I was born prematurely on Christmas morning at just 26 weeks gestation and spent the first 127 days of my life in the NICU. When I entered the world, I was not breathing and needed immediate medical care to survive. Because I was born so early, I experienced a brain injury that made school more challenging growing up. I knew early on that my path might look a little different from other kids. In elementary school, I was placed in a smaller classes because some things took me longer to understand. While that was not always easy, the extra support helped me build confidence, become more patient with myself, and keep pushing forward when things were difficult. I learned that needing a different approach did not mean I was unable to succeed. I was blessed to have teachers, family members, and mentors who never gave up on me, even on the days when I struggled or doubted myself. My faith has also been a big part of my life. Knowing how my life began has always stayed with me. I believe God does not make mistakes and that He has a purpose for my life. That belief has helped me stay grounded through challenges and reminds me that my experiences can be used to help others. Growing up, I knew what it felt like to need someone to believe in me. When people took the time to encourage me, be patient with me, and remind me that I was capable, they changed the way I saw myself. Because others invested in me, I want to spend my life investing in others. My experiences growing up also changed the way I see relationships and how much people can affect one another. I learned early how important support, encouragement, and kindness can be. Those experiences made me realize how important healthy relationships are and are part of the reason I wanted to help others recognize when something does not feel right. That is what led me to create my Girl Scout Gold Award project, “It’s Not Just Black & Blue.” I wanted teenagers to have information they could use to recognize unhealthy relationships, understand warning signs, and know that asking for help is always okay. Through this project, I worked with local police departments, domestic abuse advocates, and school administrators to bring presentations into schools. We discussed warning signs, healthy relationships, and why asking for help is a sign of strength. More than 150 students have attended these presentations, and the project has also reached people online beyond my local community. One moment I will never forget happened after one of my presentations. A student stayed behind to talk with me and shared that she had been feeling uneasy about her relationship but kept telling herself she was probably overthinking things. After the presentation, she realized that what she had been noticing was real. That conversation reminded me that sometimes people do not need someone to have all the answers. Sometimes they need someone to listen, believe them, and remind them that they are not alone. After earning my Gold Award, I met a domestic abuse survivor and advocate who had heard about my project through local organizations. I never expected something I created as a student to reach someone I had never met. She shared how important it is to educate teenagers early, before unhealthy patterns become harder to recognize. That conversation encouraged me to continue growing “It’s Not Just Black & Blue” and work toward making it a resource that schools can use. Another important part of my life has been my six years as a Police Explorer. I currently serve as Post President and Staff Sergeant. My time as an Explorer has shown me that leadership is not about a title. It is about being someone people can depend on, listening to others, taking responsibility, and knowing when to step forward. I also attended my state youth police academy for four summers, graduating last year and ranking second in my class. Through these experiences and my leadership at my Christian school, I learned the importance of serving others and leading with humility. Academically, I have worked hard to challenge myself and prepare for college. Growing up, I did not always know what I would be capable of achieving because learning did not always come easily for me. Graduating high school with 30 college credits and entering college with sophomore standing was a reminder that the challenges I faced do not define my future. Next fall, I will attend a Christian university to study psychology and criminal justice. I am excited for this next chapter and the opportunities and challenges that come with it. I want to build a career where I can support victims of domestic violence and be there for people during some of the hardest moments of their lives. I also want to continue growing “It’s Not Just Black & Blue” so more students have access to information that could help them or someone they care about. I know college also comes with financial responsibility. My twin brother and I will both be starting college as freshmen this fall, which means my family will be managing the cost of two college students at the same time. This scholarship would help ease that financial burden and allow me to focus more fully on my education while continuing to grow the work I have already started. Looking back, I would not choose the challenges I faced growing up, but I would not be the person I am today without them. So many people chose to believe in me when I needed it most. Receiving this scholarship would mean having another person believe in me and the work I hope to continue doing, and I would be grateful for that opportunity. Because others believed in me, I hope to spend my life believing in and supporting others.

Selflessness, to me, means paying attention to people and being there when they need someone. I have learned that helping others is not always about doing something huge. Sometimes it is about taking the time to listen, checking in, or making sure someone knows they are not alone. I have always been the type of person who pays attention to the people around me. In a world where many conversations happen through a screen, I still believe in real connection. If a friend reaches out and I know they need more than a quick text, I will call them. If I am busy, I make sure they know I am not ignoring them and that I will reach out when I can. Sometimes people just need reassurance that someone cares. My twin brother has cerebral palsy, and growing up alongside him has shaped the way I understand selflessness. He has never been a burden; he is one of the strongest and most important people in my life. Being his sister has taught me patience, understanding, and the importance of seeing people for who they are rather than focusing on challenges they face. It has reminded me that everyone has their own strengths and experiences that deserve to be understood. One person who taught me the importance of making others feel valued was my teacher, Ms. LaTour. I attended a very small Christian high school, and she was someone I connected with throughout my time there. She once told me that if she had ever had a daughter, I was the kind of person she would have wanted her to be like. It was one of the greatest compliments I have received, but it also made me realize how much she had given to her students over the years. She spent so much time supporting others, yet often went unnoticed. She was never chosen as a favorite teacher or recognized in the ways she deserved, so I made sure she knew she mattered. At graduation, I told her she had been one of the most impactful teachers in my life. Although I have graduated, I plan to continue visiting and staying connected whenever I can. My commitment to helping others also led me to create my Girl Scout Gold Award project, It’s Not Just Black & Blue. I developed this domestic violence prevention program to help teenagers recognize unhealthy relationship patterns and trust their instincts before situations became harder to understand. Through presentations and resources, I worked to give students information they could use to support themselves and others. One of the most important moments came after a presentation when a student shared that she recognized parts of her relationship in what I had discussed. She had been questioning what she was experiencing but kept telling herself she was overthinking it. Knowing that she left with more confidence in trusting herself showed me how powerful it can be to give someone the words to understand what they are feeling. Although I never had the opportunity to meet Michael Rudometkin, I believe his legacy represents the kind of person I hope to continue becoming. Selflessness is not just about helping people during major moments; it is about consistently choosing to care, listen, and support the people around you. Through my relationships, my community, and my future career, I hope to continue being someone others know they can rely on. I want to leave people feeling seen, supported, and valued, because sometimes the greatest difference we can make is reminding someone that they matter.

My plans for the future come from learning that people often need someone to help them find their voice before they know how to ask for help. I plan to study psychology and criminal justice because I want a career supporting people through domestic violence and mental health crises, whether through prevention, response, or advocacy. As a first-generation college student, I have had to navigate the college process without a roadmap. My parents have always supported me, but they did not have experience with applications, financial aid, or preparing for college. I remember feeling completely lost when I started the process, unsure where to find the documents I needed, how to organize everything, or if I was completing forms correctly. I had to research, ask questions, and figure things out along the way. That experience taught me how to advocate for myself, a skill I hope to use when advocating for others. I have also worked through challenges throughout my education after being born nearly four months premature and suffering a brain injury as a newborn, which led to learning and vision challenges. School has not always been easy, but those challenges taught me patience, persistence, and that progress does not look the same for everyone. I learned that success is not about moving the fastest; it is about continuing forward. My experiences have shaped the work I want to do for others. Through my Police Explorer Program, I gained a better understanding of how important communication, awareness, and prevention are when responding to difficult situations. Serving as President and Staff Sergeant taught me that leadership is not just about giving direction; it is about listening, staying calm, and supporting people when they need it. Through that experience, I also began noticing how some teenagers around me described relationships where they felt like they had to constantly monitor what they said or did to avoid conflict. I realized that many people may sense something is wrong before they have the words to explain it. That realization inspired my Girl Scout Gold Award project, It’s Not Just Black & Blue, a domestic violence prevention program for high school students. Through my program, I created presentations and resources that help students recognize warning signs of unhealthy relationships, including control, isolation, and emotional manipulation. I worked with local police officers and domestic violence advocates to bring this information into schools and have reached more than 150 students. One moment that confirmed the importance of this work happened after a presentation when a student shared that she recognized parts of her relationship in the examples discussed. She had been questioning what she was experiencing but kept telling herself she was overthinking it. Hearing that she felt more confident trusting herself reminded me that sometimes helping someone begins with giving them the words to understand what they are going through. This scholarship would help me continue building toward my goals by reducing the financial pressure of starting college. As a first-generation student, the cost of higher education is a major consideration for my family. This support would allow me to focus on my education, continue expanding my prevention work, and prepare for a career where I can support people during difficult moments. My goal is not only to earn a degree, but to become someone people can rely on when they feel overwhelmed, unheard, or unsure where to turn. This scholarship would help me turn my experiences into action and prepare for a career where I can give others the support, understanding, and hope they deserve.

Growing up in New Jersey showed me how much people can impact each other when they choose to show up. It is where my family is, where my memories were made, and where I began to understand who I wanted to become. To me, New Jersey is not just a place. It is the people who take the time to support others when they need it most. I was born nearly four months premature and suffered a brain injury as a newborn. Because of that, I grew up with learning and vision challenges that made school more difficult at times. Over time, I realized that progress does not look the same for everyone. My challenges taught me persistence and to keep going even when things take longer. The people I met through these experiences changed the way I saw myself. Through my Police Explorer Program and youth academies, I met mentors who showed me that leadership is not just about authority. It is about being patient, understanding people, and helping them when they need it. At my first police academy, I felt like I did not belong. I was not as prepared as the other cadets, and I considered quitting. Officer Fabricatore from Bayonne saw something in me that I did not see in myself. He pushed me, encouraged me, and reminded me that struggling did not mean I was failing. Because he believed in me, I stayed and eventually graduated second in my class. One moment I will always remember happened at my high school graduation. Without telling me, my Police Explorer advisors showed up in their cruiser. When I saw them, I froze. In a crowd of people, I saw the ones who had supported me through some of my hardest moments. My advisor told me he was proud of me, and I realized success is not only about what you accomplish, but also the people who help you get there. That lesson inspired my Girl Scout Gold Award project, It’s Not Just Black & Blue, a domestic violence prevention program for high school students. I wanted students to recognize warning signs and understand healthy relationships before unhealthy patterns became harder to break. After one presentation, a student shared that she recognized parts of her relationship in the examples I discussed. She had been questioning what she was experiencing but kept telling herself she was overthinking it. Seeing her trust herself more reminded me that helping someone can begin with giving them the words to understand their situation. This scholarship would ease the financial pressure of starting college while allowing me to focus on studying psychology and criminal justice and expanding the prevention work I have started. My goal is to build a career supporting people who feel unheard or unsure where to turn. New Jersey has shown me the power of people who choose to care. My goal is to give others the same support that helped me become who I am today.

When people ask what being a first-generation college student means to me, I usually say I want options. More than that, I want the chance to create opportunities my family never had. Growing up, I watched my mom give everything she had to our family. She did not attend college and became a stay-at-home mom. I know she does not regret her path, but seeing her life helped me understand how much education can shape someone’s future. Since neither of my parents went to college, I did not have someone at home who could guide me through the process. I remember starting the college application process feeling completely lost. I did not know where to find the documents I needed, how to organize everything, or if I was filling out forms correctly. No one in my family had gone through this before. I had to research, ask questions, and figure things out. That experience taught me how to advocate for myself and find answers when I did not know where to start. That independence has shaped how I approach challenges. I graduated high school with 30 college credits while managing the effects of being born nearly four months premature and suffering a brain injury as a newborn. School has not always been easy, but I learned that progress looks different for everyone. For me, success has meant patience, consistency, and continuing to work when things take longer. Outside of academics, I have looked for ways to understand people and make a difference. Through Girl Scouts, I earned my Gold Award by creating It’s Not Black & Blue, a domestic violence prevention program for high school students. I wanted students to recognize warning signs and understand healthy relationships before harmful patterns became harder to see. Through presentations and resources, I have reached more than 150 students. One moment that stayed with me was after a presentation when a student shared that she recognized parts of her relationship in the examples discussed. She had been questioning what she was experiencing but kept telling herself she was overthinking it. Hearing that she felt more confident trusting her instincts reminded me why this work matters. That experience is a major reason I want to study psychology and criminal justice. I want to better understand people and support those who may not know how to ask for help or recognize what they are experiencing. My goal is to continue growing my program so more students have access to this information. This scholarship would help ease the financial pressure of beginning college, especially as my family prepares to send my twin brother and me to college at the same time. It would allow me to focus on my education while continuing to expand my program. Being first-generation means finding my way without a roadmap while knowing what I learn can make things easier for those who come after me. I want my education to create opportunities for myself while making the path easier for someone else.

Growing up, I started to understand how much people can be affected by what happens behind closed doors. I remember seeing my mom cry when I was younger, and even though I did not fully understand the situation, I knew something was not right. I did not have the words for it at the time, but I began to see how repeated words and actions could slowly wear someone down and affect how they saw themselves. As I got older, I noticed similar patterns among teenagers around me. Many teens did not always know what healthy relationships looked like. Jealousy could be mistaken for caring, control could be mistaken for love, and warning signs could be dismissed as normal teenage problems. Too often, students were learning about these things only after something serious had already happened. That realization led me to create my Girl Scout Gold Award project, It’s Not Black & Blue, a teen domestic violence prevention program focused on helping students recognize unhealthy relationships, understand warning signs, and find support before situations escalate. I wanted this project to be more than a presentation students listened to and forgot. I wanted them to recognize situations in their own lives and leave with tools they could use. I worked with local police departments, domestic violence advocates, and schools to bring the program into classrooms. Through these presentations, I have reached more than 150 students and created online resources that continue beyond the classroom. After one presentation, a student told me she had been questioning a relationship but kept convincing herself she was overthinking things. Hearing the warning signs discussed helped her trust what she was already noticing. That reminded me that helping someone does not always begin during a crisis. Sometimes it begins by giving someone the confidence to recognize what is happening and take the next step. After earning my Gold Award, I met a domestic violence survivor and advocate who told me she wished something like this existed when she was younger. Hearing that made me realize this work could reach beyond the students I speak to. Education can change how people see situations and sometimes the choices they make. This fall, I will study criminal justice and psychology. My education will help me better understand trauma, human behavior, and how to support people during difficult situations. I want to use that knowledge to expand It’s Not Black & Blue and help schools give students this information before they need it. The people who have inspired me most are those who show up for others when it is not easy. Through my Police Explorer Post, Officer Basso has shown me what service looks like. For more than five years, he has supported me, believed in me when I doubted myself, and shown me that helping others means being there when it matters. Even at my graduation, he crossed town lines to be there and pulled his cruiser in as we threw our caps in the air. My goal is to grow It’s Not Black & Blue into a program schools can use for prevention and education. I want students to understand what healthy relationships look like, recognize warning signs earlier, and know they are not alone. The impact I hope to make is not measured only by the number of presentations I give. It is measured by the person who recognizes something sooner, asks for help, or feels more confident making a difficult decision. Through my education and community work, I want to create opportunities for others to feel informed, supported, and safe.

The day I turned 13, I joined my local Police Explorer Post. I thought it looked fun, and honestly, the uniform was cool. I did not realize then how much it would change the way I looked at service, leadership, and what I wanted my future to look like. As I spent more time around law enforcement, I realized I was drawn to being there for people when they needed someone to trust. Through Explorers, a youth police academy, training, and ride-alongs, I started seeing what law enforcement was about. I saw officers walk into situations where people were scared, emotions were high, and there was no easy answer. The officers who stood out to me were not always the loudest or the ones who acted first. They were the ones who could stay calm, listen, and help people feel safe. My first summer at the youth academy almost ended before it began. I was one of the youngest cadets and questioned whether I belonged. I remember feeling exhausted, homesick, and unsure I could finish. Officer Fabricatore changed that for me. He pushed me when I wanted to quit, corrected me when I needed guidance, and believed in me when I doubted myself. Because of him, I stayed. Four years later, I graduated second in my class. Over the past five years in my Police Explorer Post, my advisor, Officer Basso, has shown me another side of service. He taught me that being an officer is not only about what happens during a call. It is about showing up for people, even when it is inconvenient. A few weeks ago, he crossed town lines to attend my high school graduation and pulled his cruiser up as we threw our caps into the air. That moment reminded me trust is built through what people remember after the emergency is over. I started noticing how important prevention and understanding are in law enforcement. Many situations did not begin with a crisis. There were often warning signs missed along the way. I saw similar patterns among teenagers, where controlling behavior could be mistaken for care and unhealthy relationships could be overlooked. That led me to create my Girl Scout Gold Award project, *It’s Not Black & Blue*, a teen domestic violence prevention program. Through this project, I worked with police departments, advocates, and schools to help students recognize unhealthy relationships and find support. After one presentation, a student shared that it helped her trust what she was already feeling about her relationship. It showed me that helping someone can start before a crisis, by giving them the confidence to recognize what is happening and ask for help. This is what made me want to become a police officer. I do not want to enter this field because of the uniform or the authority that comes with it. I want to serve because officers are often the first person someone sees during their hardest moments, and I understand that being that person requires patience, commitment, and sacrifice. I want to bring calm to difficult situations, listen before reacting, and treat every person with dignity. I plan to study criminal justice and psychology to better understand people, trauma, and decision-making during stressful situations. My goal is to build on the work I started and become an officer who does more than respond to problems. I want to prevent harm when possible, build trust in my community, and be an officer people feel they can rely on when they need help most.

Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones no one else can see. Teenagers facing domestic violence often feel isolated, confused, and unsure if what they are experiencing is real, but noticing those unseen struggles can make all the difference. I want to help change that. For my Girl Scout Gold Award project, It’s Not Just Black & Blue, I created a program to educate teenagers about unhealthy relationship dynamics and provide accessible resources for support. Partnering with local domestic violence agencies, my town’s police department, and a father who lost his daughter to domestic violence, I developed presentations and materials that helped students recognize emotional harm before it escalates. One moment stands out: after a presentation, a girl came up to me, her eyes wide and worried, and told me that she finally had words for what she had been feeling. She realized she wasn’t imagining the warning signs in her own relationship. In that moment, I realized service is not just awareness, it is helping someone trust what they are experiencing and take steps to stay safe. Through my work as post president in my town’s Police Explorer Program, I have seen firsthand how common domestic violence is in real situations. While adults often have resources, teenagers frequently do not. That gap is what drives me. I want to make my program more accessible to middle and high school students, giving them something clear and usable before situations escalate. Leading this group has also shown me that selflessness is not just about helping strangers, it is about showing up consistently for the people around you and helping them grow. Watching younger explorers gain confidence and leadership skills has been one of the most meaningful parts of my experience. I plan to continue combining leadership, advocacy, and compassion throughout my life. Whether expanding my domestic violence awareness program, continuing my work in youth advocacy, or pursuing a degree in psychology with a criminal justice minor so I can work directly with domestic violence victims in prevention and support roles, I want to focus on prevention and early support. Real impact does not always mean changing everything at once, it means paying attention to what people are quietly going through and doing something about it. Through education, mentorship, and service, I hope to build work that helps students feel safe enough to speak up sooner and supported enough to know they are not alone. Even helping one young person recognize what they are experiencing and take their first step toward help is meaningful to me, and that is the kind of impact I want to keep doing.

When people ask what being a first-generation college student means to me, I usually say I want options. But more than that, I want choice—something real I can actually build my future on. Growing up, I watched my mom give everything to our family. She did not go to college and became a stay-at-home mom. I love and respect her deeply, and I know she does not regret her life, but I also saw what it looked like when someone chooses family over other paths like college. Her life showed me how responsibility can shape the paths people take and the tradeoffs that come with it. Since neither of my parents went to college, I did not grow up with someone who could answer questions about the process or explain what steps I should take. My dad works as a union tradesman and has always provided a loving and stable home, but when it came to things like college planning, financial aid, or what opportunities to look for, I often had to figure it out myself. I remember starting college applications with no idea where to even begin or how to fill out the forms. There were moments where I did not even realize what I was missing, and I learned by asking questions I did not even know to ask and slowly building my own way forward. That independence shaped how I approached everything that came after. I graduated with 30 college credits in high school despite my learning challenges, and what I am most proud of is not the number, but the fact that I kept showing up even when I was not fully sure of myself. At the same time, I have had my own challenges that shaped how I learn and move through the world. I was born nearly four months prematurely and grew up with learning difficulties that made school take more effort and patience. For a long time, I saw that as falling behind. Over time, I realized it meant I had to learn differently, not less. That shift changed how I see myself and how I approach challenges. Outside of school, I started finding ways to understand people and situations more clearly. Through Girl Scouts, I built leadership and responsibility, which led me to create my Gold Award project, It’s Not Just Black & Blue, a domestic violence prevention program for teens. Through the Police Explorer Program, I gained experience in professional settings and saw how complex real issues like mental health and safety actually are. One moment that stayed with me was when a student told me she recognized parts of her past relationship in what I had shared. It made me realize that education is not just information. Sometimes it is the first time someone has words for what they have lived through. That is part of why I want to study psychology and criminal justice. I want to understand people better and work in prevention and awareness, especially for people who feel unheard or unsure of what they are experiencing. To me, being first-generation is not just about being the first to go to college. It is about carrying responsibility without always having a guide and still choosing to move forward anyway. To me, it means going to college so I can have real choices for my future and use what I learn to create a different future for myself and help others who are still figuring it out the same way I did.

My goal is to expand my Girl Scout Gold Award project, It’s Not Black & Blue, a domestic abuse prevention program I created for teenagers. I am now working to grow it into a nonprofit that can scale beyond my own school community. What started as a way to help students recognize early warning signs of unhealthy relationships has turned into something I am actively building into a long-term program schools can actually use. Right now, the program is delivered through school presentations where students go through real-life examples, talk through warning signs, and leave with resources they can use if they ever need help. I have presented in two schools, working alongside local police and domestic abuse prevention advocates, and I plan to continue expanding into new schools each October during Domestic Violence Awareness Month. After seeing how students respond, my focus has shifted to making this something schools can run on their own without me needing to be there in person. To do that, I am building It’s Not Black & Blue into a packaged curriculum schools can use as part of health or advisory classes. The goal is for schools to be able to run it without outside presenters or major changes to their schedule. I already have connections with domestic abuse survivors, advocates, and a small tech team helping with the digital side, most of whom are involved because they care about the mission. My focus now is writing a full script and producing short educational videos that will be the core of the program. These videos will cover warning signs, healthy relationship patterns, and how to seek help in a clear, consistent way schools can use. I also have access to a local theater group, and volunteers ready to act in the videos. I have the official .org domain for It’s Not Black & Blue, which helps give it a more established foundation. Once the content is finished, I plan to pilot it in local schools, then adjust it based on feedback before expanding further. Alongside this, I am building supporting materials like a website and simple handouts that break down red flags, communication patterns, and where to find help. I am also continuing to get feedback from students, teachers, and advocates so the program keeps improving instead of staying the same. There are also real costs involved, such as a QR code system that connects students directly to support resources, which costs about $200 per year. Most of the program is intentionally kept low-cost through volunteer support and partnerships with people who believe in the mission. Eventually, I want to formalize It’s Not Black & Blue into a nonprofit and build partnerships that let it grow without depending on my presence. My goal is to continue developing it through college so it becomes a program schools can actually implement in different communities. I have lived in a home where I often had to walk on eggshells. That experience is a big part of why I created this program. It made me realize how easily unhealthy patterns can feel normal when there is no language for what healthy relationships should look like. At its core, my goal is simple: I want students to recognize warning signs early enough that they can protect themselves before situations escalate. Prevention only works when it reaches people early, and I want It’s Not Black & Blue to be something schools can rely on to do exactly that.

To me, making sure everyone has a voice means people feel heard and respected, no matter where they come from. I think leaders need to listen, understand, and bring people together. Through my experiences in police explorers, Girl Scouts, student leadership, and civic programs, I’ve learned that change happens when people listen, speak up, and follow through. I’ve been a police explorer for six years, and now I serve as Post President and Staff Sergeant. Being in that environment taught me responsibility and communication. Working with officers and helping organize events showed me leadership isn’t just about giving directions. It’s more about paying attention to people, making sure they feel included, and knowing when to step forward and when to step back. My experiences in Explorers and the academy made me start noticing a pattern. In domestic disputes, things usually didn’t happen out of nowhere. There were warning signs long before anything serious happened. I also started seeing similar patterns in people my age, where jealousy gets called “caring,” controlling behavior gets excused as love, and uncomfortable situations get brushed off because they don’t seem serious enough at first. That realization is what led me to create my Girl Scout Gold Award project, It’s Not Black & Blue, a domestic violence prevention program for teens. I worked with domestic violence prevention advocates, police departments, and school administrators. I brought it into schools, reached over 150 students in person, and created online resources so students could still access support after presentations. At my Gold Award ceremony, a domestic abuse survivor who now advocates for others came up to me. She said she had heard about my project through community organizations and wished something like it had existed when she was younger. I didn’t know what to say, so I just listened. That moment made me realize this work is not only reaching students—it’s connecting to a much larger need in the community. Through my long-term involvement in Politics in Action, a local civic education program, I’ve taken part in discussions and simulations about American democracy, the Constitution, and civic responsibility. A big part of it is learning how to actually talk to people you don’t always agree with. It made me realize democracy only works when people are willing to listen, not just argue over each other. As student body president, I learned pretty quickly that leadership isn’t about being popular. I tried to represent different groups of students, not just the loudest voices, and bring their concerns forward. I also worked on creating more opportunities so more students felt included in school life. That role showed me leadership isn’t always visible, but it still matters in real ways. Being born almost four months premature and dealing with learning challenges shaped me too. School wasn’t always easy, and I had to work through things people couldn’t really see. It made me more aware of how quickly someone can feel overlooked when they’re struggling quietly. All of these experiences, whether in law enforcement training, civic programs, student leadership, or my own life, shaped how I see leadership. For me, it’s about noticing problems, stepping up when it matters, and making sure people don’t get ignored. I want to pursue a career in criminal justice, focusing on domestic violence advocacy and community support. I plan to keep growing It’s Not Black & Blue so more students can learn how to recognize and prevent abuse, and feel confident using their voice. Going forward, I’ll keep bringing what I’ve learned into everything I do and build spaces where people feel seen, heard, and supported.

Honestly, I think everyone gets teased for something growing up it’s just part of school. My “awkward thing” has never really been something obvious though. I’m not the tallest or shortest, not the loudest or quietest. It’s more that I’ve always ended up in leadership roles in places where I don’t really fit the social side of things, and I’m usually known, just not in the way most students are. While a lot of people in high school focused on friends and popularity, I ended up in student government, taking on responsibilities most people avoided. I didn’t set out to be “the leader” it just happened because I was the one who stayed when things needed to get done. That became clear when I ran for school president. I talked to students, campaigned, and was honest about what I could actually do. I didn’t overpromise anything, just focused on following through, and I won. At first I thought it would feel exciting, but it didn’t go that way. A group of students tried to impeach me, and I heard rumors that I didn’t deserve to win. Even knowing it came mostly from popular opinions, it still affected me more than I expected. I thought I was doing everything right showing up, working, staying consistent, but I realized leadership doesn’t always come with acceptance. I didn’t know how to process that at first. It made me question whether being responsible even mattered if people still saw me that way. But I stayed anyway. I kept going to meetings, handling issues, and fixing problems as they came up. Nothing dramatic, just showing up when it would have been easier to step back. Over time that became my pattern, not being the most popular person in the room, but being the one who still shows up when things get uncomfortable or messy. That’s been true outside school too. I’m a female Staff Sergeant in my local Police Explorers program, and I graduated from the New Jersey State Youth Police Academy. In those environments I was often one of the few girls in leadership spaces. I was still learning, still new, still expected to lead anyway. That’s where it clicked for me. I’m often put in positions where I have to take responsibility before I feel settled in them. I used to see that as a disadvantage, but I don’t anymore. Most of what feels important in high school doesn’t last. Popularity fades, titles fade, even awkward moments fade. What stays is whether you showed up when it would have been easier not to. My “awkward thing” is that I’ve never really been part of the popular group. I end up in leadership spaces I wasn’t socially part of at first, and I’ve learned to lead without needing approval. I don’t need to fit into a space to be responsible for it. And I’ll probably keep ending up in roles like that especially going into law enforcement. I’m okay with it. I’d rather be useful than comfortable, because for me leadership has never been about fitting in. It’s about staying when things get uncomfortable and still doing what needs to be done.

Faith has guided me since before I was born. My twin brother and I were born at 26 weeks after my mother’s water broke at 22 weeks. Doctors said we would not survive, but through prayer and God’s protection, we did. Spending 123 days in the NICU taught me early that God had a purpose for my life, one centered on service, leadership, and perseverance. I learned early that resilience was not optional, it was necessary. Growing up was not easy. I had a brain injury at birth and learning disabilities that made school difficult in ways others could not see. Faith gave me the strength to keep going and helped me see challenges as something that could shape me rather than stop me. My family’s support and my trust in God kept me moving forward when progress felt slow. That mindset shaped how I serve others. As a Girl Scout, I created my Gold Award project, It’s Not Just Black & Blue, to help teenagers recognize domestic violence. Many do not recognize emotional or controlling behavior until it becomes abuse. Through presentations, videos, and partnerships with local police and advocacy groups, I helped students identify warning signs earlier. One student told me it helped her recognize red flags in her own relationship and gave her the confidence to make safer choices. After the presentation, she stayed behind and told me she had felt something was wrong in her relationship, but until that moment, she thought it was only in her mind and did not have the words for what she was experiencing. That moment reminded me that what I have lived through can be used to protect someone else. Leadership has tested me in similar ways. As president of my school and Post President of my Police Explorer program, I have had to step into responsibility in real time, especially in moments of pressure or uncertainty. There were times I doubted myself, but I learned to keep going anyway. I learned that my leadership is only strong when it is grounded in something deeper than confidence. It is strongest when it is grounded in faith. I have learned to trust God even when things feel impossible, because through Christ, all things work for good. Leadership is not recognition. It is responsibility when it is inconvenient and difficult. Looking ahead, I plan to pursue a career in law enforcement while continuing to advocate for domestic violence prevention. I trust that my faith will guide that path by giving me clarity in difficult decisions, courage in high-pressure situations, and compassion when people are at their most vulnerable. I want my career to reflect what has shaped me: honesty, service, and hope. Faith is not just something I believe in. It steadied me in the NICU, carried me through moments of doubt, and reminds me that even when I feel unsteady, my purpose is still unfolding. Through law enforcement and advocacy, I hope to continue that purpose by protecting others, guiding those in need, and helping people feel seen, safe, and supported.

My twin brother Marc and I were born fourteen weeks early on Christmas morning. We were so small and fragile that the doctors didn’t expect us to survive. I spent 123 days in the NICU, but Marc went home after 97. That short gap is the only time we’ve ever been apart. From the very beginning we’ve relied on each other. Being born prematurely shaped how I face challenges and taught me that I am never truly alone. Growing up, we loved using our imaginations. We made little plays for our family, sang at the top of our lungs, crafted, told jokes, and swam all summer long. Even recently, we were in a high school production of Annie. Marc was Daddy Warbucks, I was Lily St. Regis. It was our last high school play together, and performing side by side felt bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments we’ve shared. We tease each other like siblings do, but it was always in fun, and we laughed until our sides hurt. Those moments taught me how much joy comes from creating, laughing, and just being together. School wasn’t always easy for me. Marc faces physical challenges because he has cerebral palsy. He can walk, but using his hands is difficult. Sometimes he’d get frustrated, but he never gave up. Marc helped me through my learning challenges, taught me math, guided me in writing essays, and even supported me when I ran for school president. With his encouragement, and his help on my campaign…I won. Watching him persevere taught me patience, determination, and how to support someone even when it’s hard. I try to do the same for him: helping with tasks, cheering him on, or just being there. Our faith in Christ has guided us through many challenges. Recently, we went on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic. It was the first time we had been away from our parents for so long. Everything felt new—the people, the routines, even the food. Having Marc there made everything feel possible. Serving others showed me how God works through simple actions to teach and guide us. During that trip, Marc and I both decided to be baptized. Standing side by side, I felt God’s presence more deeply than ever. I was not alone. Marc and I have also volunteered together for years through our school’s Key Club, where Marc is president. We visit nursing homes, make care bags, collect items for Operation Christmas Child, and lead groups at Vacation Bible Schools. Teaching kids about Jesus and helping our community has become something we love doing together. These experiences, sometimes messy, sometimes funny, sometimes exhausting, have shown me that meaningful connections are built through empathy, service, and simply showing up for others. Looking ahead, we’re both excited to attend Cairn University this fall. I’m eager to continue our journey together while also forging my own path. Marc has given me the strength to navigate life’s challenges and shown me that I am capable of giving and receiving love. Because of him, I approach all my relationships with patience, encouragement, and a desire to lift others up—whether helping a friend, mentoring a younger student, or working on a team. Looking back, I see how God has worked through my brother and me in both small and big ways. Every challenge, every act of support, every ordinary moment has shaped who I am. My story isn’t about one dramatic event—it’s about how God is faithful in the quiet moments, teaching us to love, serve, and trust Him. Honestly? I wouldn’t trade a single day of it. It’s brought me closer to my brother and closer to God—and it has shown me how to build meaningful connections with everyone I meet.