When I think about swimming, I do not just think about a sport. I think about a version of myself that still exists somewhere beneath the responsibilities, schedules, and pressures of adulthood. I used to compete in swimming competitions in Chile when I was younger, and even though years have passed since I actively trained, swimming never truly left me. In many ways, it still defines part of who I am today. As a swimmer, I learned every discipline, but one of the things that made me stand out most was my apnea and breath control. At my peak, I could nearly cross 50 meters underwater without breathing. I remember the feeling of pushing my limits in silence beneath the water, where everything became rhythm, technique, and control. Swimming taught me discipline long before I fully understood what discipline even meant. Ironically, one of the biggest challenges in my athletic story was not physical inability, but immaturity. Like many teenagers, I entered a rebellious stage in life, and I drifted away from the sport. Looking back now, I realize I did not leave swimming because I lacked passion or talent. I left because I was young and did not yet understand the value of what I had. That realization stayed with me into adulthood, and today I deeply miss the structure, identity, and sense of purpose that swimming gave me. Even now, swimming has physically shaped me. Despite having a relatively skinny build today, I still carry the powerful thighs and lower-body strength developed during years of training. But more importantly, it shaped the way I approach learning, perseverance, and mentorship. One of the most important people in my athletic life was my mentor, Juan Pablo. He was warm, inspirational, and deeply technical in the way he taught swimming. Even today, years later, I still call him every birthday. That alone should say enough about the impact he had on me. He did not teach swimming like a machine. He taught it as an art form. I still remember how he explained butterfly technique to me: he said that to swim butterfly correctly, you had to imagine the contour of an hourglass figure and move your hands as if tracing those curves with precision and passion. It sounds humorous when repeated out loud, but that lesson stayed with me because it transformed swimming from brute force into fluidity, rhythm, and elegance. That is part of what I believe modern swimming sometimes loses. Too often, swimmers are treated as statistics, medal counts, or temporary investments instead of complete human beings with personalities, stories, and futures. The current system rewards only a tiny percentage of athletes who reach the absolute top while many talented swimmers quietly disappear due to financial limitations, burnout, scheduling conflicts, educational pressures, or lack of long-term opportunity. There are countless athletes like me who once had potential, still carry love for the sport, and could contribute greatly to swimming if there were more flexible and sustainable pathways to remain involved. Today, I am financially and schedule constrained. I pursued higher education and currently study Computer Science at Florida International University while balancing work responsibilities and academic commitments. Like many students, I have had to prioritize stability and long-term career survival over athletic dreams. I have received educational support through scholarships, including Florida Bright Futures assistance, but returning seriously to swimming remains difficult because competitive athletics often demand enormous sacrifice without offering stable professional opportunities in return. That is why I believe Speed League Swimming is needed now. Swimming deserves a future where athletes are not forced to choose entirely between education, career stability, and the sport they love. A professional league could create a structure where swimmers remain visible, supported, and connected to the sport for far longer. It could create second chances for former athletes, new opportunities for technical specialists and mentors, and stronger public engagement with swimming as both a competition and a culture. If Speed League Swimming succeeds, I believe it could redefine what it means to be a swimmer. Instead of athletes disappearing after high school or college, swimming could develop long-term personalities, rivalries, mentorships, and professional identities similar to what exists in other major sports. It could make swimming feel alive again. As for my role within Speed League Swimming, I do not see myself only as a competitor. I see myself as someone who can contribute passion, technical understanding, and perspective. I understand what it feels like to love swimming deeply, lose it, and still dream about returning to it years later. I would want to help build a culture where athletes are remembered not only for medals, but for the stories, techniques, and inspiration they pass on to others. At its heart, I believe Speed League Swimming is not only about creating faster swimmers. It is about creating a future where swimmers can continue being swimmers for life. And that is exactly the kind of future I want to help build.

Supporting mental health has always come naturally to me, long before I ever understood the vocabulary around it. Growing up with Asperger’s, I had to learn emotional skills consciously—managing anxiety, reading social cues, and understanding my own feelings. Because of that, I became extremely sensitive to when other people were struggling, even quietly. Helping others was never something I was told to do; it was simply something I did instinctively. Throughout school, I often found myself gravitating toward classmates who needed support—especially students with special needs. At West Broward High School, I became close with a girl who used a wheelchair. We would talk, navigate crowded hallways together, and share jokes. I didn’t think of it as “helping”—she was simply my friend. But my teachers noticed that I consistently went out of my way to support anyone who seemed overwhelmed, isolated, or unsure. That led to me receiving the highest honor at the school, the Bobcats Award, given to students who embody compassion, leadership, and community support. It meant a lot to me because it reflected something I never did for recognition—only because I cared. One moment that has stayed with me happened when I saw a girl crying alone. She looked emotionally exhausted and withdrawn. Instead of asking invasive questions, I sat nearby and started talking “to the air,” telling silly jokes from a comedian and asking playful, random questions. It wasn’t about fixing her problems—it was about giving her a moment of relief. Eventually she laughed, hugged me, and said thank you. I never saw her again, but I’ve never forgotten that moment. It taught me how powerful simple presence can be. Today, I continue supporting others through my IT work at the Lubavitch Educational Center, helping teachers and staff who are often overwhelmed by technical issues. A calm, patient explanation can ease a lot of stress. I also support my synagogue community, helping my mother prepare for Shabbat services that bring emotional comfort to many elderly members. In my career, I use computers and virtual reality to create tools that emotionally support learners—especially those who struggle with anxiety or feel out of place, as I did. VR provides safe, gentle environments where learning feels empowering rather than intimidating. My goal is to continue being the kind of person who notices others, supports them quietly, and uses technology to make their emotional world a little easier to carry.

Calculus is often introduced to students as a set of formulas and rules, but in the STEM field, it is far more than that. Calculus is the language that describes change—how things move, grow, shrink, accelerate, stabilize, or interact. Without understanding how things change, it is impossible to build technology that models the real world. In my field, computer science and especially virtual reality, calculus is not just helpful—it is foundational. In VR development, almost everything depends on calculus, even if the code abstracts it behind functions or physics engines. Motion, collisions, lighting, and animation all rely on derivatives and integrals. For example, calculating smooth movement in a VR environment requires understanding velocity and acceleration, which are derivatives. Designing realistic physics interactions—an object falling, bouncing, or sliding—requires integration to accumulate forces over time. Even something as simple as easing functions in animations is rooted in calculus because it controls how motion changes rather than happening at a constant rate. When I began learning Unity and VR, I did not fully appreciate how deeply calculus was woven into the tools I used. But as I worked on more advanced interactions—like object grabbing, gravity manipulation, and real-time physics—it became obvious that calculus was operating underneath every line of code. The Unity physics engine works because its creators used calculus to model real-world forces. Understanding the mathematical principles behind it gives me far more control when I want to customize behavior, optimize performance, or debug unexpected interactions. Calculus is also crucial in simulation, one of the most important aspects of VR. Whether simulating medical procedures, engineering environments, or educational experiences, realism comes from accurate mathematical modeling. A VR world without calculus is flat, rigid, and unconvincing. A VR world informed by calculus feels alive. In computer science more broadly, calculus also supports fields like machine learning, graphics rendering, computer vision, and optimization. Although I don’t work heavily with AI, I know that gradient descent—one of the most common optimization algorithms—is powered by derivatives. In rendering, light behavior, shading, and reflections all rely on calculus-based equations. In optimization problems, integrals help determine the best possible outcomes while minimizing error or cost. Beyond direct application, calculus trains the mind to think in a way that STEM fields require. It teaches you to break problems into smaller parts, analyze changes over time, understand limiting behavior, and approach systems not as static snapshots but as dynamic processes. These are the same skills I use when debugging complex software, improving performance in VR, or designing new features. Calculus strengthens logical thinking, precision, and the ability to model abstract ideas—all essential qualities in engineering and computer science. Ultimately, calculus is important in the STEM field because it allows us to build things that behave like the world we live in. Without calculus, there would be no realistic physics engines, no accurate simulations, no advanced graphics, and no reliable optimization algorithms. Whether engineers are sending rockets into space, designing VR experiences for education, or creating medical imaging systems, they rely on calculus to describe and predict how systems will behave. For me, calculus is not just a math class. It is part of the foundation for the virtual worlds I hope to create and the technologies I hope to build in my future career.

My education in computer science and virtual reality has been shaped more by online platforms and digital tools than by any single classroom. I began programming when I was eleven years old, teaching myself through YouTube tutorials and Google searches long before I understood how powerful those early lessons would become. What started as simple curiosity—trying to make small scripts or understand why code behaves the way it does—eventually evolved into a passion for VR development, systems design, and creating technology that helps people. Today, online platforms are the backbone of how I study, create, and apply knowledge. The most important tool in my learning has been Unity Learn, combined with the massive ecosystem of VR tutorials available online. Through Unity documentation, VR-focused YouTube creators, and sample projects from the community, I learned everything from VR locomotion systems to physics interactions, animation rigs, and performance optimization. These resources were essential during my capstone VR project, where I led my team, restructured our entire workflow, and helped us build a working prototype even when our communication was strained. Without online VR materials, that project would not exist. Another major component of my education has been Zoom, which became more than just a meeting tool—it became an entire learning environment. Many of my most important classes, tutoring sessions, team meetings, and VR brainstorming discussions happened over Zoom. It taught me how to communicate clearly, collaborate remotely, and solve problems with people who were not in the same physical room. When working on VR features or debugging code together, screen-sharing became our version of a collaborative lab. Zoom taught me how to manage teams, lead discussions, and stay organized even across distance. Those skills help me every day in my part-time job in the IT department, where I often coordinate remotely with teachers, administrators, and colleagues. YouTube remains one of my most powerful tools, just as it was when I was eleven. Channels like Brackeys, Sebastian Lague, Valem, and Fireship have been irreplaceable. From them, I learned real-time rendering concepts, data structures, shader tricks, VR hand tracking, and even soft skills like project structure and code cleanliness. Many of the solutions I’ve used in class assignments or in my IT job came from knowledge I gained at 1 a.m. while watching VR or programming videos. I’ve also used AI tools—not as a primary teacher, but as an assistant. I use them mainly for clarifying concepts, checking logic, or reviewing code that I already wrote. It’s a support tool, not the focus of my learning. Most of my growth still comes from hands-on experimentation, online documentation, VR development communities, and the thousands of small errors I fix along the way. All of these online platforms taught me not only technical skills, but how to apply what I learn. I carry these lessons into my work at the Lubavitch Educational Center’s IT department, where I maintain systems, help teachers with technical issues, and build tools that make classrooms run more smoothly. I’ve learned how to communicate complex ideas simply, how to translate theory into functioning software, and how to adapt quickly when problems arise. Online resources didn’t just help me learn—they made me who I am. They taught me how to grow independently, think creatively, collaborate remotely, and pursue VR development with discipline and passion. These tools shaped the way I solve problems and the way I contribute to my community, both now and in the future.

Some families pass down heirlooms like jewelry or furniture. Mine passes down history in the form of hundreds of postage stamps—carefully preserved, deeply meaningful, and full of stories. My grandfather in Chile has been a collector for nearly his entire life, gathering complete sets of stamps from around the world, some dating back to before 1933. Every time a family friend travels from Chile to Florida, he sends more—“leftovers,” as he calls them, though to us they are treasures. He is still alive, still active, and still collecting. And my brother and I love him dearly. Every envelope or small package he sends is a reminder that distance doesn’t erase family, memory, or legacy. When we open the albums he sends, we don’t just see stamps—we see the gentle care of his hands organizing them, the excitement he must have felt when completing a set, and the quiet pride of passing something forward. Stamp collecting influenced me long before I understood why. As someone diagnosed with Asperger’s at a very young age, I often sought comfort in structured, pattern-based activities. Stamps offered exactly that: order, precision, and detail. But they also opened a window into the world—countries I had never seen, moments in history frozen in miniature artwork, symbols of conflict, peace, discovery, culture, and progress. Through these stamps, I first learned that even small things can carry profound meaning. The most significant challenge I have overcome is not related to stamps, but it is deeply connected to what stamps taught me. When I was young, doctors told my parents that I might never be independent. Social intuition, executive functioning, and emotional regulation—all things other children seemed to absorb naturally—were skills I had to learn manually, repeatedly, and intentionally. Every milestone took effort. Every social situation required decoding. Every step toward independence was the result of deliberate practice. But the patience I developed from examining stamps—the focus, the small steps, the attention to detail—became the foundation for how I learned everything else. Over years of effort, I built myself into the person I am today: a fully independent adult, a computer science student in a 4+1 program, an IT assistant at the Lubavitch Educational Center, and someone who gives back consistently to my community. I help my mother with her cantorial studies. I support elderly synagogue members with stability and presence. I assist teachers at school by maintaining systems and building tools that reduce their workload. I mentor classmates, manage projects, and offer emotional support when others feel overwhelmed. This scholarship would relieve the financial strain of my undergraduate and graduate studies and allow me to continue serving my community with the stability and clarity I need. My long-term goal is to build virtual reality tools that make education less overwhelming and more accessible—especially for students who struggle the way I once did. I want to create learning experiences that transcend limitations, just as my grandfather’s stamps helped me transcend the limitations of distance and my own early challenges. Stamp collecting shaped my life by connecting me to family, to history, and to the idea that meaning often comes from the smallest places. With this scholarship, I hope to honor that legacy by contributing to a future where knowledge, opportunity, and support reach those who need them most.

In Pirkei Avot 1:14, Hillel presents a three-part moral framework that teaches that human responsibility is fundamentally dual in nature: we are obligated both to care for ourselves and to care for others, and the refusal to act — whether from fear, apathy, or hesitation — is itself an ethical failure. Hillel argues that self-development without service is hollow, service without self-development is unsustainable, and delay in either direction is ultimately destructive. This is a philosophy of integrated responsibility, balanced identity, and urgent moral action. 1. “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” Responsibility Begins Within Hillel opens with a striking declaration of personal agency. It is not a gentle suggestion but a confrontation: If I do not act for myself, if I do not safeguard my dignity, cultivate my strengths, pursue my education, defend my values, and build my character — who exactly is supposed to do it for me? This line dismantles the comforting illusion that someone else will take care of our growth. It rejects the idea that family, society, divine intervention, or fortune will handle our responsibilities. Self-development is not a gift one receives passively; it is a task one must embrace actively. Hillel’s question implies that: No one else can build your discipline for you. No one else can choose your values for you. No one else can repair your insecurities, replace your courage, or substitute your will. No one else can live your life in your place. This is not a call to rugged individualism, but to honest self-accountability. Hillel is arguing that personal moral agency is the foundation of all future goodness. To be “for myself” does not mean selfishness. It means refusing to abdicate responsibility for one’s own development. It means strengthening oneself so that one can eventually be strong for others. 2. “But if I am only for myself, what am I?” Self-Centeredness Dehumanizes The second line reverses the direction of the first. Having established the absolute necessity of self-responsibility, Hillel immediately places a boundary around it: self-responsibility must never collapse into self-absorption. The rhetorical shift is notable. Hillel does not ask, “Who am I?” but rather, “What am I?”—a phrasing that dehumanizes the purely self-serving person. A human being who views the world only through the lens of personal gain is acting as something less than human: a creature of instinct, appetite, and ego rather than conscience, compassion, and justice. This line teaches that: A life lived only for oneself lacks moral substance. Achievement without contribution is spiritually empty. Intelligence without generosity is dangerous. Strength without compassion becomes cruelty. Even self-development, when disconnected from the well-being of others, becomes grotesque. Hillel therefore creates a moral dialectic: responsibility is incomplete unless it flows outward, beyond the boundaries of the self. This idea is deeply rooted in Jewish ethical thought. Humanity is not defined by capability, but by moral responsibility. A person who uses education, skill, and success only to enrich themselves is not fulfilling their human purpose. They are, in Hillel’s words, merely a “what.” 3. “And if not now, when?” Urgency as a Moral Imperative The final clause is not a poetic flourish; it is the hinge upon which the entire teaching turns. Responsibility — both personal and communal — requires urgency. The greatest temptation in moral life is not evil but delay: “I will study later.” “I will help later.” “I will begin when I feel ready.” “I will become a better person tomorrow.” Hillel rejects this entirely. The perfect moment does not exist. Waiting for ideal conditions is simply a sophisticated form of avoidance. Moral procrastination is, in Hillel’s view, ethically equivalent to moral refusal. A person who delays self-development never becomes strong enough to help others. A person who delays helping others becomes less willing to do so over time. A person who delays action becomes habituated to inaction. The call “When?” is therefore a challenge: If you cannot begin now, what makes you believe you will begin later? 4. The Interdependence of the Three Clauses Hillel’s teaching cannot be understood as three separate sayings. They are interlocking components of a unified ethic: You must build yourself. You must not live for yourself alone. You must act without delay. Remove any one of these pieces and the structure collapses. 1. Self-development without service, becomes narcissism. 2. Service without self-development, becomes martyrdom, burnout, or dysfunction. 3. Moral intention without action, becomes wishful thinking dressed as virtue. Hillel therefore proposes a balanced, holistic model of ethical life: strength paired with compassion, interior growth paired with outward responsibility, and all of it grounded in timely action. 5. How This Text Speaks to My Life as a Student and Immigrant Hillel’s teaching resonates deeply with my own life, especially as a Chilean-born first-generation immigrant navigating American higher education. 1. “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” As an immigrant student, I learned very quickly that no one would walk me through the system. There was no family member who could explain FAFSA, no one who could decode academic advising, no cultural blueprint for emails to professors or navigating scholarship processes. I had to advocate for myself, build my confidence, develop discipline, and push through moments where anxiety physically manifested as stomach pain before tasks or exams. Hillel’s first line became an unconscious guiding principle: If I did not take responsibility for my education, no one else could do it for me. 2. “But if I am only for myself, what am I?” At the same time, my education is not only for me. My technical skills in computer science and virtual reality serve: my synagogue community, where I assist my mother in her cantorial studies the elderly congregants who rely on stable, meaningful services the teachers at the Lubavitch Educational Center, where my IT work reduces their stress my classmates, whom I mentor, reassure, and guide through projects my aspiration to bring educational technology to students in Chile and underserved communities Hillel’s second line reminds me that education is hollow unless it becomes service. 3. “And if not now, when?” I have a tendency to overthink and hesitate — especially when tasks feel overwhelming or when anxiety flares. Hillel’s third line cuts directly through that hesitation. It reminds me that growth is built through action, that waiting for the “perfect moment” is a trap, and that the courage to begin matters more than the certainty of success. This teaching pushes me to apply for scholarships, to pursue VR projects, to help others even when I feel tired, and to take responsibility for shaping my own future. 6. The Universality of Hillel’s Message Hillel’s teaching remains powerful because it speaks to universal human dilemmas: How do we balance self-care with service? How do we pursue ambition without losing compassion? How do we take action despite fear or uncertainty? How do we live a meaningful life rather than a comfortable one? These questions transcend time, culture, and religion. They speak to students, leaders, parents, immigrants, professionals, and communities. Hillel’s answer is simple but demanding: Be responsible for yourself. Be responsible for others. Begin now. This framework does not promise ease, but it promises purpose. 7. Conclusion — Integrated Responsibility as a Way of Life Pirkei Avot 1:14 is only a single sentence, but it contains the entire blueprint of ethical adulthood. Hillel challenges us to reject passivity, to reject self-centeredness, and to reject delay. His teaching is not abstract philosophy but a practical guide to living a meaningful life. To live this teaching is to cultivate: autonomy without arrogance generosity without self-neglect action without hesitation This balance defines maturity, strength of character, and moral clarity. In my own journey — as an immigrant, student, technologist, community member, and future professional — Hillel’s words form the ethical architecture under every goal I set and every act of service I take on. A life fully lived is one where we strengthen ourselves, lift others, and refuse to wait for tomorrow to do the work that belongs to today.

One of the most significant losses I have ever experienced was not the loss of a person, but the loss of a place — the loss of home, certainty, and the sense of belonging that came with growing up in Chile. When I immigrated to the United States, I did not immediately understand how deeply this change would shape me. At first, it felt exciting. But slowly, I realized what I had left behind: the comfort of familiar routines, family culture, language, and the feeling of understanding my environment without effort. Immigration is often described as gaining opportunities, but it is also a kind of grief. You lose the version of yourself that existed naturally in your homeland. You lose the effortless confidence of speaking your native language everywhere. You lose the cultural shortcuts that everyone around you intuitively understands. And in their place, you gain uncertainty — the constant pressure to adapt, the fear of making mistakes, and the quiet question of whether you truly belong. For many years, this loss shaped me more than I realized. I felt like an outsider in the American education system, trying to decode an entire academic culture that others seemed to be born understanding. Something as simple as emailing a professor, registering for courses, or applying for financial aid felt like navigating a maze with no map. I often felt alone with my anxiety — especially the stomach tension that hits me before difficult tasks or decisions. It was the physical manifestation of the fear of not fitting in, of being “behind,” of failing silently because I lacked the guidance many others had. But this loss also changed me in powerful and positive ways. Losing the comfort of familiarity forced me to grow into someone adaptable. Losing a sense of belonging pushed me to create belonging for myself — through community, synagogue life, and friendships built on emotional honesty. Losing the certainty of home made me learn patience, humility, and the willingness to ask for help when I needed it. Over time, I stopped viewing myself as someone lacking a foundation and began seeing myself as someone who carries multiple worlds within them. I realized that being between cultures is not a weakness — it is a form of strength. It taught me empathy, because I know what it feels like to struggle silently. It taught me resilience, because I learned to rebuild comfort from scratch. And it taught me responsibility, because I know how many students feel just as lost as I once did. This experience deeply shaped my future goals. It is the reason I want to create technology — especially VR — that helps students learn without fear and without feeling disadvantaged. It is why I support teachers in my IT work, help classmates manage stress, and assist my mother in creating stability in our synagogue community. It is why I want to design accessible educational tools for students in Chile and for immigrant students in the U.S. Losing a home once taught me how important it is to create spaces where others feel safe, included, and supported. My loss became my motivation: to use technology, empathy, and leadership to help others find belonging — even in environments that once made me feel alone.

Mental health is important to me as a student because it shapes everything I do — my ability to learn, to focus, to manage stress, to be present for others, and to grow into the person I want to be. Over the years I’ve learned that academic success is not just about intelligence or discipline; it’s about emotional stability, self-awareness, and having the tools to navigate difficult moments. As someone who feels anxiety physically, especially through stomach tension before challenging tasks, exams, or big decisions, I’ve had to understand my own mind in order to function well as a student. Because of this personal experience, mental health is not an abstract concept to me — it is a daily practice. Learning how to manage stress has taught me patience, humility, and resilience. On days when anxiety flares up, I’ve had to teach myself to slow down, breathe, break tasks into small steps, and show myself compassion instead of frustration. I’ve also learned the importance of balance: that rest is not laziness, that my value is not measured by productivity alone, and that connecting emotionally with people I trust is just as important as finishing assignments on time. My journey with mental health has also shaped the way I treat others. I advocate for mental wellness in my communities — school, home, and synagogue — not through grand gestures, but through consistent support. I check on friends who are overwhelmed, help classmates who panic before exams, and reassure younger students who feel lost in their coursework. Many students stay silent when they are struggling, so I make myself someone they can talk to without judgment. Sometimes the greatest advocacy is simply being the person who says, “It’s okay — you’re not alone.” In my IT work at the Lubavitch Educational Center, I support teachers and staff who often carry immense pressure. By fixing problems quickly, creating tools that reduce their workload, and offering patient guidance, I am indirectly supporting their mental well-being. A teacher who doesn’t feel drowned in technical issues has more energy for their students and for themselves. That is also mental health advocacy. At home, I support my mother in her cantorial studies. Preparing music, editing audio, and helping her organize for Shabbat services might seem unrelated to mental health, but these actions create stability, reduce stress, and enable her to focus on her passion. Learning how to care for others emotionally — especially family — has taught me empathy and emotional intelligence. In my synagogue community, I am often surrounded by elderly congregants who rely on familiar routines for comfort. By helping my mother ensure services run smoothly, I help maintain an environment that brings them peace and connection — something deeply tied to mental well-being. Looking forward, mental health remains central to my goals. Whether I work in virtual reality, software engineering, or educational technology, I want to design tools that make learning less stressful and more intuitive. VR has the potential to help with anxiety, provide safe spaces for practice and exploration, and remove barriers that overwhelm students. I hope to create technology that supports both learning and emotional wellness. Mental health is not a luxury; it is the foundation of growth. As a student and as a member of several communities, I advocate for it through empathy, presence, and consistent support — and I hope to carry those values into my future career, wherever it leads.

I am currently pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Computer Science at Florida International University through the 4+1 combined program, which will allow me to complete both my undergraduate and graduate degrees by 2027. My long-term academic goal is to specialize in virtual reality, software engineering, and systems design. These fields captivate me because they merge creativity, logic, and human-centered innovation — and because I believe they hold the potential to reshape the future of education, accessibility, and communication. Although this scholarship invites applicants considering military careers, I am not planning to pursue service in the U.S. Air Force or any other branch of the military. My goals lie in a different direction: building transformative technologies that uplift communities and expand opportunities for people who feel underserved or overlooked. I hold deep respect for those who choose military service, and I understand the immense commitment it requires, but my strengths and aspirations align more closely with engineering, research, and educational technology. From an early age, I was drawn to computers because they represented possibility. As a first-generation immigrant navigating the American education system, technology became the one area where I could create structure, solve problems, and express myself. Over time, this interest evolved into a calling. Virtual reality, in particular, captured my imagination because of its incredible power to immerse, teach, and connect. A VR environment can simulate engineering labs, medical procedures, historical reconstructions, and scientific exploration — even in communities that lack access to advanced facilities. It can turn education into an experience, not just a curriculum. Working in the IT department at the Lubavitch Educational Center strengthened this belief. I have seen firsthand how much teachers and students benefit from accessible, well-designed technology. My work maintaining databases, building tools, and streamlining processes directly supports hundreds of students every day. This experience confirmed that I want my career to have a meaningful, positive impact — one that makes learning easier, more intuitive, and more empowering. After graduation, my goal is to begin working in the VR and software engineering field, ideally in a company developing tools for immersive education, training, or simulation. Eventually, I want to transition into project management or educational technology leadership, where I can blend my technical experience with my natural strengths in organization, mentoring, and guiding teams. In the long term, I hope to help build affordable VR platforms for schools, both in the United States and in Chile. If advanced learning tools can reach students who never imagined themselves in STEM fields, I will feel that my career has served a larger purpose. Beyond technical goals, I also want to continue giving back to the communities that shaped me. I assist my mother in her cantorial studies, support my synagogue’s elderly congregants, and mentor peers in my academic program. These acts of service keep me grounded. They remind me that every career — whether in military service or in engineering — should enhance the world around us. In choosing Computer Science and virtual reality, I am choosing a path that aligns with my strengths, my curiosity, and my desire to contribute meaningfully to society. With the support of this scholarship, I hope to continue developing the skills that will allow me to build tools, lead teams, and create opportunities for others through the power of technology.

Entering higher education as a first-generation immigrant has always felt like stepping into a world where the rules existed long before I arrived — and where everyone except me seemed to already know them. I came to the United States from Chile, carrying not only a different language and culture, but also a different understanding of what education was supposed to look like. Every part of my journey has been shaped by that sense of navigating unfamiliar systems, learning the unspoken expectations, and carving a space for myself in an environment where I often felt like an outsider. Being a second-generation student simply was not my reality. In my family, there was no blueprint for American higher education — no parent who could tell me how to communicate with professors, what “office hours” meant, how to manage FAFSA, or how to balance academic pressure with work. I had to learn all of these things on my own, often through trial and error. Even practical things, like understanding course registration deadlines, scholarship culture, academic advising, or the structure of American degrees, required me to adapt quickly and independently. Every step taught me something new about resilience. Immigration also reshaped my academic mindset. In Chile, my education was strongly influenced by culture, tradition, and community. Moving to the United States pushed me into an entirely different academic style — one that was more individualistic, fast-paced, and competitive. I felt like I had to prove myself constantly, not just as a student, but as someone who belonged in this system. That pressure sharpened my discipline. It made me work twice as hard because I knew I didn’t have the safety net of familiarity. But being an outsider also gave me strengths that many insiders don’t have. It made me resourceful. It made me humble enough to ask questions. And, most importantly, it made me determined to help others who feel lost in academic spaces. My background also influenced my goals. I chose Computer Science and virtual reality not only because I love technology, but because these fields allow me to create tools that help people who come from backgrounds like mine — people who feel unseen, unsupported, or held back by their circumstances. As a first-generation immigrant, I know how isolating it feels to navigate systems that were not built with you in mind. I want to design technology that bridges those gaps. One day, I hope to build educational VR tools that make learning accessible regardless of background, country, or prior opportunity. A student in Chile, the United States, or any underserved region could explore science, engineering, or programming in ways that feel intuitive and empowering. If I can help even a handful of young people feel the confidence I had to build slowly and painfully, then my journey will have been worth it. My hope for the future is simple: to turn the challenges I faced as an outsider into tools that make others feel like insiders. The barriers that once intimidated me are now the motivation behind my career, my service, and my long-term vision. With the right education and support, I hope to create a path where the next student who feels like an outsider can finally feel like they belong.

I was not raised in a single-parent household, but I was raised in what I consider a blended family — a home built from different cultures, traditions, and ways of thinking that shaped me into someone adaptable, empathetic, and driven to do good for others. My parents are very different people, and the worlds they each brought into our home blended into the foundation of who I am today. Growing up between Chilean culture, Jewish tradition, South American warmth, and the disciplined values of religious observance taught me to move through life with both resilience and compassion. My mother’s side gave me structure, faith, and a deep sense of responsibility. She is studying chazzanut — cantorial leadership — and watching her pursue spiritual mastery later in life taught me that dedication and service are never restricted by age or circumstance. She has always been the emotional anchor of our household, teaching me the importance of kindness, introspection, and community. I learned from her that helping others is not optional; it is simply the way you live. My father contributed a different strength: logic, discipline, and a practical approach to the world. His problem-solving mindset influenced my love for computers and technology. From him I inherited the belief that if something is broken — whether a device, a system, or even part of my own life — I can roll up my sleeves and fix it. These two influences blended into a worldview that is both analytical and compassionate, technical but deeply human. Growing up between these identities made me flexible. I learned to navigate cultural spaces, religious spaces, academic spaces, and community spaces. I learned that people come from very different backgrounds, and that understanding those differences makes you better at helping others. That is one of the greatest gifts of my upbringing: knowing how to see people, not just situations. Because of this blended foundation, my future goals have always centered around service. I may not know exactly which career I will enter — VR development, educational technology, IT leadership, or something I haven’t discovered yet — but I know I want my work to help people. I want it to matter. Right now, I give back through technology and community. I assist my mother in preparing music and structure for Shabbat services, supporting a congregation of elderly members who depend on that spiritual continuity. I work in the IT department at a school, helping teachers streamline their tools so they can focus more on their students. I mentor classmates, help them understand difficult concepts, and step into leadership roles where I can guide teams toward success. All of this is simply an extension of the values I was raised with. In the future, I imagine a world where I use my talents in technology to expand access to education, especially for students who feel invisible or limited by circumstances. Whether I develop virtual-reality learning tools, build platforms to empower teachers, create community-centered software, or teach in a university setting, I want my work to open doors for others the way my parents opened doors for me. My blended upbringing taught me two truths: that every person deserves to be supported, and that every individual has something meaningful to contribute. With the values of both my parents guiding me, I hope to spend my life helping others discover their own potential — through technology, mentorship, and compassion.

Giving back has always been a natural part of my life. I grew up believing that service is not a grand gesture reserved for rare occasions, but something woven into everyday actions — helping the people around you, contributing to your community, and choosing to leave the world slightly better at the end of each day. Everything I do now, and everything I hope to accomplish in the future, stems from that belief. Currently, I give back primarily through the communities that have shaped me. My mother is studying chazzanut, the sacred art of Jewish cantorial leadership, and I assist her regularly as a music editor, designer, and organizer for Shabbat services. These contributions may seem simple, but they directly support a community of elderly congregants who draw comfort, continuity, and strength from meaningful prayer. Helping the service run smoothly is my way of honoring them and giving back to the people who built the environment that raised me. I also serve through education and technology. At the Lubavitch Educational Center, where I work in the IT department, I develop software systems, maintain databases, and support teachers and administrators. Although my role is technical, its impact is deeply human. When I streamline attendance tracking, reduce grading burdens, or fix a persistent software issue, I am indirectly giving back to hundreds of students by helping their teachers spend less time on bureaucracy and more time teaching. In my academic life at Florida International University, my contributions often take the form of mentorship and leadership. In nearly every team project, I naturally step into the role of guiding others — not because I seek control, but because I feel responsible for supporting my peers. I help classmates understand programming concepts, break down assignments, and manage stress. During my VR capstone, I rebuilt team communication, structured workloads, and helped each student regain confidence in their abilities. To me, this is also giving back: elevating others so they can succeed alongside me. Looking to the future, I hope to create impact on a much larger scale. My passion lies in virtual reality — not only as entertainment, but as a transformative tool for learning and accessibility. VR has the potential to revolutionize education by making complex subjects immersive and intuitive. A student in a disadvantaged area could explore molecular biology, practice engineering concepts hands-on, or walk through historical simulations without needing expensive labs or travel. Technology can democratize opportunity, and I want to be part of that change. My long-term goal is to develop VR-based tools and platforms that bring high-quality education to communities that traditionally lack access. Whether in Chile, the United States, or anywhere that students feel limited by their circumstances, I want to build technology that gives them a clear pathway forward. Beyond the software itself, I intend to contribute through mentorship: teaching younger students, offering workshops, guiding early programmers, and helping people believe that they, too, can enter the world of technology. My Jewish upbringing taught me tikkun olam — the responsibility to repair the world. Repairing the world does not mean fixing everything; it means doing your part, consistently and sincerely. Today, my part is helping the people around me. In the future, I hope my part will be creating tools, opportunities, and bridges that uplift thousands. A scholarship would not only support my education — it would amplify my ability to give back, extend my reach, and turn my commitment to service into real, lasting impact.

Even though I study in the United States, my heart and identity remain deeply tied to Chile. My home country shaped my values, my humor, my resilience, and my understanding of community. As I pursue my degree in Computer Science and prepare for a future in virtual reality and educational technology, my long-term goal is to use the skills and education I am receiving to elevate opportunities for Chilean students, teachers, and communities that often lack access to advanced digital tools. Chile is a nation full of talent, creativity, and potential — but access to high-quality technology education is uneven. Many schools lack updated labs, and rural areas especially face barriers to resources that students in more privileged environments take for granted. As I grew older and learned more about Chile’s structural challenges, I developed a stronger sense of responsibility toward contributing to its growth, transparency, and long-term stability. Today, in fact, I am going to vote in the Chilean election, supporting José Antonio Kast. I believe he represents a commitment to democratic institutions and to strengthening the accountability of our government. While there are several candidates I respect — and many Chileans hope that either Kast or Evelyn Matthei succeeds — what matters most to me is that Chile moves toward leadership that upholds honest governance, protects public resources, and restores trust in the system. Like many citizens, I hope to see a future where corruption is reduced, where public funds are managed responsibly, and where all political sectors — including those aligned with the Communist Party — operate with full transparency and integrity. My desire is simply for a Chile where no community feels forgotten, and where government money truly serves the people. My greatest passion is virtual reality — not only as entertainment, but as a transformative tool for education. VR can open the world to students who have never had access to advanced scientific or technical environments. With immersive tools, a child in a remote or underserved area could explore the inside of a cell, walk through ancient civilizations, or practice engineering concepts hands-on. These are the kinds of learning experiences that inspire ambition and broaden horizons. During my time at Florida International University and my work in the Lubavitch Educational Center’s IT department, I have learned how technology can empower teachers, simplify workloads, and create more effective classrooms. I plan to take those lessons back to Chile — either through partnerships, workshops, nonprofit initiatives, or by building a VR-based educational company specifically designed for Latin America. Beyond the technology itself, I want to export the teaching philosophy I have developed: that education thrives when students feel seen, encouraged, and capable. Whether through mentorship programs, university teaching, or community initiatives, I hope to directly support Chilean students who dream of entering the world of programming, engineering, or virtual reality but lack a clear pathway. My Chilean identity is also tied closely to my Jewish upbringing, which teaches tikkun olam — the responsibility to repair the world through good deeds and meaningful action. Giving back to Chile is part of that mission. Whether I return permanently or contribute from abroad, my goal is the same: to use my education to create opportunities, reduce barriers, and help build a more prosperous, ethical, and technologically empowered Chile. A scholarship would not only support my studies; it would strengthen my ability to contribute to the future of my country — with knowledge, innovation, and a deep sense of civic responsibility.

Teaching, at its core, is an act of service. It is the choice to step into someone’s life and leave them better equipped, more confident, and more capable than they were before. Although I am studying Computer Science rather than traditional education, my path has consistently aligned with the heart of teaching: guiding others, lifting them, and helping them see possibilities they didn’t know they had. My service to my community began at home. My mother is studying chazzanut—the sacred art of Jewish cantorial leadership—and for years I have assisted her as a music editor, designer, and organizer for Shabbat services. Many of the congregants are elderly, and making the service flow smoothly gives them immense comfort. Helping my mother succeed is more than a family duty; it is an act of service to a spiritual community that raised me, taught me resilience, and shaped the values I carry today. Beyond home, service has grown naturally into every academic environment I join. As a student at Florida International University, I have led or co-led most team projects, not because I seek authority, but because I care about people feeling supported. In my VR capstone, I rebuilt team morale when communication broke down and structured the workload so every member could contribute meaningfully. I learned that leadership is not about control — it’s about teaching others how to succeed, how to communicate, and how to trust their own abilities. I also work in the IT department at the Lubavitch Educational Center, where I maintain databases, build software tools, and support the teachers and administrators who shape hundreds of students every year. Although I work on the technical side, every task I complete ultimately empowers teachers: making grading easier, improving attendance systems, helping classrooms run smoothly. Even behind the scenes, I’ve learned that service in education requires humility, patience, and a willingness to solve problems that no one else sees. My strongest acts of service, however, happen in quiet daily moments — tutoring classmates who are struggling, helping younger students understand programming concepts, and offering emotional support to friends who are overwhelmed. I believe teaching happens long before a person officially becomes a teacher; it grows in the way we respond to others, the way we care, and the way we choose to invest time in another person’s growth. If I become a teacher — whether in a formal classroom or as a university instructor in VR and software engineering — I hope my future students gain something far more enduring than technical knowledge. I want them to experience the feeling of being seen. I want them to understand that intelligence is not fixed and that confidence is something built through courage and practice. I want them to feel safe asking questions, safe making mistakes, and safe being themselves. Above all, I want them to leave my classroom knowing that education is not a race, but a journey where each student deserves support, respect, and encouragement. Teaching, for me, is not just a profession — it is a way of honoring every mentor, rabbi, teacher, and family member who believed in me. It is a way of giving forward the patience and kindness I was shown. And it is a way of carving a small but meaningful piece of good into the world.

How did you get interested in pursuing a computer science degree? My journey from a humble background in Chile to the United States, combined with my Jewish heritage, has strongly shaped my perspectives on education and technology. Growing up, I witnessed firsthand the transformative power of education in changing lives and creating opportunities. As someone who has always been curious about the intersection of technology and learning, my fascination with computer science began to flourish. While my roots instilled in me a deep respect for tradition and heritage, they also ignited a desire to push boundaries and embrace innovation. Upon arriving in the United States, I was exposed to the endless possibilities that technology offered, particularly in the realm of education. This exposure, coupled with my passion for using virtual reality (VR) to revolutionize learning, naturally led me to the field of computer science. What is your goal or dream job after receiving your degree? My dream job is to become a pioneer in the field of educational technology, specifically leveraging virtual reality to transform the way knowledge is imparted and absorbed. I was first going to dedicate myself as a machine learning developer, but when I realized that virtual reality had so much unexplored potential I decided that it would be my mission. I envision a future where classrooms transcend physical limitations, allowing students to immerse themselves in historical events, scientific experiments, and complex concepts. By developing innovative VR applications tailored to educational needs, I aim to bridge the gap between traditional pedagogy and cutting-edge technology. Through this, I aspire to create an impact that resonates with students from diverse backgrounds and learning styles, much like my own journey. Why do you feel you are the best candidate for receiving this scholarship? My unique background and unwavering commitment to educational transformation through technology set me apart as a candidate. The convergence of my Jewish heritage, Chilean origins, and American experience has granted me a holistic perspective that embraces tradition while embracing change. My passion for using virtual reality to enhance learning is not just an academic interest, but a deeply ingrained mission to bring about meaningful change in education. The alignment between my values and Loupe's mission underscores my dedication to revolutionizing education using technology. This scholarship would empower me to further pursue my computer science degree and contribute to a cause that resonates with both my personal journey and my professional aspirations. With a vision that combines cultural appreciation, technological innovation, and educational impact, I am confident that my trajectory and passion make me an ideal candidate for this scholarship.

In a world where innovation is the driving force of progress, one area that calls out for a revolutionary transformation is education. Loupe's mission revolves around revolution, a concept that aligns perfectly with my core values centered on the potential of virtual reality (VR) to reshape the educational landscape. As a person of Jewish heritage who came from humble beginnings in Chile to the United States, I've carried with me a deep appreciation for education's transformative power. My journey has been shaped by a commitment to learning and growth, values deeply embedded within my cultural background. Traditional education methods have largely remained static for centuries. However, the power of VR presents an extraordinary opportunity to bridge the gap between education and technology, and I believe it's time to harness this potential for a much-needed revolution in learning. Imagine classrooms without physical boundaries – students equipped with VR headsets transported into immersive virtual worlds where history, science, art, and math come to life. Instead of reading about historical events, they could virtually witness pivotal moments, deeply engaging their senses and enhancing their understanding. VR has the ability to transform education into an interactive and multi-dimensional experience, catering to various learning styles and capturing students' attention like never before. This educational revolution not only aligns with Loupe's mission but also has the power to transform individuals' purposes. By embracing VR in education, we foster a new generation of learners who are excited about exploring, questioning, and collaborating. Students can step into the shoes of scientists, artists, and historical figures, gaining insights that traditional methods often struggle to deliver. My journey from Chile to the U.S. has instilled in me a passion for breaking down barriers and overcoming challenges. The idea of VR-infused education holds promise on multiple fronts. For starters, it can make learning more inclusive and accessible. Students from different parts of the world could connect in a shared virtual classroom, breaking down geographical barriers and allowing for diverse perspectives. Moreover, subjects that are typically challenging to grasp can be visualized and interacted with in VR, leading to a deeper comprehension of complex concepts. Collaboration is another key aspect that aligns with Loupe's mission. In a VR learning environment, students can work together on projects, simulations, and experiments. They can collaborate on a virtual canvas, conducting chemistry experiments, exploring the human body, or even building historically accurate structures. This level of interactivity not only enhances the educational experience but also hones important skills such as teamwork, communication, and problem-solving. As someone deeply invested in leveraging VR for educational purposes, my heritage and journey provide a unique perspective on the value of education and the opportunities it can unlock. I see an incredible opportunity for alignment between my values and Loupe's mission. The revolution in education through VR is a pathway toward empowerment, enlightenment, and progress. It's a way to make learning faster, more engaging, and more enjoyable, instilling a lifelong love for exploration and knowledge. In conclusion, when asked about one thing I'd like to see undergo a revolution, my answer resonates with Loupe's mission: the transformation of education through the power of virtual reality. This revolution has the potential to break down barriers, enhance learning outcomes, and align with individual purposes – a true embodiment of Loupe's ethos of revolutionizing for the better.

Once a great person told me “A good deed is never lost, ” but I did not believe it; neither did I understand its true meaning. I used to be a very negative person, and I felt lost in the lie that life was never going to be happy for me, but that belief changed when I joined my mother at a “Christmas/Chanukah day” for people at an orphanage in Chile that she used to organize. I wasn’t very into selfless acts as I was in the climax of my worst years, puberty, but I went with her because I believe that your mother always will do what she believes is best for you. When we arrived at this structure, we entered the main yard where the kids were bundled together, and as soon as the kids saw us with bags of toys that we and various families of our community had gathered, we were greeted with kindness so great and happiness so immense from the children that I have never seen before or since. We gave them the gifts while another member of our team was preparing the table for the feast, when I saw something that melted my heart. Every time a kid got bored of playing with their given toy, they would just exchange it with others. No toy was untouched or left aside at any point, and they did not fight with any jealous feelings, as one child just said, “Wanna try it Fede?”, and the other responded, “Yeah, have mine for the robot war!” I saw that their innocence, and the mere and simple act of sharing, made these kids so grateful that they would mimic the generosity. Their display of brotherhood was admirable, and it made me rethink my relationship with my brothers. I have not always been close to my two younger brothers, Ariel and Yoel, but after that day, I have been more generous with my time, playing cards and running around outside. Now, here, in the United States of America, my parents have worked very hard to survive and to provide us with education. We’ve endured many hardships to be here, but like those children, we have learned to be hopeful and kind. Life can be merciless, but you always harvest what you cultivate. Helping others is very common in our teachings, from helping at the synagogue to acting honorably to others. People sometimes only remember the bad things, so it is up to us to remind them of the good things, deeds and actions that for some might be menial, but with the right intention, they can be life-changing. The other day, I was working on an assignment, and my neighbor asked me to print her something, and as a gentleman I did. Then yesterday, she sent us a letter, thanking us for being such good neighbors. Although it was a simple act of kindness, I felt joy, happiness, and satisfaction when I got the letter and saw that she noticed and appreciated it. I learned that kindness is like COVID, it spreads very fast “infecting” those who get close to it; however, it is different, because kindness can save lives, kindness spreads joy, and kindness is better to be a carrier. Life is about sharing, sharing kindness, sharing hope, and even sharing pain. It is full of surprises that can be good or bad, but all of them are necessary to grow, and doing small acts of kindness for others has taught me that we can all help each other through challenges.

Ever since I have memory, I have always had a passion for solving puzzles, from the beginning 100 pieces at 2 years old, to the 2000 pieces that I occasionally did back in Chile. Solving problems is what has been a key factor in my life. I have always loved to help people. I was raised in a Jewish home, and I have always been proud of that. One of the most important things that I was taught is that no matter what, you must help others because we are here to give, not to take. Legos were a big part of my life too, as with them I could create whatever I imagined. From early in my life I wanted to be an inventor, to create contraptions and gadgets to help others. When I lived in Chile, I used to build simple contraptions out of Lego to help my parents, such as this (now basic) vacuum cleaner. It was made to brush through the dust and go around the home. This was created using Lego and a broken broom. We eventually moved to Florida because we felt that living in Chile was no longer possible for us. After all, I was bullied in school to the point that my parents pulled me out before it got any worse. Moving here was a godsend. I was able to participate in the Robotics club and discover a new hobby: programming. So, until I graduated from high school (now in Florida), I aspired to be an engineer. This changed when I understood programming was the way of the future. I am now studying Computer Science to assist in the design of a brighter future. I will be on the cutting edge of innovations that will benefit humanity. I want to help others, and just as I'm asking for a scholarship to help pay for my school, I'll be sponsoring future generations so they may continue my journey when I'm gone. STEM is vital because it allows kids to learn about the world around them in a hands-on manner. STEM stands for Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics. Students must be exposed to all four areas to be prepared for the future. Technology and engineering are becoming more important in the workplace, and math is a fundamental ability that all kids should be able to understand. Science is also necessary for pupils to comprehend their surroundings. They can develop an appreciation for the natural world and learn how to safeguard it by learning about it. STEM is critical for human survival since technological improvements are the only way to save our world from ourselves. We must act, and I will do so.

Out of my experience in school, there is one tip that I strongly recoment. Don't attempt to be someone who you are not, while always remember to be better than yesterday. By attempting to be someone you are not, you lie to yourself. If you want to be liked, try to approach people, if they accept you by who you are, they will stay, if they don't, then you just dodged a bullet. I also included to be better than yesterday, because the learning environment is all about improvement. Teachers love to see students improve, because it shows that they are doing something meaningfull that is helping others. No matter how good or bad the teacher is, if you show improvements, they will be happy, and in turn provide you with an ally in the battlefield of life. As I said, "life is a battlefield, and to win you need allies", so be on the look for friends and mentors; people that will support you, but will stop you when you are about to do something you might regret. And lastly, if you want to be known, don't seek attention, because fame will come to those who can shine bright.

Remi from Ratatuouile is my all-time favorite Disney character from all of the films I've seen. Remi is a rat with the most humble origins of any Disney character. In my honest opinion, he is the main character in Disney's last treasure, as that is the best of the movies with a perfect tale from the last generation. Remi embodies effort and talent, as he worked tirelessly for what he felt to be right. Remi motivates me to keep going even when everything is against me. I don't consider myself a rat, nor am I affluent or ostentatiously wealthy, so such humility as Remi, yet having such a forceful personality helped me empathize to Remi.My goal is to help people with revolutionary ideas and creations. I am in the path to help billions of people with my inventions and I will help humanity to thrive.

As a Jew who came from Chile, I have always valued the power of education and money. I am not crazy about money, but I put it in my priority list right below education and followed by oxygen. I was taught that one who has, must share, because when the subject is tzedakah, 1 + 1 is 3, you donate to me, and then I donate to a third, hence 1 + 1 = 3. We go to a Chabad synagogue and put the tefillim that I got for my bar mitzvah everyday (the tefillim). But it is very hard to eat kosher when money is a problem, yet thank the lord, we do what we can. Paying it forward means to me the act of helping someone out to get on their feet, yet not to give them all. There is an example that I would like to share. Chabad invited me to go on a trip to Israel, where I prepared for over a year, this trip was going to be with over 30 other students and by now I would have already be with them, but due to unfortunate circumstances with the visa, I couldn’t go, I worked very hard and applied to many scholarships to be able to pay for the trip, but I could not go, so Instead of whining about my misfortune, I am here writing this essay in the hopes that my education won’t suffer like my one-in-a-lifetime opportunity did, because I know that one day, G’d will give me another chance to see the promised land and put the paper that my Yayo, my zeydee gave me last time I saw him.

As a Jew, I have to obligation to eat Kosher food. Kosher food needs to be prepared in a very specific way and there are plethora of laws and statues that state how and what is and isn’t Kosher. We go to a Chabad synagogue and put the tefillim that I got for my bar mitzvah everyday (the tefillim). But it is very hard to eat kosher when money is a problem, yet thank the lord, we do what we can. Eating Kosher food is a commandment from the lord, and it signifies that we eat not for a primal need, but because with that energy we are going to help the world. The mission of my people is to help all the nations in the world to live in peace, and make the world a better place.

I am a visionary whose major goal is to create a better future by fundamentally changing how we see technology, and I will be the greatest inventor ever. My intentions are broad in some ways, but I have a definite aim, and I will succeed regardless of the outcome. I am fluent in two languages, Spanish and English; I comprehend one, Hebrew; and I am learning three more, Japanese, Yiddish, and Russian. Cyber security was a major part in my life. When I was in Chile I had a fascination with how vulnerable was the computer system of my school, so with a lot of free time, and some steel nerves, I installed a kali Linux (then known as moto) virtual emulator (which allowed me to use the kali Linux without installing anything, hence bypassing the administrator rights) in one of the school computers and started testing. I tested and played with it, until I got access to admin rights, in which I proceed to… well… I reported the vulnerability to the library, but they did not believe me, so I close the exploit and since that was the last day of school, and then I decided to transfer to another school, because they bullied me there, I forgot about it and never looked back. I haven’t used that since, and this experience was in 2015. I haven’t tried because I have recently been more involved in computer science, and creating in python or java is less of a pain than power shell, even thought I still do from time to time automotive stuff with a shell, like when I tried a reverse shell on my grandma’s laptop to help her with yahoo mail, as it was easier for me to control the computer than to explain her what to do by phone. I had prepared the shell far before she called me just in case she might need me. I stopped doing it because I wanted to be a white hat hacker, but I promise myself that I would only do it when I join a club in college. And that is still my plan.

I am a visionary whose major goal is to create a better future by fundamentally changing how we see technology, and I will be the greatest inventor ever. My intentions are broad in some ways, but I have a definite aim, and I will succeed regardless of the outcome. I am fluent in two languages, Spanish and English; I comprehend one, Hebrew; and I am learning three more, Japanese, Yiddish, and Russian. Cyber security was a major part in my life. When I was in Chile I had a fascination with how vulnerable was the computer system of my school, so with a lot of free time, and some steel nerves, I installed a kali Linux (then known as moto) virtual emulator (which allowed me to use the kali Linux without installing anything, hence bypassing the administrator rights) in one of the school computers and started testing. I tested and played with it, until I got access to admin rights, in which I proceed to… well… I reported the vulnerability to the library, but they did not believe me, so I close the exploit and since that was the last day of school, and then I decided to transfer to another school, because they bullied me there, I forgot about it and never looked back. I haven’t used that since, and this experience was in 2015. I haven’t tried because I have recently been more involved in computer science, and creating in python or java is less of a pain than power shell, even thought I still do from time to time automotive stuff with a shell, like when I tried a reverse shell on my grandma’s laptop to help her with yahoo mail, as it was easier for me to control the computer than to explain her what to do by phone. I had prepared the shell far before she called me just in case she might need me. I stopped doing it because I wanted to be a white hat hacker, but I promise myself that I would only do it when I join a club in college. And that is still my plan.

I am a visionary whose major goal is to create a better future by fundamentally changing how we see technology, and I will be the greatest inventor ever. My intentions are broad in some ways, but I have a definite aim, and I will succeed regardless of the outcome. I am fluent in two languages, Spanish and English; I comprehend one, Hebrew; and I am learning three more, Japanese, Yiddish, and Russian. Cyber security was a major part in my life. When I was in Chile I had a fascination with how vulnerable was the computer system of my school, so with a lot of free time, and some steel nerves, I installed a kali Linux (then known as moto) virtual emulator (which allowed me to use the kali Linux without installing anything, hence bypassing the administrator rights) in one of the school computers and started testing. I tested and played with it, until I got access to admin rights, in which I proceed to… well… I reported the vulnerability to the library, but they did not believe me, so I close the exploit and since that was the last day of school, and then I decided to transfer to another school, because they bullied me there, I forgot about it and never looked back. I haven’t used that since, and this experience was in 2015. I haven’t tried because I have recently been more involved in computer science, and creating in python or java is less of a pain than power shell, even thought I still do from time to time automotive stuff with a shell, like when I tried a reverse shell on my grandma’s laptop to help her with yahoo mail, as it was easier for me to control the computer than to explain her what to do by phone. I had prepared the shell far before she called me just in case she might need me. I stopped doing it because I wanted to be a white hat hacker, but I promise myself that I would only do it when I join a club in college. And that is still my plan.

Cyber security was a major part in my life. When I was in Chile I had a fascination with how vulnerable was the computer system of my school, so with a lot of free time, and some steel nerves, I installed a kali Linux (then known as moto) virtual emulator (which allowed me to use the kali Linux without installing anything, hence bypassing the administrator rights) in one of the school computers and started testing. I tested and played with it, until I got access to admin rights, in which I proceed to… well… I reported the vulnerability to the library, but they did not believe me, so I close the exploit and since that was the last day of school, and then I decided to transfer to another school, because they bullied me there, I forgot about it and never looked back. I haven’t used that since, and this experience was in 2015. I haven’t tried because I have recently been more involved in computer science, and creating in python or java is less of a pain than power shell, even thought I still do from time to time automotive stuff with a shell, like when I tried a reverse shell on my grandma’s laptop to help her with yahoo mail, as it was easier for me to control the computer than to explain her what to do by phone. I had prepared the shell far before she called me just in case she might need me. I stopped doing it because I wanted to be a white hat hacker, but I promise myself that I would only do it when I join a club in college. And that is still my plan.

My life has been, without a doubt, one of the most frantic roller coasters that you could ever imagine. My journey begins in Chile, a South American country. I grew up and was raised as a Jew in Chile, where I attended a Jewish school; yet, this was not my best experience, because even though I am a Jew like them, I was not "like" them. I've always stood out from the crowd; as an Asperger's patient, I've always been too outspoken for my classmates, making it simple for them to pick on me. I let them get away with it for a while, but when they started bullying my friend Alon, who was not only like me but also had an overweight problem, that was when they crossed the line. A fight I could never win since, even if we were physically matched, they had already gained the favor of the teacher, who suspended me. A few years later, I decide to move to another school on the condition that I never start a fight again. It did not end well, but at least I did not resort to violence. I was bullied there as well, but it was there that I met one of my greatest friends, Maxi. His and my families became great friends, and as they moved to Florida, they assisted us with the legal process and guided us through the transition. My life hasn't always been easy, but I've always pushed forward because I've always wanted to be an innovator and serve the world.