Losing my father to a stroke last year was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. As an only child, my dad was my biggest supporter, and his passing left a space in my life that no one else could fill. It wasn’t just that I lost a parent—it felt like I lost a piece of who I was. But even in that pain, something changed in me. That moment of loss became a turning point in my life, and it made me more certain than ever that I wanted to become a nurse. Both of my parents are nurses, and from a young age, I knew I wanted to follow in their footsteps. They always told me I had what it takes—compassion, empathy, and a strong heart. When my dad got sick, I paid close attention to everything happening around him. I watched the nurses care for him with urgency, skill, and kindness. Even in the middle of chaos, they made us feel seen and supported. That left a deep impression on me. I thought, “This is what I want to do. I want to be that person for someone else.” Grieving while trying to keep moving forward wasn’t easy. Some days felt impossible, especially when reminders of him were everywhere. But instead of giving up, I used that pain to push myself. I graduated high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College to begin my nursing journey. I currently work in a hospital in the dietary department, where I assist patients with their meals. Even though my role is small, I’ve learned that kindness and presence can go a long way. The best part of my job is talking with patients—listening to their stories, offering a smile, and showing them that someone cares. Losing my dad taught me not just about grief, but also about purpose. I now want to specialize in Emergency Medicine because I’m drawn to the fast pace and the chance to help people in critical moments. I’ve seen how quickly things can change in the ER, and I want to be the kind of nurse who stays calm under pressure and shows up with compassion every time. This experience changed me, but it also strengthened my purpose. With this scholarship, I’ll be one step closer to becoming the nurse I’ve always wanted to be—one who honors her father’s memory by caring for others in their hardest moments.

I was born in the U.S. to Congolese parents and grew up balancing a life between two worlds: one deeply rooted in Congolese tradition and resilience, the other shaped by American opportunity and challenges. I am proud to represent such a culturally rich community. I grew up watching my parents work hard, not for mere survival, but to build and create a better life for our family. They came with their culture, strength, and hope across continents. And watching them make a life here taught me what it means to work hard, stay grounded, and never forget where you come from. Faith, service, and reverence were more than words heard in my household; they were practiced every day. One of the first ways I learned to give back was by serving in my church community. Whether it be cleaning up after services or helping feed those in need, I learned that the best leadership often takes place behind the scenes. This is a beautiful trait I received from my mom. It is in those quiet, simple moments that I began to learn what service means: doing your part, even when nobody notices, because that is when it matters more. That same mindset followed me into my work at the hospital. Currently, I help patients in the dietary department, assisting with meals and checking in on them. At first, I thought it was just my job, but then gradually came to understand that even the smallest interactions may be meaningful. A warm meal, a kind word, a few minutes of talk-these can be small for somebody, yet mean a lot in a hospital bed. Patients have shared with me their fears, their stories, and their loneliness. Each time, I am reminded of why I want to become a nurse: because being there for people-really being there-can change lives. I lost my dad to a stroke last year, and that changed everything for me. Watching him go through that and how the nurses cared for him urgently and with compassion broke my heart and at the same time inspired me. I remember thinking, "I want to do what they do. I want to be that person for someone else." That's when I knew I wanted to specialize in emergency medicine. It's a tough field, but I feel called to it-to the fast pace, the high stakes, and the chance to show up for people in their most critical moments. I've taken real steps towards this dream. I graduated from high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College, where I'll begin my nursing education. Every step I take fuels me with the remembrance of my father, the sacrifice of my parents, and my eagerness to give back to the community in which I grew up. I also understand, as a Congolese-American, how much representation matters in healthcare. I want immigrant patients to see someone who understands them-not just their language or culture but their fears, values, and strength. I want to help bridge the gap in care so many underserved communities face and be a nurse who brings both skill and heart into every room I enter. More than the financial help, receiving this scholarship would be an acknowledgment of my journey, my culture, and my commitment to serve. It would allow me to focus on becoming the best nurse I can be, with a minimized burden of constantly thinking about finances. Most importantly, it would be a step toward honoring where I come from while building a future that gives back.

I was born in the U.S. to Congolese parents and grew up balancing a life between two worlds: one deeply rooted in Congolese tradition and resilience, the other shaped by American opportunity and challenges. I am proud to represent such a culturally rich community. I grew up watching my parents work hard, not for mere survival, but to build and create a better life for our family. They came with their culture, strength, and hope across continents. And watching them make a life here taught me what it means to work hard, stay grounded, and never forget where you come from. Faith, service, and reverence were more than words heard in my household; they were practiced every day. One of the first ways I learned to give back was by serving in my church community. Whether it be cleaning up after services or helping feed those in need, I learned that the best leadership often takes place behind the scenes. This is a beautiful trait I received from my mom. It is in those quiet, simple moments that I began to learn what service means: doing your part, even when nobody notices, because that is when it matters more. That same mindset followed me into my work at the hospital. Currently, I help patients in the dietary department, assisting with meals and checking in on them. At first, I thought it was just my job, but then gradually came to understand that even the smallest interactions may be meaningful. A warm meal, a kind word, a few minutes of talk-these can be small for somebody, yet mean a lot in a hospital bed. Patients have shared with me their fears, their stories, and their loneliness. Each time, I am reminded of why I want to become a nurse: because being there for people-really being there-can change lives. I lost my dad to a stroke last year, and that changed everything for me. Watching him go through that and how the nurses cared for him urgently and with compassion broke my heart and at the same time inspired me. I remember thinking, "I want to do what they do. I want to be that person for someone else." That's when I knew I wanted to specialize in emergency medicine. It's a tough field, but I feel called to it-to the fast pace, the high stakes, and the chance to show up for people in their most critical moments. I've taken real steps towards this dream. I graduated from high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College, where I'll begin my nursing education. Every step I take fuels me with the remembrance of my father, the sacrifice of my parents, and my eagerness to give back to the community in which I grew up. I also understand, as a Congolese-American, how much representation matters in healthcare. I want immigrant patients to see someone who understands them-not just their language or culture but their fears, values, and strength. I want to help bridge the gap in care so many underserved communities face and be a nurse who brings both skill and heart into every room I enter. More than the financial help, receiving this scholarship would be an acknowledgment of my journey, my culture, and my commitment to serve. It would allow me to focus on becoming the best nurse I can be, with a minimized burden of constantly thinking about finances. Most importantly, it would be a step toward honoring where I come from while building a future that gives back.

I was born in the U.S. to Congolese parents and grew up balancing a life between two worlds: one deeply rooted in Congolese tradition and resilience, the other shaped by American opportunity and challenges. I am proud to represent such a culturally rich community. I grew up watching my parents work hard, not for mere survival, but to build and create a better life for our family. They came with their culture, strength, and hope across continents. And watching them make a life here taught me what it means to work hard, stay grounded, and never forget where you come from. Faith, service, and reverence were more than words heard in my household; they were practiced every day. One of the first ways I learned to give back was by serving in my church community. Whether it be cleaning up after services or helping feed those in need, I learned that the best leadership often takes place behind the scenes. This is a beautiful trait I received from my mom. It is in those quiet, simple moments that I began to learn what service means: doing your part, even when nobody notices, because that is when it matters more. That same mindset followed me into my work at the hospital. Currently, I help patients in the dietary department, assisting with meals and checking in on them. At first, I thought it was just my job, but then gradually came to understand that even the smallest interactions may be meaningful. A warm meal, a kind word, a few minutes of talk-these can be small for somebody, yet mean a lot in a hospital bed. Patients have shared with me their fears, their stories, and their loneliness. Each time, I am reminded of why I want to become a nurse: because being there for people-really being there-can change lives. I lost my dad to a stroke last year, and that changed everything for me. Watching him go through that and how the nurses cared for him urgently and with compassion broke my heart and at the same time inspired me. I remember thinking, "I want to do what they do. I want to be that person for someone else." That's when I knew I wanted to specialize in emergency medicine. It's a tough field, but I feel called to it-to the fast pace, the high stakes, and the chance to show up for people in their most critical moments. I've taken real steps towards this dream. I graduated from high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College, where I'll begin my nursing education. Every step I take fuels me with the remembrance of my father, the sacrifice of my parents, and my eagerness to give back to the community in which I grew up. I also understand, as a Congolese-American, how much representation matters in healthcare. I want immigrant patients to see someone who understands them-not just their language or culture but their fears, values, and strength. I want to help bridge the gap in care so many underserved communities face and be a nurse who brings both skill and heart into every room I enter. More than the financial help, receiving this scholarship would be an acknowledgment of my journey, my culture, and my commitment to serve. It would allow me to focus on becoming the best nurse I can be, with a minimized burden of constantly thinking about finances. Most importantly, it would be a step toward honoring where I come from while building a future that gives back.

I was born in the U.S. to Congolese parents and grew up balancing a life between two worlds: one deeply rooted in Congolese tradition and resilience, the other shaped by American opportunity and challenges. I am proud to represent such a culturally rich community. I grew up watching my parents work hard, not for mere survival, but to build and create a better life for our family. They came with their culture, strength, and hope across continents. And watching them make a life here taught me what it means to work hard, stay grounded, and never forget where you come from. Faith, service, and reverence were more than words heard in my household; they were practiced every day. One of the first ways I learned to give back was by serving in my church community. Whether it be cleaning up after services or helping feed those in need, I learned that the best leadership often takes place behind the scenes. This is a beautiful trait I received from my mom. It is in those quiet, simple moments that I began to learn what service means: doing your part, even when nobody notices, because that is when it matters more. That same mindset followed me into my work at the hospital. Currently, I help patients in the dietary department, assisting with meals and checking in on them. At first, I thought it was just my job, but then gradually came to understand that even the smallest interactions may be meaningful. A warm meal, a kind word, a few minutes of talk-these can be small for somebody, yet mean a lot in a hospital bed. Patients have shared with me their fears, their stories, and their loneliness. Each time, I am reminded of why I want to become a nurse: because being there for people-really being there-can change lives. I lost my dad to a stroke last year, and that changed everything for me. Watching him go through that and how the nurses cared for him urgently and with compassion broke my heart and at the same time inspired me. I remember thinking, "I want to do what they do. I want to be that person for someone else." That's when I knew I wanted to specialize in emergency medicine. It's a tough field, but I feel called to it-to the fast pace, the high stakes, and the chance to show up for people in their most critical moments. I've taken real steps towards this dream. I graduated from high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College, where I'll begin my nursing education. Every step I take fuels me with the remembrance of my father, the sacrifice of my parents, and my eagerness to give back to the community in which I grew up. I also understand, as a Congolese-American, how much representation matters in healthcare. I want immigrant patients to see someone who understands them-not just their language or culture but their fears, values, and strength. I want to help bridge the gap in care so many underserved communities face and be a nurse who brings both skill and heart into every room I enter. More than the financial help, receiving this scholarship would be an acknowledgment of my journey, my culture, and my commitment to serve. It would allow me to focus on becoming the best nurse I can be, with a minimized burden of constantly thinking about finances. Most importantly, it would be a step toward honoring where I come from while building a future that gives back.

Some people discover their calling later in life. For me, it was always there—quiet but constant, like background music in a familiar room. I come from a family of nurses. My parents, aunts, uncles—it sometimes feels like caregiving runs in our blood. But I didn’t really understand the depth of what that meant until I watched my dad suffer a stroke. I was old enough to know something was wrong, but too young to fully grasp the fear that settled over us like a heavy blanket. I remember his slurred speech, the way one side of his face didn’t move, and how quickly everything spiraled. The hospital became our second home during his recovery. I saw nurses work in ways I’ll never forget—calm under pressure, gentle in chaos. One nurse, Tina, made a lasting impact. She brought my mom food when she wouldn’t leave my dad’s side. She let me sleep in a chair next to his bed without making a fuss. She didn’t just care for him; she cared for all of us. That’s when it really hit me—nursing isn’t just about medicine or machines. It’s about people. It’s about showing up, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard. Since then, I’ve worked in the hospital’s dietary department, and every shift feels like another step toward where I’m meant to be. I watch the nurses closely. I notice how they talk to patients, how they advocate for them, how they carry the weight of so many lives and still somehow find time to smile. I’m learning from them every day—not just the technical side of healthcare, but the emotional intelligence and compassion that truly make a difference. I want to be that difference for someone else. Not just because it’s what my family has always done, but because I’ve seen, firsthand, how life-changing a good nurse can be. I want to be the calm in the storm. The steady hand. The reassuring voice when someone’s whole world is falling apart. With a nursing degree, I plan to work in communities where healthcare is harder to reach and trust is harder to earn. I want to provide not just care, but comfort. I want to use my own story—my family’s story—to connect with people and remind them that they’re not alone. Nursing is more than a job to me. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been becoming. And I’m ready to give back what was once given to me: hope, dignity, and healing.

Some people discover their calling later in life. For me, it was always there—quiet but constant, like background music in a familiar room. I come from a family of nurses. My parents, aunts, uncles—it sometimes feels like caregiving runs in our blood. But I didn’t really understand the depth of what that meant until I watched my dad suffer a stroke. I was old enough to know something was wrong, but too young to fully grasp the fear that settled over us like a heavy blanket. I remember his slurred speech, the way one side of his face didn’t move, and how quickly everything spiraled. The hospital became our second home during his recovery. I saw nurses work in ways I’ll never forget—calm under pressure, gentle in chaos. One nurse, Tina, made a lasting impact. She brought my mom food when she wouldn’t leave my dad’s side. She let me sleep in a chair next to his bed without making a fuss. She didn’t just care for him; she cared for all of us. That’s when it really hit me—nursing isn’t just about medicine or machines. It’s about people. It’s about showing up, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard. Since then, I’ve worked in the hospital’s dietary department, and every shift feels like another step toward where I’m meant to be. I watch the nurses closely. I notice how they talk to patients, how they advocate for them, how they carry the weight of so many lives and still somehow find time to smile. I’m learning from them every day—not just the technical side of healthcare, but the emotional intelligence and compassion that truly make a difference. I want to be that difference for someone else. Not just because it’s what my family has always done, but because I’ve seen, firsthand, how life-changing a good nurse can be. I want to be the calm in the storm. The steady hand. The reassuring voice when someone’s whole world is falling apart. With a nursing degree, I plan to work in communities where healthcare is harder to reach and trust is harder to earn. I want to provide not just care, but comfort. I want to use my own story—my family’s story—to connect with people and remind them that they’re not alone. Nursing is more than a job to me. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been becoming. And I’m ready to give back what was once given to me: hope, dignity, and healing.

Being born in the U.S. to parents from the Democratic Republic of Congo, I grew up balancing two worlds—one rooted in Congolese tradition and resilience, the other shaped by American opportunity and challenges. From an early age, I saw how hard my parents worked not just to survive, but to create something better for our family. They carried their culture, their strength, and their hope across continents, and watching them build a life here taught me what it means to work hard, stay grounded, and never forget where you come from. In our home, faith, service, and respect weren’t just values—they were daily practices. One of the first ways I learned to give back was by serving in my church community. Whether I was cleaning after services or helping with events, I learned that true leadership often starts behind the scenes. It was in those quiet, simple moments that I began to understand what service really means: doing your part, even when no one notices, because it matters. That same mindset followed me into my work at the hospital. I currently assist patients in the dietary department, helping with meals and checking in on them. At first, I thought I was just doing my job, but over time, I realized how meaningful even the smallest interactions can be. A warm meal, a kind word, a few minutes to talk—these things may seem small, but to someone in a hospital bed, they can mean the world. I’ve had patients open up about their fears, their stories, and their loneliness. And each time, I’m reminded of why I want to become a part of the 6.3% of African American nurses: because being there for people—really being there—can change lives. Losing my dad to a stroke last year changed everything for me. Watching him go through that, and seeing how the nurses cared for him with such urgency and compassion, broke my heart and inspired me at the same time. I remember thinking, “I want to do what they do. I want to be that person for someone else.” That’s when I knew I wanted to specialize in emergency medicine. It’s a tough field, but I feel called to it—to the fast pace, the high stakes, and the chance to show up for people in their most critical moments. I’ve been taking real steps toward this dream: I graduated high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College, where I’ll begin my nursing education. I plan to work as a tech soon to get more hands-on experience. Every step I take is fueled by my father’s memory, my parents’ sacrifices, and my desire to give back to the community that shaped me. As a Congolese-American, I also know how much representation matters in healthcare. I want patients from African and immigrant backgrounds to see someone who understands them—not just their language or culture, but their fears, their values, their strength. I also hope to inspire the generations to come by mentoring students of color and reminding them that their background is their strength and power. I want to help bridge the gap in care that so many underserved communities face, and to be a nurse who brings both skill and heart into every room I walk into.

I recently watched a video about a man with Alzheimer’s who had forgotten everyone in his life—family, friends, memories—but still recognized Jesus Christ. Watching it hit me in a way I didn’t expect. I felt sad, shocked, and honestly a little scared. I couldn’t imagine forgetting the people I love or the moments that make up my life, but he still had this connection that didn’t disappear. It was heartbreaking and kind of beautiful at the same time. Even though I haven’t had anyone in my family with Alzheimer’s, the video made me think about how much this disease changes everything—not just for the person with it, but for everyone around them. Families lose the person they know bit by bit, while the person with the illness might feel confused or frustrated. It’s like life slowly takes pieces away, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Watching that man’s story made me realize how fragile memory is and how important it is to treasure the people in our lives while we still can. It also made me think about why I want to be a nurse. Nursing isn’t just about medicine or procedures—it’s about showing up for people when they’re scared, confused, or alone. Small things really matter. A smile, a kind word, holding someone’s hand, or just being there can make a huge difference. Seeing that man in the video reminded me that even when life feels out of control, empathy and patience can bring comfort. One thing that stuck with me was how he still recognized Jesus. Even when everything else slipped away, that part of him stayed. It made me realize that people are more than their illnesses—they are their stories, their relationships, and their beliefs. As a future nurse, I want to remember that. Even if a patient can’t communicate or seems “lost” to the world, they still deserve respect, understanding, and care. This video also taught me a bigger lesson about perspective. Life is fragile, and memories are precious. It made me think about my own family, my dad, my mom, and everything I sometimes take for granted. Alzheimer’s may seem far away for me right now, but it’s a reminder that every person deserves compassion, no matter what they’re facing. Even though I only watched a video, it left a big impression. It showed me how powerful care, patience, and empathy can be. It’s inspired me to approach my future career in nursing with the same mindset—being present, listening, and giving people dignity even in the hardest moments. Small acts of kindness can mean everything, and that’s what I hope to bring to every patient I meet.

Last year changed my life. In May, my dad had a stroke. I found him. I had to call 911. I still replay that moment in my head sometimes. And then in June—just like that—he passed away. I still can’t believe it happened that fast. It felt like I blinked and lost everything. Everyone kept calling me “strong.” They meant well, I guess. But I didn’t feel strong. I felt like I was falling apart, and nobody could see it. I had to keep it together for my mom. And if I cried, I got judged. If I didn’t cry, people said I didn’t care. Some even went as far as to say I wasn’t really his daughter. That kind of stuff messes with your head. That year taught me something big: I had no idea how good life was before. I look back and realize—I was actually in my prime. I had soccer, good health, my dad, and just... normal life. I didn’t know how much I’d miss all of it until it was gone. And I hate that I’m only starting to really understand my parents now, especially my dad, when I can’t even tell him. He wanted to be a nurse. He was working toward his RN before he passed. I want to finish what he started. But honestly, nursing’s always been around me. My parents were the kind of people who took care of me the second something was off. Headache? They were already checking my temp. Sick? They stayed up all night. Watching them gave me the blueprint. Now I work in dietary at a hospital, delivering meals to patients. It’s not nursing, but it’s shown me what care really looks like. One day, I gave a tray to this older man who reminded me of my dad. He looked up and smiled, and said, “Thank you, baby.” And I froze. That’s exactly what my dad used to call me. “Baby.” I held it together until I left the room, then I cried in the hallway. That one word hit so deep. But it also reminded me why I’m doing this. I want to give people comfort. Peace. Just like the nurses who took care of my dad. Not every day is good. Some patients are rude. Some nurses look down on me like I’m just the tray girl. But I remember the ones who were gentle with my dad. I remember how that made me feel. And I want to be that person for someone else. My mom is my biggest inspiration. We’ve been through it all together. She didn’t give up. Neither did I. We needed each other. Still do. She’s why I keep pushing, why I want to become a nurse, why I believe in being kind even when it’s hard. I will start my RN-BSN program soon. I’m scared, honestly. But I’m proud of myself too. I still miss my dad every single day. That doesn’t go away. But I know he’d be proud of me. I’m chasing the dream we shared—and making it real. This scholarship will help me reduce the debt. I plan on sponsoring a scholarship for those in my major who have had a stroke and want to continue their education. Stamp collecting has taught me about the art of patience and how to notice the small details in a bigger picture (great in healthcare). Each stamp represents someone, a place, or a thing in history, and this has taught me that small things can leave a long-lasting impact.

Growing up in a family of nurses, including both my parents, I've always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it's quite common for many people to ask me, "Are you going to be a nurse like mommy and daddy?" even though I only had a general idea of what they did. Thus, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital exposed me to how my job directly improved the lives of clients. A woman I knew had a seizure, and my mom was able to act quickly in a matter of seconds to help her. A coworker of mine once said, "In every family, there is always a cycle of careers one does, whether you see everyone in healthcare, or in the justice system". This confirmed my calling. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone's emotions/situations whilst being present with them, even if you can't personally relate to them. This is extremely important in nursing because you'll experience and care for many patients who come from many different backgrounds and are going through many situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because it's a breaking point for them, while others may not be a significant issue. The first step of empathy is being able to acknowledge what someone is going through. You don't have to understand them; simply acknowledging is enough for many. I'm speaking from personal experience. Someone I hold dear to me was in the hospital. My former best friends knew of this but ignored this. After this person passed away, I never heard a "my condolences" or an "I'm sorry for your loss". I even addressed my feelings and how I didn't appreciate their lack of empathy towards me. They showed someone else in the group compassion, but not me. The reason I bring this up is being empathy is important in nursing. Not knowing people's background, when patients share their life experiences and their reasons for being in the hospital, I better understand that. It doesn't always have to be a loss of a loved one where you see empathy. Simply showing up for your clients and their family members helps a lot. When they look back at their hardship, it hurts a little less when they know they or their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my efforts/work are done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can pour into others effectively, I need to care for myself. I'm currently learning this while juggling the intensity of nursing school while maintaining a family, work, spiritual, and personal life balance. Second would be preparing for the job. A field like medicine makes discoveries every day. Staying up to date allows me to not only learn new material but also to better help and ensure the safety of my patients. Lastly, while I want to go by the book, I plan on taking my own personal experiences and molding them into an appropriate way of empathy. I don't want to be the nurse who does the basics and requires my patients to ask for every single little thing; rather, I want to go above and beyond like I do at my current job. I want to be a positive impact and a blessing for my patients. This scholarship would ease the financial burden of pursuing my education, especially since my FAFSA support doesn't cover all of my expenses. With this assistance, I will be able to focus more on my studies and clinical training without the constant worry of finances holding me back.

Being born in the U.S. to parents from the Democratic Republic of Congo, I grew up balancing two worlds—one rooted in Congolese tradition and resilience, the other shaped by American opportunity and challenges. From an early age, I saw how hard my parents worked not just to survive, but to create something better for our family. They carried their culture, their strength, and their hope across continents, and watching them build a life here taught me what it means to work hard, stay grounded, and never forget where you come from. In our home, faith, service, and respect weren’t just values—they were daily practices. One of the first ways I learned to give back was by serving in my church community. Whether I was cleaning after services or helping with events, I learned that true leadership often starts behind the scenes. It was in those quiet, simple moments that I began to understand what service really means: doing your part, even when no one notices, because it matters. That same mindset followed me into my work at the hospital. I currently assist patients in the dietary department, helping with meals and checking in on them. At first, I thought I was just doing my job, but over time I realized how meaningful even the smallest interactions can be. A warm meal, a kind word, a few minutes to talk—these things may seem small, but to someone in a hospital bed, they can mean the world. I’ve had patients open up about their fears, their stories, their loneliness. And each time, I’m reminded of why I want to become a nurse: because being there for people—really being there—can change lives. Losing my dad to a stroke last year changed everything for me. Watching him go through that, and seeing how the nurses cared for him with such urgency and compassion, broke my heart and inspired me at the same time. I remember thinking, “I want to do what they do. I want to be that person for someone else.” That’s when I knew I wanted to specialize in emergency medicine. It’s a tough field, but I feel called to it—to the fast pace, the high stakes, and the chance to show up for people in their most critical moments. I’ve been taking real steps toward this dream: I graduated high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College, where I’ll begin my nursing education. I plan to work as a tech soon to get more hands-on experience. Every step I take is fueled by my father’s memory, my parents’ sacrifices, and my desire to give back to the community that shaped me. As a Congolese-American, I also know how much representation matters in healthcare. I want patients from African and immigrant backgrounds to see someone who understands them—not just their language or culture, but their fears, their values, their strength. I want to help bridge the gap in care that so many underserved communities face, and to be a nurse who brings both skill and heart into every room I walk into. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial help—it would be an acknowledgment of my journey, my culture, and my commitment to serve. It would allow me to focus on becoming the best nurse I can be, without the constant weight of financial worry. More than anything, it would be a step toward honoring where I come from while building a future that gives back. I plan on becoming an ED and cardiac nurse, along with working in underserved areas around the world.

My name is Precious Kanda. I am a 17-year-old female from Pennsylvania. In my free time, I enjoy reading, journaling, playing soccer, and playing the viola. Growing up in a family of nurses, including both of my parents, I have always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it was common for people to ask me, “Are you going to be a nurse like Mommy and Daddy?” Even though I only had a general idea of what they did, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital later showed me how my job could directly improve the lives of clients. One moment that stands out was when a woman I knew had a seizure, and my mom was able to act quickly, in a matter of seconds, to help her. A coworker once told me, “In every family, there is always a cycle of careers people follow, whether it’s healthcare or the justice system.” That statement confirmed for me that nursing truly is my calling. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone’s emotions or situation while being present with them, even if you cannot personally relate. This is extremely important in nursing because you will care for patients from many different backgrounds who are experiencing a wide range of situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because they have reached a breaking point, while for others, their situation may not seem as significant. The first step of empathy is acknowledgment. You don’t have to fully understand someone; simply recognizing what they are going through is enough for many. I speak from personal experience. Someone I loved dearly was hospitalized, and later passed away. My former best friends knew of this but ignored it. I never heard a simple “my condolences” or “I’m sorry for your loss.” Even when I expressed my feelings and explained how I did not appreciate their lack of empathy, they still chose to show compassion to others, but not me. That experience taught me that empathy matters deeply. This is why I believe empathy is essential in nursing. You never truly know someone’s background, but when patients share their life experiences and reasons for being in the hospital, it gives you a chance to better understand them. Empathy doesn’t always come from loss—it can be found in simply showing up for clients and their families. When they look back at their hardship, it can hurt a little less knowing their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my work is done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can care for others effectively, I must take care of myself. I am currently learning this balance while navigating nursing school alongside family, work, spiritual, and personal responsibilities. Another important step is preparing for the job itself. The field of medicine advances every day, and staying up to date allows me to learn new material and provide safer, more effective care. Lastly, while I want to practice according to standards and evidence, I also recognize that the “book” of nursing is built on personal experiences. I do not want to be the type of nurse who only does the basics or requires patients to ask for every small thing. Instead, I want to go above and beyond, as I do in my current job. My goal is to be a positive impact and a blessing to my patients. That, to me, is what the “human touch” means—defending, protecting, and ensuring that patients receive the best possible care.

My name is Precious Kanda. I am a 17-year-old female from Pennsylvania. In my free time, I enjoy reading, journaling, playing soccer, and playing the viola. Growing up in a family of nurses, including both of my parents, I have always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it was common for people to ask me, “Are you going to be a nurse like Mommy and Daddy?” Even though I only had a general idea of what they did, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital later showed me how my job could directly improve the lives of clients. One moment that stands out was when a woman I knew had a seizure, and my mom was able to act quickly, in a matter of seconds, to help her. A coworker once told me, “In every family, there is always a cycle of careers people follow, whether it’s healthcare or the justice system.” That statement confirmed for me that nursing truly is my calling. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone’s emotions or situation while being present with them, even if you cannot personally relate. This is extremely important in nursing because you will care for patients from many different backgrounds who are experiencing a wide range of situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because they have reached a breaking point, while for others, their situation may not seem as significant. The first step of empathy is acknowledgment. You don’t have to fully understand someone; simply recognizing what they are going through is enough for many. I speak from personal experience. Someone I loved dearly was hospitalized, and later passed away. My former best friends knew of this but ignored it. I never heard a simple “my condolences” or “I’m sorry for your loss.” Even when I expressed my feelings and explained how I did not appreciate their lack of empathy, they still chose to show compassion to others, but not me. That experience taught me that empathy matters deeply. This is why I believe empathy is essential in nursing. You never truly know someone’s background, but when patients share their life experiences and reasons for being in the hospital, it gives you a chance to better understand them. Empathy doesn’t always come from loss—it can be found in simply showing up for clients and their families. When they look back at their hardship, it can hurt a little less knowing their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my work is done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can care for others effectively, I must take care of myself. I am currently learning this balance while navigating nursing school alongside family, work, spiritual, and personal responsibilities. Another important step is preparing for the job itself. The field of medicine advances every day, and staying up to date allows me to learn new material and provide safer, more effective care. Lastly, while I want to practice according to standards and evidence, I also recognize that the “book” of nursing is built on personal experiences. I do not want to be the type of nurse who only does the basics or requires patients to ask for every small thing. Instead, I want to go above and beyond, as I do in my current job. My goal is to be a positive impact and a blessing to my patients. That, to me, is what the “human touch” means—defending, protecting, and ensuring that patients receive the best possible care.

Growing up in a family of nurses, including both of my parents, I have always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it was common for people to ask me, “Are you going to be a nurse like Mommy and Daddy?” Even though I only had a general idea of what they did, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital later showed me how my job could directly improve the lives of clients. One moment that stands out was when a woman I knew had a seizure, and my mom was able to act quickly, in a matter of seconds, to help her. A coworker once told me, “In every family, there is always a cycle of careers people follow, whether it’s healthcare or the justice system.” That statement confirmed for me that nursing truly is my calling. I chose to pursue a degree in healthcare because it allows me to combine my compassion for others with the knowledge and skills needed to make a real difference in people’s lives. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone’s emotions or situation while being present with them, even if you cannot personally relate. This is extremely important in nursing because you will care for patients from many different backgrounds who are experiencing a wide range of situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because they have reached a breaking point, while for others, their situation may not seem as significant. The first step of empathy is acknowledgment. You don’t have to fully understand someone; simply recognizing what they are going through is enough for many. I speak from personal experience. Someone I loved dearly was hospitalized, and later passed away. My former best friends knew of this but ignored it. I never heard a simple “my condolences” or “I’m sorry for your loss.” Even when I expressed my feelings and explained how I did not appreciate their lack of empathy, they still chose to show compassion to others, but not me. That experience taught me that empathy matters deeply. This is why I believe empathy is essential in nursing. You never truly know someone’s background, but when patients share their life experiences and reasons for being in the hospital, it gives you a chance to better understand them. Empathy doesn’t always come from loss—it can be found in simply showing up for clients and their families. When they look back at their hardship, it can hurt a little less knowing their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my work is done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can care for others effectively, I must take care of myself. I am currently learning this balance while navigating nursing school alongside family, work, spiritual, and personal responsibilities. Another important step is preparing for the job itself. The field of medicine makes new discoveries every day, and staying up to date allows me to learn new material and provide safer, more effective care. As a young woman entering the healthcare field, I hope to follow in the footsteps of my mother and other strong women by making a positive impact on patients’ lives through both knowledge and compassion. My goal is to be a positive impact and a blessing to my patients. That, to me, is what the “human touch” means—defending, protecting, and ensuring that patients receive the best possible care.

My name is Precious Kanda. I am a 17-year-old female from Pennsylvania. In my free time, I enjoy reading, journaling, playing soccer, and playing the viola. I have been playing both soccer and viola for four years. Growing up in a family of nurses, including both of my parents, I have always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it was common for people to ask me, “Are you going to be a nurse like Mommy and Daddy?” Even though I only had a general idea of what they did, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital later showed me how my job could directly improve the lives of clients. One moment that stands out was when a woman I knew had a seizure, and my mom was able to act quickly, in a matter of seconds, to help her. A coworker once told me, “In every family, there is always a cycle of careers people follow, whether it’s healthcare or the justice system.” That statement confirmed for me that nursing truly is my calling. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone’s emotions or situation while being present with them, even if you cannot personally relate. This is extremely important in nursing because you will care for patients from many different backgrounds who are experiencing a wide range of situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because they have reached a breaking point, while for others, their situation may not seem as significant. The first step of empathy is acknowledgment. You don’t have to fully understand someone; simply recognizing what they are going through is enough for many. I speak from personal experience. Someone I loved dearly was hospitalized, and later passed away. My former best friends knew of this but ignored it. I never heard a simple “my condolences” or “I’m sorry for your loss.” Even when I expressed my feelings and explained how I did not appreciate their lack of empathy, they still chose to show compassion to others, but not me. That experience taught me that empathy matters deeply. This is why I believe empathy is essential in nursing. You never truly know someone’s background, but when patients share their life experiences and reasons for being in the hospital, it gives you a chance to better understand them. Empathy doesn’t always come from loss—it can be found in simply showing up for clients and their families. When they look back at their hardship, it can hurt a little less knowing their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my work is done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can care for others effectively, I must take care of myself. I am currently learning this balance while navigating nursing school alongside family, work, spiritual, and personal responsibilities. Another important step is preparing for the job itself. The field of medicine advances every day, and staying up to date allows me to learn new material and provide safer, more effective care. Lastly, while I want to practice according to standards and evidence, I also recognize that the “book” of nursing is built on personal experiences. I plan to use my own experiences to guide how I apply empathy. I do not want to be the type of nurse who only does the basics or requires patients to ask for every small thing. Instead, I want to go above and beyond, as I do in my current job. My goal is to be a positive impact and a blessing to my patients. That, to me, is what the “human touch” means—defending, protecting, and ensuring that patients receive the best possible care.

Growing up in a family of nurses, including both my parents, I've always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it's quite common for many people to ask me, "Are you going to be a nurse like mommy and daddy?" even though I only had a general idea of what they did. Thus, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital exposed me to how my job directly improved the lives of clients. A woman I knew had a seizure, and my mom was able to act quickly in a matter of seconds to help her. A coworker of mine once said, "In every family, there is always a cycle of careers one does, whether you see everyone in healthcare, or in the justice system". This confirmed my calling. One book that has also shaped my goals is Ask Billy Graham. Reading it taught me a lot about faith in different areas. It reminded me that nursing isn't simply about the outside, but also the inside, showing kindness, hope, and compassion. This reaffirmed my desire to become a nurse who goes beyond the basics to truly serve patients with empathy and love. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone's emotions/situations whilst being present with them, even if you can't personally relate to them. This is extremely important in nursing because you'll experience and care for many patients who come from many different backgrounds and are going through many situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because it's a breaking point for them, while others may not be a significant issue. The first step of empathy is being able to acknowledge what someone is going through. You don't have to understand them; simply acknowledging is enough for many. I'm speaking from personal experience. Someone I hold dear to me was in the hospital. My former best friends knew of this but ignored this. After this person passed away, I never heard a "my condolences" or an "I'm sorry for your loss". I even addressed my feelings and how I didn't appreciate their lack of empathy towards me. They showed someone else in the group compassion, but not me. Simply showing up for your clients and their family members helps a lot. When they look back at their hardship, it hurts a little less when they know their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my efforts/work are done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can pour into others effectively, I need to care for myself. I'm currently learning this while juggling the intensity of nursing school while maintaining a family, work, spiritual, and personal life balance. Second would be preparing for the job. A field like medicine makes discoveries every day. Staying up to date allows me to not only learn new material but also to better help and ensure the safety of my patients. Lastly, while I want to go by the book, the way the book was created was by personal experiences. I plan on taking my own personal experiences and molding them into an appropriate way of empathy. I don't want to be the nurse who does the basics and requires my patients to ask for every single little thing; rather, I want to go above and beyond like I do at my current job. I want to be a positive impact and a blessing for my patients. Does this fit this prompt? What have you learned from the books you've read, and how have they shaped your goals?

Some people discover their calling later in life. For me, it was always there—quiet but constant and something I couldn't simply ignore, like background music in a familiar room. A woman at my job once said to me, "In every family, there is something that everyone does, whether that's nursing or being a lawyer". I come from a family of nurses. My parents, aunts, uncles—you name it. But I didn’t really understand the depth of what that meant until I watched my dad suffer a stroke. I was old enough to know something was wrong, but too young to fully grasp the fear that settled over us like a heavy blanket. I remember his slurred speech, the way one side of his face didn’t move, and how quickly everything spiraled. The hospital became our second home during his recovery. I saw nurses work in ways I’ll never forget—calm under pressure, gentle in chaos. One nurse, Tina, made a lasting impact. She brought my mom food when she wouldn’t leave my dad’s side. She let me sleep in a chair next to his bed without making a fuss. She didn’t just care for him; she cared for all of us. That’s when I came to the realization—nursing isn’t just about medicine or machines. It's not even about the money or the hours. It’s about people. It’s about showing up, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard. Since then, I’ve worked in the hospital’s dietary department, and every shift feels like another step toward where I’m meant to be. I watch the nurses attentively. I notice how they talk with patients, the way they comfort them, and how they carry so much responsibility but still manage to be kind and caring. Every day I’m learning from them—not just about the healthcare side of things, but also about the empathy and emotional intelligence. Looking ahead, I picture myself as a nurse who brings both empathy and compassion to every shift. I see myself in busy, high-pressure areas like the Emergency Department or Neurology floor, where quick decisions and steady hands can truly make the difference for someone’s life. I also want to serve in OB/GYN, supporting mothers alongside their families during some of the most vulnerable and life-changing moments of their lives. Beyond the hospital walls, I envision myself reaching communities with limited access to healthcare, both here in the U.S. and abroad, through medical mission trips. My goal is to be more than just a caregiver—I want to be an advocate, a source of comfort, and a bridge to healthcare for people who often feel overlooked and for those who simply don't have access to care compared to other countries. I want to be that difference for someone else. Not just because it’s what my family has always done, but because I’ve seen, firsthand, how life-changing a good nurse can be. I want to be the calm in the storm. The steady hand. The reassuring voice when someone’s whole world is falling apart. I want to be that person when they look back, they can say I was an angel in disguise in the midst of the storm. With my bachelors of science in nursing, I plan to work in communities where healthcare is harder to reach and trust is harder to earn. I want to give more than just medical care—I want to offer comfort. I want to use my story, my family’s story, to connect with people and remind them they’re never truly alone. That’s why I see myself working in the Emergency Department and on the Neurology floor. I know I’m only a freshman in college and just starting my journey, but I’m determined to gain the knowledge, skills, and experience I’ll need to provide life-saving care in the same kind of environment where my father once was—while never losing the compassion that first inspired me. Nursing isn’t just a career for me; it’s part of who I am and who I’ve been growing into all along. I’m ready to give back what was once given to me: hope, dignity, and healing.

Some people discover their calling later in life. For me, it was always there—quiet but constant and something I couldn't simply ignore, like background music in a familiar room. A woman at my job once said to me, "In every family, there is something that everyone does, whether that's nursing or being a lawyer". I come from a family of nurses. My parents, aunts, uncles—you name it. But I didn’t really understand the depth of what that meant until I watched my dad suffer a stroke. I was old enough to know something was wrong, but too young to fully grasp the fear that settled over us like a heavy blanket. I remember his slurred speech, the way one side of his face didn’t move, and how quickly everything spiraled. The hospital became our second home during his recovery. I saw nurses work in ways I’ll never forget—calm under pressure, gentle in chaos. One nurse, Tina, made a lasting impact. She brought my mom food when she wouldn’t leave my dad’s side. She let me sleep in a chair next to his bed without making a fuss. She didn’t just care for him; she cared for all of us. That’s when it really hit me—nursing isn’t just about medicine or machines. It’s about people. It’s about showing up, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard. Since then, I’ve worked in the hospital’s dietary department, and every shift feels like another step toward where I’m meant to be. I watch the nurses closely. I notice how they talk to patients, how they advocate for them, how they carry the weight of so many lives and still somehow find time to smile. I’m learning from them every day—not just the technical side of healthcare, but the emotional intelligence and compassion that truly make a difference. I want to be that difference for someone else. Not just because it’s what my family has always done, but because I’ve seen, firsthand, how life-changing a good nurse can be. I want to be the calm in the storm. The steady hand. The reassuring voice when someone’s whole world is falling apart. I want to be that person when they look back, they can say I was a angel in disguise in the midst of the storm. With a nursing degree, I plan to work in communities where healthcare is harder to reach and trust is harder to earn. I want to provide not just care, but comfort. I want to use my own story—my family’s story—to connect with people and remind them that they’re not alone. To accomplish this, I plan on working in the Emergency Department and the Neurology Medical Surgical floor. As a freshman in college, I know I am just starting my journey, but I am determined to build the knowledge, skills, and experience necessary to provide life-saving care in fast-paced, critical environments where my father once was while never losing sight of the compassion that inspired me in the first place. Nursing is more than a job to me. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been becoming. And I’m ready to give back what was once given to me: hope, dignity, and healing.

Some people discover their calling later in life. For me, it was always there—quiet but constant and something I couldn't simply ignore, like background music in a familiar room. A woman at my job once said to me, "In every family, there is something that everyone does, whether that's nursing or being a lawyer". I come from a family of nurses. My parents, aunts, uncles—you name it. But I didn’t really understand the depth of what that meant until I watched my dad suffer a stroke. I was old enough to know something was wrong, but too young to fully grasp the fear that settled over us like a heavy blanket. I remember his slurred speech, the way one side of his face didn’t move, and how quickly everything spiraled. The hospital became our second home during his recovery. I saw nurses work in ways I’ll never forget—calm under pressure, gentle in chaos. One nurse, Tina, made a lasting impact. She brought my mom food when she wouldn’t leave my dad’s side. She let me sleep in a chair next to his bed without making a fuss. She didn’t just care for him; she cared for all of us. That’s when it really hit me—nursing isn’t just about medicine or machines. It’s about people. It’s about showing up, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard. Since then, I’ve worked in the hospital’s dietary department, and every shift feels like another step toward where I’m meant to be. I watch the nurses closely. I notice how they talk to patients, how they advocate for them, how they carry the weight of so many lives and still somehow find time to smile. I’m learning from them every day—not just the technical side of healthcare, but the emotional intelligence and compassion that truly make a difference. I want to be that difference for someone else. Not just because it’s what my family has always done, but because I’ve seen, firsthand, how life-changing a good nurse can be. I want to be the calm in the storm. The steady hand. The reassuring voice when someone’s whole world is falling apart. I want to be that person when they look back, they can say I was a angel in disguise in the midst of the storm. With a nursing degree, I plan to work in communities where healthcare is harder to reach and trust is harder to earn. I want to provide not just care, but comfort. I want to use my own story—my family’s story—to connect with people and remind them that they’re not alone. To accomplish this, I plan on working in the Emergency Department and the Neurology Medical Surgical floor. As a freshman in college, I know I am just starting my journey, but I am determined to build the knowledge, skills, and experience necessary to provide life-saving care in fast-paced, critical environments where my father once was while never losing sight of the compassion that inspired me in the first place. Nursing is more than a job to me. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been becoming. And I’m ready to give back what was once given to me: hope, dignity, and healing.

Some people discover their calling later in life. For me, it was always there—quiet but constant and something I couldn't simply ignore, like background music in a familiar room. A woman at my job once said to me, "In every family, there is something that everyone does, whether that's nursing or being a lawyer". I come from a family of nurses. My parents, aunts, uncles—you name it. But I didn’t really understand the depth of what that meant until I watched my dad suffer a stroke. I was old enough to know something was wrong, but too young to fully grasp the fear that settled over us like a heavy blanket. I remember his slurred speech, the way one side of his face didn’t move, and how quickly everything spiraled. The hospital became our second home during his recovery. I saw nurses work in ways I’ll never forget—calm under pressure, gentle in chaos. One nurse, Tina, made a lasting impact. She brought my mom food when she wouldn’t leave my dad’s side. She let me sleep in a chair next to his bed without making a fuss. She didn’t just care for him; she cared for all of us. That’s when it really hit me—nursing isn’t just about medicine or machines. It’s about people. It’s about showing up, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard. Since then, I’ve worked in the hospital’s dietary department, and every shift feels like another step toward where I’m meant to be. I watch the nurses closely. I notice how they talk to patients, how they advocate for them, how they carry the weight of so many lives and still somehow find time to smile. I’m learning from them every day—not just the technical side of healthcare, but the emotional intelligence and compassion that truly make a difference. I want to be that difference for someone else. Not just because it’s what my family has always done, but because I’ve seen, firsthand, how life-changing a good nurse can be. I want to be the calm in the storm. The steady hand. The reassuring voice when someone’s whole world is falling apart. I want to be that person when they look back, they can say I was a angel in disguise in the midst of the storm. With a nursing degree, I plan to work in communities where healthcare is harder to reach and trust is harder to earn. I want to provide not just care, but comfort. I want to use my own story—my family’s story—to connect with people and remind them that they’re not alone. Nursing is more than a job to me. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been becoming. And I’m ready to give back what was once given to me: hope, dignity, and healing.

My name is Precious Kanda. I am a 17-year-old female from Pennsylvania. In my free time, I enjoy various hobbies, such as reading, journaling, playing soccer, and playing the viola. I've been playing soccer and my viola for 4 years. Growing up in a family of nurses, including both my parents, I've always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it's quite common for many people to ask me, "Are you going to be a nurse like mommy and daddy?" even though I only had a general idea of what they did. Thus, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital exposed me to how my job directly improved the lives of clients. A woman I knew had a seizure, and my mom was able to act quickly in a matter of seconds to help her. A coworker of mine once said, "In every family, there is always a cycle of careers one does, whether you see everyone in healthcare, or in the justice system". This confirmed my calling. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone's emotions/situations whilst being present with them, even if you can't personally relate to them. This is extremely important in nursing because you'll experience and care for many patients who come from many different backgrounds and are going through many situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because it's a breaking point for them, while others may not be a significant issue. The first step of empathy is being able to acknowledge what someone is going through. You don't have to understand them; simply acknowledging is enough for many. I'm speaking from personal experience. Someone I hold dear to me was in the hospital. My former best friends knew of this but ignored this. After this person passed away, I never heard a "my condolences" or an "I'm sorry for your loss". I even addressed my feelings and how I didn't appreciate their lack of empathy towards me. They showed someone else in the group compassion, but not me. The reason I bring this up is being empathy is important in nursing. Not knowing people's background, when patients share their life experiences and their reasons for being in the hospital, I better understand that. It doesn't always have to be a loss of a loved one where you see empathy. Simply showing up for your clients and their family members helps a lot. When they look back at their hardship, it hurts a little less when they know their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my efforts/work are done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can pour into others effectively, I need to care for myself. I'm currently learning this while juggling the intensity of nursing school while maintaining a family, work, spiritual, and personal life balance. Second would be preparing for the job. A field like medicine makes discoveries every day. Staying up to date allows me to not only learn new material but also to better help and ensure the safety of my patients. Lastly, while I want to go by the book, the way the book was created was by personal experiences. I plan on taking my own personal experiences and molding them into an appropriate way of empathy. I don't want to be the nurse who does the basics and requires my patients to ask for every single little thing; rather, I want to go above and beyond like I do at my current job. I want to be a positive impact and a blessing for my patients.

Growing up in a family of nurses, including both my parents, I've always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it's quite common for many people to ask me, "Are you going to be a nurse like mommy and daddy?" even though I only had a general idea of what they did. Thus, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital exposed me to how my job directly improved the lives of clients. A woman I knew had a seizure, and my mom was able to act quickly in a matter of seconds to help her. A coworker of mine once said, "In every family, there is always a cycle of careers one does, whether you see everyone in healthcare, or in the justice system". This confirmed my calling. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone's emotions/situations whilst being present with them, even if you can't personally relate to them. This is extremely important in nursing because you'll experience and care for many patients who come from many different backgrounds and are going through many situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because it's a breaking point for them, while others may not be a significant issue. The first step of empathy is being able to acknowledge what someone is going through. You don't have to understand them; simply acknowledging is enough for many. I'm speaking from personal experience. Someone I hold dear to me was in the hospital. My former best friends knew of this but ignored this. After this person passed away, I never heard a "my condolences" or an "I'm sorry for your loss". I even addressed my feelings and how I didn't appreciate their lack of empathy towards me. They showed someone else in the group compassion, but not me. The reason I bring this up is being empathy is important in nursing. Not knowing people's background, when patients share their life experiences and their reasons for being in the hospital, I better understand that. It doesn't always have to be a loss of a loved one where you see empathy. Simply showing up for your clients and their family members helps a lot. When they look back at their hardship, it hurts a little less when they know they or their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my efforts/work are done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can pour into others effectively, I need to care for myself. I'm currently learning this while juggling the intensity of nursing school while maintaining a family, work, spiritual, and personal life balance. Second would be preparing for the job. A field like medicine makes discoveries every day. Staying up to date allows me to not only learn new material but also to better help and ensure the safety of my patients. Lastly, while I want to go by the book, I plan on taking my own personal experiences and molding them into an appropriate way of empathy. I don't want to be the nurse who does the basics and requires my patients to ask for every single little thing; rather, I want to go above and beyond like I do at my current job. I want to be a positive impact and a blessing for my patients. This scholarship would ease the financial burden of pursuing my education, especially since my FAFSA support doesn't cover all of my expenses. With this assistance, I will be able to focus more on my studies and clinical training without the constant worry of finances holding me back.

My name is Precious Kanda. I am a 17-year-old female from Pennsylvania. I come from a family of 3. In my free time, I enjoy engaging in various hobbies, such as reading, journaling, singing, dancing, playing soccer, and playing the viola. I've been playing soccer and my viola for 4 years. Growing up in a family of nurses, including both my parents, I've always been exposed to the nursing profession. As a child, it's quite common for many people to ask me, "Are you going to be a nurse like mommy and daddy?" even though I only had a general idea of what they did. Thus, my response was always yes. Working at a hospital exposed me to how my job directly improved the lives of clients. A lady whom I knew had a seizure, and my mom, being a nurse, was able to act quickly in a matter of seconds to help her. This tugged my heart to nursing. A coworker of mine once said, "In every family, there is always a cycle of careers one does, whether you see everyone in healthcare, or in the justice system". This confirmed my calling. Empathy means being able to acknowledge someone's emotions/situations whilst being present with them, even if you can't personally relate to them. This is extremely important in nursing because you'll experience and care for many patients who come from many different backgrounds and are going through many situations. Many of them end up in the hospital because it's a breaking point for them, while others may not be a significant issue. The first step of empathy is being able to acknowledge what someone is going through. You don't have to understand them; simply acknowledging is enough for many. I'm speaking from personal experience. Someone I hold dear to me was in the hospital. My former best friends knew of this but ignored this. After this person passed away, I never heard a "my condolences" or an "I'm sorry for your loss". I even addressed my feelings and how I didn't appreciate their lack of empathy towards me. They showed someone else in the group compassion, but not me. The reason I bring this up is being empathy is important in nursing. Not knowing people's background, when patients share their life experiences and their reasons for being in the hospital, I better understand that. It doesn't always have to be a loss of a loved one where you see empathy. Simply showing up for your clients and their family members helps a lot. When they look back at their hardship, it hurts a little less when they know they or their loved one was in great hands. I can ensure my efforts/work are done through a human-centered lens by first pouring into myself. Before I can pour into others effectively, I need to care for myself. I'm currently learning this while juggling the intensity of nursing school while maintaining a family, work, spiritual, and personal life balance. Second would be preparing for the job. A field like medicine makes discoveries every day. Staying up to date allows me to not only learn new material but also to better help and ensure the safety of my patients. Lastly, while I want to go by the book, the way the book was created was by personal experiences. I plan on taking my own personal experiences and molding them into an appropriate way of empathy. I don't want to be the nurse who does the basics and requires my patients to ask for every single little thing; rather, I want to go above and beyond like I do at my current job. I want to be a positive impact and a blessing for my patients.

For me, the Taylor Swift performance that hit the hardest was when she sang “All Too Well (10 Minute Version).” I remember watching it and just sitting there, kind of frozen, because it felt like she was actually living the song right in front of us. It didn’t feel like a show. It felt real. The way she sang it was so raw and emotional. You could almost see the memories on her face. It reminded me of times I’ve gone through stuff that was hard to talk about, and it made me feel like, “Wow, even someone as famous as her knows what that feels like.” Honestly, it almost made me cry. What I admire most is how brave she was. That song is super personal, and to share that on such a big stage takes so much courage. It made me realize that showing your feelings doesn’t make you weak. If anything, it shows how strong you are. That’s something I want to carry into my own life too—being real, even when it’s scary. Another reason it stuck with me is because everyone watching could feel it. You could see the people in the crowd getting emotional, and I felt the same way sitting at home. It didn’t matter if you were a fan who had been listening for years or someone who just found the song—it connected everyone for a few minutes. That performance will always stay with me because it wasn’t just music, it was a reminder. A reminder that heartbreak, struggles, and pain are part of life, but they don’t define us—they grow us. That’s why her “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” performance is the most moving one for me. It made me feel understood, and it showed me that being honest about your emotions is actually really powerful.

I am a huge fan of Sabrina Carpenter. I’m drawn to her not only for her songs but for the honesty and growth she lets us see. When I see her, it gives me a mirror of a future version of myself. From the beginning of her career, she has shown that success does not happen overnight but through persistence, creativity, and a willingness to be vulnerable with the world. This relates to me being I want to go into medicine. Such willingness and vulnerability are needed in healthcare. Watching her evolve from her early acting days into a confident and respected singer-songwriter has been inspiring to me personally. She has taught me that growth is not linear—it’s a journey filled with risks, mistakes, and breakthroughs. What's beautiful about that is the fact that it's normal and it's life. Her career has impacted me in more ways than I realized. Through her songs, Sabrina expresses feelings that feel relatable and genuine rather than false, as if she’s putting words to the feelings many of us struggle to articulate, which is common amongst all of us. Whether it’s heartbreak, empowerment, or simply navigating the confusion of growing up, her music has given me comfort during difficult times and joy during the best of times. I truly understand why people claim to be music lovers and express their love for music. Her ability to turn personal experiences into art makes me feel less alone in my own journey. It motivates me to make the best out of my mess and leave the rest up to God. What makes me admire her most is her grit. In this world, grit is key. Despite criticism, comparisons, and the pressure of being in the spotlight, she continues to stay true to her vision. It encourages me in many aspects of life, from peers to colleagues and even family. That persistence reminds me that no matter what obstacles I face, I can choose to keep going and remain unapologetically myself. I can't allow social media's standards and opinions to dictate my life. Her journey shows me that authenticity isn’t a flaw, it’s actually one of the biggest strengths a person can have. Seeing how she’s grown, not only in her music but in her life, has inspired me to think about my own future differently. I think about the healthcare field a lot and aspire to be similar to her. She encourages me to embrace creativity, being myself, chase passions, and not be afraid of reinvention. Just as she has evolved with every album, I feel encouraged to embrace change in my own life and trust that growth always brings something valuable. I am a fan of Sabrina Carpenter because she is more than just an entertainer; she is a reminder of courage, expression, and self-discovery. Without the three, one loses oneself. Her career has not only impacted me but has shaped the way I see challenges, creativity, and personal growth. Before, I used to be hardheaded and one-sided, but now I've learned the art of flexibility and open-mindedness. Through her journey, I have learned that it’s okay to be vulnerable, it’s powerful to be authentic, and it’s inspiring to never stop evolving.

My brand-new Love Island challenge is called Truth or Feelings. It's a high-energy and emotionally intelligent game that pushes Islanders to test honesty, trust, and attraction while keeping the audience hooked. The challenge combines the excitement of a treasure hunt with the vulnerability of truth-or-dare, ensuring both fun and drama unfold. It also ensures that the Islanders not only leave with love but a new perspective on life. The challenge begins with the Islanders being split into two teams. Each villa location—pool, firepit, gym, and bedroom—is transformed into a “treasure zone” where chests are hidden. Inside the chests are sealed cards that hold either a truth question, a dare task, or a golden key. The key is the ultimate prize, granting the winning team a luxury date night. When an Islander opens a chest and pulls a card, they must perform what’s written—no excuses. For example, a truth card might ask, “Who in the villa would you couple up with if your partner wasn’t here?” while one of the dare cards could challenge them to “Give a slow dance to the Islander you find most attractive.” These prompts stir up laughter, awkwardness, and raw emotions, revealing feelings Islanders may try to suppress deep inside. But the heart of Truth or Feelings goes beyond playful dares. It’s about digging deeper into the Islanders’ lives and giving them a space to share who they truly are when no one is looking. Some truths are lighthearted, but others could ask: “What life experience shaped you the most?” or “What’s one lesson from your past relationship that you carry with you today?” These questions aren’t just for drama—they’re for peeling back the layers and letting viewers see the real and raw, uncut version of each person in the villa. We want to know what shaped them, who made them, and what brought them this far. We want them to leave not only with love but with a thought/new perspective on why that may have happened to them at 15 years old. The drama will still naturally follow—jealousy, awkward confessions, and sparks of attraction—but the bigger goal is to create moments of vulnerability. By hearing Islanders speak their truths, the audience gains a better understanding of them beyond the surface-level flirting and recoupling. It shows that behind every smile, joke, or romantic move is a person with a story, scars, and growth still in progress. Yes, I know people won’t suddenly change after one challenge. But I hope to plant a seed for reflection—something Islanders can carry with them once they leave the villa. Maybe it inspires change. Maybe it sparks growth. Or maybe it simply opens a new perspective. Either way, Truth or Treasure isn’t just a challenge; it’s a step toward authenticity, connection, and understanding in a place where emotions often get overshadowed by competition.

My pro-life beliefs didn’t come from politics or trying to sound perfect — they came from real life and real pain. I lost my cousin unexpectedly. One moment he was laughing with us, and the next we were planning his funeral. That hurt in a way I can’t even explain. It made me look at life differently. When you lose someone that suddenly, you realize how fragile and precious life really is. You start valuing every heartbeat. So when I see people wanting to take away life before it even begins, it hits me personally. I think about how we cried and wished for just more time. That’s why I believe even the tiniest life deserves a chance. On top of that, I’ve heard so many testimonies from women who would give anything just to carry a baby. Women who sit on their bathroom floors crying because another pregnancy test came back negative. Women who pray nonstop and spend thousands of dollars just hoping their bodies can do what others take for granted. Hearing those stories changed my heart forever. Some people are trying to end pregnancies while others are begging God just to have one — that contrast is heartbreaking and humbling. It made me want to protect life even more. Because of everything I’ve seen, I try to live pro-life gently. I don’t shame people. I treat everyone — especially pregnant women, those who are scared or unsure, and those who can’t have kids — with love and kindness. I pray for them constantly. I pray that scared mothers will choose life, and I pray that women waiting years for a baby will feel comforted and protected by God. I try to be the type of person people can come to without feeling judged. I also understand and at times am perplexed with the reasons of people being born. It's not easy being a victim giving birth to that very result. To add on to that, there are many testimonies of the foster care system not being the best if anything traumatic so it's hard to be on one side fully. Whenever I can, I speak up in conversations and share why life matters to me — not in an aggressive way, but in a real and loving way. I support pro-life organizations, repost messages online, and let girls my age know there are resources if they ever feel stuck or pressured. And most importantly, I try to love like Christ — remembering every single person (including the unborn) has value, dignity, and purpose. So yes, I’m proudly pro-life — not because someone told me to be, but because I’ve lived through loss, listened to people’s pain, and realized that life — no matter how small — is always worth protecting.

My name is Precious Kanda. I am pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Science of Nursing at Nightingale College. I come from a resilient preserving family of nurses who said “Education is Key” when it comes to building a better future than what they gave me. Growing up, I’ve always lived in a two-parent household. My parents came to America with little to nothing on their backs and built an exceptional life here for themselves. They both went back to school to become nurses to provide all of us including family back home with a better future. As of last year, everything changed. My father passed away. Along with that came hardship, grief, feelings of loneliness, despair, loss of hope, faith, and much more. My mom now becoming a single mother hasn’t been easy but one thing I learned from her is to keep going no matter what, for those around you and those who came before you. Despite the emotional challenges that arose, I’ve remained committed to striving for academic excellence and personal growth within my own life. One of those things is learning to push through even if I might now have an answer now or understand my why. I’ve maintained a strong GPA while playing the viola, working, and being actively involved with clubs, communities, church, and even soccer. What drove me/to choose nursing was my experience working at a hospital. Though I can only work in dietary at the moment due to my age, the joy of delivering and rendering service to patients brings immense happiness and joy. It’s as though I can already feel the moment of taking care of patients and being fulfilled despite rude coworkers, family members, and patients themselves. My goal is to work in the Emergency Department and bring healing to my community. Through my experience working in Dietary at the hospital, not only did it give me a better perspective of what mommy and daddy do daily but also what department I would like to work in. Receiving this scholarship would bring tremendous relief to my mother and I. It’ll help reduce the burden and help me focus on my studies providing peace of mind on focusing on my future. Aside from the finances, this scholarship would be an affirmation of the effort I’ve put in with graduating high school early, amongst the top 11 % along with finishing with high honors. This would mean a lot to me showing the belief others are entrusting in me and that will encourage me to fulfill my mission here on earth even when it feels impossible. I also hope one day to give it forward to those in the position I’m currently in. Thank you for considering my application and for investing in the future of students like me on behalf of Kalia. Your support would mean more than I could ever express and I promise to make the most of it.

I lost my dad last year, and I still haven’t been able to properly grieve. It doesn’t even feel like I lost my dad—more like she lost her uncle, he lost his brother, and I was expected to just keep moving. But losing my dad completely shattered my world. It changed everything—how I think about marriage, my future kids (especially as an only child), even my relationships with friends, family, and God. Since that day, my life has felt paused. It’s like I’m stuck in time, reliving that moment over and over. I move through each day feeling disconnected, letting time pass until I have no choice but to get up and function. Before my dad passed, I had already faced so much—losing someone close to me every single year since 2017. And when he died, it wasn’t just grief that hit us. My mother and I were humiliated by his siblings—family who should have been our support system. People told me I had to "become a man" overnight. At 16, I was told not to cry, to suck up my tears, to be my mom’s armor. I hadn’t even gotten my first paycheck or mastered parallel parking. I was still a kid. And yet, I felt like I had to become an adult in a single breath. Even now, I lie awake some nights, watching the people I love sleep—just to make sure they’re still breathing. I think about my dad constantly. I replay our arguments—over little things—and I beat myself up for letting outside voices interfere with my relationship with my parents. I cry like I just lost him yesterday. I ask God, “Why him?” Why at only 45 years old? We're in debt. Life has been brutally hard for my mom and me. And what hurt even more was realizing who was truly there for me. A few months before my dad passed, a girl in my friend group lost her grandfather. Everyone pushed us to support her, and we did—even though I already understood the pain she was feeling. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. But when I lost my dad—someone I saw every day, someone who raised me—those same people disappeared. No “I’m sorry for your loss.” No “I’m here for you.” Just cold silence. The support I did get came from people I never expected. And when they invited me to their graduation parties, it felt like it was just for the company—or the gifts. Soccer has been my only constant. I’ve always played striker—for my dad. It was how we bonded, how we connected. It’s in our bloodline. Now, soccer is my emotional outlet. Every goal I score, every pass, every steal—it's for him. It's how I talk to him without words. My dad was a nurse. I plan to follow in his footsteps—not just to honor him, but to help others like he did. My dream is to become a medical doctor, specializing in stroke recovery and diabetes care. I want to be the person who brings comfort, strength, and healing—just like my father once did.

Growing up, I was always the biggest player on the field—and not in the way that made coaches cheer. I was overweight, and even though I played forward, people didn’t expect much from me. Opposing players underestimated me. Some coaches overlooked me. I got used to the labels: “too slow,” “too heavy,” “not built for this position.” And for a while, I started to believe them. That all changed when I met Coach Jennifer. Coach Jennifer was different. She had played professional soccer and brought that same intensity and passion into every practice. She had a booming voice, a contagious laugh, and a no-nonsense attitude that earned instant respect. She didn’t care about your size, background, or stats—she cared about effort, attitude, and heart. And from day one, she made it clear: I wasn’t going to be treated any differently. One day at practice, after I missed a sprint drill and lagged behind the rest of the team, I was sure she’d bench me or make me run laps. Instead, she pulled me aside and said something that shifted everything: “You’ve got power no one else has. Stop running from it and start using it. You’re not here to be anyone else—you’re here to be the best version of you.” From that moment on, I stopped hiding behind excuses. I started focusing on what I could do—not what I couldn’t. I learned how to use my size to shield defenders, hold possession, and create space up top. I trained harder. I got stronger. I leaned into my role and started scoring goals—not because I was the fastest, but because I finally believed I belonged. And I kept scoring—at least one goal in every single game from that day on. Coach Jennifer taught me that leadership doesn’t always look the way people expect. You don’t have to be the skinniest, the loudest, or the flashiest. You just have to show up fully, support your teammates, and play with heart. And that’s what I’ve tried to do ever since. Coach Jennifer reminded me of someone like David G. Sutton—tough, loyal, and full of heart. Like him, she was the kind of coach who didn’t just care about what happened on the field. She cared about who you were becoming off of it. She built us up. She made us laugh. And she believed in every single one of us, even when we didn’t believe in ourselves. Now, I try to pass that forward. As a team captain and mentor to younger players, I encourage others who feel like they don’t fit the mold. I help them see that strength comes in many forms. I remind them that heart beats size every time—but if you’ve got both, you’re unstoppable. This scholarship honors someone who changed lives through sports and support. Thanks to Coach Jennifer, I know firsthand how powerful that impact can be. If chosen, I’ll carry David G. Sutton’s legacy forward—with every pass, every goal, and every chance I get to lift someone else up, just like he did.

As a child, I was constantly surrounded by nursing. Both of my parents are nurses, and even my cousins from Connecticut came to live with us after high school to pursue nursing school. You could say it runs in the blood—or better yet, in the family. So from a young age, my mind was set on becoming a nurse, even though I didn’t yet understand what the profession truly entailed. As I got older, I was exposed to different career paths. It wasn’t just medicine that interested me anymore—I became curious about law, culinary arts, and at one point, I even considered playing professional soccer (even though I wasn’t the best!). What truly drew me back to nursing was my dad. When he was hospitalized, my mom and I spent so much time at the hospital that it felt like our second home. I was inspired by the nurses who cared for him. It was as if their love for the profession radiated through everything they did. Even the simple act of making sure we were comfortable left me in awe. When patients were noncompliant or difficult, they remained composed and professional. That’s when I truly began to respect what it means to be a nurse. It was during that time that I looked up and said to myself, “I want to become a registered nurse.” My goal is to specialize in emergency nursing. I’m drawn to the constant adrenaline, fast pace, and high-pressure environment. I believe it will challenge me and help me grow, both personally and professionally. I’m excited by the idea of facing new and diverse cases every day. Alongside the ER, I’m also interested in the Operating Room and the Intensive Care Unit—both offer incredible experiences and exposure to complex care situations. I graduated high school a year early to get a head start on college. While in high school, I earned my CPR certification to begin building my foundation. I currently work in a hospital’s dietary department, since I was too young to work as a Patient Care Assistant (PCA) or Patient Care Technician (PCT). Through this role, I’ve had the opportunity to observe different specialties and departments, which has helped me begin to narrow down my interests. Serving patients, even in a non-clinical capacity, has been a wonderful and eye-opening experience. Although my only direct exposure to health care came through my father’s hospitalization, I learned so much—everything from reading EKGs to understanding the importance of patient repositioning. Those moments helped solidify my decision to pursue nursing, and I look forward to continuing that journey in college and beyond.

Playing a sport that is traditionally male-dominated, such as soccer, has always been challenging. It first started at recess with me bickering with the boys about who would be the goalkeeper. I rarely won but that didn't stop me from playing soccer. Instead, when I go down memory lane I find the start of my passion for soccer. From there, it has always followed me. It later appeared in songs by artists such as Davido, notably in his song "Fall" when he sang, "'Cause, my guys call me Cristiano, Mr. Ronaldo". Later, I participated in cheerleading and though females dominated it, I never really felt that same burn and passion as I did for soccer. As the years went on, I decided to play basketball. Though I was never good at the sport, it fueled something within me. It all started with a simple debate online on whether or not the "worst" NBA player could beat the "best" WNBA player. In my mind, I thought sure why not, but when I went to the comments many said that the WNBA player would lose. I felt defensive and frustrated to the point where I had to get my die-hard basketball fan cousin to tell me his take. When he agreed with the comments, I went off. Looking back, it stemmed from second grade me losing to some boys in soccer, races, and the game of tag. When COVID hit, I gained a lot of weight. So alongside going to the gym, I decided to drop basketball and return to soccer. At first, it was a bit tricky trying to navigate playing with the girls my age who were experienced but something we all had in common was that we had something to prove. To me, I had to prove that gender didn't matter. Though physically males were stronger, that doesn't mean we couldn't beat them. Last season, we began practicing with the boys. The first game was interesting and we ended up tied with them. My coach later had us reflect on our performance and asked us if we could tell the difference between their style versus our own. At first, we thought it was speed and skill but later she revealed to us the secret. Aggression and determination. This translated into academics and the real world. I learned that even in a world of male dominance, if you're truly desperate for something, then get it. Gender and size don't matter. It's all in your mind. If you limit yourself, you'll be limited. This is something I carry with me and has strengthened me. This same advice has gotten me through difficult situations all because of determination, confidence, and aggression when needed. Balancing the three becomes easy when you have something in common that can be formatted among the three.

My journey with Christ has been far from perfect, but it has been real, transformative, and deeply personal. For much of my early life, I was a lukewarm Christian. I would call myself a believer, attend church every Sunday, and memorize scripture, but my heart was often distant from God. I focused more on following rules and keeping a perfect image than on truly knowing Jesus. I was quick to judge others, criticizing fellow believers for what I thought was “not of God,” while I struggled silently with my own weaknesses and failures. The first time I tried to share the gospel, I did so with condemnation rather than love, and I was cursed for it. That moment broke me. I cried and begged God for a new heart and a fresh start. I realized then that Christianity isn’t about religion or appearances—it’s about relationship. It was through the cracks in my life—the broken places and the moments of deep sorrow—that God began to show me His grace. I remember how my heart softened during a particularly difficult season when my family faced a major crisis: my father suffered a stroke. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what was happening. I only knew my dad’s face had changed, his movements slowed, and our lives would never be the same. I saw the fear and confusion on my mother’s face as she tried to make sense of it all and called 911. Watching my father being rushed to the ICU, my soul ached. In those hospital halls, under the harsh fluorescent lights, I witnessed something extraordinary. The nurses who cared for my father were not just performing tasks; they were ministers of hope and healing. One nurse in particular—Tina—left a lasting impression on me. Despite the chaos around her, Tina made time to comfort my family, let us stay overnight when we technically shouldn’t have, brought us food, and ensured my father received the best care possible. Her kindness was a light in our darkest hour. I could see the Lord’s anointing on her life—an unexplainable strength and compassion that went beyond professional duty. Watching those nurses, I realized that nursing is not just a career; it’s a calling. It is the physical embodiment of God’s love and mercy, given to those who serve on the front lines of pain and healing. Nursing is ministry, and those who answer that call are anointed by the Lord to be His hands and feet. I come from a family deeply rooted in this calling. Both my parents are nurses, as are many in my extended family. Growing up, caregiving wasn’t just something they did—it was who they were. When there was no one to watch me, I often tagged along with my parents to the hospital. I remember the rhythm of those hospital corridors—the hum of machines, the soft voices of nurses calming patients, and the careful, intentional movements of those who served. I was drawn to it even then, though I didn’t yet understand why. Seeing my parents come home exhausted but fulfilled planted a seed in me. But it was my dad’s stroke and the kindness of those nurses that made that seed grow into a burning desire to join their ranks. I want to be a nurse who offers more than medical care—I want to be a source of peace, comfort, and hope to patients and families during their most vulnerable moments. Now, I work in the hospital’s dietary department. This role has kept me close to the world I feel called to join. Every day, I listen to the nurses’ conversations, watch how they interact with patients, and learn the language of compassion and patience. The pull toward nursing grows stronger with each shift. I know that God has placed this desire on my heart for a reason, and I’m ready to answer the call. This scholarship represents much more than financial assistance—it represents the means to step fully into God’s plan for my life. Nursing school is demanding, and without this support, balancing tuition, books, and living expenses alongside my responsibilities would be overwhelming. This scholarship will allow me to focus wholeheartedly on my studies and spiritual growth, preparing me to serve with both skill and the love that only comes from the Holy Spirit. My vision for my nursing career goes beyond traditional patient care. I want to integrate my faith and my profession to provide holistic healing—body, mind, and spirit. I’ve learned through my own journey that healing doesn’t just come from medicine; it comes from feeling seen, heard, and loved. I want to create environments where patients feel safe to share not only their physical pain but their emotional and spiritual struggles. I want to be a nurse who prays with her patients, encourages their faith, and reminds them that God’s presence goes with them even in the hospital’s most sterile rooms. In the future, I plan to lead initiatives that support mental health and spiritual care in medical settings, especially for patients and families going through trauma or chronic illness. I want to help bridge the gap between physical healing and spiritual restoration, recognizing that both are essential to true wellness. I also see myself mentoring young people who, like me, may have started their Christian walk unsure and imperfect, but ready to grow. I want to share my story—the mistakes, the learning, the victories—so others know they’re not alone. I want to encourage them to pursue their God-given callings with passion and humility, knowing that His grace is enough. This scholarship will be a critical step in that journey. It will enable me to pursue my education without the distraction of financial stress, opening doors for internships, ministry opportunities, and further spiritual development. It will give me the freedom to be fully present in my calling and to trust that God’s anointing will guide my hands and heart as I care for those in need. I truly believe that God has prepared this path for me and that He is already equipping me for the work ahead. I am humbled by His grace and excited for the future. With this scholarship, I will take the next step in walking confidently into the legacy of care and compassion my family has passed down, while also forging my own path marked by love, faith, and healing. In closing, I want to share a scripture that has sustained me through this journey: “He has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners” (Isaiah 61:1). This verse reminds me that nursing is a ministry, and I am honored to be called to serve in this way. With the Lord’s anointing, I am ready to answer.

Faith, Christ, Kindness, Self-Love If I had to start anywhere, it would be here — with my faith. My relationship with Jesus Christ is the center of everything I do. It’s where I turn when I’m tired, lost, or unsure. It’s helped me through grief, stress, and pressure, and taught me to always choose love, even when it’s hard. Kindness isn’t something I fake or force — it’s who I am. I truly believe a small act, like holding the door or checking in on someone, can change a person’s whole day. And self-love? That’s something I had to learn. I didn’t always see myself the way I do now. But over time, I realized I don’t have to shrink or fit anyone else’s idea of who I should be. I’ve learned to love myself fully — and that’s been powerful. Doctor, Goal, Honor Roll, Early Becoming a doctor has been my dream for as long as I can remember. Not just because it’s a respected career, but because I want to really help people — physically, emotionally, spiritually. I want people to feel seen and cared for in a way that goes beyond medicine. Graduating high school early was a big step for me. It meant sacrifice — long nights studying, missing out on things my friends were doing, pushing through when I was exhausted. But I had a goal. And every time it got hard, I reminded myself why I started. I’ve been on the Honor Roll since 9th grade, and not just because of grades, but because of grit. This journey taught me that success doesn’t come easy, but it’s worth it when it means getting closer to your dream. Viola, Skincare, Orchestra, Growth Music has always been my way of breathing when life feels heavy. I play the viola, and when I’m with my orchestra, there’s this feeling of connection — like we’re all telling a story without saying a word. It’s beautiful. It’s healing. I also want to create something of my own one day — a skincare brand made especially for people with melanin-rich skin like mine. Growing up, I didn’t see products or messages that celebrated my skin tone, and I want to change that. My brand won’t just be about products; it’ll be about reminding people that they are already beautiful. That they are fearfully and wonderfully made. Every creative thing I do — from music to business ideas — connects to one word: growth. I’ve grown in ways I never expected, and I know I’m just getting started. Soccer, Harrisburg, Melanin, Gift I’m from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania — a city that has its challenges, but it’s home. It’s where I’ve learned how to stand tall. It’s where I played soccer, learned teamwork, and pushed past fear just to step on the field. That sport taught me not to care so much about what others think, and just play with heart. Being a Congolese American and having melanin-rich skin is something I carry with pride. I didn’t always know how powerful that was, but now I do. My identity is not something to hide — it’s something to honor. Life, to me, is a gift. And so are the talents I’ve been given — whether it’s my mind, my spirit, or my creativity. I don’t want to keep them to myself. I want to give back, and this puzzle, in its own little way, shows how I plan to do just that.

Chappell Roan’s music has impacted me in ways I didn’t expect. Her songs feel so raw and real, like she’s not afraid to show every side of herself — the confident, the vulnerable, and everything in between. Listening to her, I’m reminded that it’s okay to be imperfect and that growth often comes from embracing those messy parts of ourselves. I’ve learned to see things from different perspectives, and Chappell’s music helps me do that emotionally. It pushes me to be honest with myself and others, even when it’s hard. Her boldness in sharing her story inspires me to stop caring so much about what others think and just be unapologetically me — something I’ve struggled with but am proud of learning to do. Even though I’m proud of how far I’ve come — graduating early, aiming to become a medical doctor, and growing in my faith — sometimes that pride feels bittersweet. Chappell’s music helps me sit with those complicated feelings and find peace in them. It reminds me that growth isn’t always easy or straightforward, but it’s always worth it. Supporting her career feels natural because she represents that kind of fearless honesty and authenticity. Watching her grow as an artist gives me hope and encouragement for my own journey — that I can face challenges, be myself, and keep moving forward, no matter what.

If I had to come up with a new Love Island challenge, I’d call it “Truth or Trust.” It’s like truth or dare but more meaningful, designed to get the Islanders really opening up and connecting in ways they usually wouldn’t. What I love about this challenge is that it’s not just about fun or drama—it’s about growth and honesty, which I think everyone needs sometimes, especially in a place as intense as the villa. Here’s how it works: Everyone sits in a circle and takes turns picking from a box of cards. Some cards have truth questions—things that make you pause and think, like “What’s something you’ve never told anyone here?” or “Who do you feel closest to, and why?” Other cards are trust challenges that involve doing something with another Islander—like sharing a secret, giving a compliment, or even doing a quick trust fall. The twist is that you have to answer honestly or do the challenge, and if you don’t, you sit out the next round. It’s simple but powerful. I imagine it forcing people to be vulnerable, which can be scary but also freeing. It reminds me a lot of my own journey—learning to be honest with myself and others, even when it’s hard. I’m proud of the personal growth I’ve made, even though it hasn’t always felt easy or straightforward. Like graduating high school a year early—it’s something to celebrate, but it also came with sacrifices and quiet moments of doubt. This challenge, to me, reflects that bittersweet feeling of growth. It’s about pushing past fear, being honest, and trusting others enough to let them see the real you. I think challenges like this could really change the energy in the villa. Instead of just surface-level drama, you’d see Islanders dealing with real feelings, learning to communicate better, and maybe even building stronger relationships. Plus, it’d be fun to watch—because at the end of the day, life isn’t just about looking good or winning games. It’s about growing, learning, and being unapologetically yourself. That’s the kind of challenge I’d want to see—and the kind of challenge I think Love Island needs.

My favorite song on Brat is “Hot Girl.” It’s more than just a catchy beat or fun lyrics—it’s a reminder to be confident and unapologetically myself. That’s something I’ve been learning to do, especially as I’ve grown and faced different challenges. I’m proud of my personal growth, even when it doesn’t always feel like pride—sometimes it feels bittersweet. I’ve learned to see things from different perspectives and to appreciate how far I’ve come. Graduating high school a year early and staying on the Distinguished Honor Roll since ninth grade are achievements I hold close, but they don’t fully capture the quieter victories: learning to protect my peace, understanding that “no” is a complete answer, and being okay with not having all the answers. Listening to “Hot Girl” reminds me of the importance of owning who I am—flaws and all. It encourages me to stop worrying about what others think and to embrace my true self. I’ve worked hard to stop caring about fitting into others’ expectations, and that freedom feels like growth. The song’s energy and boldness also inspire me to keep pushing forward on my path, especially as I prepare to become a medical doctor. Every time I hear it, I feel motivated to face challenges head-on and to celebrate the little moments of bravery, like playing soccer even when I was scared or having deep conversations that stretch my thinking. “Hot Girl” is like a soundtrack for growth—reminding me to be confident, to be real, and most of all, to be proud of the journey I’m on, even when it’s not perfect.

If I had to choose one athlete to cheer for on Team USA, it’s definitely LeBron James. He’s more than just a basketball player to me—he’s someone who represents growth, purpose, and resilience. I used to be obsessed with the NBA (still am a little bit), and even now, LeBron stands out not just because of his skills on the court, but because of how he carries himself off of it. LeBron has always inspired me because he never let where he came from define where he was going. He built something bigger than himself and never stopped pushing, even when people doubted him. That energy speaks to me. As someone who’s worked hard to graduate high school a year early, stay on the Distinguished Honor Roll since 9th grade, and stay focused on my future career as a doctor, I get how heavy the pressure can feel sometimes. Even when you’re doing great things, it doesn’t always feel great. Sometimes, pride feels a lot like exhaustion. But watching LeBron reminds me that it’s okay to feel both. He’s confident but not arrogant, focused but still gives back. That’s what I admire most—his ability to grow and evolve without losing sight of who he is. I’ve been learning to do that in my own life too. I’m proud of the growth I’ve made spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. I’ve learned to protect my peace, have deeper conversations, and not worry about what people think of me. I’ve learned that being private isn’t the same as being closed off—it’s protecting your energy. And more than anything, I’ve learned that I don’t have to explain everything. Sometimes, “no” really is a full answer. LeBron also uses his platform to empower others, and that’s something I really respect. I want to do the same in my own way—whether that’s through medicine, mentoring, or simply showing up as someone who leads with faith and purpose. He reminds me that success isn’t just about wins and trophies—it’s about impact. When I cheer for LeBron on Team USA, I’m not just cheering for his dunks or his stats. I’m cheering for everything he represents: growth, perseverance, excellence with humility. He inspires me to show up for myself every day—to walk in my truth, to be proud without being perfect, and to keep going even when it’s hard. That’s why he’ll always be my favorite. Because he doesn’t just play the game—he lives it with meaning. And that’s what I’m trying to do, too.

Growth is strange. It sneaks up on you. One day, you’re reacting out of habit, and the next, you’re pausing, thinking, choosing a different response. That’s the kind of growth I’ve been most proud of—quiet, emotional, and honestly, hard-earned. That’s also why The Bear means so much to me. It’s not just about food or family—it’s about healing. About chaos slowly, painfully, turning into clarity. For the perfect ending, I don’t want anything over-the-top. Life rarely hands you a perfect bow-wrapped conclusion. What I do want is for each character to land somewhere that feels true. Not flawless. Just... honest. Carmy has always been so consumed by proving himself. I want him to finally realize that he doesn’t have to earn peace—it’s something he deserves simply for surviving, for trying. I’d love to see him take a step back, maybe hand off some of the pressure and allow himself to live. Not just work, not just fix—but actually enjoy what he’s built. Maybe he’s still in the kitchen, but laughing more. Smiling more. Not being haunted by every mistake. That would be enough. Sydney is already one of my favorite characters. She’s talented, thoughtful, and holds herself to an impossible standard—something I understand way too well. I’m proud to be graduating early from high school, but even with that, sometimes I don’t feel proud. It’s more bittersweet. Sydney reminds me that you can be doing well on paper and still feel like you're falling short. I want her to fully step into her power. Maybe she becomes co-owner of the restaurant, or maybe she opens her own spot. But whatever she does, I hope she does it without apology. On her terms. Richie has come such a long way. From chaos to calm. I think his growth is the most unexpected—and that makes it the most beautiful. I'd love to see him become the soul of the restaurant. Not the loudest or the flashiest, but the one who holds it all together. I picture him mentoring someone new, showing them how to run the front of house—not just technically, but with heart. I imagine the last episode is quiet. No dramatic finales. Just a normal day. The restaurant is buzzing, everyone is in their element. The camera lingers a little too long on the small moments—laughter from the kitchen, a shared look between Carmy and Sydney, Richie wiping down a table with a real sense of pride. Nothing huge happens—but that’s the point. It’s peace. It’s growth. It’s life continuing. Just like how I’ve grown—not in a way that everyone always notices, but in a way that I feel. In the way I carry myself. In the way I answer questions that used to scare me. In the way I stopped worrying about what people think and just let myself be… me. The show isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress. It’s about people stumbling through trauma, finding meaning in work, and learning to love themselves in the process. That’s the kind of ending I want—for them, and honestly, for me too.

“Sabrina Carpenter Taught Me That It’s Okay to Take Up Space” Being a teenage girl often feels like trying to shrink yourself—speak softer, don’t take up too much space, don’t be too anything. For a long time, I tried to do that too. Then I found Sabrina Carpenter, and her confidence, her honesty, and her ability to turn the messiest parts of growing up into something beautiful helped me realize: shrinking isn’t the answer. Owning who you are is. At first, I found Sabrina through her music. Songs like “because i liked a boy” and “emails i can’t send” weren’t just catchy—they were real. She talked about heartbreak, confusion, being misunderstood, and all the messy emotions that come with girlhood. I listened to her during times when I felt misunderstood myself—when people made assumptions about me, when I was trying to be okay after losing my dad, and when I was learning how to be strong without losing my softness. Her career has shown me that it’s okay to evolve and be complicated. Sabrina started out on Disney, but she didn’t let herself stay boxed into one identity. She didn’t wait for permission to grow—she just did. That inspired me during a time when I was figuring out who I was beyond being the “smart one” or the “strong daughter” after my dad passed. I realized I didn’t have to be perfect. I didn’t have to explain my pain. I could just feel it—and still be moving forward. Sabrina’s music gave me words when I didn’t have any. There were nights when I’d sit with her songs playing in the background, trying to make sense of what I was feeling. Whether it was grieving, figuring out friendships, or struggling with self-worth, her lyrics reminded me that I wasn’t crazy for feeling all of it so deeply. In fact, that depth meant I was growing. Her confidence, especially in songs like “Feather” and “Nonsense,” showed me that being bold and funny and feminine isn’t a contradiction—it’s a strength. Sabrina doesn’t water herself down. She writes about what she wants, wears what she wants, sings what she feels, and does it all unapologetically. That made me feel brave enough to do the same. As I’ve grown into myself—graduating high school early, chasing my dream of becoming a doctor, and healing from grief—I’ve carried Sabrina’s energy with me. She taught me that I don’t have to make myself smaller to be respected. I can be ambitious, emotional, awkward, witty, and compassionate all at once. And I can be proud of that. I’m a fan of Sabrina Carpenter not just because of her talent, but because of her truth. She made me feel less alone in the chaos of girlhood—and more powerful because of it.

“The King’s Example: What LeBron James Taught Me About Greatness” I didn’t grow up glued to NBA games or obsessing over stats. But even if you’re not a diehard basketball fan, you know who LeBron James is. And over time, I realized I’m not just a fan of him because of what he does on the court—but because of who he is when the game pauses. To me, LeBron represents more than just championships. He represents discipline, longevity, leadership, and purpose. What makes me a fan of LeBron isn’t just the four rings or how he’s passed Kareem in all-time points. It’s the way he carries himself. In a world where fame usually changes people, LeBron stayed grounded. He’s never forgotten where he came from—Akron, Ohio—and even more than that, he’s always used his platform to lift others up. Opening the I PROMISE School? That’s legacy. After losing my dad, I needed role models who were more than just celebrities. I needed to see examples of resilience. LeBron became that example. He’s dealt with pressure since high school—being labeled “The Chosen One” at 17—and yet, he delivered. But more importantly, he kept showing up. Day after day. Season after season. And in my own life, when it’s been hard to keep showing up, I’ve thought about that. When I was overwhelmed—trying to grieve, support my family, and still chase my goal of becoming a medical doctor—LeBron’s consistency inspired me. Greatness doesn’t always come in highlight reels. Sometimes, it’s just doing what you said you’d do, even when you’re tired. And he’s done that for over 20 years. Now… the GOAT debate. Is LeBron the greatest basketball player of all time? In my opinion—yes. And not just because of the stats (though those speak for themselves). It’s because of the totality of his greatness. He dominates across eras, adapts to different teammates and systems, and makes everyone around him better. He’s not just a scorer—he’s a passer, a defender, a leader. He doesn’t just want to win—he wants to build something. Jordan was incredible, no doubt. He changed the culture of basketball forever. But LeBron? He changed the standard. He showed that you can be great without sacrificing your values. That you can be rich and still give back. That you can age and still evolve. And to me, that’s what greatness really is—impact that outlives the game. So yeah, I’m a fan of LeBron James. Not because he’s flawless. Not because of the rings. But because when I look at him, I see the kind of person I want to be: consistent, focused, humble, and always trying to make the world better—on and off the court.

Title: “More Than Music: How Billie Eilish Helped Me Feel Understood” Billie Eilish doesn’t just write songs—she writes the things I’ve been too scared to say out loud. Her music has been a safe place for me during some of my hardest moments. Choosing just three songs is tough, but these are the ones that have truly stuck with me: “everything i wanted,” “idontwannabeyouanymore,” and “my future.” 1. “everything i wanted” – for when grief feels too big to carry This song got me through some of the loneliest nights after losing my dad. The opening lines—“I had a dream, I got everything I wanted…”—felt like the kind of dream I used to have when my family was whole. But then reality hits, and I’m back in a world where I don’t get to hear his voice anymore. Billie’s voice in this song is soft, like she’s trying not to wake the pain—but it’s there. I related so much to the line, “If I could change the way that you see yourself, you wouldn’t wonder why you’re here.” After my dad passed, I questioned everything—even my own worth. But this song reminded me I wasn’t alone. Someone else out there had felt the same kind of ache and survived it. That gave me hope. 2. “idontwannabeyouanymore” – for every time I’ve felt like I’m not enough Being a teenager sometimes feels like performing a role every day. Smile, succeed, don’t break. “idontwannabeyouanymore” hit me when I was trying so hard to be perfect, especially as the oldest sibling after my dad was gone. I felt like I had to be strong all the time, but inside, I was crumbling. The line “If teardrops could be bottled, there'd be swimming pools filled by models” captured what I felt but never said. I cried in silence a lot. In the car. In the shower. Under my blanket with my music on full blast. This song helped me admit to myself that I was tired of pretending to be okay. And that was the first step toward real healing. 3. “my future” – for learning to believe in the person I’m becoming This song came to me during a time when I was finally starting to look ahead. After all the grief and doubt, I decided to take control of my life. I’m proud to be graduating high school early. I’m proud to be pursuing my dream of becoming a medical doctor. And more than anything, I’m proud that I’m learning to love the person I’m growing into. “I’m in love with my future, can’t wait to meet her” is a line I now hold close to my heart. It reminds me that I have something to look forward to. I’m still healing, still figuring things out—but I’m no longer stuck in the past. Like Billie, I’ve learned to embrace where I’m going, even if I’m still unsure of where that is. Billie Eilish helped me feel seen in a world that often feels overwhelming. Her music reminds me that it’s okay to not have it all together—and that even in darkness, growth is possible.

“I’m sorry that I’m not enough.” – Olivia Rodrigo, teenage dream That lyric hit me harder than I expected. I remember hearing it for the first time alone in my room, headphones in, and thinking—Wait, how did she know? I didn’t even realize how much I had been carrying until those words gave it shape. My teenage years have been filled with highs that I’m proud of, and lows I’ve had to survive quietly. I’m graduating early, I’ve made the Distinguished Honor Roll every year since 9th grade, and I’m chasing a dream of becoming a medical doctor. But behind every accomplishment, there were nights I didn’t feel good enough. Not smart enough, not strong enough, not together enough. And after losing my dad, that feeling only got heavier. His passing changed everything. I had to grow up faster than I wanted to. I went from being a daughter to also trying to be a support system. I didn’t always give myself space to grieve because I felt like I had to hold it together for everyone else. There were moments when I’d break down, only to wipe my tears and pretend nothing happened the next morning. I didn’t want to be a burden. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be enough. That’s why Olivia’s lyric means so much to me. It captures what adolescence really feels like—the silent pressure to be everything all at once. Smart but not too nerdy. Kind but not soft. Ambitious but not intimidating. We’re constantly trying to shape ourselves into what other people want, and it’s exhausting. It’s lonely. And most of the time, nobody talks about that part. But GUTS does. Olivia Rodrigo doesn’t just sing about heartbreak; she sings about identity, self-worth, and that constant feeling of coming up short. That’s what makes her music so real. That line from teenage dream—“I’m sorry that I’m not enough”—makes you pause. It’s simple, but it speaks to the guilt we carry for not being perfect, especially when we’re still figuring out who we are. Over time, I’ve started to accept that I don’t need to have all the answers. I’ve learned to find strength in being vulnerable. Playing the viola, opening up to close friends, talking to God during hard nights—these are the moments that remind me I’m not broken. I’m just human. And I’m growing. Adolescence is messy, confusing, and honestly, really hard sometimes. But it’s also where I’ve found my resilience, my voice, and a deeper understanding of myself. Olivia’s lyric didn’t just speak to my pain—it helped me process it. And now, when I hear those words, I don’t just feel seen. I feel strong enough to keep going.

I’m a fan of Wicked because it mirrors my own journey of transformation, resilience, and finding strength in the face of adversity. Much like Elphaba, I've navigated the complexities of being misunderstood, facing loss, and striving to carve out my own path in the world. Losing my father was a pivotal moment in my life. It shattered my sense of security and forced me to confront the fragility of life. Yet, in that pain, I found clarity. Much like Elphaba's journey, I realized that strength often comes from embracing our vulnerabilities. Graduating a year early from high school was another step in my personal evolution. It wasn't just about academics; it was about proving to myself that I could overcome challenges and set my own pace. This decision was not unlike Elphaba's choice to stand firm in her beliefs, regardless of societal expectations. My relationship with my parents has been a source of immense pride. Seeing their joy when I achieved the Distinguished Honor Roll or when my father, despite his stroke, expressed pride in my musical endeavors, reinforced the importance of family and perseverance. These moments reminded me of the deep bond between Elphaba and Glinda, where mutual support and understanding lead to personal growth. Embracing my individuality has been liberating. Whether it's choosing to play soccer despite initial fears or letting go of societal judgments about my appearance, I've learned to live authentically. This mirrors Elphaba's journey of self-acceptance and the realization that true strength lies in embracing who we are. My spiritual journey with Jesus Christ has been transformative. It's taught me that peace isn't the absence of challenges but the presence of faith amidst them. This resonates with Elphaba's unwavering commitment to her beliefs, even when faced with opposition. In essence, Wicked is more than just a musical to me. It's a reflection of my own life's narrative—a tale of growth, resilience, and the courage to be unapologetically oneself. Much like Elphaba, I've learned that our perceived flaws can be our greatest strengths, and it's through embracing them that we truly find our power.

Working in the hospital’s dietary department wasn’t just a job to me—it gave me a real look at how healthcare works every day. I saw how fast things move and how important it is to be quick and accurate to help patients. That’s when I realized I wanted to do more than just watch—I wanted to be the person making a difference when people needed it most. That’s why I want to become a Registered Nurse in the emergency room. Both of my parents are nurses, and growing up watching them showed me that nursing is about more than just medicine. It’s about caring, comfort, and kindness. Their example inspired me to want to be that calm, steady presence when someone feels scared or overwhelmed. To get ready, I graduated high school early, got my CPR certification, and started working in dietary services at the hospital. While doing that, I also faced some hard moments as a Black Congolese-American woman. Sometimes nurses acted like I didn’t belong, and some patients treated me differently because of my skin color. It hurt, but it also made me more determined. I want to be someone who changes those kinds of experiences, so young Black girls see people like them in healthcare and know they belong. I’m proud of how much I’ve grown as a person. Losing my dad was hard, but it opened my eyes and made me grow in ways I didn’t expect. Graduating early from high school gives me a head start toward my goal of becoming a medical doctor. I’ve learned to think more deeply, to accept that “no” is sometimes the answer, and most importantly, to stop worrying about what others think and just be myself. My faith in Jesus has been a huge source of peace and strength through everything. That faith means so much to me that I want it to be part of my future business—a skincare brand designed especially for people with melanin-rich skin. I want my brand to be more than just products; I want it to carry a message that everyone using it is fearfully and wonderfully made by God, just as they are. There’s no need to change yourself to fit anyone else’s idea of beauty. True beauty comes from loving yourself, just as you are. Right now, I’m working on my nursing degree, focusing on emergency care. I want to help underserved communities and make healthcare fairer for everyone. I know too many stories about Black patients being misdiagnosed, and I want to be part of the change. Getting this scholarship would lift a big weight off my shoulders and let me focus fully on school and my purpose. This isn’t just about a degree for me—it’s about answering a call to serve my community with faith, love, and strength.

June 26th, 2024. That date was the day I felt as though my life came to an abrupted stop. I had to learn the hard way that not everyone will be happy to see you succeed and that unfortunately is due to the nature of the human heart. In that moment, I felt all three at once. It felt like a setback, especially with my relationship with God. I felt as though getting closer to him and all my prayers had gone to complete waste. I had made an effort to graduate early and planned on telling my dad right before this. I'm still graduating early but the moment is bittersweet. I not only faced a failure but felt like one as well. During his funeral and my visit to the morgue, it was all filmed. Knowing him, he wouldn't have liked that. Even though I spoke up, I was told that "it wasn't that deep" and "its for memories". I feel like I failed my dad. I came to terms with myself understanding that we only live once. I had a great relationship with my dad but I can't help but think about the imperfections. I'm still trying to overcome this challenge. Through this, I lost so many relationships with friends and family whom I thought true and authentic. It still effects me to this day. I'm scarred but it won't stop me from becoming a nurse. If anything, it pushes me to have my dad's last name before "RN BSN". Through his life, I've learned the importance of education. I learned that in life not everything will be handed to you. Especially as an Immigrant. He taught me the art of hard work and discipline. When I was at the age of having a bedtime at 8:00 P.M. and not being allowed to stay up till 11:00 P.M. to see daddy, I would ask him "daddy, do you have to go to work?". "Precious if I don't work, we won't have money" was all he would say but I understand it now. I understood that everyone has their own way of expressing their love. With him it was through words of affirmation but primarily through gift giving. I learned to be unapologetically me. To not care about what others think of me. At the end of my time, none of the insults of my clothes will matter. Instead, my drive, wit, and the accomplishment of my goals will in the end.

My name is Precious Kanda, and I’m a 17-year-old Congolese American from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. From a very young age, I’ve felt this strong, deep desire to help people. It’s not just something I do out of habit — it’s more like a calling that lives inside me. I remember times in elementary school when I couldn’t just walk past someone who looked sad, hungry, or lonely. I would share my lunch, offer a kind word, or simply be there for them. Those small moments made me realize how much of a difference kindness can make, even when it seems like the smallest thing in the world. One of my proudest accomplishments so far has been graduating from high school a whole year early. That wasn’t easy. It took a lot of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice. But I made that choice because I knew what I wanted — to become a medical doctor and help people on a much bigger scale. Finishing early meant I could start focusing on my dreams sooner, and it showed me that I’m capable of pushing myself through tough challenges. Every time I felt like giving up, I reminded myself why I started and how much my future means to me. Another huge part of my life is my faith. My relationship with Jesus Christ has been my anchor during difficult times and a source of strength every day. It helps me stay focused and reminds me that I’m here to serve others with love and honesty. This faith is so important to me that I want to include it in my future business — a skincare brand made especially for people with melanin-rich skin tones. I want my brand to be more than just products; I want it to be a message. I want everyone who uses my products to remember that they are fearfully and wonderfully made by God, exactly as they are. There’s no need to feel pressured into changing themselves with surgery, lip fillers, or anything like that. True beauty comes from embracing who you are naturally, and I want to encourage people to love themselves deeply and authentically. Alongside my faith and goals, I’ve also learned the power of being genuine. Accepting myself fully, with all my strengths and flaws, has been a huge step in my life. It’s freed me to have honest conversations, explore my interests, and pursue my passions without holding back. I believe that when we are true to ourselves, we can achieve amazing things, and I want to inspire others to do the same. All these experiences — my drive to help others, my early graduation, my faith, and my journey to self-acceptance — are shaping who I am and who I want to become. Through my studies and my future career, I want to make a positive impact in the world by combining science, kindness, and faith. I’m excited to keep growing and learning, and I hope to inspire others to embrace their uniqueness and care for themselves with love and confidence.

Hi, I'm Precious Kanda, a 17-year-old Congolese American from Harrisburg, PA. As I approach my high school graduation, I find myself reflecting on the journey that has shaped me into the person I am today and the path I aspire to follow. From a young age, I felt a deep-seated desire to help others. This wasn't just a passing inclination; it was a calling. I recall moments when I couldn't walk past someone in need without offering assistance. Whether it was sharing my lunch with a classmate or donating to a cause, I was driven by the belief that small acts of kindness could make a significant difference. Graduating a year early from high school stands as a testament to my dedication and resilience. It wasn't merely an academic achievement but a reflection of my commitment to my future. This decision was not made lightly; it was a conscious step toward my goal of becoming a medical doctor. The journey was challenging, but it reinforced my belief in perseverance and the importance of setting and achieving goals. Throughout my high school years, I immersed myself in activities that aligned with my passions and values. I played soccer, participated in the orchestra, and was an active member of the National Honor Society. These experiences taught me the value of discipline, teamwork, and continuous learning. They also provided me with a platform to contribute to my community, whether through volunteering or sharing my talents. One of the most profound aspects of my growth has been my spiritual journey. My relationship with Jesus Christ has been a source of strength and guidance. It has instilled in me a sense of purpose and a desire to serve others with compassion and integrity. This spiritual foundation has been instrumental in shaping my aspirations and the way I approach challenges. I have also learned the importance of self-expression and authenticity. Embracing who I am, unapologetically, has been liberating. It has allowed me to engage in intellectual conversations, explore diverse interests, and pursue activities with passion and dedication. This journey of self-discovery has been as significant as any academic achievement. This scholarship represents more than financial assistance; it symbolizes an opportunity to further my education and continue my journey of personal and professional growth. It aligns with my aspirations to become a medical professional who not only heals but also uplifts and supports those in need. In conclusion, my journey has been one of growth, learning, and unwavering commitment to helping others. I am eager to continue this path, equipped with the knowledge, skills, and compassion to make a positive impact on the world around me.

I'm proud of my personal growth. I've learned to see things from various perspectives in different circumstances. I've come to terms with how truly grateful I am for my amazing parents. Since my dad passed away, it opened my eyes in so many ways. It forced me to broaden my horizons and not remain single-minded. I'm proud to be graduating a year early from high school. This will help me get a head start on my path to becoming a medical doctor. Though I can say I'm proud, I don't always feel it. It often feels more bittersweet than proud. I'm proud I made my parents joyful when I told them I was on the Distinguished Honor Roll since 9th grade. I was so proud when I found out that even after a stroke, my father was eager to tell everyone I played the viola. I am and still am proud when I hear my father's voice in my head saying, "I love you, my beautiful baby," and "I'm so proud of you, baby." I take pride in seeing my parents' faces light up with joy when I give them gifts, even though they know it's from their own money. But like they always say, it's the thought that counts. I take pride in knowing how I feel, keeping in mind that I only live once, so who cares what I wear? I take pride in having intellectual conversations that make me think in ways I never imagined because that equates to growth. I take pride in answering questions that take a while to answer but still being satisfied with my response because that's called personal growth. I'm proud of learning to stay private and understanding that "no" is an answer and will always be. I don't have to have an answer for everything, and that's perfectly fine. I'm proud of the growth I've made in my relationship with Jesus Christ. I've had the most peaceful walk and journey with Him, even though it hasn't been the easiest. This hasn't just changed my life; it has redirected my future for the best, even after my time here on earth. I'm proud I didn't let my fears get the best of me and played soccer. I'm proud I stopped caring about what others think of me and just allowed myself to be unapologetically me. I often forget that that's the whole point of this thing called life: We grow. It shouldn't just be physically; it should reflect in all areas of life.

Since I was little, I’ve always had this pull in my heart to help people. I didn’t know it then, but what I felt wasn’t just kindness—it was something deeper. It was the need to make sure people didn’t feel alone. I remember walking down the street and begging my parents to give money to someone sitting on the corner. I couldn’t just walk by. I didn’t see a stranger—I saw someone who could’ve been me if life had gone differently. As I grew up, that feeling only got stronger. I did things that, looking back, maybe I shouldn’t have—like sneaking money from my parents to help a friend at school who didn’t have lunch. I didn’t do it to be sneaky. I just didn’t think about the consequences. I only thought, they need help, and I can help. That’s always been the way my mind and heart work. Throughout school, I kept finding myself in positions where people needed someone to step up—and I always tried to be that person. I helped at school events when others dropped out. I wrote cards to lonely seniors in nursing homes. I’ve given away food, shared my time, stayed up late to talk people through their problems, even when they later forgot about me. And sometimes that hurt. But it never stopped me from doing it again. Because I know what it’s like to feel alone or unseen—and I never want anyone else to feel that way if I can help it. That’s why I want to be a nurse. Not just because it’s a stable career or because I’ve seen others do it—but because I feel called to it. Nursing isn’t just about medicine or charts or procedures. It’s about being there—really being there—for people at some of the hardest, scariest moments of their lives. I want to be that calm voice, that steady hand, the one who whispers, You’re not alone, when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. I’ve already started preparing. I graduated high school early. I got my CPR certification. I work in a hospital right now in dietary services—not a nursing role yet, but it’s a start. And every shift, I watch the nurses and think, That’s going to be me one day. Not because I want the title, but because I want to serve. This scholarship would mean more than just financial help—it would be a step toward something I’ve dreamed about for years. It would be someone saying, We see your heart. Keep going. I’ve made mistakes, learned from them, and grown. But one thing that’s never changed is this: I want to help people. I want to be a light when life gets dark. And I won’t stop until I become the kind of nurse who makes people feel safe, cared for, and truly seen.

Since I was a child, I’ve always wanted to help others. Both of my parents are nurses, and I saw firsthand the impact they made on their patients—not just by treating illness, but by offering care, comfort, and compassion. They inspired me to follow the same path, and now I am working toward becoming a registered nurse. But for me, it’s more than just a job. Nursing is a calling, a way to serve others during their most vulnerable moments and to be a light in difficult situations. My goal is to become a Registered Nurse with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing (BSN), and to work in emergency care. I want to be that calm, steady presence when everything around a patient feels like it’s falling apart. I’ve already started preparing for this career—graduating high school early, earning my CPR certification, and working in dietary services at a healthcare facility. These steps have helped me build a strong foundation, but they’ve also opened my eyes to deeper challenges, especially those connected to race and gender. As a Black Congolese-American woman, I’ve faced racism and discrimination while working in the hospital. Some nurses have looked down on me because I’m not part of their professional circle—just a “dietary hostess.” There have been moments where patients assumed I didn’t understand English, or treated me differently because of my skin color. Ironically, I’ve even had patients tell me I “serve Black patients better than the white nurses.” While those comments were likely meant as praise, they revealed just how deep some racial divisions go in healthcare. Experiencing that has only made me more determined to succeed. I want to be part of the minority that rises in this field—not just as a statistic, but as a voice. As a Congolese-American, Christian, female RN-BSN, I want to represent the change I wish to see. I want future Black girls to see someone who looks like them in a hospital and know that they belong too. My background isn’t something that holds me back—it’s part of what makes me a better, more understanding caregiver. My passion for service goes beyond nursing. It’s deeply connected to my relationship with God. But I didn’t always understand that. I used to call myself a Christian, but I lived differently. I was what people would call “lukewarm”—someone who went to church on Sundays but didn’t live out their faith during the week. The first time I tried to share the gospel with my friends, I did it wrong. I judged them instead of loving them. I ended up crying that day because I realized I was pushing people away from the very God I wanted them to know. That moment changed me. I started focusing more on relationship than religion—on building a personal connection with God instead of just following rules. I stopped pretending to be perfect and started sharing my real struggles. It wasn’t easy, but it made me more relatable and more honest. I helped lead a Bible study group on Instagram with my cousin, but at first, I didn’t support her the way I should have. I brushed off her moments of weakness instead of listening. Eventually, people stopped showing up. That failure taught me how important it is to lead with grace and vulnerability, not pride. Then I went through a season of loss, and I fell back into old habits—listening to secular music, using bad language, feeling disconnected. But during that time, God reached me in a new way. I joined a new Bible study and started sharing again—this time with honesty, not judgment. I let the Holy Spirit work through me, not just speak through me. I learned to present Jesus as a loving friend, not a dictator. That shift changed everything, including how I serve others in real life. Now, I carry that same heart into every part of my life—whether I’m helping patients at work or encouraging someone spiritually. I’ve realized that people don’t need someone who acts “holier than thou.” They need someone who listens, who relates, who’s been through something and still chooses to show up. This scholarship would lift a huge burden for me. It would allow me to focus more on my education and clinical training without constantly worrying about finances. More than anything, it would be an investment in someone who is determined to rise—not just for herself, but for her community. I want to give back, mentor others, and be a nurse who leads with compassion, strength, and faith. I’m not just chasing a degree—I’m pursuing a purpose. I’m answering a call to serve others as a Black, Congolese-American, Christian woman in a field that needs more voices like mine.

Some people discover their calling later in life. For me, it was always there—quiet but constant, like background music in a familiar room. I come from a family of nurses. My parents, aunts, uncles—it sometimes feels like caregiving runs in our blood. But I didn’t really understand the depth of what that meant until I watched my dad suffer a stroke. I was old enough to know something was wrong, but too young to fully grasp the fear that settled over us like a heavy blanket. I remember his slurred speech, the way one side of his face didn’t move, and how quickly everything spiraled. The hospital became our second home during his recovery. I saw nurses work in ways I’ll never forget—calm under pressure, gentle in chaos. One nurse, Tina, made a lasting impact. She brought my mom food when she wouldn’t leave my dad’s side. She let me sleep in a chair next to his bed without making a fuss. She didn’t just care for him; she cared for all of us. That’s when it really hit me—nursing isn’t just about medicine or machines. It’s about people. It’s about showing up, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard. Since then, I’ve worked in the hospital’s dietary department, and every shift feels like another step toward where I’m meant to be. I watch the nurses closely. I notice how they talk to patients, how they advocate for them, how they carry the weight of so many lives and still somehow find time to smile. I’m learning from them every day—not just the technical side of healthcare, but the emotional intelligence and compassion that truly make a difference. I want to be that difference for someone else. Not just because it’s what my family has always done, but because I’ve seen, firsthand, how life-changing a good nurse can be. I want to be the calm in the storm. The steady hand. The reassuring voice when someone’s whole world is falling apart. With a nursing degree, I plan to work in communities where healthcare is harder to reach and trust is harder to earn. I want to provide not just care, but comfort. I want to use my own story—my family’s story—to connect with people and remind them that they’re not alone. Nursing is more than a job to me. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been becoming. And I’m ready to give back what was once given to me: hope, dignity, and healing.

Losing my father to a stroke last year was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. As an only child, my dad was my biggest supporter, and his passing left a space in my life that no one else could fill. It wasn’t just that I lost a parent—it felt like I lost a piece of who I was. But even in that pain, something changed in me. That moment of loss became a turning point in my life, and it made me more certain than ever that I wanted to become a nurse. Both of my parents are nurses, and from a young age, I knew I wanted to follow in their footsteps. They always told me I had what it takes—compassion, empathy, and a strong heart. When my dad got sick, I paid close attention to everything happening around him. I watched the nurses care for him with urgency, skill, and kindness. Even in the middle of chaos, they made us feel seen and supported. That left a deep impression on me. I thought, “This is what I want to do. I want to be that person for someone else.” Grieving while trying to keep moving forward wasn’t easy. Some days felt impossible, especially when reminders of him were everywhere. But instead of giving up, I used that pain to push myself. I graduated high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College to begin my nursing journey. I currently work in a hospital in the dietary department, where I assist patients with their meals. Even though my role is small, I’ve learned that kindness and presence can go a long way. The best part of my job is talking with patients—listening to their stories, offering a smile, and showing them that someone cares. Losing my dad taught me not just about grief, but also about purpose. I now want to specialize in Emergency Medicine because I’m drawn to the fast pace and the chance to help people in critical moments. I’ve seen how quickly things can change in the ER, and I want to be the kind of nurse who stays calm under pressure and shows up with compassion every time. If I could give advice to someone going through the loss of a parent, I would say this: let yourself feel everything, but don’t let the pain stop you. Use it. Let it remind you of the love you had, and let that love guide your next steps. You’re stronger than you think. This experience changed me, but it also strengthened my purpose. With this scholarship, I’ll be one step closer to becoming the nurse I’ve always wanted to be—one who honors her father’s memory by caring for others in their hardest moments.

Nursing isn’t just a profession I admire—it’s the foundation of who I am. I didn’t simply grow up around nurses; I was raised by them, shaped by them, and inspired by their unwavering commitment to care. Both of my parents are nurses, and so are many of my extended family members. From early on, the language of compassion and caregiving was spoken in our household like a second tongue. When there was no one to watch me, I’d tag along with my parents to the hospital. I remember how the bright fluorescent lights reflected off the polished floors, how the hum of machines never stopped, and how people moved with urgency and purpose. To me, it was magical—not just the environment, but the way my parents interacted with patients, bringing calm to chaos and comfort to pain. It planted a seed in me long before I had the words to describe what I was feeling. That seed grew into something much deeper when my dad suffered a stroke. At the time, I didn’t understand what was happening. I only knew that something was very wrong. His face drooped, and he struggled to move. With my mom on the phone trying to piece things together from afar, we called 911. The paramedics recognized the signs instantly. Stroke. A word that would redefine our family for months to come. In the ICU, I witnessed the quiet heroism of nurses in a way I never had before. These weren’t just people doing their jobs—they were lifelines, holding both my father and our family together. The patients in that unit were fragile, and yet the nurses cared for each of them with a strength that seemed almost limitless. I was in awe. One nurse, Tina, stood out. She let my mom and me stay overnight when it wasn’t technically allowed, brought us food, and made sure my dad received the best care possible. Her kindness felt like a light in a very dark place. And she wasn’t alone—there were many like her, each one showing me that nursing is not only a science but a form of love in action. Throughout my dad’s recovery, I picked up small lessons—like how important it is to reposition patients, how to read tiny cues in someone’s behavior, and how healing takes more than medicine. Now, as a hospital employee myself working in dietary, I’m still surrounded by that world. I listen carefully when nurses speak, absorbing their language, their patience, and their deep knowledge. Every day I feel the pull toward their side of the hospital, where I hope to stand one day—not as a visitor, but as a nurse. What inspired me to pursue nursing isn’t just one person or moment—it’s a lifetime of witnessing what care really means. It’s watching my parents come home exhausted but proud. It’s remembering Tina’s kindness. It’s the silent lessons I’ve learned through hardship and healing. Nursing is not just what my family does—it’s who we are. And I’m ready to step into that legacy, not just to follow in their footsteps, but to walk confidently in my own. I found this scholarship through bold.org.

Being born in the U.S. to parents from the Democratic Republic of Congo, I grew up balancing two worlds—one rooted in Congolese tradition and resilience, the other shaped by American opportunity and challenges. From an early age, I saw how hard my parents worked not just to survive, but to create something better for our family. They carried their culture, their strength, and their hope across continents, and watching them build a life here taught me what it means to work hard, stay grounded, and never forget where you come from. In our home, faith, service, and respect weren’t just values—they were daily practices. One of the first ways I learned to give back was by serving in my church community. Whether I was cleaning after services or helping with events, I learned that true leadership often starts behind the scenes. It was in those quiet, simple moments that I began to understand what service really means: doing your part, even when no one notices, because it matters. That same mindset followed me into my work at the hospital. I currently assist patients in the dietary department, helping with meals and checking in on them. At first, I thought I was just doing my job, but over time I realized how meaningful even the smallest interactions can be. A warm meal, a kind word, a few minutes to talk—these things may seem small, but to someone in a hospital bed, they can mean the world. I’ve had patients open up about their fears, their stories, their loneliness. And each time, I’m reminded of why I want to become a nurse: because being there for people—really being there—can change lives. Losing my dad to a stroke last year changed everything for me. Watching him go through that, and seeing how the nurses cared for him with such urgency and compassion, broke my heart and inspired me at the same time. I remember thinking, “I want to do what they do. I want to be that person for someone else.” That’s when I knew I wanted to specialize in emergency medicine. It’s a tough field, but I feel called to it—to the fast pace, the high stakes, and the chance to show up for people in their most critical moments. I’ve been taking real steps toward this dream: I graduated high school early, earned my CPR certification, and got accepted into Nightingale College, where I’ll begin my nursing education. I plan to work as a tech soon to get more hands-on experience. Every step I take is fueled by my father’s memory, my parents’ sacrifices, and my desire to give back to the community that shaped me. As a Congolese-American, I also know how much representation matters in healthcare. I want patients from African and immigrant backgrounds to see someone who understands them—not just their language or culture, but their fears, their values, their strength. I want to help bridge the gap in care that so many underserved communities face, and to be a nurse who brings both skill and heart into every room I walk into. Receiving the Dr. Soronnadi Nnaji Legacy Scholarship would mean more than financial help—it would be an acknowledgment of my journey, my culture, and my commitment to serve. It would allow me to focus on becoming the best nurse I can be, without the constant weight of financial worry. More than anything, it would be a step toward honoring where I come from while building a future that gives back.

Nursing has always felt like more than just a career choice for me—it feels like a calling. Growing up as an only child in a home where both of my parents were nurses, I was constantly surrounded by stories of compassion, resilience, and the deep impact that quality care can have on someone’s life. Watching them serve others with such dedication sparked something in me early on, and over time, that spark grew into a clear goal: I want to be a nurse, too. My passion for nursing isn’t just rooted in my upbringing. As a kid, I faced bullying, and those experiences made me especially sensitive to the pain and struggles others go through. I was often the person who checked in on classmates or offered a listening ear. That part of me—caring, compassionate, and quick to help—has only grown stronger as I’ve gotten older. Now, working in a hospital’s dietary department, I get to interact with patients every day. Even though my job is mostly about meals, the conversations and connections I’ve made have shown me just how powerful even small acts of kindness can be in a healthcare setting. Losing my dad to a stroke last year was heartbreaking, but it also deepened my sense of purpose. During his time in the hospital, I closely observed the nurses who cared for him. I saw how much their skill and presence mattered, not just to him but to our entire family. It inspired me to focus on Emergency Medicine—a field where every second counts and the support of a nurse can truly change the course of someone's life. I’m drawn to that fast-paced environment because it demands both knowledge and heart, and I want to be someone who brings both into the room. My dream is to give back to my community by becoming the kind of nurse people can rely on in their most vulnerable moments. Whether it’s offering emotional support, advocating for patient needs, or simply being a calming presence in the middle of chaos, I want to show up and make a difference. I believe that nurses are the backbone of the healthcare system, and I want to be a part of that—to be someone who listens, cares deeply, and acts quickly. To prepare, I’ve already graduated high school early, started taking online courses, and earned my CPR certification. I plan to work as a tech soon to get more hands-on experience while studying at Nightingale College, where both my mom and cousin earned their degrees. Becoming a nurse isn’t just a dream for me—it’s a promise I’m making to myself and to the people I’ll one day serve. This scholarship would give me the support I need to stay focused on that promise. With it, I’ll be one step closer to turning my passion for helping others into a lifelong career that makes a real difference in my community.

My life goal is to become a registered nurse because I am deeply passionate about caring for others. From a young age, I knew nursing was my calling. Growing up with parents who are both nurses gave me a firsthand look at the compassion, strength, and dedication required in this profession. Watching how they cared for their patients with both skill and empathy made a lasting impression on me. Their work showed me that nursing is not just a job—it’s a way to serve others, bring comfort during difficult times, and make a real difference in people’s lives. What draws me most to nursing is the chance to be there for people when they need it the most. I believe that offering care isn’t just about treating illness; it’s about treating the whole person with kindness, respect, and understanding. That belief is something I carry with me in everything I do, and it's what motivates me every day to pursue this path. My goal is to become an emergency room nurse. I want to be in a fast-paced environment where I can provide critical care to patients in urgent situations. The ER is often where people experience some of the scariest and most vulnerable moments of their lives. I want to be the calm, skilled, and compassionate presence they can count on. I know this path won’t be easy, but I am ready to rise to the challenge. I’ve already taken several steps toward my goal. I graduated high school early, earned my CPR certification, and began gaining experience in the healthcare field by working in dietary services. That role has allowed me to interact directly with patients and observe the healthcare team in action. Even small interactions—like assisting someone with their meal or simply offering a smile—have reminded me why I’m so passionate about this field. I also plan to work as a tech to gain more hands-on experience before completing my nursing program. This scholarship would mean the world to me. It would relieve a significant financial burden and help me continue my education without the constant stress of figuring out how to pay for tuition. More importantly, it would allow me to focus fully on my coursework and clinicals, so I can become the best nurse possible. I understand the responsibility that comes with this profession, and I’m committed to putting in the work it takes to earn that title. In the long run, I hope to give back to my community as a nurse, just as I’ve been inspired by others before me. I’m not just pursuing a career—I’m answering a calling. With the support of this scholarship, I will be one step closer to making that calling a reality.

I didn’t just grow up around nurses—I grew up because of them. Both of my parents are nurses. Heck, I grew up in a family of nurses. From both parents to aunts and uncles, to even my cousins who lived with me to become nurses—nursing was all I ever knew. I used to follow my parents to their workplaces when there wasn’t anyone to watch me, and it not only fascinated me but also exposed a small part of what their world looked like when they were away from home. Whenever I was asked what I wanted to be when I got older, I always said either a doctor or a nurse just like Mommy and Daddy. The first time I actually got to see a patient being treated firsthand was with my dad. He had a stroke. Unfamiliar with medical terminology at the time, I had no idea what was happening. Though I had my mom on the phone, she couldn’t quite identify what was going on either, and we just assumed his blood sugar had dropped. We called 911. When the paramedics arrived, they noticed the slump on his face and how his left arm and leg were stiff. They immediately knew it was a stroke. Once he was admitted, it became a waiting game on his recovery. I always knew ICU nurses had one of the most difficult jobs in the hospital, but seeing it firsthand made me respect them even more. Every time I walked into the ICU, I saw patients in devastating states. I could only imagine them fully healed and healthy. Eventually, my dad was moved to a regular floor, and the number of kind nurses we encountered was limitless. There’s one nurse I’ll never forget—Tina. Tina allowed me and my mom to sleep overnight when it wasn’t normally allowed. She gave us food, provided chairs, and most importantly, gave my dad the best care. There were others like Tina, too. Being around my dad, I learned a lot. I learned how important it is to reposition a patient. Now that I work at a hospital, I often feel the urge to help with patient care, but since I work in dietary, I can't. Still, I’ve picked up medical terminology and gained a deeper understanding of the role nurses play. We don’t give them enough credit for their work. Even now, I still want to be just like Mommy and Daddy.

I was cursed at the first time I tried to spread the gospel. I was a lukewarm Christian. Though I called myself a Christian, in reality, you wouldn't have been able to tell me apart from a non-believer. The only difference was that I went to church every Sunday, while they didn’t. Ironically, I even had a crush on two girls before—something I had promised to take to the grave. The first time I tried to share the gospel with my friends, I condemned them rather than convicting or correcting them. I cried that day and promised myself I would never go back to my old ways. From this experience, I learned more about relationship than religion. In the early stages of my walk with God, I focused on following rules and commandments rather than letting things happen naturally. Looking back, I would shame other Christians for listening to secular music or doing things I considered “not of God,” instead of allowing the Holy Spirit to convict them and change their hearts. I tried to paint a picture-perfect image. When I took on leadership and gave advice, I acted as if I were “holier than thou.” It was fake. Because I refused to show any weakness in my walk with God, I became unrelatable. I would shame and bash instead of sharing my own struggles. This eventually led to my best friend and me losing members in our Bible study group chat on Instagram. My little cousin had started it with a vision to help those around her who were on a similar path grow closer to Christ. As we matured, a few of us took leadership roles, bringing passages, topics, and experiences to the table. There were many times she shared moments of weakness, but I brushed them off and labeled them as her not doing something right. It got to the point where she—and many others—completely stopped joining the calls. A few months later, I experienced a major loss. During that difficult time, I fell back into secular music and foul language. I became lukewarm all over again. But it was during that season that I learned to personalize my relationship with God. I realized it was uniquely tailored to me—to correct, convict, and even cater to my specific needs. I joined an online Bible study group and began to inspire many people—not just through the Holy Spirit speaking through me, but also to me, using me as an example. This shift in perspective helped ease my anxiety about sharing the gospel. I learned not to force it—and, more importantly, not to portray Jesus Christ as a dictator, but as a loving friend who died for us and wants a real connection with each of us.

I am an only child, and from a young age, I knew I wanted to become a nurse. Growing up in a household immersed in the healthcare field, I was often fascinated by the way my parents, both nurses, treated patients with compassion and skill. They always told me I had the potential to follow in their footsteps, and I could see the spark in their eyes when they said it. My natural empathy and desire to help others made nursing the perfect path for me. As a child, I witnessed the challenges of bullying, and that experience made me even more empathetic toward others, especially when they were feeling vulnerable. I remember being the one who checked in on others when they were down, always trying to offer comfort. Today, I work at a hospital in dietary, assisting patients with their meals, which brings me immense joy. Even in such small tasks, I feel a sense of fulfillment, knowing that I’m helping in some way. Over the five months I’ve worked there, I’ve found my favorite part to be the interaction with the patients—listening to their stories, offering support, and seeing the positive impact that care can have. Nursing has always been my passion, but the loss of my father to a stroke last year reinforced my commitment. During his treatment, I learned as much as I could about the care he received. This experience gave me a deeper understanding of the healthcare system and sparked my desire to specialize in Emergency Medicine. From my observations as a hostess, I’ve seen the challenges nurses face, and I am excited about the fast-paced, ever-changing environment of the ER. I’m drawn to it because I know it will offer both personal and professional growth, while allowing me to make a significant difference in patients’ lives, even if just for a short period of time. To prepare for my future, I graduated high school early and plan to take foundational online courses to strengthen my knowledge. I also hold a CPR certification and plan to work as a tech after graduation to gain hands-on experience in patient care. I’ve already been accepted into Nightingale College, the same school my mother and cousin attended, and I’m eager to continue my nursing education there. This scholarship would help me achieve my goal of becoming an ER nurse, allowing me to continue my education and focus on my passion for helping others in their moments of need. I am determined to provide the best care I can and make a meaningful impact in the healthcare field.