a strong foundation in life has allowed me to have a strong foundation for others. This momentum led me to poetry and literature that tackled social commentary. I entered the Scholastic Arts & Writing Awards. Writing deeply about my culture and disconnected name. I was awarded silver key and a free summer program. This sparked a conversation with my grandmother. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, slowly began to dismantle her own identity,forgetting words from the past and stories of our ancestors. I was inducted into the National English Honor Society, my fascination with the “other world” of the snow globe transformed my deep love for literature. Conducting deep analysis into August Wilson Fences, and American-Born Chinese by Guan Luen Yang. I saw my work and identity being reflected. These works magnified the political and social inequalities faced by minorities surviving with limited opportunities and privilege. I began publishing my books, exploring raw moments of mental health and resilience, bringing a surge of 250k+ readers. Realizing the voice I had suppressed and isolated was now a resonance thousands could hear. I cherished all the moments and memories, giving back when having nothing to offer, leading a life rooted in helping others, not by being a savior complex, but by understanding the gratitude and respect that follow which each person I directed, led, and supported. I always hope to provide more than I receive. When I state my name, I recognize the deep consternation of my ancestral lineage, life long stories shaping who I am guided by. When I’m gone, I envision lifelong stories in which I impacted and continue the same legacy of helping others.

My dreams is to be an inspiration of others, to lend a help, to accomplish the impossible, and reach the highest trajectory in facing my own failure. In my grandmother's village, healing was incorporated by traditional remedies to cure sickness, often utilized by the scent of crushed bitter leaf and spiritual practices of the low hum of hymns, praise and prayers. Growing up in Nigeria, I inhabited two different lineages. My traditional aunt used her kitchen to prepare remedies with a wooden mortar as she crushed dried hibiscus, ginger, bitter kola and agbo (herbal concoction). I watched as she closed her eyes in silent prayer for my cousin’s fever. Hours later, at a private hospital, I watched a physician prescribe acetaminophen with the same quiet reverence. I found the necessary duality of both ancestral folk medicine and modern science contributing to the healing of different aspects of the human body. My curiosity led me to examine the duality of the bitter beef efficiency and the chemicals it contains: alkaloids, flavonoids and saponus. Showing high-boosting properties to fight infections and improve heart health. Having witnessed how difficult it is for people to get treatment or surgery back home in Nigeria, since most clinics require families to pay upfront before receiving medical treatment, ultimately making their health worse or even death. Bringing my methodological findings, I began studying people's global health, eager to respect local traditional wisdom while implementing rigorous scientific knowledge of the safety of natural remedies. I'd like to learn different aspects of the way to treat the body, as I bring my own direct perspective on a comprehensive and effective future of global health. I took action and public health initiatives on social media, taking data about epidemiology into accessible preventive strategies. Over 2 years working on the project, I synthesized medical research into 200+ visual guides, specializing knowledge into free resources for the public. I transitioned my content creation to global advocacy for people. Launching a platform where people testified about their ongoing health conditions and their resilience in tough times. This taught me that effective care for individuals in healthcare requires massive radical empathy and deep scientific rigor in diagnosing. Deepening my commitment to health equity and transformation into medicine with my ability to influence public health. My extensive exploration into mental health and humanitarian crises solved my commitment to individuals in my career. I have carried that sentiment in everything I do, spent all of my academic career working. I carry all the mentorship and learning with me. I intended to leverage comprehensive academic rigor to transform ideas of limited resources in healthcare. Of a future where I build a clinic back in Nigeria and in the States where healthcare is low, affordable and is universal for undeserved communities. Specialized for communities facing major obstacles with affordability in healthcare. Using my education to build a life-saving system that ensures universal treatment for people where no individuals left behind.

The West Antarctic Ice Sheet has passed its tipping point since the late 2000s. Ever since the world crossed the one degree Celsius mark, the West Antarctic Ice Sheet was doomed to melt. Not even limiting warming to 1.5 degrees, a goal that the world failed to achieve four years ago, would prevent the melt. Only the complete elimination of climate change and its warming could stop the collapse of the ice sheet, which is practically impossible without massive carbon capture fields and geoengineering projects. Section 2.1, Page 4 The collapse of the West Antarctic Ice Sheet, specifically from the melting of the Pine Island Glacier and Thwaites Glacier, can be slowed with a massive wall preventing warm water from flowing near and under the glacier, preventing further calving and melting. The International Advisory on Glacial Melt Prevention and Mitigation proposes the West Antarctic Ice Sheet Barrier Wall, codenamed Project Boreas, as this solution. At 1456 kilometers long, this will become the third longest structure ever built, and the second. The entire structure will cost nearly a hundred and fifty billion dollars, but will prevent a possible entire meter of sea level rise. This allows for increased stabilization of the ice sheet and adaptation of coastal cities, buying critical time for coastal regions and preserving massive part of Antarctica almost another millennium. Section 4.1.1, Page 16 The U.N. helicopter passed over the Pine Island Bay base camp. This was the largest engineering project ever undertaken by humanity, and even though these nations couldn't agree on where to draw lines in the sand or even to prevent the climate disaster in the first place, they could all agree that solving the symptoms was the least they could do. The light shimmered off the ice and snow on Pine Island Glacier and the Amundsen Sea. Massive blotches of the sea extended into the ice, breaking the smooth outline. City block sized icebergs and ice chunks floated near the edges, a sign that the glacier was rapidly collapsing. The Pine Island Glacier was the largest ice stream in Antarctica, and the fastest melting. Radio chatter filled the background as a static-laden yet authoritative voice spoke in Chinese, granting the helicopter pilot permission to land. The helicopter slowed down and began its descent onto the Hebei, China’s flagship and largest carrier. As the helicopter slowly descended, the administrator once again looked out the open door, glum and depressed. He’d hate to tell the news to the project manager and captain, but it was his job. Hope on the success of the project had been faltering ever since the administrator took the job, but he felt this was too much to handle. He wondered what he would do after the project ended, after this entire thing ended in disgrace and failure. Maybe he’d go back as the EU Commissioner for Agriculture, or go into the private sector. He’d write a book about this. Or maybe he’d do nothing at all—just take a vacation somewhere to escape, to forget this failed project, this chapter of his life the legacy of constant floods and the loss of nature’s greatest landmarks he had unwittingly left for future generations. The West Antarctic Ice Sheet is slated to completely collapse and melt in a few millennia, and the suspected sea level rise that would ensue by 2100 would be over 2 meters. Not only this, but the added amounts of fresh water into the extremely salty Arctic Ocean is suspected to slow and prevent creation of Antarctic Bottom Water, destabilizing the already strained Southern Ocean Overturning Circulation system. This will result in the rapid collapse of Earth’s organic, energy, and ocean systems, as the Southern Ocean Overturning Circulation system transports critical minerals and energy through the ocean. Overall, the estimated death toll will be almost thirty five million, and almost two hundred million people will possibly be displaced from these, resulting in hundreds of billions, if not trillions, in losses, humanitarian crises, and potential civil chaos that will ensue from the displacement will result in millions of deaths. “But the US and India will be forced to stay, unless they want to lose UN and IMF funding. It’s practically keeping the US’s market alive for their citizens as they deal with the droughts and displaced refugees, and India is relying on the Red Cross and IMF for disaster aid.” “This is practically extortion!” This entire project has the potential to prevent a predicted half a million deaths from flooding and displacement, and a further fifty million from being displaced. This will nearly recoup the cost of the project three times over, not even mentioning the humanitarian crises it will prevent and the effect it has on stabilizing the ecosystem. Not only this, but the construction of this project will bring forth new technologies, ideas, and plans for new sea wall and geoengineering projects, like the New York City Seawall Project. And while this proposal does recognize the importance of preventing more pollution and ending the world’s reliance on fossil fuels, currently, we recognize that the world has gone too far to prevent the collapse and doing this project may be the only solution. As this news traveled across the world, this same scene played out in living rooms, university halls, and school classrooms, knowing that the West Antarctic Ice Sheet was secure for another few centuries. And in one specific cell, in Baltimore, one person cheered the loudest. Stripped of his power, his title, an international court consisting of India, the US, China, South Africa, and even the Secretary General of the UN, found him guilty of abuse of power. The administrator was left destitute and disgraced for his actions. His friends and family turned on him, as he took away key funds from people in need, indirectly causing the deaths of thousands in the famine and droughts that happened the year after. However, seeing the barrier complete and working, he felt that maybe, and just maybe, there was hope.

My grandmother was an artisan and collector of impossible co while she gave my siblings practical trinkets, she entrusted me with a "snow globe". I flicked my wrist to stir a blizzard within the glass orb, watching silently, white flakes settled upon a quaint roofed cottage village and miniature snowman The Snowglobe was my first glimpse of "another beauty" aesthetic sanctuary that contrasts with the outside world. Witnessing the vibrant landscape of Nigerian homes being threatened by systematic corruption and the terrifying ascent of Boko Haram. Safety, onc‌e guaranteed, was no longer an option. How come we gained so much traction, and still fail? Clearly, social media activism was futile. My family immigrated to America with nothing. My mother worked tirelessly between shifts. Being cramped in a two-bedroom apartment, surviving on a local stable of rice & soups. Playing Uno with siblings by candlelight when electricity was cut, chasing the "American Dream". That felt no longer attainable, in seeing the world imaginably the same. My first year of middle school was linguistic, as my name, “Oluwaseun Bankole” — meaning The Lord has Done something Good, an ancestry of my Yoruba heritage. Often met with negotiation, when teacher say my name. “Yes, everyone calls me Seun,” I explained to her in my accent, but it felt short. I perceived a linguistic negotiation just for a name. “You can call me Sun,” I replied. As the word came out awkwardly. Having spent the previous night Googling a more Americanized name, a way to soften the "other". Retreating into a different version of myself that felt exactly like the Snowglobe; letting the white snowflake settle over my Yoruba roots. It wasn’t until my high school year, emerging from the isolation of the pandemic, because of my mom's grueling hours. Often being the last student picked up, I challenged my solitude by participating in environmental campaigns, conducting a fundraising campaign with members who shared the same interest. In raising $5,000 to support Slum2School, this impact helped over 30+ children with education and school supplies in West Africa. Being fortunate enough to have a strong foundation in life has allowed me to have a strong foundation for others. I was inducted into the National English Honor Society, my fascination with the “other world” of the snow globe transformed my deep love for literature. Conducting deep analysis into August Wilson Fences, and American-Born Chinese by Guan Luen Yang. These works magnified the political and social inequalities faced by minorities surviving with limited opportunities and privilege. I began publishing my books, exploring raw moments of mental health and resilience, bringing a surge of 250k+ readers. Realizing the voice I had suppressed and isolated was now a resonance thousands could hear and takeaway from. I cherished all the moments and memories, giving back when I had nothing to offer, leading a life rooted in helping others, but by understanding the gratitude and respect that follow which each person I directed, led and supported.

I grew up in Nigeria with one parent where we didn't have a lot of money. This was a situation where I learned that it's something that could hold me back. Instead it was a place where I could learn and get stronger. My parent had times in making ends meet, where I also offered help when watching them struggle. I had to work at home to help my family because we really needed the money.It taught me a very important lesson about life: that when you keep trying you get stronger. My family in Nigeria and our situation taught me that perseverance is like a muscle that you can build by taking action and keeping, at it. The foundation of resilience is really important to me. It is what drives me today as a student. I am pursuing a career, in STEM related which is Biomedical Engerinning. My biggest contribution to my community is Life-Line Awareness. When I was growing up I saw how diseases that could have been prevented with the right information really hurt families like mine. I did not want to accept that this was the way things had to be. So I decided to learn much as I could about helping people understand health issues. I made something called "Disease of the Day" where I share things that people can do to prevent getting sick if they're at risk. Protecting people who are really vulnerable due to their insecurity with money. I also worked with Slum2School Africa where I volunteer in making sure where a child lives or how money their family has does not decide how far they can go in school. By contributing in donating and impacting the kids lives. Similarly, to Malgoratza who this scholarship is named after. I am a student from another country who moved to the United States without knowing people, learning a new perspective in life and culture. I studied hard due to my family in Nigeria who always counted on me through facing different challeneges in my life. I am the kind of person who really sought through things, when faced with problem in my science or math classes or when I am trying to make Life-Line Awareness bigger. Due to me contrubiting and taking care as a mother figure with our siblings I can to solve the problem, and make sure we had everything we needed at home. I use this strength to tackle every problem, including the ones with Life-Line Awareness and my school work. With the healthcare and education that has been divided globally. Utilizing my purse for my Biomedical engeerring degree. I intend education to make a real difference, looking for answers and who fights for what I believe in. Using my education to make things better I plan to use this scholarship to prove that a girl from a low-income background in Nigeria can not only succeed in the U.S. but can become a global leader in health innovation.

I grew up in a home in Nigeria with only one parent. For me survival was not something I learned about in school. It was what I lived every day. My parent did a job taking care of our home. They worked hard and did not complain. There were times when we did not have food or money and it seemed like things would not get better.. Those tough times did not make me give up. They actually made me stronger and more determined to keep going. Survival and perseverance were what my parent taught me. I learned from them that I can get through anything. I learned early that while I could not control my circumstances, I could control my work ethic. My "home" was my first workplace, where I labored not just out of duty, but out of a desperate love to see my family thrive. Due to my background, I acknowledge how easily people that faced proverty can easily lose access to healthcare and education. I learned many people in my community get sick because they do not have the information regarding healthy lifestyle. This push me to create Life-Line Awareness, My motivation in wanting to help people in my community so they do not have to spend all their money on bills. I do this by teaching people about diseases and how to take preventive care. My goal with Life-Line Awareness is to help families feel security and protection from their homes. I also volunteered with work on Slum2School Africa; West Africa organization that helped support kids educational; school supplies & fees. Having lived the reality of financial insecurity, I know how hard it is paying for student supplies and basic needs due to our country insecurity.

The book Medidations by Marcus Aurelieus, Book 2:Verse 1 states in the text: "Begin the morning by saying to thyself, I shall meet with the busybody, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All these things happen to them by reason of their ignorance of what is good and evil. But I who have seen the nature of the good that it is beautiful, and of the bad that it is ugly, and the nature of him who does wrong, that it is akin to me, not [only] of the same blood or seed, but that it participates in [the same] intelligence and [the same] portion of the divinity, I can neither be injured by any of them, for no one can fix on me what is ugly, nor can I be angry with my kinsman, nor hate him. For we are made for co-operation, like feet, like hands, like eyelids, like the rows of the upper and lower teeth. To act against one another, then, is contrary to nature; and it is acting against one another to be vexed and to turn away". Emphasizes personal serenity in dealing with systematic injustice, while Marcus Aurelieus clearly achieved his own philosophical standard with strength and a sense of duty. That's, apprehending the noble essence of human nature, while stripping away the fact of the truth and the surviving system that exists, like racism, where systems of oppression create a no-win situation, where a negative response from the depressed is used to prove the oppressor's superiority. As Emperor Marcus' daily meditation on conducting himself for moral damage by placing the blame on the perpetrators, that's a tribute to their own ignorance. As evil is not a universal force, built by mistaken judgment in a group within their ideologies, I consider this lineage to countries in West Africa that counter through colonial and discourse of racial injustice. Systematic racism is often perceived as a large, inherited, self-ignorance in the hierachi system. As Aurelieus tells me not to make an idea that contaminates yourself from others. For instance, as an African American studying in a preliminary all-white society or setting in the world. There is a crucial attitude to microagression, access to the minsofmrtaion in society not of me. In, aninting yourself despite the odds, a barrier against hatred. However, as Aurelieus progresses from self-defense to a pioneering stance of human convenience at the heart of interpretations. In the text "We are like a man’s two hands, feet or eyelids… born to work together", it serves as a tool in the interpretation of systematic racism, which sets "hands" against each other, feeling the righteousness and idgination of racism. Aurelius here repeated the righteousness of racism, making a change to the system itself that's re entrachned in the ignorance of the system. Analyzing the violence that caved in for racism, there are other individuals who explain the socioeconomic the same. Firstly, identifying the problem of ignorance is in the system and not mine. Secondly, everyone else, including the oppressor of the system, has the same constructed humanity. Thirdly, Chanel my anger at the oppressor, to laws and prejudice that go against our nature. The paragraphs serve a pivotal role as it is not an act of quietness but a revolt recfodie soul and confidence. That one more armors the soul against systematic ignorance, and its poison, in front of the angers of the system. That one more arms the soul against systematic ignorance, and its poison, front he angers of the system. Set of instructions to bring forth back knowledge in an oppressive world, in recognizing and having a clear path and purpose to nature itself. Providing a stronger sense in my fight against social injustice, pursuing a common service and acting in helping individuals that feel insidified in their environment and facing restriction with laws. I bring a strong and confident mindset of being mended in my life.

For most of my high school, I thought my life was a perfect blueprint, straight-line plan from student to success. Get the A, lead the club, build the accomplishment was another clean line drawn, another added to my impressive life, but it was a hollow structure I was building. I was so focused on drafting the perfect future that I never stopped to check if my mental state could hold it. That when my Senior year, the cracks began to show. I felt pressured of being a high school senior, With the constant, question from every adult and classmate"So, what's next?" It’s the fear that one bad test score could ruin everything you've worked for. It’s watching your friends post their college acceptances and feeling mixed of joy and jealousy tighten in your stomach. My academics began to feel less like learning and more like a performance. I’d sit down to study for a final, my notes laid out perfectly, but my mind would be buzzing around. I knew the material, but I couldn't access it through the fog of anxiety. My personal life mirrored this. I was snapping at my parents over small things, canceling plans with my best friends, and spending my days scrolling through social media, feeling more disconnected the more I scrolled. I was following the blueprint perfectly, but I felt like I was living in a house like performane The turning life point wasn't so dramatic. On Tuesday. I was trying to write a college essay about "overcoming a challenge,"that when I realized I was writing a lie. The real challenge wasn't some external obstacle; it was the silent war in my own head. I closed my laptop and went for a walk, with no destination. I just walked. And for the first time in months, I wasn't thinking about my GPA, my applications, or my future. I was just watching for my life to be green. That walk became my first intentional act of prioritizing my mental health. I realized my mind wasn't a blueprint to be followed; I just needed tending. I can't just demand myself to be perfect flowers—you have to water it, give it sun, and pull the weeds. Over the days, I tend to my garden in the background daily. I pull the weeds in me by limiting my time on social media, that too easy to fall back in that negative state. I water it by putting my phone in another room an hour before bed, trading screen time for the pages of a novel that has nothing to do with school. By making sure to force myself to say yes for all the things I wish I did like getting bubble tea with my cousin or just sitting on the floor of my friend's room and talking about nothing. Prioritizing my mental health didn't make me less worth. It’s made me a more present one. I can actually focus when I study now because I’ve given my brain a break. I can be a better daughter and friend because I’m not pouring from an empty cup. My life isn't a sterile blueprint anymore. It's a living, breathing, sometimes messy.

There is a very particular kind of loneliness that comes from being surrounded with people celebrating with you. I learned this in the spring of my junior year, standing in a room full of friends after winnng a debate tournament. The trophy was heavy in my hand, but the smile on my face felt like a piece of fragile machinery. That night, I lay in bed with Olivia Rodrigo’s "GUTS" whispering through my earbuds, and for the first time, I felt heard. The song was making the bed. "And I'm playing the victim so well in my head / But it's me who's been making the bed." The line didn’t feel like a lyric; it felt like an accusation. A gentle, truthful one. My life was a perfectly made bed, and I was the one who had meticulously tucked in every corner. I had built a resume, my own masterpiece of expectation: captain of the team, leader of the club, design of a future that looked impeccable on paper. But each achievement was another pillow plumped, creating a beautiful, empty space that I was terrified to lie in. The "sadness" Olivia explores GUTS isn't a dramatic, weeping kind. It's the quiet logical, hollow ache of the piano in "teenage dream." It’s the realization that you have become a ghost in the machine of your own life. I was so good at being what everyone needed, the reliable daughter, the unshakable friend, the high achiever that raw, messy, and inconvenient parts of me had been quietly filed away. I felt a profound grief, not for a person, but for a self I had willingly erased. This is where GUTS became my guide not to roll in, but to excavate. In "all-american bitch," Olivia masterfully contrasts a sweet, forgiving exterior with a grunge-rock scream of frustration. I realized my own "scream" wasn't loud or destructive. It was the quiet, defiant act of starting a poetry journal. It was writing poems that were clumsy, angry, and deeply, imperfectly mine* It was allowing myself to be jealous of a friend who seemed so effortlessly themselves, just as Olivia confesses in "lacy." It was admitting that sometimes, I didn't want to be the strong one. I wanted to be the one who fell apart, just a little, and was still loved for it. The album didn't give me a map out of my sadness, but it gave me a companion within it. It taught me that the bravest thing you can do is to sit with the parts of yourself that don't fit the narrative—the envy, the insecurity, the deep and wearying fear that you're a "teenage dream" that's about to expire. My bed is still made, but now I leave a corner. A notebook rests on the pillow, its pages filled with messy, honest truth. GUTS showed me that the truest form of strength isn't an impenetrable fortress, but the vulnerability to acknowledge the ghost in your machine, and to gently, slowly, invite it back home. The sadness hasn't vanished, but it no longer speaks in a monologue. Thanks to Olivia, it has a soundtrack, and I am finally learning to sing along.

Math is the decoding algorithm of my tongue, a perplexing ingredient contrasting different balance of equation, that graph upon my tongue. Measuring my lips in cups and spoon by mom recipes written in my Mother cookbook , each one configured with unsolved equation in my hand. My love for math wasn't fascinated with number but the warm affectionate tongue connecting generation and generation after me. Cooking was a language of love, For me it wasn't an idea. I'd watch her flick her wrist adding a "pinch:" and a distribution of spices. It was art, but I was desperate to understand the incanaction of it. I saw her instant applied calclus the integral of experience and the derivative of taste. When I finally asked for her infamous sauce recipe, she smiled and said, “A little of this and that, until it feels right". That night, I wept in annoyance over a pot that was too acidic, too displeasing. It didn’t feel right. So I turned her art into my science. I documented, measured. and calculated. A tablespoon of acid requires a half-teaspoon of sugar to balance; the reaction on the meat requires exactly 275°F to develop 34 new flavor compounds. I was not stripping away her magic; I was building my own bridge to it with the precise ratio of flour to fat, I found the constant that connected her intuition to my understanding. In the exponential growth of yeast, I found a answer for how a single shared lesson can fill my lifetime of food Now, when I bake her bread, the kitchen fills with a scent that transcends time and the golden ratio of the crust. They are my conversation with her. Math is the constant in our family’s story, the variable I solved for to understand a love that was always expressed in nourishment. It is the most human of sciences. When I faithfully replicate the same algorithm of the dishes with her, I can always taste home My love for math is the love I have for her, measured out in infintely scable and longtime comfort from her