I chose to study aerospace engineering because it represents the spirit of innovation, perseverance, and exploration that has inspired me since childhood. Growing up, I would spend hours building model planes and flying remote-controlled aircraft, fascinated by the idea that humans could design machines capable of defying gravity. As I got older, I realized that aerospace engineering was not just about flight. It was about pushing limits and creating possibilities where none existed before. That spirit resonated with me deeply because it mirrored the journey of my own family. My parents came to the United States from Mexico nearly twenty-five years ago. Neither of them had the opportunity to pursue a proper education. Instead, they took on physically and mentally demanding jobs to provide a better future for me and my brothers. My father spent long days laboring in the fields under harsh conditions, and my mother built a small restaurant from the ground up, working tirelessly to keep our family afloat. Their sacrifices and relentless hard work have been my greatest source of motivation. Watching them struggle, and succeed despite the odds, taught me the value of determination and resilience. As a first-generation, Mexican-American student in aerospace engineering, I am aware of how few people who look like me are represented in this field. That reality does not discourage me. Instead, it fuels my ambition. I want to be part of the change, opening doors for future students from underrepresented backgrounds. In the short term, my goal is to complete my degree and gain experience through internships focused on aircraft design and systems innovation. In the long term, I hope to work on cutting-edge aerospace projects that improve efficiency, sustainability, and accessibility within the aviation and spaceflight industries. Being an underrepresented minority in aerospace engineering pushes me to work harder, to prove that talent and potential are not limited by background. It reminds me that every achievement is bigger than just myself; it is a step forward for my family, my community, and future generations of Latino students who dream of reaching for the skies. Receiving this scholarship would help ease the financial burden that comes with pursuing a demanding education. It would allow me to focus more fully on my studies, participate in hands-on projects like Berkeley’s Design, Build, Fly team, and prepare myself for a career where I can give back to the community that raised me. With your support, I hope to turn the sacrifices my parents made into a legacy of opportunity, growth, and achievement.

The day I received my acceptance letter from the University of California, Berkeley was one of the most unforgettable moments of my life. Being accepted into the number one public university in the country, and into a highly competitive major like aerospace engineering, felt like more than just a personal achievement. It was a milestone that symbolized years of hard work, sacrifice, and dreams that stretched far beyond my own. For me, that moment represented not only the realization of a childhood dream but also the culmination of everything my family had fought for. Coming from a background where higher education was never guaranteed, becoming a first-generation college student was never just about personal ambition. It was about making my mother proud. After my father passed away when I was seven years old, my mother, an immigrant who spoke little English, raised me and my brothers on her own. She ran a small Mexican restaurant for over fifteen years, working tirelessly to give us the opportunities she never had. Watching her strength and perseverance through every hardship taught me the value of hard work and determination from an early age. Getting accepted to Berkeley was not just my victory. It was hers, too. That experience taught me that dreams are built slowly, one step at a time, often without applause or recognition along the way. It taught me that success is not just about talent but about resilience, about waking up every day and choosing to keep going even when the path feels overwhelming. I learned that it is not enough to dream big. You have to work harder than anyone else in the room to turn those dreams into reality. Looking ahead, I hope to continue building on that achievement. My goal is to graduate with my aerospace engineering degree and eventually work in the aviation or spaceflight industry, helping to design the next generation of aircraft or spacecraft. I am passionate about pushing the boundaries of what is possible and about contributing to technological advances that can inspire future generations. Beyond professional success, I am committed to giving back to my community, mentoring young students from disadvantaged backgrounds and showing them that they, too, can achieve what once felt impossible. More than anything, I want my story to be a testament to the idea that where you come from does not have to define where you are going. I want to honor the sacrifices my parents made, the legacy my father left behind, and the strength my mother showed every single day. Being accepted to Berkeley was a dream come true, but it is only the beginning of the journey I hope to continue for years to come.

Growing up in a small Mexican-American household, dreams often had to take a back seat to survival. My parents migrated to the United States with almost nothing, but with hope that their children could have a future they never had. My father worked under the hot sun as a field laborer, and my mother opened a small restaurant that has kept our family afloat for over fifteen years. After my father passed away when I was seven, my mother raised me and my brothers as a single, Spanish-speaking parent. Watching her persevere through every obstacle showed me what real strength looks like. Today, I am a second-year aerospace engineering student at UC Berkeley, working toward a future my parents fought for. I aspire to become an engineer who not only innovates but inspires others from backgrounds like mine to reach for bigger dreams. Being part of Berkeley’s Design, Build, Fly team, where we built a functional aircraft from scratch, has given me the technical and teamwork skills to succeed in my field. This scholarship would not just ease financial pressure. It would be an investment in a dream built over generations. It would allow me to focus more fully on my education and eventually give back to my community through mentorship and outreach programs. I come from a background where obstacles are many, but so is determination. I am proud of where I come from, and even prouder of where I am going.

Growing up in a Mexican-American household, education was always seen as the key to a better life. My parents migrated to the United States nearly twenty-five years ago with little to their name but a deep hope that their children would have opportunities they never had. My father spent long days working in the Central Valley fields, while my mother opened a small Mexican restaurant that she has run for over fifteen years. Their sacrifices and hard work showed me what dedication looks like, and they made it clear to me from a young age that higher education would be my path forward. I chose to pursue higher education because I wanted to honor my parents’ sacrifices and create a future where I could build something lasting for my family and community. Higher education is more than just earning a degree. It is a symbol of breaking cycles of hardship and opening doors that were once closed to people like my parents. It represents hope, growth, and the ability to uplift not just myself, but the people around me. Preparing for college as a first-generation student was not easy. Without family members who had gone through the college process, I had to figure out much of it on my own. I spent countless hours researching schools, filling out financial aid forms, and seeking out mentors and counselors who could help guide me. I took rigorous classes in high school, pushed myself in every subject, and made it my goal to not just attend college, but to thrive once I got there. When I started college, I carried my parents’ lessons with me: work hard, stay humble, and never forget where you come from. As a second-year aerospace engineering student at UC Berkeley, I continue to lean on those lessons every day. Aerospace engineering is a challenging field, but it combines my lifelong fascination with flight and my desire to push boundaries. Preparing for this career path has required discipline, resilience, and a willingness to ask for help when I need it. I have also prepared myself by being involved in programs and teams that strengthen my skills and sense of community. This past year, I joined Berkeley’s Design, Build, Fly (DBF) team, where we designed and built a functional RC aircraft. Being part of DBF taught me not only technical skills but also teamwork, leadership, and the importance of persistence when things do not go as planned. As a first-generation student, every achievement feels a little bigger because it carries so much meaning. I am not just pursuing a degree for myself. I am carrying forward my father’s dreams, my mother’s sacrifices, and the hopes of every member of my family who believed in something better. Higher education is the bridge between their dreams and my future, and I am proud to walk across it.

Growing up, I often heard my mother say, “Tu educación es tu herencia,” your education is your inheritance. As the first in my family with the opportunity to pursue a college degree, those words have stayed with me every step of the way. Being the first means carrying the dreams, sacrifices, and hopes of generations before me. It means taking the hard work of my parents and building something even bigger from it. It means becoming the living proof that their struggles were not in vain. I am currently pursuing a degree in aerospace engineering, a field that has captured my imagination for as long as I can remember. Since I was a child, I have been fascinated by flight, by the idea that human innovation could break the bounds of earth and reach for the stars. This passion only grew stronger as I learned more about the challenges and possibilities that aerospace engineers tackle every day. For me, aerospace engineering represents more than just a career. It is a way to honor the dreams of my parents by pushing myself to the highest level of achievement I can reach. My long-term goals are deeply rooted in the values my parents taught me: perseverance, gratitude, and service. I aspire to become a successful aerospace engineer, contributing to projects that advance technology, create safer, more efficient aircraft, and maybe even push the boundaries of space exploration. I want to be part of the future that once seemed out of reach for families like mine. Beyond my career, I hope to give back to the community that shaped me by mentoring other first-generation students, showing them that their dreams are valid and possible. Every lecture I attend, every late night I spend studying, is fueled by a deep sense of responsibility to fulfill the sacrifices my parents made for me. My father spent long days under the beating sun working in the fields. My mother built a small restaurant from the ground up with hard work and determination. Their stories remind me daily why I must keep going, even when the journey is difficult. To me, earning my degree is not just a personal milestone. It is a collective victory for my entire family and a testament to the power of hope, hard work, and resilience. Becoming a first-generation college graduate is not just a dream. It is a promise. A promise to my parents, to myself, and to every person who came before me who believed in a better future. I am determined to turn that promise into reality.

My parents migrated to the United States from Mexico nearly twenty-five years ago, carrying little more than hope and determination. They came in search of a better life, not just for themselves, but for the children they dreamed of raising. My father worked the fields of the California Central Valley, enduring grueling summer heat and freezing winter mornings to put food on our table. My mother, with nothing but grit and passion, opened her own restaurant, proudly serving the flavors of her home country to our small community. For over fifteen years, she has stood behind that counter, working tirelessly to keep her dream alive. Watching my parents sacrifice so much showed me the true meaning of hard work and perseverance. They taught me that success is not given; it is earned, day by day, through dedication and effort. They became my greatest inspiration, and from a young age, I knew I wanted to make them proud by becoming the first person in my family to go to college. Growing up in a Mexican-American household shaped my values in ways I am endlessly grateful for. I learned that grit is not just a word, but a way of life. It means getting back up after every setback, working through every hardship, and never forgetting where you come from. When I was seven years old, my father passed away. Losing him was the hardest thing I have ever faced, but it also gave me a deeper sense of purpose. I have been raised ever since by my mother, a single, immigrant woman who speaks little English but who speaks volumes through her actions. She showed me that strength is not always loud or celebrated; sometimes, it looks like opening your restaurant every morning, no matter how tired you are, because your children are counting on you. I am passionate about becoming a first-generation graduate because I have seen firsthand what is possible through perseverance. My journey is not just my own. It belongs to my parents, to my brothers, to the community that raised me. Every late-night study session, every exam, every challenge I overcome is a reflection of the dreams they fought for. I am proud to be the product of their sacrifices, and I am determined to make their sacrifices count.

My parents migrated to the United States from Mexico nearly twenty-five years ago, carrying little more than hope and determination. They came in search of a better life, not just for themselves, but for the children they dreamed of raising. My father worked the fields of the California Central Valley, enduring grueling summer heat and freezing winter mornings to put food on our table. My mother, with nothing but grit and passion, opened her own restaurant, proudly serving the flavors of her home country to our small community. For over fifteen years, she has stood behind that counter, working tirelessly to keep her dream alive. Watching my parents sacrifice so much showed me the true meaning of hard work and perseverance. They taught me that success is not given; it is earned, day by day, through dedication and effort. They became my greatest inspiration, and from a young age, I knew I wanted to make them proud by becoming the first person in my family to go to college. Growing up in a Mexican-American household shaped my values in ways I am endlessly grateful for. I learned that grit is not just a word, but a way of life. It means getting back up after every setback, working through every hardship, and never forgetting where you come from. When I was seven years old, my father passed away. Losing him was the hardest thing I have ever faced, but it also gave me a deeper sense of purpose. I have been raised ever since by my mother, a single, immigrant woman who speaks little English but who speaks volumes through her actions. She showed me that strength is not always loud or celebrated; sometimes, it looks like opening your restaurant every morning, no matter how tired you are, because your children are counting on you. Every step I take toward my education is a way of honoring both my parents, my father’s memory and my mother’s sacrifices. Being a first-generation, Mexican-American college student means more to me than just earning a degree. It means breaking cycles. It means proving that my family’s sacrifices were not in vain. It means standing as a bridge between two worlds, carrying the traditions and values of my heritage while forging a new future for those who will come after me. I am passionate about becoming a first-generation graduate because I have seen firsthand what is possible through perseverance. My journey is not just my own. It belongs to my parents, to my brothers, to the community that raised me. Every late-night study session, every exam, every challenge I overcome is a reflection of the dreams they fought for. I am proud to be the product of their sacrifices, and I am determined to make their sacrifices count.

When I was eight years old, I remember standing in my backyard, staring up at the sky as a jet painted a thin white line across the blue. I did not know exactly how it stayed up there, but I knew I wanted to find out. That small moment, one of many, planted the seed for a lifelong love of aviation. Growing up, I spent hours flying remote-controlled planes and helicopters, tinkering with them, crashing them, and fixing them again. I was fascinated by the idea that humans could build something that defied gravity. That passion never faded. It only grew stronger with time, fueled by stories of NASA’s missions and the engineers who made the impossible real. Today, I am a second-year aerospace engineering student at UC Berkeley, focusing on aeronautics and airplanes. Every course I take and every project I work on brings me closer to turning that childhood wonder into a career. This past semester, I had the chance to join the Design, Build, Fly (DBF) team at Berkeley. It was one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences of my college journey so far. Our team designed, built, and flew a fully functional remote-controlled aircraft from scratch. The process was not easy. There were setbacks, long nights, and many moments where the project felt impossible. But when our plane finally lifted off the ground, all the hard work made sense. Seeing something that we had built with our own hands take flight reminded me why I fell in love with aviation in the first place. With my degree, I hope to contribute to the next generation of aircraft design. I want to work on making airplanes more efficient and environmentally friendly so that aviation can continue to connect people around the world without sacrificing the planet. Eventually, I dream of working with organizations like NASA or private aerospace companies where I can help push the limits of what we believe is possible in flight. Beyond my academic journey, I believe it is important to give back to the community that helped shape me. Over the years, I have volunteered at local STEM events, working with younger students to build model planes and rockets. Watching their faces light up when their creations took flight reminded me of the little kid I once was. I hope to continue inspiring young minds to dream big, just as I was once inspired. Pursuing a career in aviation is not just about building airplanes or studying aerodynamics. It is about chasing the same sense of wonder that first captured me as a child staring at the sky. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to continue that pursuit with even greater focus, helping me take the next steps toward a career dedicated to innovation, sustainability, and exploration. I am excited for the challenges ahead and grateful for the opportunity to keep reaching for the sky.

When I think about who I am and how I view the world, I think about the sounds and smells of my mother’s small Mexican restaurant in Parlier, a tight-knit town tucked into California’s Central Valley. I think about the sizzle of pans, the scent of carne asada, and the Spanish conversations that blended with the clinking of silverware. But I also think about the quiet strength that existed beyond the kitchen doors, the kind of strength that shaped my identity as a Latino and a first-generation college student. My parents came to this country over twenty years ago with no money, no family, and no promises. My father worked in the fields, laboring through scorching summers and freezing winter mornings so that one day, his children could live a life he never had the chance to pursue. My mother, equally determined, saved for years before opening her own restaurant. She did it all while raising three boys, including me, the youngest. When I was seven, my father passed away. In the wake of that loss, my mother stepped into every role. She became both provider and protector. She was the restaurant manager and head chef by day, and a full-time mother by night. I watched her come home exhausted, her arms covered in burns, her feet swollen from the demands of the day, yet still somehow full of love and guidance. Her sacrifices never needed to be spoken aloud, they were written in every action, every sleepless night, and every meal she served. Growing up in a Mexican household taught me to value hard work, but more than that, it taught me to value family, resilience, and humility. In our culture, community matters. Family is not something that ends at your front door, it extends to your neighbors, your coworkers, and the people you break bread with. That sense of connection has shaped the way I approach relationships, education, and the future I’m working toward. Being raised in a Hispanic family also taught me what it means to do more with less. I didn’t have tutors or extra academic programs growing up. I had my mother’s example and a deep internal drive to honor her efforts. I learned early on that nothing would be handed to me, so I became determined to earn it. I dedicated myself to school with the same tenacity I saw in my mom’s late nights and early mornings. And eventually, I became the first person in my family to enroll in a four-year university. Now, as an Aerospace Engineering student at UC Berkeley, I carry my culture with me everywhere I go. It reminds me that my journey isn’t just about me, it’s about the sacrifices that came before me and the future I want to help create. I don’t take this opportunity lightly. I’m here because of the perseverance of a family that fought for a better life, and I plan to use this education not just for personal success, but to uplift others from communities like mine. My Hispanic background has taught me that identity is more than heritage, it’s a foundation. And on that foundation, I’m building a future fueled by gratitude, ambition, and a deep understanding of where I come from.

When I think about what it means to guide someone through a life-altering decision, I think about the sacrifices that shaped my own. My story is stitched together with quiet acts of strength, like my mother’s, who has been my constant reminder of how resilience, love, and determination can carve paths where none seem to exist. My father came to this country with my mother over twenty years ago, carrying only a dream and empty pockets. He worked in the unforgiving fields of California’s Central Valley, battling the summer heat and winter frost to build a life for his family. My mother, equally driven, spent years saving every dollar until she finally opened a small Mexican restaurant in Parlier, a quiet rural town surrounded by farmland. Together, they worked day and night to give us a future they never had. Then everything changed. I was seven years old when my father passed away, leaving my mother to raise me and my two older brothers alone while managing a restaurant business on her own. She became the sole manager, the head chef, the bookkeeper, the mother, and the emotional backbone of our family all at once. I remember her coming home smelling of grease and exhaustion, arms marked with burns from hot pans, her feet swollen from hours of standing, yet still finding the energy to help with homework or pack lunches for the next day. So if a loved one came to me seeking guidance and felt unsure about their next step in life, I would think back to that image of my mother. And I would tell them what I’ve learned: no great decision is made without fear, and no great journey is traveled without setbacks. I would encourage them to look not only at the choice before them but at the roots that hold them steady—the people, the stories, and the grit that brought them this far. I would remind them that strength often isn’t loud or glamorous. Sometimes, it looks like a tired mother walking through the door at midnight, still determined to do what’s right for her family. That image has been the compass for my own decisions. It taught me that nothing would ever be handed to me, and that if I wanted a different future, I had to work for it. I took that lesson to heart and poured it into my academics. I became the first person in my family to attend a four-year university, not because I had the most resources or the smoothest path, but because I saw what sacrifice looked like and knew I owed it to my family to carry their dreams forward. Still, even with that fire in my chest, the transition into higher education, especially into a STEM field like Aerospace Engineering, was not without turbulence. When I first arrived at UC Berkeley, I was immediately overwhelmed by the brilliance of those around me. Surrounded by students fluent in multiple programming languages, I found myself struggling just to grasp the basics of Python. It felt like everyone else had a head start I couldn’t make up. I was afraid to raise my hand in class. I worried that if I asked questions, I would expose how behind I truly felt. And slowly, that fear turned into a feeling of not belonging, of being an impostor in a room full of geniuses. But what saved me was the realization that I hadn’t made it here by chance. I was accepted to this university because of who I am, not in spite of it. I started reminding myself that every student, no matter how polished they appear, had a first time writing code. Everyone starts somewhere. And though my starting point might have looked different, I wasn’t any less capable of reaching the finish line. I stopped comparing myself and started focusing on progress. I gave myself permission to not know everything. I allowed myself to ask the difficult questions. I leaned into office hours, study groups, and late nights at the library not as signs of weakness, but as proof of effort. I learned to take pride not in perfection, but in persistence. And slowly, I started to grow. I began understanding the logic behind the code, started solving problems instead of avoiding them, and eventually found my confidence again. Not because I caught up to everyone else, but because I stopped racing them. To students who come from similar backgrounds—students who feel like they’re walking into unfamiliar territory without a map—I want you to know this: you belong. You are not behind, you are becoming. Don’t let someone else’s starting line define your worth. Instead of measuring your success against others, measure it against who you were yesterday. Ask questions. Be vulnerable. And most importantly, keep your head down and push forward. Not everything will come easily, but with enough time and effort, understanding will come. Your background may not match those around you, but that difference is your strength. It gives you perspective, resilience, and purpose. In aerospace, we learn that gravity is constant. But so is lift. And the same way engineers design wings to rise against gravity, you too can rise against doubt. Education has brought me more than knowledge. It has brought me perspective, connection, and purpose. And it has taught me that while none of us gets here alone, each of us has the power to shape what comes next—for ourselves, and for those who come after us.

Before the sun could rise over the rows of crops in California’s Central Valley, a young man stood bent over the soil, working through the morning chill. My father came to this country with my mother two decades ago—no money, no family, just a dream. He worked in the fields beneath the sweltering summer sun and the bitter cold of winter mornings. My mother, meanwhile, spent years saving every penny she could, eventually opening a small Mexican restaurant in Parlier, a quiet rural town surrounded by farmland. Together, they built a life from scratch. But this story is not about them—at least, not entirely. When I was seven years old, my father passed away. In an instant, my mother became a widowed immigrant raising three children while also running a business on her own. She was the manager, the head chef, and the sole emotional anchor of our family. I remember her coming home late, smelling of grease and sweat, arms burned from hot pans, and feet swollen from hours of work. Yet she still found the strength to be present—for homework, for meals, for moments that mattered. Watching her was watching resilience personified. She showed me that no job is beneath dignity, and that no dream is beyond reach when fueled by hard work. Growing up in this environment shaped every part of who I am. I knew from a young age that nothing would be handed to me. I didn’t have tutors or college-prep programs. What I had was a mother who showed me what it meant to work until your body ached and still keep going. So I did the same. I poured myself into school, determined to honor her sacrifices by becoming the first in my family to attend college. I knew education would be my way to break the cycle—not just for myself, but for my entire family. Now, as a student at UC Berkeley studying aerospace engineering, I carry my roots with me like armor. I study not just to earn a degree, but to prove to myself that I can soar beyond the boundaries that once confined us. My goal is to work in private industry where innovation meets ambition, and where I can contribute to technologies that lift us—quite literally—into the future. I want to show other students from towns like Parlier that the sky isn’t the limit—it’s just the beginning. My background has shaped me to be grounded in gratitude and driven by purpose. It reminds me every day that I come from a line of people who never gave up, even when the odds were against them. I study so that one day, when my own hands are tired and my back aches, I’ll know it was because I built something that mattered—just like my parents did, in their own extraordinary way.

When I was seven years old, my father passed away. At that moment, my life quietly split into two: the part of me that had a father, and the part that would spend the rest of my life without one. His absence left behind more than grief—it left behind a silence. Growing up in a Mexican immigrant household where vulnerability was rarely voiced, I quickly learned to keep my pain to myself. My mother, newly widowed and carrying the weight of a small business and four children, didn’t have the luxury of pausing to process. And in a way, neither did I. Without a father figure, I felt like I had to grow up alone. That belief took root early and shaped the way I approached the world. At school, I kept people at a distance. I never allowed myself to build close relationships with classmates or even friends. I thought isolating myself was the only way to stay safe. If I didn’t let people in, they couldn’t leave. But this isolation took a toll. It became harder to trust, harder to communicate, and harder to ask for help—things that I now know are vital to mental and emotional health. Instead of processing my grief, I tried to outrun it. I developed an obsession with achievement—not to gain praise, but to prove to myself that I could survive without the support I’d lost. I believed that if I could succeed academically, if I could be “the first,” then maybe the emptiness I carried would feel more manageable. I pushed myself to the top of my class, and eventually became the first person in my family to attend a four-year university. Looking back, I realize that my relationship with mental health has been one of learning how to give myself permission—to feel, to ask for help, and to let others in. I’ve come to understand that strength isn’t about silent endurance; it’s about having the courage to be honest about your pain and still keep going. I’ve started building more meaningful relationships, learning how to be open, and finding healing in the very connections I once avoided. These realizations have influenced not only how I view myself, but also the kind of career I want to pursue. As an engineering student at UC Berkeley, I’m preparing to enter a field known for its high demands and constant pressure. But I want to be part of the movement that redefines what it means to be successful—not just technically skilled, but emotionally intelligent and mentally well. I want to lead with empathy, advocate for mental health in professional spaces, and be a quiet reminder that success and struggle often exist side by side. Mental health isn’t a linear journey. It’s an ongoing process of learning how to live with what we’ve lost while still reaching for what we hope to become. For me, that means continuing to grow, to heal, and to lead a life that honors where I’ve come from—while never forgetting the little boy who had to grow up too soon.

Growing up, I watched my single mother turn a dream into a reality. After immigrating from Mexico, she started a small family restaurant in the States with little more than determination, grit, and a strong belief in the future she wanted for me. That restaurant became more than a business—it was a symbol of her perseverance, and it shaped the way I see the world and my place within it. Her work ethic inspired me from an early age. I saw the long hours she spent building something from nothing, and I learned that success isn’t about shortcuts—it’s about showing up, every single day, even when it’s hard. Because of her, I developed a deep respect for hard work, and I carried that mindset into my studies. With her constant support and encouragement, I became the first person in my family to attend college. Today, I’m proud to be studying engineering at UC Berkeley. My identity as a first-generation college student, raised by a mother who built her life from the ground up, has made me deeply aware of the opportunities that education can unlock. It’s also made me committed to giving back—to opening doors for others like me. My background doesn’t limit me; it fuels me. It reminds me that I’m not just here for myself—I’m here because of her, and I’m here to make a difference.