I arrived in San Diego with two suitcases, a laptop, and a vision far bigger than my bank account. From that first day at San Diego State University, I knew I wasn’t just earning an MBA in Information Systems — I was building the bridge between technology and business that so many organizations desperately need. My degree allows me to speak two languages fluently: technology and business. Too often, these worlds operate in silos. My goal is to close that gap — to translate complex technical concepts into business solutions that drive real-world results. I want to be the person who ensures innovation doesn’t stay trapped in strategy decks, but becomes visible change that benefits people, processes, and entire organizations. This journey hasn’t been easy. As an international student, I’ve had to start from scratch — building my network, gaining U.S. work experience, and finding my place in a competitive academic and professional environment. I’ve worked late into the night balancing assignments with part-time work and woken up early to prepare for presentations. These challenges have shaped my resilience, adaptability, and resourcefulness — qualities essential for any leader in the business world. Higher education is giving me more than technical skills. It’s training me to think critically, lead diverse teams, and approach problems with both analytical precision and human understanding. In my coursework, I’ve learned how data analytics can inform smarter decisions, how enterprise systems can improve efficiency, and how digital strategies can position a company for growth. But more importantly, I’ve learned that leadership means inspiring people to embrace change, especially when it feels uncomfortable. In the future, I envision leading digital transformation initiatives for organizations that are ready to innovate but lack the bridge between vision and execution. I want to automate processes to save time and resources, harness data to improve decision-making, and ensure that new technologies are implemented with a clear understanding of human impact. Beyond my career goals, I am deeply committed to mentoring women in technology and business. Too often, women — especially in male-dominated fields — feel out of place in the rooms where major decisions are made. I want to help change that. If I can guide even one woman to feel confident in her voice, her ideas, and her presence in those rooms, I will have multiplied the opportunities I’ve been given. The Marilynn Walker Memorial Scholarship would directly support these ambitions. It would ease the financial pressure that often forces students like me to limit opportunities for growth. With this support, I could take on internships, research projects, and leadership roles without compromising my studies to meet financial needs. This isn’t just about paying for school — it’s about investing in experiences that will allow me to make a greater impact in the future. Marilynn Walker’s legacy speaks to me because she proved that ambition, drive, and impact can go hand in hand. She used her success to create opportunities for others, and that’s exactly the model I want to follow. My MBA in Information Systems is not the end goal — it’s the foundation. With it, I aim to create smarter businesses, more inclusive workplaces, and pathways for others to thrive.

Breaking Traditions, Building Dreams: My Journey as a Non-Traditional Student I don’t come from a world where success was guaranteed. I come from Vadodara, India—where dreams are big, but the path to realizing them can be unpaved, uncertain, and often lonely. My name is Riya, and I’m a first-generation graduate student pursuing an MBA in Information Systems at San Diego State University. My path to education has been anything but conventional—but every detour, every struggle, and every small triumph has shaped me into the woman I am today: someone deeply committed to kindness, perseverance, and lifting others as I climb. My story is not defined by a perfect academic record or a linear career path. Instead, it is defined by a quiet strength I developed through navigating unfamiliar systems, making difficult choices, and starting over—again and again. Moving to a new country as an immigrant student was not just about chasing opportunities; it was about learning how to survive when everything felt unfamiliar: the culture, the language nuances, the unspoken social cues, and even the food. Back home, I was the “responsible one” in the family—the girl who helped her mom through job loss, who looked after her younger siblings, and who never dared to dream too big because reality demanded too much. But when I received my acceptance letter for SDSU’s MBA program, I knew I had to take the leap. It meant leaving behind everything familiar. It meant living alone in a country where I had no family, no safety net—just the fire in my belly to make it work. In those first few months, I faced more challenges than I could count. I struggled to find housing I could afford. I worked part-time jobs while juggling coursework. I navigated culture shock, self-doubt, and isolation. There were nights when I’d cry quietly in bed, unsure if I had made a mistake. But in the morning, I’d get up and keep going—not because it was easy, but because I had come too far to give up. One particular memory stands out. A classmate of mine—an international student from another country—was struggling with a tech assignment we had been given. He was on the verge of dropping the course. I could see the same overwhelmed look in his eyes that I had seen in the mirror weeks before. I sat with him for three hours that day. Not just to walk him through the assignment, but to remind him that he wasn’t alone. He passed that class—and I gained something more valuable than a grade: the realization that even when I felt small and uncertain, I could still be a source of strength for someone else. That’s the kind of leadership I believe in. The quiet, behind-the-scenes type. The kind that doesn’t need a spotlight but shows up consistently—with empathy, compassion, and an open heart. Andrea Worden’s legacy reflects those values deeply. From what I’ve read, she saw people for who they were beyond titles and degrees—and that’s exactly the kind of impact I hope to have too. Perseverance hasn’t always looked glamorous for me. It has looked like saying no to weekend outings so I could send a bit more money home. It has looked like walking in the rain to my part-time job because I couldn’t afford a ride-share. It has looked like speaking up in class even when I was terrified of my accent being misunderstood. And kindness? That’s been my anchor. It’s in the extra five minutes I spend helping someone else feel seen. It’s in the handwritten note I left for a classmate who was going through a tough time. It’s in the way I remind myself to treat every setback as a lesson, not a loss. I often think about the girl I used to be—timid, unsure, afraid to take up space. She wouldn’t recognize the person I’ve become. Today, I am assertive in meetings, confident in presentations, and most importantly, I believe that my voice matters. The systems weren’t built for people like me—but I’m learning how to thrive anyway. And I’m committed to holding the door open for those who come after me. My ultimate goal is to use technology to create systems that are inclusive, accessible, and human-centered. I want to work at the intersection of innovation and empathy—designing platforms that don’t just automate tasks but make life easier for people who are too often left out of tech solutions: immigrants, seniors, people with disabilities, and the economically disadvantaged. Technology should not be a privilege. It should be a bridge. Andrea Worden’s story moved me because it reminded me that you don’t need to be loud to lead. You don’t need to follow the “normal” path to be successful. What you need is heart. And I have that in abundance. My journey is still unfolding, but everything I’ve faced so far has prepared me to walk into the future with courage, compassion, and clarity. To me, being a non-traditional student means being a trailblazer. It means asking for directions in a language you’re still learning. It means working twice as hard to get half as far—and still showing up with a smile. It means knowing that even though you started late or from a different place, you still belong. If I could meet Andrea, I think she’d understand me. Not just my resume, but my resilience. Not just my ambition, but the intention behind it. And that thought alone gives me strength on days when I falter. This scholarship would not just support my education—it would validate my journey. It would remind me that being different is not a disadvantage. It’s my story. And like Andrea’s, I hope it leaves a legacy of light for others to follow.

Empowered by Connection: How Mobile Payments Are Changing Lives One technology that deeply inspires me is mobile payment systems, particularly platforms like UPI in India or Venmo and Zelle in the U.S. While they may seem simple or even routine today, I see them as a powerful example of how technology can break down barriers, foster inclusion, and reshape the way people interact with money. Growing up in India, I saw firsthand how cash dependency made everyday transactions complicated — especially for small vendors, women in rural areas, and the elderly. Banking felt distant and intimidating to many. But when mobile payment systems became widely available, even a tea vendor at a street corner could receive digital payments using nothing but a smartphone and a QR code. Suddenly, access to the financial system wasn’t limited to the educated or wealthy — it was for everyone. That shift not only improved convenience, it gave people dignity, autonomy, and a sense of control over their financial lives. As someone currently pursuing an MBA in Information Systems at San Diego State University, this kind of digital transformation excites me. I want to be a part of designing tech solutions that do more than automate processes — I want to build systems that empower people. Whether it’s helping small businesses run more efficiently or designing user-friendly tools for underserved communities, I believe technology can and should be an equalizer. Mobile payments remind me that the most powerful innovations are often the simplest — the ones that meet people where they are and remove friction from daily life. They don’t just make the world faster or smarter; they make it more fair and accessible. In my future career, I hope to work on digital platforms that use data and technology to support ethical growth, inclusivity, and economic independence. Mobile payment systems have shown me what’s possible — and I want to keep building on that momentum.

Leading Through Chaos: Turning a Crisis into Collaboration It was the final quarter of my undergraduate program, and our capstone project had just begun. We were a team of five, assigned to develop a go-to-market strategy for a hypothetical skincare startup. What began as an exciting assignment quickly spiraled into disarray. Team members missed meetings, deadlines were slipping, and tensions rose. As the most organized and communicative person in the group, I found myself naturally stepping into a leadership role — not because I was asked to, but because someone had to. The challenge wasn’t just about time management; it was about managing people and perspectives. Two members didn’t believe the project was worth serious effort, another was overwhelmed with personal issues, and one simply preferred to work alone. Our group was fragmented — and if we didn’t course-correct fast, we’d all fail. The first thing I did was initiate individual conversations to understand everyone’s concerns. I didn’t lead with demands; I led with empathy. Once I understood each person’s strengths and struggles, I reorganized our tasks to better suit their comfort zones. For example, the most independent team member was assigned to handle the competitor research solo, while I paired the overwhelmed teammate with someone more experienced for the marketing plan. I also broke down the big project into small, clear milestones, using shared folders and weekly check-ins to keep us accountable. Slowly, we found a rhythm. By the final presentation, our team had not only completed the project on time — we delivered one of the top strategies in the class. What stayed with me wasn’t the praise, but the message one teammate sent afterward: “Thanks for pulling us through. I would’ve given up if you hadn’t led the way.” That moment reshaped how I understood leadership. It’s not about controlling people; it’s about listening, adapting, and creating the conditions where others can succeed too. These are the values I carry into every role — whether I’m working in a logistics company, running a campaign for a cosmetics brand, or mentoring a peer who feels lost. Looking forward, I plan to enter the beauty and wellness industry through a business lens — combining my MBA in Management and Leadership with my passion for inclusivity and brand building. My goal is to lead teams that design products and campaigns that make people feel seen and empowered, especially in underrepresented communities. Whether it’s a product development meeting or a brand strategy roundtable, I know how to keep a team aligned, resilient, and human-centered. This scholarship would support my journey not just academically, but purposefully. I don’t just want to succeed in business — I want to lead with intention, using every challenge as an opportunity to bring people together and create meaningful impact.

“Why do you care so much about makeup?” I’ve been asked this countless times — by family members who didn’t understand it, classmates who thought it was shallow, and even professors who questioned its relevance to leadership or business. But to me, cosmetics have never just been about how someone looks. They’re about how someone feels — about power, confidence, creativity, and identity. And as someone who immigrated to the U.S. as a first-generation student, often feeling invisible or out of place, beauty became one of the first spaces where I could express myself and truly feel seen. I’m currently pursuing a Master’s in Business Administration, and while that might not sound like a typical path into cosmetology, it’s exactly what grounds my vision: I want to bring structure, strategy, and heart to the beauty industry. My long-term dream is to combine my business background with my passion for beauty to either work with — or eventually build — a brand that champions inclusivity, cultural representation, and wellness-focused beauty products. Growing up in India, I rarely saw faces like mine celebrated in global beauty campaigns. When I moved to the U.S., I expected more diversity — but I soon realized representation alone isn’t enough. True inclusion means shade ranges that reflect everyone, product lines that consider real skin concerns, and marketing that empowers instead of pressures. I want to be part of that change — not just on the creative side, but on the strategic side where decisions are made about product development, branding, and outreach. What draws me to cosmetics is its unique power to transform how people experience themselves. One swipe of lipstick or the right skincare routine can change someone’s mood, posture, or day. That transformation — emotional and physical — is deeply human, and I believe business leaders in beauty have a responsibility to honor that power with care and thoughtfulness. As a woman of color, a first-generation immigrant, and a student navigating both financial and cultural barriers, I know what it means to feel like the “other.” That’s why I’m passionate about creating beauty spaces that feel like home for people who’ve never had one. Whether it’s through product innovation, socially conscious campaigns, or mentorship programs for underrepresented youth, I want my work in this industry to be about impact, not just aesthetics. This scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of my education, but it would also bring me one step closer to building a career where beauty meets purpose. I want to help redefine what success and confidence look like — in boardrooms, in classrooms, and in front of the mirror.

“We don’t know how, but you’ll find a way.” That’s what my parents told me the night before I boarded a flight from India to the U.S., clutching a folder of documents, dreams, and uncertainty. No one in my family had studied abroad. We didn’t know how the American education system worked. But my parents believed in me — and I had to figure it all out, alone. As a first-generation immigrant and international student, entering higher education in the U.S. felt like walking into a maze without a map. I had to translate not only a new language and culture but also an entire academic system. I had never heard of FAFSA, academic credits, student portals, or even office hours. My peers seemed fluent in these unspoken rules — they had access to advisors, parents who had gone through the system, or older siblings who could guide them. I had Google, instinct, and a deep sense of urgency. There were moments when I felt like I didn’t belong. I watched students land internships through networks they were born into while I struggled to understand how to write a U.S.-style résumé. I hesitated to speak in class, fearing my accent would make me sound less capable. Even simple things like knowing when and how to email a professor, or how to navigate group projects with cultural differences, became major challenges. At times, it felt like I was constantly one step behind — playing catch-up in a race where others had a head start. But being an outsider also became my greatest teacher. It taught me resilience. I learned how to ask for help, even when it felt uncomfortable. I learned to adapt quickly, absorb fast, and act decisively. Every step I figured out for myself — from understanding how internships work to building my credit score — became a milestone not just for me, but for my family and the younger students back home who now ask me for advice. These experiences have deeply shaped my goals. I no longer just want to succeed in business — I want to lead with empathy, especially for those who don’t come from traditional backgrounds. I aim to build inclusive systems in the corporate world, whether through mentorship programs, leadership development for underrepresented groups, or even founding my own venture that supports immigrant and first-gen students. My struggles have made me more aware of the invisible barriers so many face — and I want to be part of breaking them down. Higher education hasn’t just given me knowledge; it has given me perspective. I’ve realized that being an outsider isn’t a weakness — it’s a source of strength. I’ve had to lead myself through unfamiliar paths, and that has made me more compassionate, more driven, and more aware of the importance of access and equity. My journey hasn’t been easy, and I’m still learning. But now, I carry not just the pressure of making my parents proud — I carry the determination to make it easier for those who come after me. That’s the legacy I want to build.