Stepping onto the baseball field has always felt like stepping into a second home—a place where effort is rewarded, character is tested, and lessons go far beyond balls and strikes. My experiences in baseball have not only shaped my love for the sport but also helped define who I am and who I hope to become. Through every inning, win or loss, I’ve grown into a person who understands the value of perseverance, the impact of mentorship, and the strength of community. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned on the field is how to persevere through failure. Baseball is a game of setbacks. Even the best hitters fail seven out of ten times. In my early seasons, I struggled with frustration and self-doubt when things didn’t go my way—missed plays, strikeouts, or tough losses. But over time, I learned to embrace those moments as opportunities for growth. I began to see each mistake as a chance to improve, each loss as motivation to work harder. That mindset has carried over into my academics and personal life. When I face obstacles now, I don’t back down—I step up. Mentorship has also played a huge role in my development. I’ve been lucky to have coaches who saw potential in me even when I didn’t see it in myself. One in particular, Coach Ramirez, made it his mission to not just make us better players but better people. He taught us to play with heart, to lead by example, and to support our teammates no matter what. His belief in me taught me to believe in myself and to take on a leadership role within the team. Now, as one of the older players, I try to pass that same encouragement and guidance down to the younger athletes—just like Coach did for me. Beyond the dugout, baseball has introduced me to a community that feels like family. Whether it’s organizing team fundraisers, volunteering at youth clinics, or staying late to clean up the field, I’ve learned that success isn’t just about individual talent—it’s about showing up for others. That sense of shared responsibility and camaraderie has inspired me to pursue a career where I can continue to make a difference, possibly in sports education or youth mentorship. Looking ahead, I plan to carry the values baseball has given me—grit, leadership, and community-mindedness—into everything I do. Whether it’s in the classroom, the workplace, or wherever life takes me, I know that the lessons I’ve learned on the field will stay with me. I hope to inspire others the way my coaches and teammates inspired me, and to continue giving back to the community that has given me so much. The Brett Brakel Memorial Scholarship represents everything I’ve come to love and respect about the game: dedication, mentorship, and heart. It would be an honor to carry those values forward in his memory.

Art has always been my voice—one that speaks when words fall short. Through my work, I plan to make a positive impact by challenging assumptions, inspiring connection, and making people feel seen. I believe art has the power to spark conversations that lead to change, and my goal is to use that power to address issues like inequality, mental health, and identity. Growing up in a community where creativity wasn’t always taken seriously, I learned how important it is to create space for expression, especially for those who are often silenced. My work often reflects overlooked narratives—those of everyday people navigating hardship, resilience, and hope. By sharing these stories visually, I want to create moments of empathy and recognition that can help bridge divides. I also plan to work directly with young artists and students, especially those from low-income backgrounds like mine. I know how impactful it can be to have someone believe in your talent and offer guidance. Whether through teaching, community art projects, or mentorship, I hope to build pathways for others to use art as a tool for healing and empowerment. Ultimately, I want my art to remind people that they matter, that their stories are worth telling, and that creativity can be a force for justice and joy. Even if I can change just one person’s perspective or help one student find confidence through art, I’ll consider that a meaningful contribution to the world.

Design and photography are powerful tools for storytelling, and my passion for them stems from their ability to capture emotion, shape perspective, and communicate meaning beyond words. From a young age, I’ve been drawn to visuals—whether it was sketching characters from my imagination or experimenting with filters on a borrowed camera, I discovered early on that images could evoke powerful reactions. Design and photography allow me to bring a vision to life, whether it's capturing a fleeting moment or building an entire visual world from scratch. What excites me most is the opportunity to work on creative projects that merge art with a message. I love projects that challenge the viewer to think differently, that provoke emotion, or that spotlight an issue often overlooked. For instance, I’m particularly drawn to conceptual photography and poster design for social causes. Projects that involve raising awareness—whether it’s mental health, climate change, or inequality—give me the chance to use my skills for something meaningful. There's something incredibly rewarding about designing with a purpose and knowing your work might spark conversation or even change minds. I also enjoy the problem-solving aspect of design. Every project presents a different challenge: balancing visuals and text, choosing the right layout, or finding the perfect color scheme to evoke the intended mood. I’m energized by that creative puzzle, and I find a sense of flow when I’m deep in the process, making deliberate choices with the user or viewer in mind. Whether it’s designing a logo, editing a series of photos, or creating a digital collage, I thrive when I can experiment and iterate. As I continue to grow in this field, I plan to take full advantage of digital design tools like Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator, Lightroom, and After Effects. These programs open up a whole world of creative possibilities, allowing me to refine my work to a professional standard. With digital tools, I can layer images, manipulate lighting and composition, and explore different textures and styles in a way that would be impossible with traditional media alone. I also want to explore 3D design software and motion graphics, expanding my skills into animation and interactive design. In addition to mastering the technical side, I’m eager to learn how to use these tools more strategically—thinking not just about aesthetics but about how my work functions in different contexts, from branding and marketing to digital media and advocacy. Digital design tools are evolving rapidly, and I want to stay on the cutting edge, using them to bring fresh, original ideas to life. Ultimately, design and photography are not just creative outlets for me—they are how I make sense of the world and connect with others. Through visual storytelling, I can express what I feel, what I value, and what I hope to change. That’s what drives my passion, and it’s what I hope to keep doing in school, in my career, and beyond.

Losing someone to suicide is a kind of grief that never fully leaves you—it just changes shape. It’s not only about losing someone you love, but about the questions that don’t have answers, the guilt that lingers even when you know it wasn’t your fault, and the deep ache of wondering what you could have done. My journey through this loss has been marked by silence, confusion, and eventually, growth. It changed how I see myself, how I see others, and how I want to move forward in this world. The hardest part of my grief was the isolation. I didn’t always have the words to explain how I felt, and I often felt like others didn’t know what to say to me either. People sometimes pull away because they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing—but silence can hurt more than awkwardness. I felt like I had to carry something invisible and heavy while still showing up for school, staying strong for others, and pretending I was okay when I wasn’t. There were moments when I felt completely alone. Over time, I learned that grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and there’s no “right” way to heal. But I also realized that the pain I was carrying could become something more than just suffering—it could become purpose. This loss changed me by deepening my compassion. I look at people now and wonder what they’re carrying silently. I listen more, judge less, and reach out to others who seem to be struggling. I’ve become someone who tries to create connection, even in small ways, because I know how life-saving that connection can be. Education is playing a central role in how I move forward. I plan to become a high school art teacher, not just because I love art, but because I believe classrooms can be places of healing. Art was one of the only things that helped me process my grief—giving shape to feelings I couldn’t explain. It gave me a way to honor what I’d lost and express what I still held inside. I want to create that same safe space for students, especially those who are grieving, hurting, or feeling invisible. My long-term goal is to open a community art center that provides free creative programs for youth dealing with mental health challenges, trauma, or loss. I want it to be a space where vulnerability is welcomed, where expression is celebrated, and where young people can rediscover their sense of worth and belonging. This loss taught me how fragile life is—but it also taught me how powerful love and presence can be. I carry the memory of who I lost with me, not as a weight, but as a reason to keep going. Through education, I will help others heal, express, and grow. That’s how I honor my grief—by transforming it into light for others.

I’ve always believed that teaching is about more than textbooks and test scores—it’s about making people feel seen, heard, and believed in. My decision to pursue a career as a teacher comes from a deep place in my heart, shaped not only by my experiences in school but also by the loss of a parent that changed my life forever. Losing a parent as a young person isn’t something you ever really “get over.” It reshapes you. For me, it forced me to grow up faster, to learn how to carry emotional weight while still showing up for school, managing responsibilities, and planning a future I sometimes wasn’t even sure I believed in. In the middle of my grief, school became both a challenge and a lifeline. Some days I felt like I was just going through the motions—but other days, one teacher’s kindness, a few words of encouragement, or a chance to create something in art class helped me breathe again. What I remember most from that time isn’t just the sadness, but the moments when I was lifted up by someone who cared. It was a handful of teachers who noticed when I was struggling, gave me space to express myself, and helped me believe I still had something to offer. They didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed. They just stood by me, and that made all the difference. That’s the kind of teacher I want to be. I’ve chosen to pursue a career in teaching because I want to give students the support and hope that helped me keep going. I want to be a steady, compassionate presence in the lives of young people who are carrying more than others can see. I want to teach art because it was through creativity that I was able to process my grief, find strength in expression, and begin healing. Art helped me rediscover joy and gave me a way to tell my story when words felt too hard. I want to create that space for others. Teaching, to me, is an act of service and love. It’s about showing up for your students, even on their worst days. It’s about believing in their potential, even when they doubt themselves. Losing a parent made me realize just how much a caring adult can impact a child’s life. I may not be able to take away their pain or fix everything they’re going through—but I can be the person who listens, who encourages, and who helps them build a future full of meaning. In the classroom, I hope to carry forward the same spirit of kindness, resilience, and purpose that helped me through my darkest moments. My loss taught me how powerful love and guidance can be. Teaching is how I will pass that power on.

My name is Rose Race, and I am honored to be considered for the Samuel D. Hartley Memorial Scholarship. I come from a low-income family and have faced many personal and academic obstacles on my journey to higher education, yet I’ve never let those barriers define or limit me. What has carried me forward is my commitment to hard work, my passion for helping others, and my belief that education can change lives—including mine. I’m currently a high school senior taking dual enrollment classes at my local community college, while also preparing to attend Arizona State University in the fall. I’ve maintained a strong academic record, ranking in the top 10 of my class, while managing a chronic illness—type 1 diabetes—that adds daily challenges to my routine. Despite this, I remain fiercely committed to my goals, pushing through the hard days with quiet determination. I believe that reflects the spirit of Samuel D. Hartley—a legacy of perseverance and purpose. What sets me apart is not just my academic drive but the way I’ve used my struggles to uplift others. As someone who once struggled with a speech impediment, I know how isolating it can be to feel unheard or underestimated. That experience taught me empathy, and now I go out of my way to support others who are facing their own silent battles—whether it's a classmate who’s falling behind, a peer dealing with mental health challenges, or someone who just needs to know they’re not alone. My dream is to become a high school art teacher. I want to create a classroom that feels like a safe space for students to express themselves and grow—academically, emotionally, and creatively. I plan to return to a community like the one I came from, where students are often overlooked and resources are scarce, and use my experience to help them see that their voices matter and their futures are bright. Eventually, I hope to open a community art space that offers free workshops and mentoring for young people navigating trauma, poverty, or lack of direction. Education and creativity saved me—I want to pass that gift on. The Samuel D. Hartley Memorial Scholarship would not only help relieve the financial burden of college for me and my family, but it would also be a meaningful affirmation that my resilience and goals are worth believing in. I have spent my life working hard, not just for myself, but for the chance to give back—to be the kind of teacher, mentor, and leader that I once needed. I will carry the legacy of this scholarship with pride, knowing that it represents not just financial support, but a belief in determination, service, and kindness—values that I strive to live out every day. Thank you for considering me.

Creating a legacy isn't just about leaving something behind—it's about planting seeds in others that continue to grow long after you're gone. My goal is to create a legacy rooted in education, creativity, and compassion. I want to empower young people, especially those from under-resourced communities like my own, to believe in their voices, their talents, and their worth. My future lies in education, but I also dream of building something beyond the classroom—a business that blends art, healing, and opportunity. One day, I hope to open a community art center that offers creative programs for teens and young adults, particularly those struggling with trauma, mental health, or economic hardship. It would be a space for workshops, open studios, mentorship, and exhibitions. Too often, young people are told that art isn’t practical or important. I want to change that narrative. My center would not only teach artistic skills but also provide real-world opportunities—scholarships, internships, portfolio support, and job pathways in creative industries. My inspiration for this business comes from my own journey. As a low-income student who has faced barriers—from being denied advanced programs despite my academic excellence, to managing type 1 diabetes while pursuing honors and college classes—I know how isolating it can be to feel like your circumstances limit your potential. Art was the outlet that helped me cope, grow, and connect. It gave me a voice when I struggled to speak. I want to give that same gift to others—especially students who, like me, are often overlooked. I believe we all have a light, and mine shines through resilience and empathy. Even in difficult moments, I try to lead with kindness, whether it’s helping a classmate through a tough day or supporting someone who's silently struggling. As someone who has overcome medical and social challenges, I know how powerful it is to simply be seen. That’s why I want to be the kind of educator and community leader who sees people fully, helps them rise, and reminds them of what they’re capable of. My light also shines through creativity. I express myself through drawing and painting, but also through my ideas—my vision for inclusive, healing-centered education, and my belief that creativity can transform lives. Whether I’m mentoring a younger student, collaborating on a mural, or helping someone apply to art school, I bring passion and purpose to everything I do. In the future, I hope my legacy will live in the students I teach and the artists I help uplift. I want to build a business that not only nurtures creativity but also changes the way we value it—as a force for personal growth, social impact, and collective healing. I don’t want to just make a living through art and teaching—I want to make a difference. That’s the light I hope to shine, and the legacy I’m determined to create.

Living with type 1 diabetes has taught me more about strength, discipline, and compassion than I ever expected to learn at a young age. It's a daily challenge that doesn’t take breaks. But it has also shaped me into someone who is fiercely determined and deeply empathetic—someone who pushes forward no matter how hard things get, and who reaches out a hand to others navigating their own struggles. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes during a pivotal time in my life—right when I was beginning to step into my identity and figure out who I wanted to be. Suddenly, my world became a whirlwind of blood sugar checks, insulin injections, and constant meal planning. I had to grow up fast. There were moments where I felt frustrated, even afraid—like when I’d wake up shaky in the middle of the night, or when I had to excuse myself from class to manage a high or low. But I learned to face these moments head-on. I refused to let diabetes control my future. One way I stayed fierce was by staying committed to my education and goals despite the extra burdens on my shoulders. I’m currently ranked in the top 10 of my high school class, all while taking college classes through dual enrollment. Even when I’ve had to attend class after a rough night managing blood sugar or push through a low during a test, I never let it stop me. I’ve learned to advocate for myself, speak up about my needs, and make room for my dreams alongside my diagnosis. But if diabetes has made me fierce, it has also made me kind. I understand what it feels like to be different, to struggle silently, or to feel like your challenges are invisible to others. That understanding drives me to treat people with patience, compassion, and dignity—because I know what it means to need a little grace. Whether I’m helping a younger student with their homework or just checking in on a classmate having a hard day, I try to lead with kindness, the same way I hope others would treat me. I plan to become a high school art teacher, and part of what draws me to that path is the chance to support students beyond academics. I want to be a safe space for students navigating their own challenges—medical, emotional, or personal. My experience with type 1 diabetes gives me a unique ability to relate to students who feel like they’re carrying something heavy on the inside while trying to hold it together on the outside. Carolyn was fierce and kind, and those are the qualities I strive to embody every day. I fight hard for what I care about—whether that’s my health, my education, or the students I’ll one day teach. But I also make space for others, knowing that strength isn’t just about pushing through—it’s also about lifting others up when they need it most.

My name is Rose Race, and I am pursuing a career in education with a focus on teaching art. To some, art might not seem like a trade in the traditional sense, but to me, it is one of the most powerful trades out there—a combination of craft, emotional intelligence, communication, and mentorship. I am passionate about becoming a teacher because I know firsthand how transformative education can be, especially for students who feel overlooked or underestimated. Art gave me a voice when I struggled to speak up. Now, I want to use that voice to empower others. Growing up in a low-income household, I faced many challenges that often made school feel more like a struggle than a sanctuary. But when I found art, I found a space where I could express emotions I couldn’t always articulate. Drawing and painting helped me through anxiety, grief, and self-doubt. When I was younger, I also had a speech impediment, and art became my earliest and most honest form of communication. A few of my teachers saw my potential and took the time to encourage me—and that made all the difference. I want to be that kind of teacher: someone who not only teaches a skill but also helps students believe in themselves. What makes teaching art special to me is that it’s more than just technique—it’s about helping students process their world and find their inner strength. I plan to become a high school art teacher in a public school, ideally in an underserved community. These are often the places where students have the fewest creative outlets, yet where creativity is needed the most. I want to create a classroom that serves as both a safe space and a launchpad—where students can explore their identities, gain confidence, and turn their ideas into something real. Giving back to my community is a central part of my future. I plan to start after-school programs focused on art and mental wellness, especially for students who are struggling with personal challenges, as I once did. I want to create mentorship opportunities for students interested in art careers and connect them with scholarships, internships, and local exhibitions. I also hope to partner with community centers and libraries to offer free weekend art workshops, making the arts more accessible to everyone—regardless of income. Beyond the classroom, I want to advocate for arts education on a larger scale. Too often, the arts are the first thing cut from school budgets, especially in low-income areas. I hope to use my voice to change that, proving that creativity is not a luxury—it’s essential. Art builds critical thinking, emotional resilience, and communication skills that students carry with them long after graduation. Ultimately, I’m passionate about this trade because I believe in its power to change lives. Teaching art is my way of giving back—not just to my community, but to the teachers who once believed in me. With their encouragement and my determination, I’ve found my path—and now, I’m ready to help others find theirs.

My drive to become a teacher didn’t start with a single moment—it grew from a series of quiet experiences that shaped how I saw myself and the world. I grew up in a low-income household where access to opportunity wasn’t guaranteed. There were no private tutors, no expensive extracurriculars, and no shortcuts. But what I did have was a deep love of learning, a sketchbook that never left my side, and a handful of teachers who saw potential in me when I didn’t see it in myself. That belief they placed in me planted the seed of a dream: one day, I wanted to become the kind of teacher who changes lives the way mine were changed. In middle school, I struggled with a speech impediment that made me afraid to speak in front of others. I stayed silent even when I knew the answer or had something to say. It made me feel invisible. But art gave me a voice before I had the courage to use my actual one. I began drawing to express emotions I couldn’t put into words, and one art teacher in particular noticed. She encouraged me to enter my first school art contest. When I won, it wasn’t just about the recognition—it was the first time I felt seen for my strengths instead of my limitations. That one act of encouragement gave me the confidence to keep going. As I advanced through high school, I began to realize how much teachers shape their students—not just academically, but emotionally and socially. I saw the difference between teachers who simply delivered information and those who truly connected with their students. I started to reflect on how the most meaningful teachers in my life had all done one thing in common: they made me feel like I mattered. That’s the kind of teacher I aspire to be—someone who doesn’t just teach, but uplifts. My drive also comes from the inequities I’ve experienced. Despite being ranked 9th in my graduating class, I was denied access to a dual-degree program that prioritized male students. That injustice hurt, but it lit a fire in me. I pursued community college classes on my own, determined to prove that I belonged. I want to become a teacher who advocates for equity in education, who pushes back when the system fails to recognize a student’s worth. Looking ahead, I plan to teach high school art in underserved communities. I want to use creativity as a tool for self-expression and healing, especially for students who feel like their voices don’t matter. I want my classroom to be a place where students feel safe to explore who they are, make mistakes, and grow. I know from experience that art can change a student’s confidence, identity, and path—and I want to help others find that power in themselves. My drive to teach comes from every moment I felt overlooked—and every teacher who refused to overlook me. It comes from my belief that education is about more than tests and grades; it’s about dignity, growth, and purpose. And I’m ready to dedicate my life to helping students discover those things for themselves.

My name is Rose Race, and I am a high school senior currently enrolled in community college courses, preparing to attend Arizona State University this fall. I come from a low-income family and have worked hard to overcome the limitations of my circumstances. While I’ve always had a deep love for art and education, I’ve also developed a strong calling to serve my country—a calling rooted in discipline, purpose, and the desire to give back to a nation that has offered me opportunities despite hardship. Choosing a military career path is not a decision I made lightly. I’ve spent time thinking critically about how I want to impact the world, and what I’ve realized is that service, structure, and leadership all align with who I am and what I value. The military offers not only a pathway to build my character, but also the chance to serve something bigger than myself. It demands resilience, teamwork, and sacrifice—qualities I’ve been cultivating throughout my life. I’m drawn to the way the military shapes individuals into leaders, and I want to be part of that legacy. My interest in a military career was encouraged by my participation in JROTC. Through it, I’ve learned discipline, responsibility, and the importance of community service. The program gave me the structure I needed and showed me how much I thrive in leadership environments. I’ve held positions that challenged me to support others, follow through on responsibilities, and remain calm and focused under pressure. The sense of camaraderie and shared mission I experienced in JROTC only strengthened my resolve to pursue military service as a long-term career. Outside of JROTC, I’ve participated in several organizations that further prepare me for service to my country. I’ve been a leader in school art programs and student-led events, helping organize community outreach projects such as youth workshops and school beautification initiatives. These experiences taught me how to work with others from diverse backgrounds and lead with empathy. I’ve also taken part in volunteer programs that support underserved children, helping them with reading and creative expression—reinforcing my belief in giving back and serving others. My academic journey has also required a great deal of discipline. I’ve maintained strong grades while taking college courses during high school, and I ranked 9th in a class of 181 students. Despite being denied entry into a competitive dual-degree program due to systemic bias, I refused to let that stop me. I pursued college credits independently, determined to prove myself. That kind of resilience is exactly what I plan to bring with me into the military. Ultimately, I want to be part of a force that protects and uplifts our nation. Whether I’m called to serve on the front lines or provide support from behind the scenes, I know that every role in the military contributes to something meaningful. I am committed to growing into a strong, reliable leader who can serve with integrity, discipline, and compassion. This scholarship would ease the financial strain of higher education and allow me to pursue both academic excellence and military service with full focus and dedication.

I didn’t always know I wanted to be a teacher. For a long time, I just knew I wanted to be heard, to be seen, and to matter. Growing up in a low-income household, I often felt like my voice didn’t carry very far. I was shy, struggled with a speech impediment, and never quite fit into the mold that schools expected. But somewhere along the way—between the quiet hours I spent sketching in my notebook and the moments when a teacher believed in me—I discovered that education had the power to transform not just minds, but lives. That’s when I knew I wanted to become a teacher—not just to share knowledge, but to empower others to find their voices, too. The person who inspired me most was my middle school art teacher. She wasn’t flashy or particularly strict, but she noticed me. She encouraged my ideas, celebrated my creativity, and gave me a space where I felt safe to express myself without judgment. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was doing something more powerful than teaching technique—she was teaching me to believe in myself. When I turned in a drawing of a broken tree regrowing its branches, she didn’t just grade it—she asked me what it meant. That small act—treating my work like it mattered—made me feel seen in a way I never had before. That moment, and many more like it, showed me what kind of teacher I wanted to become: one who listens, encourages, and helps students grow from wherever they’re starting. I’ve experienced firsthand how students from underserved backgrounds often face invisible barriers—economic instability, discrimination, or simply a lack of support systems. I ranked 9th in my graduating class, yet I was denied access to an AA-degree program that prioritized male students over equally or better-qualified females. That experience was disheartening, but it opened my eyes to how inequality can be woven into even well-intentioned educational systems. Rather than give up, I chose to enroll in community college courses on my own. I knew that if I wanted to create change, I had to start by changing the path in front of me. That sense of injustice is part of what motivates me now. I plan to use my experiences to become a teacher who advocates for equity in education—someone who ensures that no student is left behind just because they’re quiet, female, poor, or come from a background that’s often overlooked. I want to build a classroom that’s inclusive, where creativity is honored, and where students feel confident to take risks and make mistakes. In my future classroom, I won’t just teach art—I’ll teach resilience, reflection, and voice. I’ll encourage students to use their art to explore who they are and what matters to them. I’ll help them process emotions, build self-confidence, and learn how to communicate powerfully through visuals. I know what it feels like to be silenced and ignored, and I want to make sure my students feel the exact opposite. Beyond the classroom, I plan to contribute to curriculum development that integrates social-emotional learning into the arts. I want to create after-school programs for students who need a creative outlet but may not have access to one at home. And I hope to mentor students who remind me of myself—introverted, uncertain, but full of potential. My background has also taught me to be resourceful and compassionate. I’ve had to learn how to balance school with work, support my family, and take initiative when support wasn’t always there. These are the lessons I’ll carry with me into teaching. I know how to meet students where they are, because I’ve been there myself. I know what it means to teach with empathy, because I’ve needed that empathy from others. Art saved me in many ways. It gave me a voice when I had none, confidence when I felt invisible, and hope when life was overwhelming. I want to give those same gifts to my students. Whether I’m helping a teenager paint through their anxiety, write about their identity, or find beauty in their own struggle, I want to remind them that they matter—and that they have the power to shape their future. Teaching isn’t just a job to me—it’s my purpose. I’ve seen what happens when students are denied opportunity, and I’ve seen what happens when just one teacher chooses to believe in them. I plan to be that teacher. And with support from this scholarship, I’ll be able to continue my education, refine my skills, and start building the kind of classroom that can truly change lives. Thank you for considering my story.

Books have always been a source of strength and clarity in my life. Growing up in a low-income household with limited resources, I turned to stories for hope, guidance, and escape. One of the most influential books I’ve read is The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls. Her story of surviving poverty and finding success through resilience helped me see my own circumstances differently. It taught me that hardship does not define worth—and that struggle can build strength. Reading memoirs and novels about overcoming adversity has shaped my goal to become a high school art teacher who empowers students from underserved backgrounds to believe in themselves, even when the world underestimates them. My name is Rose Race. I’m a high school senior currently enrolled in community college courses, and I’ll be attending Arizona State University this fall. I come from a low-income white family and have experienced the challenges that come with financial instability and systemic inequity. At one point, I was denied entry into a dual-degree program that prioritized male students, even though I ranked 9th out of 181 in my class. That experience was frustrating and disheartening, but it fueled my drive to succeed even more. I learned that systems don’t always work fairly, but that persistence, self-advocacy, and belief in your own potential are powerful tools. Failure has been part of my journey. There was a time in middle school when I struggled to speak in class due to a speech impediment. I often stayed quiet, letting others assume I had nothing to say. But I worked hard in speech therapy, practiced leadership in small groups, and used art as a way to express myself until I had the confidence to speak up. That failure to communicate didn’t define me—it became a lesson in growth and perseverance. Now, I’m known as someone who encourages others and leads with empathy. Mentorship has also been life-changing for me. A community college professor took the time to help me refine my art and my writing, giving me honest feedback while reminding me of my strengths. Her encouragement helped me see myself not just as a student, but as someone capable of inspiring others. I hope to be that kind of mentor to future students—especially those who feel overlooked like I once did. What makes me unique is how I’ve used my creativity not only to cope, but to connect. I’ve led art workshops for younger students, helped organize school art shows, and spoken out about educational equity. I want to build inclusive classrooms where every student feels seen and supported—no matter their background. Education changed my life, and I want to use it to change others' lives too. This scholarship would help me continue my education without the constant pressure of financial stress. More importantly, it would help me become a teacher who builds not just artists, but confident, compassionate young people ready to shape the world around them.

Furthering my education is more than just a personal goal—it’s a promise to myself and to the people I hope to help in the future. Coming from a low-income household, I’ve seen how limited opportunities can become generational cycles. I’ve also seen how education can be a lifeline—something that opens doors, builds confidence, and empowers people to rewrite their story. For me, continuing my education at Arizona State University is not just about earning a degree—it’s about creating a life of purpose and using what I’ve learned to lift others up, especially young people like myself who have felt overlooked or underestimated. Throughout my life, art has been a safe space. When I couldn’t find the words to explain how I was feeling, I turned to drawing, painting, and designing. In many ways, art became my emotional language—something I could turn to when things felt unstable or overwhelming. It helped me stay grounded during periods of financial stress, academic pressure, and even personal isolation. As a child, I was shy and struggled with a speech impediment, which made it difficult to connect with others. Art helped bridge that gap and gave me the confidence to express myself when words failed. It taught me patience, self-reflection, and resilience—skills that I carry with me in every part of my life. In high school, I faced many barriers—some from the outside world, and some from within. I was denied entry into an AA-earning program that favored male students, even though I ranked 9th out of 181 in my class. That injustice made me feel like my hard work didn’t matter. But instead of letting it defeat me, I turned to my sketchbook and poured my frustration into creativity. I also channeled my energy into dual enrollment college classes, determined to prove that I belonged in higher education. Art gave me an outlet to process the hurt and the courage to keep moving forward. While crime hasn’t directly impacted my studies, I’ve lived in a community where safety wasn’t always guaranteed. I’ve had friends whose families were torn apart by violence, incarceration, or addiction, and I’ve seen how those experiences can derail someone’s future. These realities have only deepened my commitment to education and to becoming the kind of teacher who creates a stable, supportive environment for students who face daily struggles. I want to become a high school art teacher not just to teach technique, but to create a space where students can grow, heal, and find their voice. I believe in the power of creativity to transform lives because it transformed mine. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education without being held back by financial strain—and help me pass on the strength and hope that art has given me.

Growing up in a low-income community, I’ve learned that environmental issues don’t affect all people equally. When I was in middle school, a severe winter storm hit our region, causing flash floods that damaged homes and roads across our town. My family, like many others in our neighborhood, was unprepared. Our house sat near a dry wash that quickly turned into a rushing river. Overnight, it flooded our yard and seeped into our home. We lost furniture, appliances, and months of stability. We didn’t have flood insurance, and recovery wasn’t easy. I saw neighbors displaced, schools close, and families struggle to access emergency aid. It was the first time I truly understood how devastating natural disasters could be—especially for low-income communities. That event left a deep impression on me. As I got older, I started to view the flooding not just as a one-time disaster but as a symptom of deeper issues—urban planning failures, lack of public infrastructure, and unequal access to resources. I began researching how different communities manage flood risk and discovered the growing field of floodplain management. It fascinated me how science, policy, and community collaboration could come together to prevent future disasters. I realized that flood management isn’t just about levees and drainage—it’s about protecting people, preserving ecosystems, and creating equity. This experience influenced my academic path. Though my primary interest lies in education and art, I’ve become increasingly passionate about the intersection of environmental justice and community awareness. In my future career as a high school teacher, I plan to integrate flood education, environmental literacy, and sustainability projects into my classroom—especially for students in communities like mine that are vulnerable to climate change. I believe the first step in building resilience is knowledge, and young people can be powerful change-makers when they’re informed and engaged. I also bring a unique perspective to this field as someone who has lived through a flood with limited resources. I understand firsthand how essential communication, planning, and community trust are in disaster response. I’m a strong communicator, a creative problem-solver, and someone who values collaboration. These qualities will allow me to contribute meaningfully to public outreach, educational programming, and policy advocacy that centers on equity. Ultimately, I want to help shape a future where no family is caught off guard the way mine was. Whether through teaching, community workshops, or collaboration with local governments, I hope to empower the next generation to better understand and manage flood risk. Resilience begins with people, and I’m committed to being one of those people who helps build it. Thank you for considering my application.

My name is Rose Race, and I am a determined, creative, and hardworking student who comes from a low-income background. I am currently a high school senior taking college courses through a dual enrollment program, and this fall, I will attend Arizona State University. While my journey has been filled with obstacles—both financial and social—these experiences have shaped my purpose: to become an art teacher who empowers young people to find their voice, build confidence, and realize their potential through creative expression. Growing up in a low-income household, I quickly learned how economic hardship can impact not just what you have—but how you see yourself. While I always did well in school, I often felt unseen. I was even denied access to a program designed to help students earn an AA degree, not because of my grades (I ranked 9th out of 181 students), but because the program disproportionately favored male students. That moment was both frustrating and eye-opening. It made me realize how systems, even well-meaning ones, can overlook capable students based on gender, income, or other biases. Instead of letting this hold me back, I pushed forward. I enrolled in community college classes, challenged myself academically, and discovered a passion for teaching and advocacy. Through my studies, I became more aware of how art and education can uplift students who might otherwise feel ignored or excluded. I want to use my experience to help build classrooms that are more inclusive, creative, and emotionally supportive—especially for children growing up in disadvantaged communities. My future goal is to become a high school art teacher who not only teaches technique but also builds self-worth and resilience in her students. I want to support students who feel left out, who struggle to be heard, and who need someone to believe in them. I also plan to advocate for equity in education, especially when it comes to opportunities for girls and students from low-income backgrounds. I hope to one day help shape educational policies that give all students—regardless of where they come from—access to quality programs and support systems. This scholarship would make a tremendous difference in my life. It would relieve the financial burden of college and allow me to focus more on my studies and community involvement. But more importantly, it would be an investment in someone who is deeply committed to giving back. I believe in the power of education to change lives because it changed mine—and I want to pass that on.

From a young age, I found comfort and expression through art, especially during times when words felt hard to come by. Now, as I prepare to attend Arizona State University and pursue a degree in education, I’ve realized that my passion for art and my desire to help others can come together in a powerful way—by supporting early childhood development through creativity, compassion, and inclusive learning. I plan to support early childhood development by becoming an art teacher who fosters safe, nurturing, and emotionally supportive environments for young children. I want to create a classroom that does more than just teach—it will offer children a space where they feel seen, heard, and valued. Art is a vital tool for self-expression, especially for children who may not yet have the vocabulary to explain their emotions. Through creative activities, I will help children develop confidence, communication skills, problem-solving abilities, and emotional awareness—all of which are crucial in the early stages of development. What led me to this path was a combination of personal experience and academic exposure. Growing up in a low-income household, I witnessed the long-term impact of stress and instability on child development—not just in my own life, but in the lives of those around me. I often felt overlooked in school, despite excelling academically. I was denied entry into a dual AA-degree program that favored male students, even though I was ranked 9th out of 181 students in my class. That experience taught me how systems can unintentionally harm children by not seeing their full potential or needs. At the same time, I found strength through creativity and encouragement from a few teachers who recognized my abilities. Their support showed me the difference one educator can make. I want to be that kind of teacher—especially for children who are growing up without much emotional or academic support. In college, I plan to study childhood psychology and art education to better understand how young minds grow and how creativity plays a role in healthy development. I also want to explore trauma-informed teaching methods, because so many children today are affected by poverty, instability, and stress. My long-term goal is to work in public schools that serve underserved communities, ensuring that every child—not just the privileged few—has access to a strong, emotionally supportive early education. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial strain of pursuing higher education, but it would also empower me to reach more children with care, creativity, and dedication. I believe that if we want to build a better future, we must start by giving every child the tools to grow with confidence, curiosity, and compassion.

My name is Rose Race, and I am a low-income white student currently finishing high school while also taking community college classes through a dual enrollment program. This fall, I will be attending Arizona State University. My journey has not always been easy, but it has shaped me into someone who is determined, resilient, and committed to giving back to others who feel overlooked or underestimated—just as I have. Growing up in a low-income family, I’ve witnessed firsthand how financial hardship can affect every part of life—from access to education and healthcare, to mental health, to the simple ability to dream big. Despite the challenges, I’ve worked hard to maintain strong academic performance. I currently rank in the top 5% of my graduating class, and I’ve taken college courses in subjects like English and psychology to push myself further. These opportunities have helped me discover a love for learning and a passion for helping others, especially students who are navigating the same struggles I’ve faced. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that support systems matter. My family, though limited in financial resources, has always encouraged me to pursue my goals. My teachers and a few key mentors have also believed in me when I doubted myself. These relationships have not only kept me going—they’ve shown me the power of encouragement, understanding, and representation. As someone who was once left out of programs that prioritized others despite my academic record, I know how it feels to be passed over. I want to be someone who sees and supports those students who are often ignored. This scholarship would relieve a financial burden and help me continue on my educational path without having to constantly worry about whether I can afford books, tuition, or even transportation. But more importantly, it would be an investment in someone who plans to use her education to give back. I hope to become a high school art teacher who works in underserved communities, creating a safe, expressive space for students to grow—not just academically, but emotionally and creatively. I want to help young people find confidence in their voice and their ideas, just as I have found mine. Receiving this scholarship would help me turn my dreams into reality. It would allow me to stay focused on my studies and my goals, and ultimately, to make a lasting difference in the lives of others who, like me, just need someone to believe in them.

My name is Duice Robinson, and I am a high school senior from a low-income community in Southern California. I am also a dual enrollment student, currently taking college-level courses at my local community college. This fall, I will be attending Arizona State University, where I plan to major in sociology with the goal of one day becoming a youth counselor or social worker. My life experiences have shaped my passion for education, equity, and community service—and I am applying for this scholarship because it would help me continue on a path dedicated to creating meaningful change. Growing up as a young Black man in a system that often overlooks students like me, I’ve faced more than my fair share of challenges—academic, financial, and social. At times, I’ve been underestimated, stereotyped, or even dismissed. But rather than letting those experiences define me, I’ve used them as motivation. I've committed myself to proving that where I come from doesn’t limit where I can go. Through hard work, I’ve maintained strong academic standing while also participating in community and school programs, including tutoring younger students, volunteering at food drives, and being part of my school’s leadership team. I believe I should be selected for this scholarship not just because of what I’ve overcome, but because of what I plan to give back. I am deeply passionate about helping young people who feel like no one is in their corner—because I know exactly how that feels. My dream is to work in underserved communities, offering support, guidance, and mentorship to youth who face the same barriers I’ve had to push through. I want to show them that someone believes in them, that their dreams are valid, and that their voices matter. In college, I plan to continue building leadership skills and staying involved in service-based organizations. I want to be a part of programs that focus on mental health, educational access, and racial equity. Long term, I envision starting a nonprofit that focuses on empowering young men of color through mentorship, mental health resources, and college readiness programs. Receiving this scholarship would not only help me afford tuition and supplies—it would also affirm that the effort I’ve put in matters. More importantly, it would be an investment in someone who’s committed to paying it forward. I am not just pursuing a degree for myself. I’m doing it for my family, my community, and every young person who feels like the odds are stacked against them.

**Why I Enjoy Playing Golf and the Challenges I’ve Overcome as a Female Golfer** Golf is more than just a sport to me—it’s a sanctuary, a test of patience, and a constant journey of self-improvement. I enjoy playing golf because it requires a unique combination of mental strength, strategic thinking, and technical skill. There’s nothing quite like the quiet intensity of lining up a perfect shot or the satisfaction of watching a drive soar down the fairway. On the course, I find a deep sense of calm and focus that I rarely experience anywhere else. It’s a place where I can clear my mind, challenge myself, and enjoy the beauty of the outdoors. What makes golf special is that it’s not about brute strength or flashy moves—it’s about precision, consistency, and resilience. I love how each hole brings a new set of obstacles and decisions. No round is ever the same, and that unpredictability keeps the game fresh. Golf has taught me valuable lessons in patience and perseverance. Even on tough days, I’ve learned how to reset mentally, focus on the next shot, and keep pushing forward. However, my journey as a female golfer hasn’t been without its challenges. One of the biggest obstacles I’ve faced is being underestimated or overlooked simply because I’m a girl. I’ve had moments where I walked onto the driving range and received skeptical looks, or where people assumed I couldn’t hit as far or play as competitively as the boys. At times, it felt like I had to prove my worth just to be seen as equal. This constant pressure to "prove myself" was exhausting but ultimately made me stronger. Another challenge has been access and representation. In many golf programs and tournaments, there’s still a noticeable gender gap. Equipment, coaching, and even team opportunities are sometimes geared more toward male players. I’ve had to advocate for equal practice time and fair treatment, especially when resources were limited or biased. While these experiences were frustrating, they helped me grow more confident in speaking up for myself and for other girls who love the game. Balancing golf with school and other responsibilities has also required discipline. Unlike some sports with fixed schedules, golf demands hours of independent practice and focus. It’s not easy waking up early to train or staying after school to practice while juggling assignments, but the drive to get better kept me going. That determination paid off in my personal growth, both on and off the course. Despite these obstacles, I’ve never let them stop me. In fact, they’ve deepened my love for golf. They’ve taught me grit, leadership, and self-belief. Today, I play with pride—not just for myself, but for every young girl who dreams of succeeding in a sport that isn’t always welcoming. I hope to be part of the change that makes golf more inclusive and inspiring for the next generation.

My further education will provide me with the knowledge, experience, and resources I need to make a lasting, positive impact in the world—especially in the communities I care most about. As someone who comes from a low-income background and has faced barriers to opportunity, I know firsthand how access to education can change lives. By continuing my studies, I aim to turn my experiences into fuel for advocacy, creativity, and leadership in ways that uplift others like me. Attending college is not just a personal achievement—it’s a doorway to becoming a more effective changemaker. Higher education will expose me to diverse perspectives and teach me how to analyze issues through social, historical, and cultural lenses. This will strengthen my ability to recognize injustice, understand root causes, and collaborate on meaningful solutions. Whether through academic research, community programs, or art, I will be better equipped to address the unique challenges faced by underserved populations, especially youth. My goal is to become a high school art teacher. This role means much more to me than teaching students how to draw or paint. It’s about encouraging self-expression, building confidence, and giving students a safe space to explore who they are. I know how important this kind of support can be because I didn't always have it growing up. I want to be the kind of educator who listens, uplifts, and inspires students to believe in their voices, especially those who have been silenced, overlooked, or underestimated. College will help me develop the professional skills and credentials I need to teach, but it will also deepen my understanding of the education system and its inequalities. I hope to advocate for reforms that make schools more inclusive and accessible, particularly for students from marginalized communities. I want to help create classrooms where everyone feels seen and valued, no matter their background or ability. In addition to teaching, I also plan to continue using my art as a tool for community engagement and storytelling. Art can challenge ideas, spark conversations, and bring people together in powerful ways. Through public projects, exhibitions, or collaborations, I hope to make art that reflects the struggles and hopes of my community—and invites others to take action. Ultimately, furthering my education is not just a path to a career—it’s part of my larger purpose. I want to use what I learn to give back, lift others up, and help build a more just and compassionate world. My success will not be measured just by degrees or job titles, but by the lives I help shape and the positive change I contribute to.

How do you plan to use your degree and personal experiences to impact positive change for others? I plan to use my degree and personal experiences to uplift underserved communities, especially youth who feel invisible or discouraged in traditional education systems. As a future art educator, I want to create classrooms that value every student's voice, creativity, and potential—spaces where young people feel safe enough to express themselves and strong enough to shape their futures. Growing up in a low-income household, I saw firsthand how financial struggles and social biases can hold people back. I also experienced what it's like to be overlooked because of gender, even when I worked hard and achieved more than what was expected. In high school, I was denied access to an early college program that could have let me earn an associate degree before graduating—despite being ranked in the top 10 of my class. The program prioritized male students, and that unfair treatment showed me how deeply inequality can be rooted, even in systems meant to help students grow. Rather than let that experience discourage me, it motivated me. I enrolled in community college courses on my own and committed myself to succeeding. Through that process, I learned how powerful education can be—not just as a path to a career, but as a way to reclaim your story, define your identity, and spark change for others. Now, as I prepare to attend Arizona State University, I’m more determined than ever to be a role model and mentor to young people who are still learning to believe in themselves. My goal is to teach high school art in a way that goes beyond the canvas. I want to use art to explore culture, identity, and social justice, helping students see their experiences as valuable and their voices as tools for change. Art is powerful because it lets people speak when words are hard to find. For students who’ve faced trauma, poverty, discrimination, or exclusion, it can be a lifeline—a way to process pain and imagine something better. I also hope to create programs outside the classroom that offer creative outlets and leadership opportunities for students from underserved communities. These might include after-school clubs, community mural projects, or student exhibitions centered on real-world issues. By giving young people a platform to express themselves and be recognized, we help build their confidence and agency. In short, I plan to use my degree to do more than teach—I want to heal, inspire, and empower. My personal challenges have shown me the difference one caring adult can make, and I plan to be that person for as many students as I can. Education helped me find my strength, and now I want to pass that strength on to others.

Growing up as a girl in a world where boys are often given more recognition in sports, school programs, and even leadership opportunities, I quickly realized I had to work twice as hard to be seen and respected. Being involved in sports while juggling school and life has taught me how to stand my ground, trust my abilities, and fight for the space I deserve—not just in the game, but in life. Being an athlete requires strength, endurance, discipline, and confidence—traits that society often attributes to men. But as a female athlete, I’ve learned that these qualities aren’t tied to gender. On the field or court, I’ve pushed my limits, learned from failure, and celebrated victories that I earned with sweat and perseverance. Competing in sports showed me that I’m capable of far more than the world sometimes expects of me. Balancing sports with academics and personal responsibilities forced me to develop time management skills early on. While some of my male classmates may have been praised simply for showing up, I had to constantly prove myself—not just as an athlete, but as a student and as a young woman. I’ve stayed up late studying after practice, gone to class tired but determined, and still managed to support my family and friends through challenges. That kind of balancing act has built my resilience. It’s helped me find power in my voice, even when it shakes. More importantly, being a female in sports has given me a sense of community with other strong women. Together, we’ve challenged outdated ideas that girls aren’t as tough or committed. We’ve shown that we can lead, win, and inspire just as fiercely as any boy. Whether it was facing sexist comments, being denied equal resources, or having to justify our place on a team, I’ve learned not to back down. Every challenge has made me mentally tougher, emotionally wiser, and more determined to break barriers for the girls who come after me. In a male-dominated world, people sometimes assume that girls should stay quiet, be modest, or not demand too much. But through sports and school, I’ve found my strength in proving them wrong. I’ve learned to speak up, push through bias, and take pride in every hard-earned achievement. The determination I built on the field carries over into every part of my life—whether it's raising my hand in class, applying for leadership roles, or simply walking into a room knowing I belong. Being a strong female today means showing up, working hard, and lifting others as you rise. My journey through sports and school has shaped me into someone who doesn’t just ask for equality—I expect it, and I work for it. And I know now that strength isn’t about overpowering others—it’s about knowing your worth and never letting anyone take it from you.

If I could change anything in education, it would be to embed equity into the foundation of every classroom—ensuring that every child, regardless of race, income, language, or ability, has access to the same quality of education, resources, and opportunities. Education should be the great equalizer, but in reality, it often deepens existing inequalities. By reforming how we fund schools, how we train teachers, and how we assess learning, we can create a system that serves all students with dignity and fairness. Growing up in a low-income community, I saw firsthand how unequal schools could be. My public school struggled with outdated textbooks, overcrowded classrooms, and a lack of consistent teachers. We had passionate educators, but they were exhausted and under-resourced. Meanwhile, only a few miles away, schools in wealthier neighborhoods had pristine facilities, advanced technology, and enough counselors to provide individual support. These disparities are not just unfair—they’re systemic barriers that shape life outcomes. The first area that desperately needs change is how schools are funded. In many parts of the United States, schools are funded primarily through local property taxes, which means wealthy neighborhoods get more funding while poorer areas are left behind. This system punishes students for where they happen to live. To change this, we need a national or state-based funding model that distributes money based on student need rather than property wealth. Every child should have access to safe buildings, nutritious meals, libraries, and extracurriculars—not just those in high-income ZIP codes. Second, we need to change how we support teachers. Teachers are the backbone of education, yet they are often undervalued and underpaid. Many leave the profession due to burnout, particularly in high-need schools. We should invest in teacher preparation programs that emphasize cultural competency, trauma-informed care, and differentiated instruction so that teachers are equipped to meet the diverse needs of their students. Ongoing mentorship and professional development should be standard, and salaries should reflect the critical role teachers play in society. If we want students to succeed, we must empower those who guide them. Third, the way we assess learning should reflect the full range of student abilities—not just how well they perform on standardized tests. High-stakes testing can marginalize students who don't test well, especially English language learners, students with disabilities, and those from under-resourced schools. Instead of focusing so heavily on test scores, we should use portfolios, project-based assessments, and performance tasks that allow students to demonstrate critical thinking, creativity, and collaboration. These are the skills that matter in the real world, and they provide a more accurate picture of what students can do. Beyond academics, schools should also nurture the social-emotional health of students. Mental health support, restorative justice practices, and community-building activities should be embedded into the school day. Too often, students from marginalized backgrounds face additional stressors—housing instability, food insecurity, discrimination—that affect their ability to learn. Schools can be a refuge, a place of stability, if we prioritize wellness alongside curriculum. Technology also has a role to play, but it should be used as a tool for access, not a substitute for good teaching. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the digital divide became painfully clear. Many students lacked laptops or reliable internet, and entire communities were left behind. Moving forward, we must ensure every student has access to the tools they need to learn both in and out of the classroom. This includes not only devices and connectivity but also digital literacy education, so students can safely and effectively engage with technology. If we truly want an equitable education system, we also need to listen to students and families. Too often, decisions are made without consulting the people most affected. When students are treated as passive recipients instead of active participants, their voices are lost. Schools should build structures where student feedback, family engagement, and community partnerships are part of everyday decision-making. Education doesn’t happen in a vacuum—it thrives when schools are connected to the communities they serve. Ultimately, changing education means reimagining it. It means moving from a one-size-fits-all system to one that recognizes and celebrates differences. It means seeing education not just as a pathway to a job, but as a foundation for citizenship, identity, and lifelong learning. It means refusing to accept that a child’s potential can be measured by a test score or determined by their zip code. I want to work in education because I believe every student deserves a teacher who sees them, challenges them, and believes in their ability to succeed. But one great teacher is not enough. We need systems that lift students up instead of holding them back. If I could change anything in education, I would change everything that makes it unjust. And I would start by making equity not a buzzword, but a promise—one that we keep, for every child.

Balancing academics and athletics has shaped me into a disciplined, resilient, and goal-driven individual. As a student-athlete, I’ve learned to manage my time, push through challenges, and support others—both on the golf course and in the classroom. Even though golf is often seen as an individual sport, my experience has been deeply rooted in teamwork, shared goals, and mutual support. At the same time, I’ve maintained all A’s throughout high school and currently rank in the top 10 of my class, proving that my dedication goes far beyond the course. Golf has taught me patience and mental resilience like no other activity. Every round presents new challenges—whether it's weather conditions, a bad swing, or staying focused after a rough hole. I’ve learned not to let mistakes define me. Instead, I analyze them, make adjustments, and keep moving forward. That same mindset helps me in school when a concept is hard to grasp or when assignments pile up. I don’t give up or make excuses—I problem-solve and push through. As part of my high school golf team, I’ve seen how essential teamwork is, even in an individual sport. We cheer each other on, offer advice, and celebrate wins together. Our team culture is built on mutual respect, accountability, and encouragement. I’ve often helped newer players improve their technique and build confidence. That leadership has helped me grow, not just as a player, but as a person who values mentorship and collaboration. In the classroom, I apply the same work ethic. I treat my education like training—I set goals, prepare thoroughly, and strive for consistent performance. There have been times when I had tournaments far from home, but I always communicated with my teachers, kept up with assignments, and studied during long car rides. Sacrificing sleep or free time to stay on top of both academics and athletics wasn’t always easy, but it taught me discipline and self-motivation. What drives me most is the desire to make the most of the opportunities I’ve earned. Coming from a background where I’ve had to work extra hard to be seen and succeed, I don’t take anything for granted. I know I have to be twice as prepared and twice as focused. Being a student-athlete has allowed me to prove—to myself and others—that I can excel in more than one arena. Looking back, I’m proud of the way I’ve managed my responsibilities. I’ve shown that you don’t have to choose between being a serious athlete and a top student. You can be both, if you’re willing to put in the work. My experiences in golf and school have shaped me into someone who values effort, persistence, and the power of lifting others up. These qualities will continue to guide me as I move on to college and beyond.

Empowering women and advancing gender equality is more than a mission—it is a necessity for building a just, equitable, and sustainable world. My dedication to this cause stems from both personal experiences and a broader understanding of systemic inequality. As a young woman navigating societal expectations, I have witnessed firsthand how deeply rooted gender norms restrict potential, silence voices, and limit opportunities. This has fueled my commitment to helping dismantle those barriers, not only for myself but for all women, particularly those from underserved and marginalized communities. My passion for women’s empowerment was sparked early on by watching the women in my family struggle under the weight of unpaid labor, economic dependence, and social limitations, despite their intelligence, strength, and perseverance. I realized that their lack of opportunities was not due to a lack of ability, but rather the result of systems designed without their inclusion in mind. This awareness led me to seek out feminist literature, global advocacy work, and educational spaces where I could learn how to turn empathy into action. I believe that when women are empowered—through education, economic opportunity, legal protection, and leadership roles—entire societies thrive. Educated women invest in their families and communities, healthier children are born, and poverty cycles are broken. These are not just statistics to me; they are a vision of the future I want to help create. That is why I have made it my life’s goal to advocate for gender equity and to elevate women’s voices in every space I occupy. My career goal is to become a leader in public policy or international development, where I can influence systems and shape policies that promote equity. I plan to earn a degree in political science or public policy, followed by a master’s in gender and development studies. My ultimate aim is to work with organizations like UN Women, the World Bank, or grassroots NGOs that are directly involved in empowering women around the world. I am particularly interested in reforming education policies, increasing access to reproductive health services, and strengthening legal protections against gender-based violence. To make a difference, I believe in combining both advocacy and action. Policy reform is critical, but so is the work of building awareness, mentoring younger women, and creating safe and inclusive environments where women can lead. I plan to launch initiatives focused on mentorship and leadership training for girls and young women, especially in low-income and rural communities. By fostering confidence, skills, and access to resources, I want to help the next generation of women see themselves as agents of change. Additionally, I am committed to amplifying underrepresented voices. True empowerment must include all women—regardless of race, class, sexual orientation, ability, or background. Intersectionality is not a buzzword; it is a framework that must guide every decision, every policy, and every program we put in place. In every aspect of my life, I strive to lead with compassion, courage, and a deep belief in the power of collective action. Empowering women is not a one-person task, nor does it come with easy answers. But I am committed to the long road ahead—through education, advocacy, policy change, and community building—because I know the difference it can make. By dedicating my life to this cause, I hope not only to break down the barriers that women face, but also to help build a world where equality is not an aspiration, but a lived reality.

Education, the arts, and cultural literacy have always been powerful forces in my life, shaping my identity and empowering me to overcome personal and systemic barriers. As someone who grew up in a low-income household with limited access to enriching educational resources, I understand how crucial it is to have opportunities that nurture creativity, critical thinking, and cultural understanding. These are not luxuries—they are necessities. They are the tools that allow young people to find their voices, challenge injustices, and imagine better futures for themselves and their communities. My passion for education was born out of adversity. I struggled early on with a speech impediment that made social interaction and classroom participation incredibly difficult. However, the arts became my refuge. Drawing, painting, and writing were ways I could express myself without fear of being misunderstood. Over time, these outlets not only helped me gain confidence but also taught me how essential creative expression is to emotional and intellectual development. When I finally found the courage to speak up—in classrooms, group projects, and leadership roles—it was the arts that had given me the strength to do so. That experience has shaped my goal to become a high school art teacher, specifically in underfunded or rural communities like the one I come from. I want to create a space where students are seen, heard, and encouraged to explore who they are through creative learning. Art isn’t just about technique; it’s about exploration, connection, and resilience. In communities that are often overlooked or misrepresented, access to meaningful art education can be life-changing. It teaches students to think critically about the world around them, to appreciate diverse cultures and perspectives, and to understand their own identities within a broader social and historical context. Through my degree at Arizona State University, I plan to study visual arts and art education with a focus on inclusive teaching practices. I want to learn how to design curriculum that integrates cultural literacy and encourages dialogue across differences. For example, I envision lesson plans that explore Indigenous art, African American folk traditions, Chicano muralism, and contemporary feminist and queer art movements—offering students a wider lens through which to view both history and their own creative potential. I want my classroom to be a safe, dynamic environment where young people learn not only to make art but to use it as a tool for advocacy, healing, and change. Beyond the classroom, I also aim to create free or low-cost community art programs that provide youth with access to materials, mentorship, and exhibition opportunities. Whether it’s organizing mural projects that beautify public spaces or hosting workshops that bring generations together, I believe in art’s power to build community pride and foster cross-cultural understanding. Ultimately, my passion for education and the arts is rooted in a deep desire to give back. I want to be the teacher I needed when I was younger—the one who recognizes potential in every student, especially those who feel invisible or underestimated. By combining academic knowledge, creative practice, and cultural awareness, I hope to inspire the next generation of thinkers and makers to see the value in themselves and their communities.

My name is Rose Race, and I am passionate about becoming a high school art teacher. I believe that art is more than just a form of expression—it’s a powerful tool for healing, empowerment, and connection, especially for young people who are navigating difficult circumstances. Coming from a low-income background, I know how important it is to have supportive educators who see your potential even when the world doesn’t. I want to be that person for the next generation. Art has always been my outlet. Growing up, I struggled with a speech impediment that made it hard to connect with others. I often felt overlooked or underestimated, especially in school settings where communication was key. But when I picked up a pencil or paintbrush, I found my voice. Through art, I could express feelings and stories that words couldn’t capture. Over time, this helped me grow into a more confident person. Now, I use that confidence to lead group projects, help my peers, and mentor others. I plan to pursue a degree in art education and specialize in working with high school students. I believe that the teenage years are a critical time for self-discovery, and art class can be one of the few safe spaces where students are encouraged to explore who they are without fear of judgment. To master my trade, I will continue studying both traditional and contemporary art forms, learning not just how to teach technique, but also how to inspire creativity and critical thinking. I will also stay current with modern teaching methods and adapt to my students’ individual learning styles. Hands-on experience will be key to my development. I’ve already begun this journey by taking community college courses in art and education while still in high school. This dual enrollment experience has helped me mature academically and gain a strong foundation in my field. I’ve also volunteered at local community centers and assisted with after-school art programs, learning how to engage with younger students and manage classroom dynamics. Giving back to my community is at the heart of my mission. I want to return to low-income schools like the one I grew up in and create inclusive, empowering art programs that give every student a chance to shine. I want to support students who feel unseen or unheard—those who may be struggling with financial stress, family issues, or personal challenges. By offering them the same kind of encouragement and outlet that helped me, I hope to be a catalyst for their growth and confidence. Beyond the classroom, I aim to organize local art events, gallery shows, and mural projects that bring the community together. These events can help build pride, foster collaboration, and give young people a platform to share their perspectives. Art has the power to spark dialogue, heal divisions, and celebrate diversity—and I want to use that power to uplift my community. In short, I plan to master my trade through education, experience, and a deep commitment to personal growth. I want to use what I learn not only to build a career but to make a meaningful difference in the lives of others. Teaching art is more than a job to me—it’s a calling, and I’m ready to answer it.

I am pursuing a career as an electrician because I want a hands-on, practical job that allows me to problem-solve and see the results of my work immediately. I’ve always enjoyed working with my hands, taking things apart, and figuring out how they function. As I got older, I realized how essential skilled trades like electrical work are to everyday life—from the wiring in our homes to the systems that power schools, hospitals, and businesses. Becoming an electrician not only offers job stability and strong earning potential, but it also allows me to work in a field that is constantly evolving with new technologies and challenges. What really drew me to this vocation is the opportunity for independence. After completing my apprenticeship and gaining some experience, I hope to start my own electrical contracting business. I want to be in control of my schedule, choose the projects I work on, and eventually mentor younger electricians coming into the trade. I also find satisfaction in knowing that my work keeps people safe and helps their homes and businesses function properly. Electricians are often the unsung heroes of modern life—we don’t notice the importance of electricity until something goes wrong. I want to be the person who can step in and make things right. This career gives me the chance to make a real difference in people’s lives every day. Plus, there’s something rewarding about looking at a finished panel, a row of lights, or a functioning system and knowing *I* made that happen. For me, becoming an electrician isn’t just about making a living—it’s about building a future with purpose, skill, and pride in my work.

This past year has been nothing short of a transformative journey for me, filled with a multitude of challenges and moments of profound self-discovery, particularly as I navigate the intricate landscape of being a high school senior. The pressure to make critical decisions often feels overwhelming; I find myself facing significant choices such as selecting the right college, determining a major that aligns with my aspirations, and mapping out a viable career path. These considerations loom large in my mind, prompting me to question—what does success look like for me? Each day, I observe my classmates—many of whom seem to glide through this period with clarity and an unwavering sense of confidence—while I grapple with a nagging feeling of inadequacy as if I’m lagging in an exhausting race against time. Amidst this whirlwind of uncertainty, I have unearthed a profound passion that serves as my anchor: my fervent aspiration to become an art teacher. I am steadfast in my belief that education is the cornerstone of success, and art, in particular, is essential for enriching our humanity. It transcends mere creation; art embodies a vital form of expression—an emotional outlet that intricately captures the complexities of our experiences, while also acting as a catalyst for meaningful dialogue. It has the power to bridge differences and foster understanding among individuals from diverse backgrounds. My dream is to inspire future generations, helping them not only appreciate the beauty inherent in their creations but also grasp how such expressions can facilitate personal growth and contribute positively to their future endeavors. The journey toward my aspiration of becoming an art teacher has proven to be anything but linear. As I sit down to meticulously fill out college applications, the weight of uncertainty often clouds my thoughts. I find myself questioning whether I am selecting the right schools that will nurture my artistic talents and academic ambitions. Is my portfolio a true reflection of my potential? Am I progressing at a pace that will keep me on track for my goals? Nevertheless, I consistently remind myself that every small step I take—be it completing an application, adding a new piece to my portfolio, or simply taking a moment to reflect on my motivations—cumulatively brings me closer to realizing my dream. Despite the myriad obstacles that inevitably arise, I strive to maintain my momentum, buoyed by a steadfast belief in the transformative power of education and the arts. Through my involvement in community art projects, volunteer teaching roles, and participation in local exhibitions, I have gained invaluable lessons in resilience, patience, and perseverance. Each of these experiences has played a vital role in shaping my character along this journey. Regardless of how daunting the path ahead may appear, I remain resolute in my commitment to my passion for art and my aspiration to make a meaningful impact as an art educator. I am determined to empower others through the lens of creativity, fostering an environment where students can recognize that their unique artistic expressions are not just beautiful; they are essential for their well-being and success across all facets of life. Through this journey, I hope to nurture a new generation of creative thinkers who understand the profound importance of art in navigating both personal and collective experiences. I aim to instill in them the belief that their voices hold value and that through art, they can effect positive change in the world around them.

Empowerment, to me, means having the ability to take control of one’s life, make choices, and navigate the world with confidence on one’s own terms. It encompasses personal strength but also involves uplifting others, particularly those who have been historically marginalized, creating a space where everyone can fully express their potential. As a woman who works hard in school and often feels overlooked because of my gender, I understand that empowerment can be both a challenge and a journey. Too often, women in academia and professional settings face barriers not due to their abilities, but because of biases and societal expectations. This feeling of being overlooked—of having my efforts questioned or minimized—can be exhausting. In those moments, I remind myself that empowerment is a conscious choice to keep moving forward despite obstacles. When I think about empowerment in my life, I see it as a force that allows me to demand the same respect, acknowledgment, and opportunities that others receive. I have been fortunate to have role models who have shown me that my voice is valid, my contributions are valuable, and my journey—no matter how difficult—is equally worthy as anyone else’s. These role models did not give up, even when the world tried to diminish their worth based on gender. In this context, empowerment represents resilience; it is the refusal to let societal limitations dictate how far I can go. Empowerment also means taking ownership of my education and career. In spaces where I feel my voice isn’t heard or my achievements are downplayed because of my gender, I remind myself that my hard work speaks volumes. I’ve learned to trust my abilities and push through self-doubt. Sometimes, it’s not just about proving others wrong, but about proving to myself that I am capable and deserving of success. Empowerment gives me the strength to challenge the status quo, to ask for what I deserve, and not to settle for less based on preconceived notions about my gender. It is also essential to recognize that empowerment isn’t solely individual; it is collective. As women, we empower each other by sharing our stories, celebrating our successes, and providing support during difficult times. Empowerment flourishes when we lift others up and create a network of solidarity. In school or the workplace, this may involve advocating for other women, sharing resources, or speaking out against unfair treatment. It means fostering a culture of mutual respect where all women can thrive, not just survive. Despite the challenges, feeling empowered shapes my response to adversity. Rather than allowing setbacks or gender-based discrimination to diminish my self-worth, empowerment strengthens my resolve to continue my journey. Every time I feel underestimated or dismissed, I see it as an opportunity to show up even stronger. Empowerment becomes a continuous act of defying the limitations that others impose on me, and in doing so, I can pave the way for other women to do the same. Ultimately, empowerment means not only persevering in a world that may not always be fair but also working to change the world around us so that future generations of women won’t have to fight as hard to be seen, heard, and respected.

Art has always been my refuge—a place where I can express my emotions on a canvas when words fail me. Growing up with a speech impediment made communication difficult, leaving me feeling isolated and misunderstood. I often struggled to express myself verbally, but when I picked up a paintbrush, I discovered a language that felt natural. Art became my voice, allowing me to externalize my frustrations, fears, and dreams in a way that others could understand. During times of emotional distress, creating art has served as a grounding force. In moments of anxiety or self-doubt, the rhythmic motion of sketching or painting calms my racing thoughts. I have found that certain colors and textures reflect my emotions—soft pastels when I feel at peace and deep blues with chaotic brushstrokes when I feel overwhelmed. The process of making art not only helps me recognize and confront my feelings but also transforms them into something tangible and beautiful. It reminds me that struggles can be reshaped into strength. Art is not only a personal escape but also a universal tool for healing. Just as it has helped me navigate my own emotions, I believe it can assist others who struggle to express their mental health challenges. Whether it’s painting, writing, music, or dance, creative expression provides an outlet for emotions that might otherwise remain bottled up. Through my experience, I have seen how artwork has helped to build bridges of empathy that make individuals not so alone in their difficulties. As I display my artwork, I hope to inspire other individuals to see how to use their creativity as a tool for self-exploration and emotional release. My artwork submitted for review depicts moments of perseverance, vulnerability, and transformation in my journey. Through expressive lines and rich colors, I seek to communicate feelings that cannot so simply be expressed in words. My artwork is not only beautiful to view but is representative of my inner terrain, witness to how expressive arts have helped me to work through challenges in mental illness. Art has given me confidence, a sense of purpose, and a way to communicate with other individuals. By claiming my expressive voice, I have found that I am capable of transforming challenges into that which has significance. I hope to continue to apply not only to my recovery but also to inspire other individuals to explore their feelings and experiences through the expression of their artwork.

The first time I spoke to a class, my words were trapped within me, boxed in by an unseen wall. My speech impediment turned each sentence into an obstacle course, and I saw the frustration in my classmates' eyes as I struggled through each word. I didn't speak up for years, convinced that my voice was a weakness. But as the years went by, I realized that adversity is not a stumbling block, but a chance to change. My speech impediment was not merely a personal problem; it was the way I interacted with the world. I dreaded being called on in class, avoided class discussions, and remained silent even when I had something worthy to say. Fearful of judgment, I was alone and isolated, convinced my inability to speak properly would determine my fate. Everything changed in high school when I accepted the challenge of leadership. In my sophomore year, I became a member of an art club. I remained in the background at first, working and letting others lead. But as time went on, I realized I had things to say. When our club needed volunteers for a school-wide art project, I challenged myself to come forward. Addressing my peers was petrifying, but I told myself that my voice needed to be heard. When I conducted my first meeting, my words were stumbling, but they were mine. The more I spoke, the more I grew confident, and soon, I was not just doing my part—I was leading. Overcoming my speech impediment was not about becoming a flawless speaker; it was about understanding that my capacity to communicate went beyond the way I pronounced words. I found a way to express myself through my art, my leadership, and my actions. I realized that true confidence does not come from never having struggled, but from continuing despite the obstacles we encounter. Today, I am a good communicator, a leader, and a team player. My experiences have taught me patience and compassion, especially for those who feel they are not being heard. They have also made me passionate about teaching art because I know what it means to find confidence through creative expression. The adversity I faced did not close the door to my success; it became the reason why I walked through it with my head held high. Life will always present us with challenges, but I have learned that it is overcoming them that defines us. My speech impediment was once my worst nightmare, but now it is a testament to my strength. Regardless of what challenges the future holds, I know that I have the strength to overcome them, just as I have done in the past.

The first paintbrush I ever touched, I remember, I experienced a profound peace at once. All that surrounded me melted away, and nothing else mattered but the canvas in front of me. I have always seen art as my escape, a means of expression when words cannot convey enough. Over my academic career, taking care of my mental state has been key to success, and my passion for art has helped me in numerous ways to maintain my drive, level-headedness, and motivation. Academic performance is directly influenced by the mental state, with the mental state controlling motivation, and therefore, productivity and focus. Under extreme stress, procrastination and difficulty in recalling information become an issue, and I have experienced such times when school work and life seemed insurmountable, particularly when I was a student working towards an A in all my courses. Yet, through my use of art, I have been able to cleanse my mind and refocus my studies. Drawing in my planner between classes, and creating in my studio at home, I can refocus through my use of art. Instead of allowing tension to consume me, I positively utilize my use of creativity, taking back my life and my drive. Aside from academics, mental health matters in life and relationships. Struggling with stress and anxiety can make social interactions an issue and make it difficult to have healthy relationships with other people. Having experienced a speech impediment, I can relate to the frustration of not being heard. Art became my voice during moments when I couldn’t speak confidently in conversation, and in time, it allowed me to meet fellow enthusiasts whom I could socialize with and understand. Nowadays, artwork is not just a mere hobby but a means of reaching out to the world and inspiring fellow human beings, and that contributes a lot to my mental well-being. To ensure my mental well-being in school, I consciously make an effort to manage my stress. Time management is crucial; I create structured study habits and ensure I have time for expression through artwork. Sleep and exercise are crucial as well, as they directly affect my concentration level. Most especially, I don’t shy away from asking for help when I need it, and I ask for it from teachers, friends, and mentors. Knowing it’s okay to ask for help made a big difference for me in school and life in general. Art is not only a source of pleasure for me but a necessity for my mental health and academic success. It keeps me grounded, brings me to a state of awareness, and enables me to confront obstacles with a strong will. As I navigate through my studies, I hope to utilize my passion to enrich my life and inspire others to discover their voice through art. By prioritizing mental wellness and taking advantage of the healing powers of art, I believe I can succeed in school and life.

As a youth, I struggled with speaking, and I seemed invisible in conversation a lot of times. Having a speech impediment, I could not make a connection with people, and for years, I felt my voice did not matter. With determination, I gained confidence, and not only have I accepted my voice, but I will use my voice to inspire others as an art teacher. For me, a college degree is not a credential but a key to altering my future and raising my family's level of living. Earning a degree will transform my life in many ways. As a youth, my family fought with financial hardships, most of them medical bills for constant back ailments. These have kept college an unachievable dream, but I will not let circumstances make my future for me. With a degree, I will have financial security and escape a life of struggle. Most importantly, it will allow me to provide future generations of my family with access to opportunities not readily accessible to them in my life. I hope to become the first in my family to make a career out of desire, not necessity, and to demonstrate with an education, we can redefine our fate. On a personal level, obtaining a degree will be a testament to my perseverance. I have overcome social challenges, and in doing so, I have fallen in love with art. I had a voice in art when I did not have one with words. It was my means of expressing feelings, concepts, and stories I was unable to verbalize. Obtaining a degree in art education is not merely learning an area I love those skills will allow me to give future students a voice, as I have obtained one for myself. In pursuing my dream, I have devoted myself to refining my craft. I have taken upper-division art classes, completed assignments in school, and pursued options for continuing to improve my skill level. Aside from mastering artistic techniques, I have a passion for the way creativity inspires students' lives. I would love to teach at a Cal State school, and I can encourage aspiring artists to find their strengths and utilize their imagination to break through life's challenges. This scholarship will bring me one step closer to living my dreams. With financial assistance, I can focus my undivided attention on my studies without the daily stress of medical bills weighing on my family. Not only will my degree transform my life, but it will shape my family's future and my future students' lives when I am a teacher someday. With an education, I will break barriers, touch lives, and make my voice, one that was silenced through self-doubt, heard and use it to inspire future generations.

Brushstrokes of Resilience Opening Scene: The movie begins with close-ups of shaking hands tightly clinging to a crayon by the child; although shaking, determination is not concealed. After focusing on those trembling hands clutching a crayon, it finally pans to locate a small desk occupied by a little young girl, encircled with noises inside the class amongst children's chatters. She was pursued very tightly with slight nervous glimpses upwards at the teacher. The teacher just requested to read aloud for her. She throws her head back and retreats into silence, as the other children exchange puzzled glances. But then the frame shifts. The girl's hand begins to move across the paper, the crayon translating her fear into color. The camera zooms in on the drawing bright phoenix, wings outstretched, rising from flames. As the scene fades, a voiceover says, "When words failed me, art became my language. And it saved me." The scene shifts to the present: the older, much more confident poised girl now in a bright and colorful class amidst students working energetically in painting and drawing, looks warm with her smile, leaning forward, guiding the one poor student who has problems handling the stroke with his brushwork. "There's no such thing as a mistake in art. Every stroke tells a story. Vision for the Future: If my life were a movie, it would be a story of overcoming, creativity, and giving back. Much like the phoenix I once drew, my journey has been one of rising above the challenges and using them as an opportunity for growth. Overcoming a speech impediment as a child taught me that communication isn't confined to words; it can be expressed through art, actions, and even silence. Art became my haven, a place where I could be myself without fear of judgment. My vision for the future is to create a world where every child, regardless of their background or abilities, has access to the transformative power of art. As a future art teacher, I aspire to build inclusive classrooms where students feel empowered to explore their creativity and express themselves freely. I want to be that source of encouragement for the people who feel unseen or unheard, just as art once was for me. One of my dreams is to develop after-school art programs for underserved communities, focusing on children with disabilities and those from low-income families. Too often, art education is the first to be cut from school budgets, leaving students without a vital outlet for self-expression. I would like to change that. Through grants, community partnerships, and fundraising efforts, I hope to institute programs that provide much-needed supplies and a safe space for children to dream, create, and grow. Beyond teaching, I can also see myself working on a wider scale for the cause of arts education: collaborating with administrators in schools and policy framers to impress on them the importance of integrating arts into the curriculum. Indeed, studies do prove that exposure to art builds a person's powers of critical thinking, problem-solving skills, and emotional resiliency integral ingredients toward the making of any successful individual in whatever field. I therefore hope that the championing of the value of art will provide an impetus for a much-needed cultural shift: one that begins to prioritize creativity as a core component of education. Struggles and Aspirations: I wouldn't say that my journey is all smooth sailing. Growing up in a family encumbered by medical problems-including chronic back issues-I've seen firsthand how money can restrict one's choices. To me, college seems a beacon of hope, but reaching it seems a daunting task hurdle to overcome given the financial constraints my family finds itself in. Yet, these have only strengthened my resolve to succeed and give back. A scholarship would be more than financial relief; it would be a stepping stone toward my dreams. It would enable me to focus on my studies without the constant worry of how to afford tuition or art supplies. Most of all, it would mean proving to myself that my ambitions were worth investing in and that my story could be an inspiration to others. Closing Scene: The final scene of the movie echoes the opening but is poignant and sad. A young student sits at a desk, shy and unsure, clutching a crayon. I-the adult version of me- kneel beside them, gently encouraging, "Draw what you feel. There's no wrong way to express yourself." The child begins to sketch with growing confidence. The camera zooms in on what they have drawn: a phoenix, wings open wide, outstretched over flames. The screen fades to black as the voiceover finishes talking: "Art has the power to heal, to transform, and to connect. My dream is to pass that gift on, one child at a time.

Art has always been my sanctuary, a place where I could creatively express myself when words would be hard. Growing up with a speech impediment made communicating and relating with other people often very difficult. With art, it was my voice. I want to be able to give back to my community by serving them as an art teacher in return, especially to special education students and less fortunate children. Art is more than painting or drawing; it's a form of self-expression, healing, and way of building confidence. I have witnessed firsthand how art can give voice to the voiceless, and I'd like to make sure every child has that chance to learn art, regardless of disabilities or economic limitations. So many schools lack a real arts education, but I do not believe one child should be left behind from the opportunity for artistic expression for nurturing their imagination and their own particular means of expression. In earning my degree and becoming an art teacher, I will bring inclusive and accessible art programs into my community. I want to work in a school that entails disadvantaged children's education and be an advocate for their education funding in arts. I wish to develop after-school programs where all these students can go to explore their creativity in a nurturing, supportive environment. Art gave me that confidence at one time in life when it was most needed; I would wish for the next generation to experience such a gift. I believe this through teaching: inspiring students in embracing their creativity, finding their voices, and believing in their potentials no matter the challenge.