"Sonnet" by Billy Collins (1999) All we need is fourteen lines, well, thirteen now, and after this one just a dozen to launch a little ship on love's storm-tossed seas, then only ten more left like rows of beans. How easily it goes unless you get Elizabethan and insist the iambic bongos must be played and rhymes positioned at the ends of lines, one for every station of the cross. But hang on here while we make the turn into the final six where all will be resolved, where longing and heartache will find an end, where Laura will tell Petrarch to put down his pen, take off those crazy medieval tights, blowout the lights, and come at last to bed. Billy Collins’ poem “Sonnet” explores the experience of writing sonnets through several well-employed devices. The poem's structure is noted and assigned meaning in every line, while a broader theme of love within poetry is created. The poem’s direct reference to its own structure calls attention to the choice of a sonnet for the messages that convey the author’s enjoyment of sonnet-writing to convey love. The sonnet begins by referring to the “fourteen lines [needed] to launch a little ship on love’s storm-tossed seas.” The implied metaphor and emphasis on the structure frame sonnets such as this one as messengers of love, highlighting the experience of expression for the author. Collins adds an element of comedy by remarking that sonnet writing goes easily “unless you get Elizabethan / and insist the iambic bongos must be played.” Using this more direct metaphor, he emphasizes the skill and patience required to write a sonnet that adequately expresses the experience of love. An allusion is made in “the final six [lines] where all will be resolved,” referencing a medieval work to acknowledge the sonnet’s beginnings. Laura’s address to Petrarch to “put down his pen [and] take off those crazy medieval tights” serves as an order from the poet to the sonnet to become modern and lose old conventions that might distract from its expression of love. The themes of love and the author’s enjoyment of expressing it in sonnet form are consistent throughout the fourteen lines. Its comparison to “a little ship on love’s storm-tossed seas” implies that the author and others throughout the history of the sonnet have used it to express their love for another. The imagery provides contrast between the size of the sonnet and the magnitude of love, emphasizing the strength of the sonnet despite its size in comparison to what it is meant to convey. The author’s informal diction and incorporation of a few satirical elements meant to mock the conventions of the sonnet show that, despite its typical structure with rhyme and rhythm, the poetry is still malleable and can express love without constant conformity. It says that while many people who write sonnets may make it more difficult for themselves by prioritizing the conventional structure, the author will continue to enjoy writing his sonnets and views the conventions as of little importance in the grand scheme of the message he attempts to convey. While he mocks the structure, he ironically chooses to conform to it in some spaces, especially in the last six lines, which he notes is typically “where all will be resolved [..] and longing and heartache will find an end.” The conformity is like most sonnets, especially Shakespearean, which find their main expression of love and hope in the final few lines, as Collins’ poem hopes that sonnets can still be loved even without strictly following medieval conventions. The author’s enjoyment of writing sonnets comes, overall, from a lack of conformity in his expressions of love. He frames the experience of love as a tempestuous thing, refusing bounds, and reflects it in the mockery and rebellion against the conventions of the sonnet. He reminds readers that poetry is an art that can fit any person's wishes and that straying from convention does not diminish its value.

My name is Reese Frondorf, and I am pleasantly surprised that I have made it to my senior year. I am passionate about mental health advocacy, community service, and using technology to solve real human problems. Those three things are not separate interests for me. They are deeply connected, and they are the foundation of everything I hope to build in my future. The most significant adversity I have faced is my mental health. In fifth grade, I was struggling with depression and anxiety that made everyday life feel overwhelming and isolating. For a long time, I pushed through quietly, not fully understanding what I was experiencing or how to ask for help. Over time, I learned to advocate for myself, speak honestly with the people I trusted, and seek the support I needed. That process is still ongoing. In my senior year, I have been diagnosed with Bipolar I disorder, and while the journey to get that diagnosis has not been easy, it has made me more self-aware, more compassionate, and more committed to making sure others do not have to navigate difficult moments alone. Overcoming that adversity did not happen in a single moment. It happened through small, consistent choices to keep going. Tennis gave me structure and a community when I felt most disconnected. My work on the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention gave me a sense of purpose and a place to turn my personal experience into something meaningful. As a QPR-certified member, I have helped plan mental health awareness events, partnered with the Children's Hospital to improve local resources, and contributed to outreach efforts across our community. Advocating for others became one of the most effective ways I found to advocate for myself. That experience also shaped the direction of my career. I have seen firsthand how hard it can be for a struggling student to find help, and how hard it is for the people around that student to notice they are struggling in the first place. As someone studying Applied AI, I want to change that. I am developing the concept for an AI agent that could analyze student academic and attendance records to help identify students who may be quietly falling through the cracks. Early identification can make an enormous difference, and I believe technology can extend that reach in ways that were not possible before. I am working on a separate idea for an AI tool that connects people directly to mental health resources, rather than attempting to replace human connection or acting as a therapist. The goal is to lower the barrier between someone who is struggling and the help that already exists. Too often, people do not get support because they do not know where to look or feel too overwhelmed to search. I want to make that first step easier. I hope to combine the empathy I have built through my experiences with the technical skills that I am developing to create tools that truly serve people. I believe the most powerful technology is the kind that brings us closer together and lifts people up, and that is the kind of work I am committed to doing.

My name is Reese Frondorf, and I am going to study Applied Artificial Intelligence in college to harness new technology for positive change. I am passionate about mental health advocacy, community service, and using technology to solve real human problems. Those three things are not separate interests for me. They are deeply connected, and they are the foundation of everything I hope to build in my future. The most significant adversity I have faced is my mental health. In fifth grade, I was struggling with depression and anxiety that made everyday life feel overwhelming and isolating. For a long time, I pushed through quietly, not fully understanding what I was experiencing or how to ask for help. Over time, I learned to advocate for myself, speak honestly with the people I trusted, and seek the support I needed. That process is still ongoing. In my senior year, I have been diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder, and while the journey to get that diagnosis has not been easy, it has made me more self-aware, more compassionate, and more committed to making sure others do not have to navigate difficult moments alone. Overcoming that adversity did not happen in a single moment. It happened through small, consistent choices to keep going. Tennis gave me structure and a community when I felt most disconnected. My work on the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention gave me a sense of purpose and a place to turn my personal experience into something meaningful. As a QPR-certified member, I have helped plan mental health awareness events, partnered with the Children's Hospital to improve local resources, and contributed to outreach efforts across our community. Advocating for others became one of the most effective ways I found to advocate for myself. That experience also shaped the direction of my career. I have seen firsthand how hard it can be for a struggling student to find help, and how hard it is for the people around that student to notice they are struggling in the first place. As someone studying Applied AI, I want to change that. I am developing the concept for an AI agent that could analyze student academic and attendance records to help identify students who may be quietly falling through the cracks. Early identification can make an enormous difference, and I believe technology can extend that reach in ways that were not possible before. I am working on a separate idea for an AI tool that connects people directly to mental health resources, rather than attempting to replace human connection or acting as a therapist. The goal is to lower the barrier between someone who is struggling and the help that already exists. Too often, people do not get support because they do not know where to look or feel too overwhelmed to search. I want to make that first step easier. I hope to combine the empathy I have built through my experiences with the technical skills that I am developing to create tools that truly serve people. I believe the most powerful technology is the kind that brings us closer together and lifts people up, and that is the kind of work I am committed to doing.

How did I go from wanting to study graphic design to committing to study applied artificial intelligence? Well, *someone* has to make sure that the robots don't take over. I discovered art as a way of communicating before I learned to read. Kids around the world start with picture books, turning images into a universal language, and I was no different. I was fascinated by vivid depictions that let me understand emotions and experiences I had not yet lived. My dad taught me how to draw, and he was both my biggest inspiration and my best critic growing up. When I got to school, my classmates and I could express ourselves through crayon drawings of rectangular people and smiling suns before we learned to spell. As we got older, crayons gave way to pencils, pencils to styluses, and scribbled family portraits turned into polished presentations. Through every change, pictures never stopped mattering to me. I noticed that the more visually compelling a slideshow looked, the more likely people were to actually absorb what it contained. I was always assigned the research and art portions of group projects because I could translate words into images, and that felt like a kind of power worth holding onto. But while I was learning to communicate outward through design, I was struggling deeply inward. In fifth grade, I was going through one of the hardest periods of my life, dealing with depression and anxiety that made everyday life feel overwhelming and isolating. That same year, tennis found me, and showing up to practice gave me structure when everything else felt uncertain. Over time, I learned to advocate for myself, speak honestly with the people I trusted, and seek the support I needed. That process is still ongoing. In my senior year, I was diagnosed with Bipolar I disorder, and while the journey to that diagnosis has not been easy, it has made me more self-aware, more compassionate, and more committed to making sure others do not have to navigate difficult moments alone. My work on the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention gave me a sense of purpose and a place to turn my personal experience into something meaningful. As a QPR-certified member, I helped plan mental health awareness events, partnered with the Children's Hospital to improve local resources, and contributed to outreach efforts across our community. Advocating for others became one of the most effective ways I found to advocate for myself. As my love for design kept growing, so did the tension around it. My parents, who studied business and engineering, worried about my future as an artist. I started getting what I call the "starving artist speech." But then my school began bringing in artists from different backgrounds, and everything shifted. A local artist, "Mama" Annie Ruth, taught me how to combine images and poetry for self-expression, an invaluable skill for someone still learning to understand herself. I met muralists, UX designers, and communication designers who showed me not just that I would not starve doing what I loved, but that I could thrive. I tried to talk myself out of it anyway. I wanted to be a diplomat, a biomedical engineer, a psychologist. But the artists I met kept inspiring me, and eventually I stopped fighting it. I enrolled in the highest level of design my school offered, and my design teacher pushed me to stop relying on templates and build my own visual language. He also taught me how to use AI as a tool rather than a replacement, so I could adapt to a changing world without losing what made my work mine. That lesson stuck with me beyond design class. I am now pursuing Applied Artificial Intelligence in college, and I see technology the same way my teacher taught me to see it: as something that should extend human capacity, not replace human connection. I have seen firsthand how hard it is for a struggling student to find help, and how hard it is for the people around them to notice. I am developing the concept for an AI agent that could analyze academic and attendance records to help identify students who may be quietly falling through the cracks. I am also working on a tool that connects people directly to mental health resources, not to act as a therapist, but to lower the barrier between someone who is struggling and the help that already exists. The common thread between everything is communication. I started by learning that pictures could convey what words could not. I continued by learning that sharing my own story could help others feel less alone. Studying Applied Artificial Intelligence gives me the chance to bring all of these threads together. The communication skills I built through art and design, the empathy I developed through my own struggles and my work in mental health advocacy, and the technical tools I am now learning to build do not feel like separate pursuits to me. They feel like different expressions of the same goal: to create things that help people feel seen, supported, and less alone. The work I am moving toward is not a compromise between creativity and practicality. It is what happens when you refuse to choose between them.

My name is Reese Frondorf, and I am going to study Applied Artificial Intelligence in college to harness new technology for positive change. I am passionate about mental health advocacy, community service, and using technology to solve real human problems. Those three things are not separate interests for me. They are deeply connected, and they are the foundation of everything I hope to build in my future. The most significant adversity I have faced is my mental health. In fifth grade, I was struggling with depression and anxiety that made everyday life feel overwhelming and isolating. For a long time, I pushed through quietly, not fully understanding what I was experiencing or how to ask for help. Over time, I learned to advocate for myself, speak honestly with the people I trusted, and seek the support I needed. That process is still ongoing. In my senior year, I have been diagnosed with Bipolar I disorder, and while the journey to get that diagnosis has not been easy, it has made me more self-aware, more compassionate, and more committed to making sure others do not have to navigate difficult moments alone. Overcoming that adversity did not happen in a single moment. It happened through small, consistent choices to keep going. Tennis gave me structure and a community when I felt most disconnected. My work on the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention gave me a sense of purpose and a place to turn my personal experience into something meaningful. As a QPR-certified member, I have helped plan mental health awareness events, partnered with the Children's Hospital to improve local resources, and contributed to outreach efforts across our community. Advocating for others became one of the most effective ways I found to advocate for myself. That experience also shaped the direction of my career. I have seen firsthand how hard it can be for a struggling student to find help, and how hard it is for the people around that student to notice they are struggling in the first place. As someone studying Applied AI, I want to change that. I am developing the concept for an AI agent that could analyze student academic and attendance records to help identify students who may be quietly falling through the cracks. Early identification can make an enormous difference, and I believe technology can extend that reach in ways that were not possible before. I am working on a separate idea for an AI tool that connects people directly to mental health resources, rather than attempting to replace human connection or acting as a therapist. The goal is to lower the barrier between someone who is struggling and the help that already exists. Too often, people do not get support because they do not know where to look or feel too overwhelmed to search. I want to make that first step easier. I hope to combine the empathy I have built through my experiences with the technical skills that I am developing to create tools that truly serve people. I've begun my coding journey by participating in a Girls Who Code program over the summer, where I learned how to code a website from scratch with CSS + HTML, though I have a lot to learn to begin coding AI programs as I dream of doing. I believe the most powerful technology is the kind that brings us closer together and lifts people up, and that is the kind of work I am committed to doing.

My name is Reese Frondorf, and I am going to study Applied Artificial Intelligence in college to harness new technology for positive change. I am passionate about mental health advocacy, community service, and using technology to solve real human problems. Those three things are not separate interests for me. They are deeply connected, and they are the foundation of everything I hope to build in my future. The most significant adversity I have faced is my mental health. In fifth grade, I was struggling with depression and anxiety that made everyday life feel overwhelming and isolating. For a long time, I pushed through quietly, not fully understanding what I was experiencing or how to ask for help. Over time, I learned to advocate for myself, speak honestly with the people I trusted, and seek the support I needed. That process is still ongoing. In my senior year, I have been diagnosed with Bipolar I disorder, and while the journey to get that diagnosis has not been easy, it has made me more self-aware, more compassionate, and more committed to making sure others do not have to navigate difficult moments alone. Overcoming that adversity did not happen in a single moment. It happened through small, consistent choices to keep going. Tennis gave me structure and a community when I felt most disconnected. My work on the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention gave me a sense of purpose and a place to turn my personal experience into something meaningful. As a QPR-certified member, I have helped plan mental health awareness events, partnered with the Children's Hospital to improve local resources, and contributed to outreach efforts across our community. Advocating for others became one of the most effective ways I found to advocate for myself. That experience also shaped the direction of my career. I have seen firsthand how hard it can be for a struggling student to find help, and how hard it is for the people around that student to notice they are struggling in the first place. As someone studying Applied AI, I want to change that. I am developing the concept for an AI agent that could analyze student academic and attendance records to help identify students who may be quietly falling through the cracks. Early identification can make an enormous difference, and I believe technology can extend that reach in ways that were not possible before. I am working on a separate idea for an AI tool that connects people directly to mental health resources, rather than attempting to replace human connection or acting as a therapist. The goal is to lower the barrier between someone who is struggling and the help that already exists. Too often, people do not get support because they do not know where to look or feel too overwhelmed to search. I want to make that first step easier. I hope to combine the empathy I have built through my experiences with the technical skills that I am developing to create tools that truly serve people. I believe the most powerful technology is the kind that brings us closer together and lifts people up, and that is the kind of work I am committed to doing.

My name is Reese Frondorf, and I am a senior at Saint Ursula Academy in Cincinnati, Ohio. I will be attending the Savannah College of Art and Design in the fall to study Applied Artificial Intelligence and get a Bachelor’s degree in Design. I am passionate about mental health advocacy, community service, and using technology to solve real human problems. Those three things are not separate interests for me. They are deeply connected, and they are the foundation of everything I hope to build in my future. The most significant adversity I have faced is my mental health. In fifth grade, I was struggling with depression and anxiety that made everyday life feel overwhelming and isolating. For a long time, I pushed through quietly, not fully understanding what I was experiencing or how to ask for help. Over time, I learned to advocate for myself, speak honestly with the people I trusted, and seek the support I needed. That process is still ongoing. I am currently working through getting a formal diagnosis for what is likely bipolar one disorder, and while that journey has not been easy, it has made me more self-aware, more compassionate, and more committed to making sure others do not have to navigate those difficult moments alone. Overcoming that adversity did not happen in a single moment. It happened through small, consistent choices to keep going. Tennis gave me structure and a community when I felt most disconnected. My work on the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention gave me a sense of purpose and a place to turn my personal experience into something meaningful. As a QPR-certified member, I have helped plan mental health awareness events, partnered with the Children's Hospital to improve local resources, and contributed to outreach efforts across our community. Advocating for others became one of the most effective ways I found to advocate for myself. That experience also shaped the direction of my career. I have seen firsthand how hard it can be for a struggling student to find help, and how hard it is for the people around that student to notice they are struggling in the first place. As someone studying Applied AI, I want to change that. I am developing the concept for an AI agent that could analyze student academic and attendance records to help identify students who may be quietly falling through the cracks, the way interventionists like Valerie Rabb work to do every single day. Early identification can make an enormous difference, and I believe technology can extend that reach in ways that were not possible before. I am working on a separate idea for an AI tool that connects people directly to mental health resources, rather than attempting to replace human connection or acting as a therapist. The goal is to lower the barrier between someone who is struggling and the help that already exists. Too often, people do not get support because they do not know where to look or feel too overwhelmed to search. I want to make that first step easier. Valerie Rabb spent her career doing exactly what I hope to do: seeing students, championing them, and working hard to make sure they have what they need for success. I hope to honor that spirit by combining the empathy I have built through my experiences with the technical skills I am developing to create tools that truly serve people. I believe the most powerful technology is the kind that brings us closer together and lifts people up, and that is the kind of work I am committed to doing.

I did not find tennis. Tennis found me. When I was in the 5th grade, I was going through one of the hardest periods of my life. I was struggling with depression and felt disconnected from myself and the people around me. Tennis became my anchor. Showing up to practice every day gave me structure when everything else felt uncertain, and the friendships and support I found through my coaches and teammates gave me a reason to keep going. I owe a lot of my recovery and mental well-being to this sport, and that is something I will never take for granted. What started as a lifeline quickly became a passion. Over four years at Saint Ursula Academy, I grew from a JV freshman to Varsity A Team Captain my senior year. I helped contribute to some of our best team records, including a 14W-1L season on JV and an 11W-4L record on Varsity, and I was recognized as a distinguished doubles player by the Greater Cincinnati Tennis Coaches Association. Those results meant a lot, but what I am most proud of is how I showed up for my teammates along the way. Captaining a team taught me that leadership is less about your own performance and more about how you help others reach theirs. As captain, I worked to create an environment where everyone felt welcomed, challenged, and supported. I learned to balance the drive to compete with genuine sportsmanship, and I learned that a team with real trust in each other is always stronger than one running on individual talent alone. Those lessons have carried over into every other area of my life, from my roles in Student Council to my three years on the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention. Tennis also taught me patience in a way that nothing else has. The sport demands that you stay calm under pressure, reset after a bad point, and keep believing in yourself even when a match is not going your way. I have drawn on that same patience when working through a difficult school project, coaching a nervous beginner on the court, or advocating for mental health resources in my community. Speaking of coaching, sharing tennis with others has become one of my greatest joys. Since 2024, I have worked as a Youth Tennis Instructor at the Western Athletic Club, where I was first introduced to the sport seven years ago, coaching groups of ten or more children between the ages of two and twelve. Watching a young child finally connect with the ball, or seeing a shy kid light up when they realize they belong on the court, reminds me exactly why I love this sport. Tennis gave me a community when I needed one most, and coaching gives me the chance to build that same sense of belonging for someone else. Nick Hamlin clearly understood what tennis can do for a person. It is more than a sport. It is a place to grow, to struggle, to find yourself, and to find your people. I am grateful every day that I found it when I did, and I am committed to carrying everything it has given me into my future, on and off the court.

This year, I have taken intentional steps to deepen my involvement in my community by focusing on service, leadership, and advocacy, especially in areas where I could create meaningful, lasting impact. Rather than only participating, I have worked to take on roles that allowed me to lead initiatives, support others directly, and address issues I care deeply about. One of the most significant ways I became more involved was through my work with the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention. As a certified QPR (Question, Persuade, Refer) trainee, I have been equipped with the skills to recognize and respond to signs of mental health crises. So far, I have saved the lives of at least two people in crisis using this training. This year, I helped plan and promote community events to raise awareness about mental health resources in my community and reduce stigma. I also collaborated with local organizations, including Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, to improve community access and the effectiveness of the mental health resources offered. By designing media and outreach materials, I have been able to combine my interest in visual communication with advocacy, making information more accessible and engaging for my community. In addition to advocacy work, I continued volunteering with Brighter Days for Kids, an organization that supports families with young children. This year, I participated in service projects such as organizing toy giveaways, cleaning daycare centers, and distributing essential items like clothing and supplies, especially during the holiday season. These experiences allowed me to directly connect with families in need and understand the importance of consistent, hands-on service. My continued involvement helped me surpass 100 total hours of community service, but more importantly, it strengthened my commitment to showing up for my community in tangible ways. I also expanded my impact through leadership roles within my school. As a senior leader on Student Council, I helped organize large-scale events that brought students together and fostered a sense of community. By improving efficiency in event setup and collaborating with other student organizations, I contributed to more inclusive and engaging experiences for my peers. Additionally, as a peer tutor in the Bulldog Academic Resource Center, I supported fellow students in subjects like English and algebra, helping them build confidence and succeed academically. Another important step I took this year was participating in the YUMA Center Washington Week program, where I engaged with students from diverse backgrounds to discuss civic engagement and global issues. This experience broadened my perspective and strengthened my understanding of how local actions connect to larger societal challenges. It inspired me to think more critically about how I can continue contributing to my community beyond high school. Overall, this year has been a shift from participation to purposeful involvement. Whether through mental health advocacy, direct service, leadership, or education, I have worked to make a meaningful difference in my community while growing as a leader and collaborator. These experiences have not only shaped my perspective but have also motivated me to continue seeking out opportunities to serve and uplift others in the future.

My service journey began the moment I was old enough to understand right from wrong. My Christian mother and my father both taught me to help people, no matter how different they were from me. My mom has been bringing me to service events since I was in third grade, and I've expanded on that foundation as I've gotten older. I joined an organization called Brighter Days for Kids in eighth grade, and loved the service we do so much that I've stayed and continue serving with the group. We've cleaned daycares, given toys away for free around holidays to underprivileged families, and sent gift boxes of essentials to kids in areas that have been struck by disasters. In the organization, we are required to get four service credits, but I go over that number almost every year. If I have the time to attend one of the service events, I always go, because I think it is better to be busy and help someone than be idle while someone is in need. In my sophomore year of high school, I joined the Youth Council for Suicide Prevention. After watching my family struggle with mental health and struggling with it myself, I decided that I wanted to prevent as many people from experiencing that pain as I could. Every other Sunday, we meet and participate in mental health studies with the Children's Hospital, review new youth mental health programs and materials, and plan community events to educate people about their mental health. This is my favorite organization that I am a part of, and I love being able to give people the resources and help that I missed when I struggled with my own mental health. Without my own struggles, I would not be able to understand the challenges that one in five people face every day. I am determined to use this understanding to help other people wherever I go in the future because I have the knowledge and skills to do so. My junior year, I volunteered to lead a team of people to clean up the yards of people in our community who weren't able to do it themselves. I had no experience with yardwork, and I had incorrectly assumed that an adult from our school would be with the group to help me lead. When I realized this, I felt underqualified and was tempted to quit. Instead, I gathered my family and friends to help, because I was not going to bail on the people who needed us. We ended up collecting forty bags of leaves that day, and I learned new skills along the way. My team got to meet some of the residents whose yards we cleaned, and they were all very kind. One man was in a wheelchair, which struck me because I hadn't realized the extent to which our work was useful. I hadn't imagined that the people we were helping might physically not be able to do the work. It made the entire experience more meaningful and re-solidified my determination to serve my community.

In middle school, every time teachers had my class do the activity where you walk around and write one kind word to describe your classmate on their paper, I got annoyed. Not because I didn't have anything nice to say (I had plenty), but because my paper was always filled with the same word: creative. I despised this at the time because I believed that people just didn't want to think hard about other ways to describe me. Looking back, however, I realize that my creativity defines me and that my classmates were able to recognize that before I saw it myself. I've always loved art. My dad started teaching me to draw when I was four. There are pictures of me having fallen asleep while drawing at my toddler-sized table. I can't count how many art sets and sketchbooks I received on Christmases and birthdays, or how many hours I spent watching YouTube tutorials on how to draw with my little sister. Having realized my adoration for art, my parents turned our dining room into an art room, the table now covered in paint and love. Despite encouraging my creativity when I was young, my parents have begun to worry about my wish to go to an art-focused school and major in communication design. I've gotten the "starving artist speech" for my entire high school career. They would like me to be like them and take a more stable route, like business or engineering. For a while, I've considered going into global politics and becoming a diplomat. I've been to summer camps in Washington, D.C., and met people from all over the world. My parents took my sister and me with them overseas to London, Italy, Greece, and Paris. While I love traveling and learning about other cultures, the thing I have found most fascinating is the art. Visiting the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, the National Gallery, and more amazing museums only fueled the flames of my love for the arts. I got to see art from every continent and learned to appreciate the pictures and culture of people living in times and places that we hadn’t known existed. Even though I lacked certain shared experiences and language with the artists, I could interpret the messages and emotions in each work. One-sided dialogues between the artists and me opened, and suddenly I knew what it felt like to be a woman during a war, a tragic Greek hero, or a child living in the countryside. When I went home, their memories followed and helped me connect with other people in my life by recognizing our shared human experiences. My travels made me realize what a valuable tool art is for communicating. Without understanding being bound to an alphabet and specific syntax, anyone can understand it. With this knowledge, I want to bring art as a form of communication into the world of international affairs. I think that it is underutilized as a tool of connection, and there are unlimited ways that it can promote empathy and understanding. I want to combine my interests in the arts and global affairs to improve the world and foster a greater sense of understanding between people who are divided by language or culture. I know that if I do what I love and make the world better, I will not become a "starving artist" because my soul will be fed.

I discovered art as a way of communication before I learned to read. Kids around the world start with picture books instead of chapter books, turning images into a universal language. I was fascinated by the vivid depictions that allowed me to understand animals and emotions that I hadn’t seen or experienced yet. My dad taught me how to draw, and he was both my biggest inspiration and my best art critic growing up. When my parents put me into school, my classmates and I could express ourselves through crayon drawings of rectangular people and smiling suns before we learned to spell. As we got older, crayons gave way to pencils, then pencils to styluses. Scribbled family portraits turned into polished presentations. Despite every change in my life, pictures never stopped being important. I realized that the more visually appealing a slideshow looked, the more likely people were to listen to and remember the information it contained. For projects, I was always assigned to the research and art portions because of my ability to translate words into pictures. As my love for art and design continues to grow, my parents have become worried. Both of them went to college for business and engineering, a far cry from art and design. I began to get what I like to call the "starving artist speech" about people doing art as a career and starving because they don't make a profit. Then, my school began to bring in artists from backgrounds different from mine, and I learned about their lives through their art. A local artist, “Mama” Annie Ruth, taught me about how to combine images and poetry to express myself, an invaluable skill for self-reflection and understanding. I met people who created murals and traditional art, and I learned about all the different paths of design, like UX and communication design. I tried to convince myself again and again that I didn't want to do design. I wanted to be a diplomat. A biomedical engineer. A psychologist. But the artists that I met kept inspiring me and not only showed me that I wouldn't starve if I did what I loved, but that I could thrive doing it as well. I decided to take the highest level of design that my school offered for my senior year of high school. My design teacher has kept pushing me to become better and to do what I love. I have become proficient at Photoshop and Adobe Illustrator, and I am known in my class for my Canva presentations. My teacher challenged me to avoid using templates and create my own designs to become better. He wrote one of my college recommendation letters and has fostered my love for design despite my qualms about AI. In fact, he taught me how to use AI as a tool for design rather than a replacement so that I can adapt to the changing world and still do what I love. The artists that I've met and my design teacher have all inspired me to keep creating. I still hear the starving artist speech, but I don't believe it anymore. I have met so many successful, happy artists. If I did something other than design, I might make more money, but I'd still have a starving soul.