Education is directly correlated to one’s success in life, and everyone deserves a successful life. In America and around the world, the education gap is prevalent among those less fortunate. As I take steps to become an English teacher, I can do my part in addressing this social issue. Encouraging students of color through my engaging lessons, mentorship, and skills gained from my university, I can tackle this issue head-on and slowly make a difference. Although it may seem small in the grand scheme of things, changing one student's trajectory is incredible. I plan to change trajectories and direct the youth on the right path, giving them opportunities that I, and many others, didn't have. ---- On my first day working at Mathnasium, I stood out as a new hire. The other new hires were pale-skinned and a combination of blondes and brunettes. My caramel skin and ebony curls singled me out (an occurrence I was used to by now). At the time, I paid no mind to the differences between my coworkers and myself; I only wanted to start tutoring the students to foster new relationships in which I could be a mentor and teacher. The first week I tutored, the same kids would call me for help with their problems. Kids in all shades of brown would raise their hands and yell my name as if I were the only instructor there. Jeremiah, a dark-skinned 8th-grader, learned how to solve decimal word problems in between our conversations about recent Jordan releases and what it’s like being black in honors classes where white people outnumbered us. Having a mentor of color was an opportunity I never had, and connecting with these students was invigorating. My visibility in a room is now what empowers, not only myself but others around me, offering new perspectives and familiar ones for those who look like me. It will be a great honor to educate, encourage, and inspire the next generation of thinkers. Making individual impacts on each student’s life and creating a welcoming environment in the classroom will drive me to continue with this passion. With my hands-on student teaching experience gained from Northwestern University's School of Education and Social Policy programs and the cultural experience from Northwestern's study-abroad programs to London and Madrid, I can connect with both literature and stories on a deeper level, providing nuanced lessons for students that spark creativity and connection.

Math is a doorway. Math allows a connection between teacher and student that knows no language, culture, or age. On the Mathnasium training day, I stood out as a new hire. The other new hires were pale-skinned and a combination of blondes and brunettes. My caramel skin and ebony curls singled me out (an occurrence I was used to by now). At the time, I paid no mind to the differences between my coworkers and myself; I only wanted to start tutoring the students to foster new relationships in which I could be a mentor and teacher. The first week I tutored, the same kids would call me for help with their problems. Kids in all shades of brown would raise their hands and yell my name as if I were the only instructor there. Jeremiah, a dark-skinned 8th-grader, learned how to solve decimal word problems in between our conversations about recent Jordan releases and what it’s like being black in honors classes where white people outnumbered us. Having a mentor of color was an opportunity I never had, and connecting with these students was invigorating. My visibility in a room is now what empowers not only myself but others around me, offering new perspectives and familiar ones for those who look like me. I use math as an outlet to connect with others to foster curiosity, ambition and perserverence

On the Mathnasium training day, I stood out as a new hire. The other new hires were pale-skinned and a combination of blondes and brunettes. My caramel skin and ebony curls singled me out (an occurrence I was used to by now). At the time, I paid no mind to the differences between my coworkers and myself; I only wanted to start tutoring the students to foster new relationships in which I could be a mentor and teacher. The first week I tutored, the same kids would call me for help with their problems. Kids in all shades of brown would raise their hands and yell my name as if I were the only instructor there. Jeremiah, a dark-skinned 8th-grader, learned how to solve decimal word problems in between our conversations about recent Jordan releases and what it’s like being black in honors classes where white people outnumbered us. Having a mentor of color was an opportunity I never had, and connecting with these students was invigorating. My visibility in a room is now what empowers not only myself but others around me, offering new perspectives and familiar ones for those who look like me. This identity will act as a core layer when teaching, but the skills gained from college will equip me with the skills and techniques expected and unexpected. With the knowledge and skills gained from graduating college, I can pursue my love of connection by becoming a secondary English teacher. It will be a great honor to educate, encourage, and inspire the next generation of thinkers. Making individual impacts on each student’s life and knowing that I’m creating a welcoming environment in the classroom is what will drive me to continue with this passion. With my hands-on student teaching experience gained from university and the cultural experience from study-abroad programs to London and Barcelona, I can connect with both literature and stories on a deeper level, providing nuanced lessons for students that spark creativity and connection.

I am engulfed in a sea of energetic freshmen. To be a senior and the most nervous person in the room feels wrong. I watch Mr. Brown begin the class by asking everyone how they felt about last night’s reading: the short story “Why I Learned To Cook.” As the responses flood in, my mind runs wild with thoughts about what’s to come in the following minutes. How do I grab the attention of 23 kids? Where’s the best place to stand? Will my lesson about schema entice them? Will I slip up? I begin to recover as a sense of belonging returns. I remember my junior year when I applied to the SILC (Senior Instructional Leadership Corps) program, I knew that I wanted to work alongside Mr. Brown, my freshman English teacher, whose calm demeanor and humorous attitude inspired me to pursue a career in education. I didn’t expect challenges to come with the position, considering I had been a teacher all my life. Whether it be teaching my elementary school peers about new words, teaching my siblings how to do their math homework, or training new employees at Domino’s, my role as mentor stayed constant through the years. What I loved more than anything was teaching stories. The world of fiction had always captivated me, and I was fascinated by its endlessly diverse characters. In first grade, I picked up The Lightning Thief and was amazed by the adventures, vast mythology, and the hero Percy Jackson. I looked up to him throughout all of elementary school. I was a mixed-race 6-year-old who needed to make Mom proud and who needed to pack his plastic grocery bags biweekly with two days’ worth of clothes to have something at Dad’s. Percy always saved his friends and made his mom proud, all at a young age. He was practically mixed-race as a demigod with Poseidon as his father, a man he rarely saw. As I return to reality, I hope that the kids connected with the reading from last night as I did with Percy Jackson all those years ago. In preparing for my lesson today, I had asked myself how I could tap into the freshmen’s schema, connecting their background knowledge with the new story. “Why I Learned To Cook,” a short story about an Iranian-American girl who introduces her girlfriend to her grandma for the first time, has several points of personal connection for students, from learning more about their cultural background to navigating romantic relationships. As my eyes wander across the room, the glaring individuality of each freshman strikes me. I stand up from my desk with a smile and trembling hands and walk over to the front of the room where Mr. Brown stands. He pats me on the back and leaves me to the sharks. “Alright, let’s get started!” I begin, “Today we’ll talk about schema and how it influences how we understand stories. Firstly, what’s the word that comes to mind when we think about the protagonist, Yasaman?” I look over the array of silent freshmen and notice a single hand raised high, then another, and another! A smile grows on my face as I realize the ball is rolling. With a fresh blue Expo marker in hand, I write each word on the whiteboard, trying to keep up with the ceaseless responses to my question. The heat in my chest and the aimless thoughts subside when I see my students’ eyes light up as they grasp the concept. Eventually, I sit down and look up to Mr. Brown. He looks at me with a wide smile.

Watching the live-action adaptation of The Lightning Thief as a child left me curious and even confused. Each scene referenced an unfamiliar world. My love for the film inspired me to read Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Olympians novels on which it was based, but I was once again left with more questions than answers. To feed my curiosity, I checked out every Greek mythology encyclopedia at my public library, becoming knowledgeable about the intricacies and endless tales that the Greek mythos had to offer, while also developing a love for complex literature and storytelling. Each myth I read elevated my desire to read deeper into mythology, propelling me to share the discoveries I found with my peers (and often parents) to entice them the same way I had been. I also began to look for other universes, to devour, eventually taking both my school’s AP English classes and diving into the worlds formed by esteemed authors like George Saunders, Albert Camus, Toni Morrison, and more. I will dip my toes into the pool of undiscovered knowledge my future college curriculum carries and submerge myself like Achilles in the River Styx, becoming invincible with these newfound stories and histories. Similar to Bill, my love for learning will prompt me to pursue all of the opportunities available to me, and the William A. Stuart Scholarship will broaden my scope of opportunities. Next year, when I begin my freshman year at Northwestern University, I can utilize the educational resources provided, study-abroad trips, and student organizations, while also pursuing local volunteering in which I can teach literature and storytelling to schools in the Chicagoland area. The William A. Stuart Scholarship will help make this education and these opportunities possible, thus not only paving the way to reach my goals but to expand my horizon. These activities will equip me with the tools and experience needed for my future career as a teacher, a profession that excites me just thinking about it. It will be a great honor to educate, encourage, and inspire the next generation of thinkers. Making individual impacts on each student’s life and creating a welcoming environment in the classroom will drive me to continue with this passion. With my hands-on student teaching experience gained from university and the cultural experience from Northwestern's study-abroad programs to London and Madrid, I can connect with both literature and stories on a deeper level, providing nuanced lessons for students that spark creativity and connection.

I was running up the same library stairs the same stairs that I’ve run up since I learned to read, intense anticipation lifting my feet. Upon reaching the final floor, I eventually entered the tutoring room: a small nook meant for quiet studies. This non-profit organization that I had joined was meant to give low-income and minority children supplemental education for free. I wanted to do even more than that. I wanted to create a bond that would have helped me when I was in elementary school/middle school. I never had someone who looked like me, giving me encouragement and extra help to ensure my success. A middle-aged woman with a warm smile greeted me at the door with a sign-in sheet. "Hi, you must be Payton! You can sign in right here." The woman gestured to the sheet. "Thanks, nice to meet you," I replied eagerly. "I'm Ann by the way. You're assigned to tutor Leo today! He was one of our students last year and he's got a lot of energy. You're going to have a blast." I grinned with excitement while signing my name on the paper. Minutes later, a dark-haired woman signed her son in and said goodbye to him in Spanish. His dark hair and tan skin reminded me of a younger version of myself. His yellow puffer jacket seemed to swallow him whole as he made his way to the seat next to me. "You must be Leo! Nice to meet you, I'm Payton," I say gently. "Nice to meet you," Leo responds slowly. After some small talk and a quick game of mancala, Leo’s introversion quickly dissipated, and he couldn’t stop telling me about all the snake facts he knew. Suddenly he was the tutor, and I was the tutee. After telling me he didn’t have homework, he said that he was working on his reading. So we retrieved three snake books from the first floor, and I had him read aloud at a slow but accurate pace. After many laughs and Leo’s “I already knew that”’s, his mom arrived ready to pick up her son and was met with pushback. Leo wanted to stay longer and learn more about the long, snaky words he had never encountered. I had succeeded in my mission of making learning enjoyable and establishing our bond. Being a mentor for someone in need was exhilarating considering that I was once that "someone." “We have next week, bud,” I reassured him.

I am engulfed in a sea of energetic freshmen. To be a senior and the most nervous person in the room feels wrong. I watch Mr. Brown begin the class by asking everyone how they felt about last night’s reading: the short story “Why I Learned To Cook.” As the responses flood in, my mind runs wild with thoughts about what’s to come in the following minutes. How do I grab the attention of 23 kids? Where’s the best place to stand? Will my lesson about schema entice them? Will I slip up? I begin to recover as a sense of belonging returns. I remember my junior year when I applied to the SILC (Senior Instructional Leadership Corps) program, I knew that I wanted to work alongside Mr. Brown, my freshman English teacher, whose calm demeanor and humorous attitude inspired me to pursue a career in education. I didn’t expect challenges to come with the position, considering I had been a teacher all my life. Whether it be teaching my elementary school peers about new words, teaching my siblings how to do their math homework, or training new employees at Domino’s, my role as mentor stayed constant through the years. What I loved more than anything was teaching stories. The world of fiction had always captivated me, and I was fascinated by its endlessly diverse characters. In first grade, I picked up The Lightning Thief and was amazed by the adventures, vast mythology, and the hero Percy Jackson. I looked up to him throughout all of elementary school. I was a mixed-race 6-year-old who needed to make Mom proud and pack his plastic grocery bags biweekly with two days’ worth of clothes to have something at Dad’s. Percy always saved his friends and made his mom proud, all at a young age. He was practically mixed-race as a demigod with Poseidon as his father, a man he rarely saw. As I return to reality, I hope that the kids connected with the reading from last night as I did with Percy Jackson all those years ago. In preparing for my lesson today, I had asked myself how I could tap into the freshmen’s schema, connecting their background knowledge with the new story. “Why I Learned To Cook,” a short story about an Iranian-American girl who introduces her girlfriend to her grandma for the first time, has several points of personal connection for students, from learning more about their cultural background to navigating romantic relationships. As my eyes wander across the room, the glaring individuality of each freshman strikes me. I stand up from my desk with a smile and trembling hands and walk over to the front of the room where Mr. Brown stands. He pats me on the back and leaves me to the sharks. “Alright, let’s get started!” I begin, “Today we’ll talk about schema and how it influences how we understand stories. Firstly, what’s the word that comes to mind when we think about the protagonist, Yasaman?” I look over the array of silent freshmen and notice a single hand raised high, then another, and another! A smile grows on my face as I realize the ball is rolling. With a fresh blue Expo marker in hand, I write each word on the whiteboard, trying to keep up with the ceaseless responses to my question. The heat in my chest and the aimless thoughts subside when I see my students’ eyes light up as they grasp the concept. Eventually, I sit down and look up to Mr. Brown. He looks at me with a wide smile.

I am engulfed in a sea of energetic freshmen. To be a senior and the most nervous person in the room feels wrong. I watch Mr. Brown begin the class by asking everyone how they felt about last night’s reading: the short story “Why I Learned To Cook.” As the responses flood in, my mind runs wild with thoughts about what’s to come in the following minutes. How do I grab the attention of 23 kids? Where’s the best place to stand? Will my lesson about schema entice them? Will I slip up? I begin to recover as a sense of belonging returns. I remember my junior year when I applied to the SILC (Senior Instructional Leadership Corps) program, I knew that I wanted to work alongside Mr. Brown, my freshman English teacher, whose calm demeanor and humorous attitude inspired me to pursue a career in education. I didn’t expect challenges to come with the position, considering I had been a teacher all my life. Whether it be teaching my elementary school peers about new words, teaching my siblings how to do their math homework, or training new employees at Domino’s, my role as mentor stayed constant through the years. What I loved more than anything was teaching stories. The world of fiction had always captivated me, and I was fascinated by its endlessly diverse characters. In first grade, I picked up The Lightning Thief and was amazed by the adventures, vast mythology, and the hero Percy Jackson. I looked up to him throughout all of elementary school. I was a mixed-race 6-year-old who needed to make Mom proud and pack his plastic grocery bags biweekly with two days’ worth of clothes to have something at Dad’s. Percy always saved his friends and made his mom proud, all at a young age. He was practically mixed-race as a demigod with Poseidon as his father, a man he rarely saw. As I return to reality, I hope that the kids connected with the reading from last night as I did with Percy Jackson all those years ago. In preparing for my lesson today, I had asked myself how I could tap into the freshmen’s schema, connecting their background knowledge with the new story. “Why I Learned To Cook,” a short story about an Iranian-American girl who introduces her girlfriend to her grandma for the first time, has several points of personal connection for students, from learning more about their cultural background to navigating romantic relationships. As my eyes wander across the room, the glaring individuality of each freshman strikes me. I stand up from my desk with a smile and trembling hands and walk over to the front of the room where Mr. Brown stands. He pats me on the back and leaves me to the sharks. “Alright, let’s get started!” I begin, “Today we’ll talk about schema and how it influences how we understand stories. Firstly, what’s the word that comes to mind when we think about the protagonist, Yasaman?” I look over the array of silent freshmen and notice a single hand raised high, then another, and another! A smile grows on my face as I realize the ball is rolling. With a fresh blue Expo marker in hand, I write each word on the whiteboard, trying to keep up with the ceaseless responses to my question. The heat in my chest and the aimless thoughts subside when I see my students’ eyes light up as they grasp the concept. Eventually, I sit down and look up to Mr. Brown. He looks at me with a wide smile.

I am engulfed in a sea of energetic freshmen. To be a senior and the most nervous person in the room feels wrong. I watch Mr. Brown begin the class by asking everyone how they felt about last night’s reading: the short story “Why I Learned To Cook.” As the responses flood in, my mind runs wild with thoughts about what’s to come in the following minutes. How do I grab the attention of 23 kids? Where’s the best place to stand? Will my lesson about schema entice them? Will I slip up? I begin to recover as a sense of belonging returns. I remember my junior year when I applied to the SILC (Senior Instructional Leadership Corps) program, I knew that I wanted to work alongside Mr. Brown, my freshman English teacher, whose calm demeanor and humorous attitude inspired me to pursue a career in education. I didn’t expect challenges to come with the position, considering I had been a teacher all my life. Whether it be teaching my elementary school peers about new words, teaching my siblings how to do their math homework, or training new employees at Domino’s, my role as mentor stayed constant through the years. What I loved more than anything was teaching stories. The world of fiction had always captivated me, and I was fascinated by its endlessly diverse characters. In first grade, I picked up The Lightning Thief and was amazed by the adventures, vast mythology, and the hero Percy Jackson. I looked up to him throughout all of elementary school. I was a mixed-race 6-year-old who needed to make Mom proud and pack his plastic grocery bags biweekly with two days’ worth of clothes to have something at Dad’s. Percy always saved his friends and made his mom proud, all at a young age. He was practically mixed-race as a demigod with Poseidon as his father, a man he rarely saw. As I return to reality, I hope that the kids connected with the reading from last night as I did with Percy Jackson all those years ago. In preparing for my lesson today, I had asked myself how I could tap into the freshmen’s schema, connecting their background knowledge with the new story. “Why I Learned To Cook,” a short story about an Iranian-American girl who introduces her girlfriend to her grandma for the first time, has several points of personal connection for students, from learning more about their cultural background to navigating romantic relationships. As my eyes wander across the room, the glaring individuality of each freshman strikes me. I stand up from my desk with a smile and trembling hands and walk over to the front of the room where Mr. Brown stands. He pats me on the back and leaves me to the sharks. “Alright, let’s get started!” I begin, “Today we’ll talk about schema and how it influences how we understand stories. Firstly, what’s the word that comes to mind when we think about the protagonist, Yasaman?” I look over the array of silent freshmen and notice a single hand raised high, then another, and another! A smile grows on my face as I realize the ball is rolling. With a fresh blue Expo marker in hand, I write each word on the whiteboard, trying to keep up with the ceaseless responses to my question. The heat in my chest and the aimless thoughts subside when I see my students’ eyes light up as they grasp the concept. Eventually, I sit down and look up to Mr. Brown. He looks at me with a wide smile.

Coming from a low-income home and raised by my very own superhero, my mom, I developed a love of learning as well as teaching. Growing up in a condo with my younger siblings and single mom brought challenges like not having the opportunity to have a TI-Nspire in my calculus or stats classes, or not having the right shoes for the hiking field trip my elementary school offered. Nonetheless, I gained so much from my upbringing. I learned to be grateful. To be hard-working. To be inspiring. With these newfound gifts, I found my love for teaching and realized I had been a teacher all my life. Whether it be teaching my elementary school peers about new words, teaching my siblings how to do their math homework, or training new employees at Domino’s, my role as mentor stayed constant through the years. A recent memory that reminded me of the impact I can make while doing what I love was when I first went to my weekly volunteer tutoring at the public library. I was running up the same library stairs that I’ve run up since I learned to read, eventually entering the tutoring room. Minutes later, a dark-haired woman signed her son, Leo, in and said goodbye to him in Spanish. His dark hair and tan skin reminded me of a younger version of myself. Quickly, Leo’s introversion dissipated, and he couldn’t stop telling me about all the snake facts he knew. After telling me he didn’t have homework, he said that he was working on his reading. So we retrieved three snake books, and I had him read aloud at a slow but accurate pace. After many laughs and Leo’s “I already knew that”’s, his mom arrived and was met with pushback. Leo wanted to stay longer and learn more about the long, snaky words he had never encountered. “We have next week, bud,” I reassured him. This simple experience reminded me of how something so minuscule can inspire others to accomplish feats, otherwise thought un-accomplishable. With the skills gained from graduating from college with the help of the Jack Terry Memorial Scholarship, I can pursue my love of mentoring by becoming a secondary English teacher. It will be a great honor to educate, encourage, and inspire the next generation of thinkers. Making individual impacts on each student’s life and knowing that I’m creating a welcoming classroom environment will drive me to continue with this passion. With my hands-on student teaching experience gained from higher education and the cultural experience from study-abroad programs, I can connect with both literature and stories on a deeper level, providing nuanced lessons for students that spark creativity and connection.

Jack Terry's story is an incredible display of the indomitable human spirit. I strive to exhibit the same qualities throughout my life, whether that be during my time as a student in a college classroom or pursuing my passion for teaching as an educator in a high school. Coming from a low-income home and raised by my very own superhero, my mom, I developed a love of learning as well as teaching. Growing up in a condo with my younger siblings and mom brought challenges like not having the opportunity to have a TI-Nspire in my calculus or stats classes, or not having the right shoes for the hiking field trip my elementary school offered. Nonetheless, I gained so much from my upbringing. I learned to be grateful. To be hard-working. To be inspiring. With these newfound gifts, I found my love for teaching and realized I had been a teacher all my life. Whether it be teaching my elementary school peers about new words, teaching my siblings how to do their math homework, or training new employees at Domino’s, my role as mentor stayed constant through the years. A recent memory that reminded me of the impact I can make while doing what I love was when I first went to my weekly volunteer tutoring at the public library. I was running up the same library stairs that I’ve run up since I learned to read, eventually entering the tutoring room. Minutes later, a dark-haired woman signed her son, Leo, in and said goodbye to him in Spanish. His dark hair and tan skin reminded me of a younger version of myself. Quickly, Leo’s introversion dissipated, and he couldn’t stop telling me about all the snake facts he knew. After telling me he didn’t have homework, he said that he was working on his reading. So we retrieved three snake books, and I had him read aloud at a slow but accurate pace. After many laughs and Leo’s “I already knew that”’s, his mom arrived and was met with pushback. Leo wanted to stay longer and learn more about the long, snaky words he had never encountered. “We have next week, bud,” I reassured him. This simple experience reminded me of how something so minuscule can inspire others to accomplish feats, otherwise thought un-accomplishable. With the skills gained from graduating from college with the help of the Jack Terry Memorial Scholarship, I can pursue my love of mentoring by becoming a secondary English teacher. It will be a great honor to educate, encourage, and inspire the next generation of thinkers. Making individual impacts on each student’s life and knowing that I’m creating a welcoming classroom environment will drive me to continue with this passion. With my hands-on student teaching experience gained from higher education and the cultural experience from study-abroad programs, I can connect with both literature and stories on a deeper level, providing nuanced lessons for students that spark creativity and connection.