I have wrestled since I was in the 6th grade has been a huge part of my life.It has progressed with the years to be more than just give me a sport where it has developed me into a leader, discipline, and tough-headed. From my first practice in a local wrestling club to helping coach younger kids today, wrestling has shaped me into the person I am today and given me a sense of direction that I aim to follow throughout my life. I started wrestling when I was around 11 years old. I was nervous at first. I didn't know if I was tough enough or if I'd ever catch up with the older kids. But I came to enjoy the sport soon enough. Wrestling isn't like most sports—it's not quickness or strength. It's heart. You have to be willing to give it every ounce of energy when your body is begging you to quit. You had to be smart, too, always thinking and adjusting. That is what kept me going. I started going to wrestling clubs after school in hopes of getting better, and every year I got better—body and mind. High school wrestling was a large portion of my life. I wrestled all four years and practiced every month. Not always smooth sailing. There were brutal losses, long practices, and times when I thought it was all not worth the trouble. But just as I was ready to quit, I recalled why I started. I became more confident, more driven, and learn to persevere no matter how hard it got. That same attitude crossed over to school, the work place, and life in general. That helped me take college and AP classes and part-time work and football, too. One of the things that I'm most proud of is the manner in which I've been able to give back to the sport which gave me so much. I've volunteered to work at youth wrestling clubs and assisted younger kids who are starting out, similar to how I started. Telling them the fundamentals, getting them caught up if they are behind, seeing them get better—those've been some of the positives being a wrestler.". It gave me that I don't hate wrestling because it's something which allows me to be myself, I like seeing what it does for them too. I believe that is one of the reasons why I'd probably be a social worker. I have seen the difference with my own eyes that sport like wrestling has the ability to bring into one's life. It makes children disciplined, motivated, and gives them something in which to believe. As a future professional social worker, I'd like to be able to provide children with that opportunity who don't necessarily have a lot of things going for them. I would love to help them build their self-esteem, their personality, and their future. Whether it's sports, mentorship, or just someone to listen to. Wrestling didn't only show me how to win a match—it showed me how to lose, how to recover from it, and how to lead. It gave me a platform to grow up and a means to give back. I'm not going to be wrestling for the rest of my life, but I'll be a wrestler for the rest of my life. And I'm going to take everything that I've learned from the sport and make a positive difference in people's lives.

I have always thought as a child that I wished to assist people. I did not know how but knew I wanted to be a person who made the world a little brighter for others. The older and more involved I have become, the more I have realized that it is caring for those who are most frequently forgotten or in need—namely, children—that motivates me. It is this reason that I will be a social worker, and I have no doubt that I will leave a lasting positive mark on the world through my employment and education that will be seen long after my passing. The one thing that has been most expensive to date has been an experience constructing a project, Duffels for Dignity. I did it through the Student LIFT program during my junior year. The project was to collect duffel bags for foster children in Randolph County who like to tote their items around in trash bags. I could not even attempt to imagine what they must be going through, and I wanted to provide them with something else—something that would make them feel special and loved. I posted on social media, created flyers, and even rode in the Christmas parade in the hometown so that I could inform people. At the end of it all, we had more than 150 duffel bags, and I was glad that we had made a difference in a child's life—no matter how small. Duffels for Dignity showed me the power of one thought and one heart. It showed me how much there is out there. It motivated me to do more. And since then, I've volunteered and assisted children in whatever manner I can. I've tutored younger kids, helped youth organizations, and volunteered for causes benefiting underprivileged children. Whenever I help children, I learn something new. I observe how much potential they hold and how at certain times all they require is someone to believe in them. Which is why I'm searching for a major in social work. I wish to be the one who arrives, who hears, and who voices for children and families when they most need it. My education will enable me to do so at a higher level—whether with foster care children, with crisis families, or in schools or shelters. I want to bring hope and assistance where people are hopeless and forgotten. I've seen firsthand the impact a social worker can have. My stepmother is a social worker, and I've watched her work patiently and tirelessly with others. She's shown me in person just how fulfilling the work can be. I know it's not always simple, but it's desperately required. I'd like to work the same way she does, using the education I have to serve, not on individuals, but on populations. In my later years, I would return to my hometown and give back to the same type of individuals who nurtured me. I would want to be a source, a guide, and a leader. I would want to make sure children like me growing up—fighting and questioning—are made to feel that they are not alone and that they matter. My plan is simple: to serve, to empower, and to make positive, meaningful change. I believe firmly that with my education and experience, I can do it all.

I was taught to always do the right thing, whether or not anyone is watching. That is what my parents instilled in me, and that is something which I have taken with me to this day. When I learned about the Michael Pride, Jr. Memorial Scholarship and the tradition which it represents, I saw a reflection of what I am striving to live in my own life—serving others humbly, from the heart, and with purpose. One of the strongest acts of service that I've organized to date is an event that I myself came up with named Duffels for Dignity. I did it during junior year with Student LIFT. What we were trying to do was collect duffel bags and then distribute them to Randolph County foster children. These kids have to carry their clothing in trash bags, and that strips them of their dignity when they are already lost to begin with. I just couldn't stand to let it happen, so I did something about it. I organized online, distributed flyers at football games, sent letters to city government, and even participated in the Christmas parade in town to make people aware of the situation. By the time we were done, we had collected over 150 duffel bags. One thing I learned from this is that one heart and one mind are that powerful. What I also learned, though, is that my job is definitely not finished yet. Due to this, I would prefer to be a social worker. My calling in life is to be present for others—first and foremost children, families, and children—at the worst time of their life. My stepmother is a social worker, and I have seen how she brings hope to hopeless situations. I wish that I could do the same for other people too, someone to speak with, help, and speak up for people. I'm doing everything that I can right now to get myself ready for that fate. I've taken three AP courses and seven college credits, four years lettered in football, three in wrestling, and worked part-time at the North Carolina Zoo and Chick-fil-A. It hasn't been easy balancing school, work, and sports, especially with my family being more working-class these days and with the added stress of two kids attending college at the same time. But I've persevered because I know what's at stake—not just for me, but for those whom I will eventually represent. Education is the way to becoming a community leader. With a social work degree, I will be able to be the voice of the voiceless, a helping hand to struggling families, and be able to make a difference. I would like to return to my community after graduation and be an ever-present support system—someone you can count on, especially children who are experiencing troubled times. The Michael Pride, Jr. Memorial Scholarship would make a huge difference in helping me reach that goal. It would allow me to focus on my education and worry less about how my family will afford college. More importantly, it would be a reminder that I’m not walking this path alone—that others believe in my vision and my heart for service. I would like to continue this scholarship's legacy of good, caring, and active life—just like Michael Pride, Jr. did. I am ready to do some good, and if you provide your support, I am sure that I will.

I have seen it up close as a child how harassment and bullying erode one's self-esteem, confidence, and career. A Black man from a small American town, I have witnessed first-hand and seen for myself the psychological cost of being misunderstood, labeled, or excluded for who you are. It is for this reason that I have made it my own personal mission to be a voice for social change and progress in K-12 education, specifically on bullying and mental health concerns. I believe change starts with empathy, education, and the courage to tell the truth—and I'm going to be a voice for the ones who all too often are not. Because I am a high school student, I have done my best to get people informed and assist others officially and unofficially. I have also taught younger students, listened when someone needed to be heard out, and defended my classmates who were bullied. Through the Student LIFT program, I spearheaded a project called Duffels for Dignity, in which I collected over 150 duffle bags for foster youth. This has also reminded me to value even more what so many young people already know—powerlessness, invisibility, shame at their status. Bullying and trauma occur together, and I do not want to be a part of this cycle. I will continue to be a voice for students by becoming a mental health practitioner as a social worker who works with youth and families. I'm concerned with mental health because I understand the significance of emotional support when times get tough. I've seen children struggle quietly—acting out, withdrawing, or breaking apart—because they're not receiving the right kind of intervention or don't have enough safety nets to ask. Too many schools are under-staffed or over-extended to meet the mental health concerns of their students. Long wait lists, a lack of counselors, and weak school-to-school and school-to-home communication make it even harder to get help when you need it most. I look forward to a future where I give students greater access to mental health care. That starts through advocacy at the district- and school-level. I believe that all schools would require in-school mental health workers, proper reporting systems on bullying, and regular mental health screenings with kids—not only in the aftermath of a tragedy. I would promise to allow schools to have working relationships with community non-profits and agencies to allow schools to expand services and deliver mental health care directly to kids, especially where there are the least amounts of resources like where I grew up. Another of my goals is to teach students, teachers, and parents in workshops, peer groups, and open discussion about bullying and mental health. When people are taught and empowered, they're more likely to intervene earlier, be more compassionate, and care for one another. Creating safe, inclusive spaces where students feel seen and cared for is the beginning of healing and learning. Eventually, I hope to be the type of person that I needed then—someone who listens without fear, speaks without judgment, and believes in all children regardless of what they have had to suffer. My hope is to see children walk through not only the pain of bullying and mental illness but also learn to believe in their own strength and value. With the right support, they can succeed—and I am determined to be a part of it.

Wrestling has caused me to rethink adversity—not as something that stands in the way of it, but as something that defines it. I used to view challenges as obstacles threatening success before I joined the wrestling team. But somewhere between the sweat, losses, and endless drill exercises, I have come to understand that adversity is not the issue. It's the process. Wrestling has also shown me that it's not how you respond when things get tough that defines you as a person. That in itself has affected not only my outlook on the sport, but the future as a social worker and community organizer. Wrestling is the toughest sport I have ever been involved in. Unlike football, where you have an entire team behind you, wrestling puts all of the workload on your back. There is no hiding, no finger to point anywhere else. Each match exposes your weaknesses and your strengths. I've had matches where I'd give everything that I have and still walk off the mat having lost. At first, that was hard to swallow. I'd be embarrassed or disillusioned. But as the years went by, I realized that were the times I could learn. Wrestling also showed me an appreciation for learning from my losses, along with my wins—to learn, to adjust, and to come back stronger. I applied the same philosophy to the rest of my life as well. I didn't pass my driver's permit test the first time. I fell short by one question. It frustrated me, but I was not going to be defined by it. So I used the same philosophy I had gained from wrestling: take a step back, learn some more, and try some more. And I made it through. In the classroom, on the mat, or in life, I now consider failure a setup for a comeback—rather than an outcome. Wrestling also instilled toughness and discipline in me. Practice was tough, and losing weight required some serious commitment. There were points where my body ached, and quitting was a more viable option than continuing. But I kept my objectives in mind. That discipline allowed me to succeed at school while working part-time jobs and taking AP and college-level classes. Wrestling taught me how to work hard, be tough-minded, and just keep going when it gets tough. Those are ingrained in me now. As a future social worker, my personal experience with hardship gives me an insider's view. I know how it is to struggle, be the underdog, and continue to fight regardless of anything. I would like to help others do the very same thing. Regardless of who they are, whether they are foster children, low-income families, or underachieving students, I would want to be the one to demonstrate to them that hardship can be a motivation. As wrestling has done for me, I would want to demonstrate to others that pain does have a purpose, and defeat can be the precursor to something greater. Wrestling not only made me stronger—it placed me in a position to make others stronger too. That's how it transformed me. And that's how it affected my future.

My birth name is Omarrius Little, and I am a high school senior at age 17 from Ramseur, North Carolina. I was brought up by a committed lower-middle-class family, who taught me values of hard work, saving, and being myself. My mother and father, Omarr Little and Tanya Little, taught me that I can do anything that life presents to me as long as I possess willpower and heart. That is the reason why I have always attempted my best at school, in sports, in the workplace, and in the community. I've achieved a lot at school throughout high school. I've wrestled for three years and played football for four years. I've also worked part-time at the North Carolina Zoo and Chick-fil-A and worked through challenging courses such as seven college classes and three AP. I also participated in clubs and programs such as Student LIFT, leadership development and education. My biggest achievement was that I championed a project called Duffels for Dignity and raised over 150 duffle bags for the foster youth in Randolph County. I didn't want them to haul around their belongings in trash bags anymore. It was just the best to be able to give and have my community rally behind something that I am passionate about. But even in the midst of all those successes, I struggled through one of the most difficult times of my life my first semester my last year. I started to struggle with problems with my mental health. I was stressed, lost, and overwhelmed, and I didn't know what to do about it. I had to quit sports, and that was the hardest thing that I ever had to do. It felt as if I had a part of me stolen. But as soon as I started therapy, everything changed. It made me realize that it is okay to seek help and that it was an act of strength, not weakness. I had managed to rationalize my emotions, feel confident, and get rooted again. This made me stronger at what I know in life. I always wanted to be a social worker, but watching my own mental state made me understand how vital it actually is. I want to help others, especially teenagers and children who are lonely or lack someone to whom they can talk. I want to be the one they can talk to, help them, and inform them that they are special and their existence matters. I will discuss suicide prevention and mental illness because I am aware of the reality of such circumstances. This scholarship would be a tremendous assistance to my family and me. With both of us, my brother and I, in college simultaneously, funds are limited. Such aid would take some of that burden off our shoulders and enable me to concentrate more on my studies and professional goals. I want to make a real impact—not just in my own life, but in the lives of others. I’m ready to put in the work to become a social worker who brings hope and healing to people who need it most.

Loss does not always mean death—a great many times it is deafness in your own mind beating you, or the weight of expectation pounding you to death bit by bit. The first semester of senior year was when I felt the loss that I had never truly experienced before: loss of spirit, of joy, and of self. What began as burnout was something deeper—mental problems that caused me to pull away, to ruminate about things, and become emotionally drained. For someone who had always been labeled as tough—a football player, a wrestler, working a part-time job after school, and taking college-level courses—it was the first time that I'd hit a wall that I couldn't get past on my own. I was ultimately compelled to make the tough decision to leave behind sports—a ginormous part of who I am. It was cutting off an arm so that I would have to leave behind something that I loved so much, but I knew that I needed to. That decision put me on a different kind of strength. I went for therapy, and from there, I realized that asking for help is not weakness—strength. I learned from therapy that my feelings were not imaginary but true and real as they were and that healing does not happen overnight but could be done with right guidance. It helped me regain control of my emotions, restore my confidence, and most importantly, my sense of direction. That woke me up. I already had the thought in my head that I would be a social worker, but going through what I went through with my own mental health issues made me want to do the job even more—specifically working with mental health. I discovered how many young people, particularly young Black men like myself, were quietly suffering because of stigma, fear, or otherwise exclusion from mental health care. I knew at that point that I would be part of the solution. I would like to be a social worker who provides a judgment-free, safe space in which people feel that they are able to tell their pain, heal, and remember that their life is worth living. Loss has taught me compassion. My own mental illness issues gave me empathy and more knowledge of what kind of difference I would like to make in the world. I would like to be a suicide prevention worker because I am aware of the desperation that arises when you are alone. I believe that I could make a difference by sharing my own experience, by listening without judgment, and by presenting a consistent message of hope to those who feel they cannot live. I want to engage them through school education, volunteerism, or individual counseling and make them understand that they are not invisible by informing them that there is hope. My own life has not only made me what I am professionally—given definition to it. I have learned what it means to break and the strength it takes to mend. That is why I am dedicated to being a social worker who leads others to light when all they can see is darkness.

Books have never failed to disappoint me when it comes to explaining the world and I. Reading Invisible Man, Their Eyes Were Watching God, and Leave the World Behind made me realize how survival, race, and identity determine the lives of people. They spoke to me because they reminded me of my own story—growing up as a black man in an African American lower-middle-class household, searching for my purpose and voice in a world that at times does not appear to be built for me. With Their Eyes Were Watching God, I was able to see how Janie's search for becoming self and independent is something we all go through, especially when we are younger and are trying to understand who we are. It revealed how even when other people may try to make us into what they want us to be, we can still choose who we are. Invisible Man spoke to me. It sensitized me to the way that society overlooks people based on color or where they come from. I found myself asking: "How do I get noticed—not the way that I look, but who I am?" It further motivated me to become a social worker. I want to be one of them who notices people as they are and gives them value. Leave the World Behind made me realize how people behave in a crisis and race and have faith. It made me remember that people behave like themselves in fear—and that compassion, and not panic, is what is going to bring people together. One small failure that I learned was that I failed my driving test on the first try. I had obtained it through one question, and it was disappointing at that time. But instead of losing hope, I kept pushing and endured the subsequent week. It taught me that failure is just nearer to achieving success. It taught me that I am capable of overcoming anything as long as I work hard enough. Mentorship has also contributed significantly to my life. Programs such as Student LIFT introduced me to people who believed in me and challenged me to dream big. Through the mentorship, I initiated a community service project, Duffels for Dignity, which collected over 150 duffle bags for foster children in my county. I also worked as a lead fundraiser at my school in a vice presidential capacity with the Student Government when two students were killed in a car accident. Our silent auction raised over $1,500 for the families. What I've gained from these experiences is that leadership is indeed all about service, and that I can get people to do something for the better. I was raised in a situation where there was never money enough but always plenty of love and commitment. My parents taught me humility, hard work, and keeping my feet on the ground. What sets me apart from anyone else is that I learned how to juggle school, work, sports, and service—because I did not have to, but because I wanted to be someone that people looked up to. Whether wrestling practice, football games, or helping a classmate with a problem, I always attempted to leave people better than when I found them. I plan to take that energy with me as a social worker—to help people find their strength, even when things in their lives feel difficult. I would want to speak for the voiceless, and I would want to take all that I have learned—through reading, through mentors, and through my experiences—and apply it to help make a long-lasting impact within my community.

My name is Omarrius Little, and Im a proud young African American from Ramseur, North Carolina. My life has always seemed to be moving in the direction of a greater purpose than my own self. My background is from the lower class, where my two working-class parents instilled in me the importance of saving, planning, and what is right for others. Life hasn't been easy, but it has also taught me how to become the individual who wants to leave a lasting legacy. At high school, I've tried my hand at a little bit of everything—leadership, volunteering, sports, and clubs. I wrestled for three years, football for four years, and were on the track team. Teamwork taught me discipline, patience, and helping others. I also worked part-time at Chick-fil-A and the North Carolina Zoo and learned time management and the need for focus. But where I most felt my calling was in the Student LIFT program, which was funded by the Randolph County Chamber of Commerce. This was a leadership opportunity to visit some of the many community organizations such as the Boys and Girls Club, our local hospital, and even political offices. It was from this that I developed a service project titled "Duffels for Dignity." What I learned from this is that the majority of the foster children have to place their possessions in garbage bags when they move. That did not sit well with me at all. I knew that something had to be done. So I reached out to the community—via fliers, social media, phone calls, and even a Christmas parade march—and collected over 150 duffle bags. I just wanted to be able to provide those kids with a little bit of dignity in a time of need, and I'm so glad that I did. Leadership has been a big part of my life. When I was vice president of the Student Government Association, I organized a silent auction to raise money for the families after two students passed away at our school. I was responsible for organizing the student donations, reminding them, and communicating with my peers. We raised over $1,500 for the families, and I got to see firsthand the strength of teamwork and compassion. All of that experience has only caused me to do one thing: become a social worker. I want to be there for the children and families who are, like, "No one notices us. No one knows." I have watched people fight—not because they are lazy, but because they lack resources. I want to be that. I want to listen, facilitate, and give people hope again. My professional life is not about worrying about finding work—it is living for a reason. I am going to use all that I have learned, and all that I have witnessed, to contribute to the positive change in my society and to the world. It is not that I simply want to make a difference—I want to leave a lasting legacy of kindness, of bravery, of hope.

From the time that I was a child I have had this feeling of calling to help others. Whether staying late to complete an additional assignment for a teacher, or opening the door for someone else, or mowing a neighbor's grass, I liked to do something that improved some other people's lives. I did not realize then that all of these little things were building up to something much bigger a calling to serve my community for my lifetime. As I became older, that natural urge to assist others became a strong resolve to make a difference, i.e., for those who do not necessarily have the ability or means available to voice out. That's why I am a social worker. I want to advocate for the voiceless. I want to be present for others in their darkest moments and let them know that they are not alone. Social work to me is not merely short-term intervention it's long-term, sustained transformation that has the power to change lives, to assist people and families to live more stable, richer lives. I would rather specialize in clinical social work in health care settings, where I will work with people who are ill, traumatized, or have other acute life crises. My intention is not only to offer emotional support, but to help patients gain access to the resources and advice they need in order to move forward. One of those experiences that truly stoked this passion was helping out with my school's special education class for the Special Olympics. I assisted the students throughout competition, supported them, and filled in where I could. It was there, in that moment, that I saw how much power is in encouragement and in advocacy. Seeing the look on their faces when they were cheered when someone believed in them made me remember why this career is so important to me. That only made me more dedicated to being someone that can bring out the best in people and make them stronger, especially those which would usually get overlooked. I am a work in progress, just like everyone these days. One of my weaknesses is that it's hard for me to say "no." I have to help too much, and sometimes I over commit because of it. I've come to realize boundaries are not only necessary for my own good, but so that I can be present and serve in ways that really matter. One of the things I'm still struggling to get the hang of is judgment. I would love to give everyone the benefit of doubt, but I've learned through tough experience that not everyone has altruistic motives. These courses haven't daunted me they've awakened me, wiser, more vigilant, and better equipped to deal with the harsh realities of social services work. Education is where it starts in realizing my dream. I plan on having a Bachelor of Social Work (BSW) and then pursuing further studies to the Master of Social Work (MSW) level so that I may become a licensed clinical social worker. I hope to be at the forefront of change, being in a position to enable people not merely to survive but heal and thrive. With appropriate training and equipment, I think that I might be an ongoing, positive force for those suffering with the worst moments of their own lives. The scholarship would make such a reality possible. Growing up in a family that was under middle class, money was always something that would have to be kept very tightly in check. My parents did the best they could, but paying for college for me and my brother at the same time really puts heavy financial pressure on them. This scholarship would alleviate some of that pressure and allow me to be able to focus solely on my studies. Most importantly, it would bring me closer to reaching my life's ambition: becoming a social worker who motivates others and starts real, true change in my community.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a doctor. I thought it was the best way to help people, and honestly, I liked the idea of being someone others looked up to. I would watch medical shows and imagine myself saving lives, thinking that was the only way to make a real difference. For years, I told myself that was the path I would take, but as I got older, I started to realize something—maybe being a doctor wasn’t the only way to help people. As I went through high school, I got more involved in my community. I tutored younger students, joined clubs, and took part in service projects, and over time, I realized what truly made me happy—helping people in a way that went beyond just their physical health. I started paying more attention to the emotional and mental struggles people around me were facing, and I saw how much of a difference it made when someone simply took the time to listen and care. The biggest moment that shifted my mindset was when I created Duffels for Dignity, a project to collect duffel bags for foster kids who often have to carry their belongings in trash bags. Learning about their situation really opened my eyes, and I felt this deep need to do something about it. Organizing the project, reaching out to the community, and seeing how many people came together to help made me realize that my calling wasn’t in medicine—it was in social work. I wanted to be the person who helped others feel seen, valued, and supported when they had no one else to turn to. Even though I’m not pursuing my childhood dream of becoming a doctor, I don’t feel like I’ve lost anything. If anything, I feel like I’ve gained a clearer understanding of who I am and what I’m meant to do. I’ve always wanted to help people, and now I know that social work is the way I’m meant to do it. I want to be there for people during their hardest moments, helping them find hope and stability. Looking back, I’m grateful for the journey that led me here. My childhood dream got me thinking about helping others, but my experiences showed me there are so many ways to do that. Now, I know I’m on the right path, and I can’t wait to make a real lasting impact.

One of the biggest times I put Jesus first, others second, and myself third was when I created my community service project, Duffels for Dignity. I started the project to collect duffel bags for foster kids in Randolph County because I learned that many of them have to carry their belongings in trash bags when they move from home to home. That just didn’t sit right with me. I felt called to do something about it, not for recognition, but because I wanted these kids to feel valued and loved—just like Jesus teaches us to care for others. At first, I wasn’t sure if I could actually pull it off. I didn’t know if people would donate or if I was even reaching enough people. But instead of letting doubt get in the way, I prayed about it and trusted that God would take care of the rest. I spent hours reaching out to businesses, organizations, and people in my community, asking for donations and spreading the word. I posted about it on social media, passed out flyers at football games, and even walked in my town’s Christmas parade to promote the cause. It wasn’t easy, but I reminded myself that this was bigger than me—it was about making sure these kids felt seen and cared for. In the end, we collected over 150 duffel bags, and I was honestly blown away by how much support we got. Seeing how willing people were to help reminded me that God really does work through us when we put others first. More than anything, this experience deepened my faith and showed me that small acts of kindness can go a long way. Going forward, I want to keep living by these principles, especially as I work toward becoming a social worker. I know there will be times when the job gets hard, but I’ll always remind myself why I chose this path—to help people who feel unseen, just like Jesus did. Whether it’s advocating for kids, mentoring, or just being there to listen, I’ll keep putting others first and trusting that God will guide me. This project showed me that when we serve with the right heart, the impact is greater than we ever imagine.

Learning from our small failures is key to personal growth. Life throws challenges at us all the time, big and small, and how we deal with them can really shape who we are. One challenge I faced was when I took the test for my driver’s permit. I had spent weeks studying, doing everything I thought I needed to pass. But when I found out I didn’t pass, I was crushed—especially since I missed it by just one question. In that moment, I felt like a failure, and I even started doubting myself. At first, it felt like a huge setback, like I was never going to get my permit or move forward. But after I calmed down and took a step back, I realized that it was just a small setback. It wasn’t the end of the world, and it definitely wasn’t the end of my goal to get my permit. It became a chance to learn and grow. What I took away from it was that setbacks don’t last forever; they’re just opportunities to come back stronger. Instead of staying disappointed, I decided to double down on my studying. I went back to the material, reviewing the sections where I struggled the most, and made sure I fully understood everything. I realized that success in anything—whether it’s sports, school, or relationships—depends on how much effort you put in. You can’t expect results if you’re not willing to put in the time and energy. This helped me develop a mindset where failure isn’t something to fear, but something to learn from. I had a week to prepare for the retest, and I used that time to study every day. I refined what I knew and made sure I was ready. When the retest finally came around, I felt confident. I had put in the work, stayed focused, and stayed positive even after my first setback. This time, I passed and got my driver’s permit. That moment wasn’t just about getting my permit—it was about how much I had grown during the process. This experience taught me the value of perseverance, resilience, and having a growth mindset. Now, when I face challenges, I see them as opportunities to push myself harder and learn more. I don’t fear failure anymore because I know it’s just part of the process. Staying focused and positive, even when things don’t go the way I want, has become something I carry with me everywhere. This lesson has definitely changed how I think about education. I now see learning as more than just getting the right answers or avoiding mistakes. It’s about the process itself—growing, learning from experiences, and developing skills that help me make a difference. As I continue my education, I plan to use what I learn to help my community, especially as I work toward becoming a social worker. I want to use my knowledge and experiences to help others overcome their struggles, just like I learned to overcome mine. Education has the power to shape lives, and I hope to use mine to help others rise above their challenges. The lessons I’ve learned from my small failures will guide me as I work to create positive change and build a community where everyone has a chance to succeed.

Learning from our small failures is crucial for personal growth. Life throws a lot of challenges our way, and it’s up to us to turn those moments into something positive. One small failure I faced was when I took the test for my driver's permit. When I found out I didn’t pass, I was totally crushed—especially since I missed it by just one question. At first, it felt like a huge setback, but I realized it was just a minor bump on the road to getting my permit. After I calmed down, I took a step back and decided to hit the books even harder. I learned that what I get out of anything—whether it’s sports, friendships, or school—depends on how much I’m willing to put in. You can’t expect great results if you’re not ready to invest your time and effort. I had a week before I could retake the test, so I dedicated that time to studying, and when the day of the retest came, I was ready. I finally passed and got my driver's permit! This small failure taught me several important lessons. First, I learned that perseverance is key—setbacks are just chances to bounce back. I also realized that having a growth mindset is huge; it’s all about looking at challenges as learning experiences instead of failures. Lastly, I realized how important it is to stay focused and keep a positive energy, even when things do not go as planned. Every experience shapes who I am striving to become.