Mental health is one of the most universal yet misunderstood elements of the human experience. While I haven’t personally lived with a diagnosed mental illness, I’ve walked closely beside many who have—friends, classmates, peers in research labs, and people I’ve mentored. In those moments, I’ve learned just how heavy invisible pain can be, how deeply misunderstood it is, and how important it is to have people willing to stand in that space and simply stay. My understanding of mental health grew not from a single crisis, but from many small moments. A friend missing class more and more, apologizing constantly for being “off.” A fellow student researcher breaking down in the lab, feeling the pressure of perfection. A teammate struggling silently with depression after losing someone close. These aren’t headline stories, but they are the reality for so many people around me. And while I couldn’t fix their pain, I could choose not to ignore it. I could sit beside them, listen without trying to rush them out of it, and be someone they didn’t have to pretend around. These experiences have shaped how I view the world. I now see emotional health not as something separate from who we are—but as the foundation for everything else: our learning, our relationships, our capacity to grow. I’ve seen how stigma silences people, even those who are strong, successful, and surrounded by others. That silence often comes from fear—of being judged, of being misunderstood, or of being seen as broken. I want to be part of the generation that breaks that silence, not just with words, but with how we treat people in the everyday. Mental health isn’t just a personal issue—it’s a structural one. In my work as a research assistant in veterinary and biomedical science labs, I’ve noticed how rarely mental wellness is addressed, despite the high-pressure environments and emotional labor these roles often carry. People in science are expected to compartmentalize, to chase results, and to leave their emotions at the door. But we’re not machines. The pressure to always be productive, especially in competitive research environments, leads to burnout and breakdowns that few feel safe to talk about. One experience brought this reality into sharp focus for me. I had a phone conversation with a woman who had just completed the incredibly demanding DVM/PhD dual degree program at NC State. She shared something that left a lasting impression on me: that if it weren’t for one of my closest friends—an underclassman, quiet, faithful presence who had been a close friend for her throughout the program—she would not have made it. She told me plainly that without him, she would have ended her life. She had struggled so intensely under the emotional strain of her program, the toxic culture in certain labs, and the lack of support from those in leadership positions. But having one person who listened, who never judged, who consistently showed up—that was what saved her. That moment reframed mental health for me. It’s no longer abstract. It’s personal. I’ve seen the difference one person can make. I want to be like my friend was for her—a light in a system that too often leaves people in the dark. I want to be someone who is intentional about building relationships with those around me, so that when someone begins to slip, I’m close enough to notice—and strong enough to step in. I want to bring that same support into my future work, into every lab I join, and every team I lead. Looking ahead, I plan to pursue a PhD in Comparative Biomedical Sciences with a focus on translational research—bridging laboratory science with real-world medical and mental health applications. My career goal is to work in biotechnology or veterinary public health, helping develop diagnostics and interventions for chronic conditions like pain, neurodegenerative disorders, and stress-related illnesses. But beyond the research itself, I want to reshape the culture of scientific spaces. I want to help build institutions where researchers, interns, students, and staff feel safe being human—where asking for help is normal, and compassion is expected. My Christian faith is the foundation of this desire. I believe every life has value, and that we’re called to carry one another’s burdens—not just through projects or policies, but through presence. Supporting mental health is how I live out that calling. It’s how I honor those who’ve trusted me with their struggles. And it’s how I plan to lead—not with control, but with care. I also hope to be involved in public education and mentorship, helping younger students—especially those from underrepresented backgrounds—understand that science is not a cold field. It is a deeply human one. We don’t just need more data—we need more people who understand how data impacts lives, and how to support the people behind the research. The story of Ethel Hayes resonates with me because it reminds me of how often pain remains invisible until it’s too late—and how powerful it is when one person chooses to care. Her story, and the stories of those I’ve supported and learned from, have given me a responsibility I don’t take lightly. I may not have faced mental illness myself, but I’ve stood beside it. And I will keep showing up—for my peers, for the future students I’ll mentor, and for the people who just need to know they’re not alone. Mental health challenges don’t always announce themselves. Sometimes, they show up quietly—behind perfect grades, smiling faces, or prestigious degrees. But if we bring light to the quiet battles, the darkness begins to fade. That’s what I want to be part of—not just in words, but in action.

My name is Nathan, and while my academic path has centered around biological sciences and animal science, the importance of mental health has never felt like a side subject—it’s woven into everything I do. Whether I’m conducting research, mentoring students, or simply being present for a friend, I’ve come to understand that mental and emotional well-being are at the heart of human thriving. That belief has shaped my relationships, my worldview, and my long-term career goals. I’ve always been the kind of person others come to when they need to talk. I listen carefully, not because I always know what to say, but because I believe people feel better when they know they’re truly heard. Over time, I’ve realized that this quality—just being a consistent, safe presence—is rare, and it's something I never want to take for granted. I may not be pursuing a degree in counseling or psychology directly, but I’m committed to integrating emotional support into the scientific and research spaces I’m part of. Mental health, especially in academic and clinical environments, is often overlooked. High-achieving students are expected to power through stress. Researchers are expected to separate emotion from their work. But we’re all human. I’ve seen how burnout, anxiety, and self-doubt can quietly weigh down even the most brilliant peers. I’ve experienced moments of that pressure myself—feeling the need to prove my worth through performance rather than presence. These experiences have deepened my empathy and given me a stronger drive to create environments where people feel supported as whole individuals, not just for what they can produce. Through my work in veterinary pain research and swine science, I’ve learned that healing isn’t just about treating physical symptoms—it’s about understanding behavior, motivation, and the emotional context behind what we observe. Whether it’s animals under stress or humans navigating invisible burdens, emotional health always matters. This is why I believe mental health advocacy doesn’t just belong in therapy offices—it belongs in every field, including mine. Looking ahead, I plan to pursue a Ph.D. in Comparative Biomedical Sciences, with the goal of entering a career in translational research or biotechnology. I want to lead studies that directly improve quality of life for both animals and people—especially in areas like chronic pain, neurobiology, and degenerative conditions. But just as importantly, I want to foster mental wellness within the scientific teams I work with. That might mean mentoring younger researchers, facilitating honest conversations about burnout, or building a lab culture that values well-being as much as data. Mental health deserves more than awareness—it deserves action. I plan to use my career to advocate for better integration of mental health principles into science, medicine, and education. That includes championing compassion in research settings, creating opportunities for young scientists to be seen and supported, and using my platform—no matter how small—to remind others that asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. My journey hasn’t been defined by personal mental illness, but by proximity to it—by the friends, classmates, and colleagues who’ve trusted me with their struggles. I carry their stories with me. They’ve made me a more attentive learner, a more present friend, and a more intentional future leader. Mental health impacts everything—and everyone. Through research, mentorship, and quiet but consistent advocacy, I hope to be part of the generation that doesn’t just talk about mental health, but truly makes space for it.

My name is Nathan, and I’m a student who has learned firsthand how education—especially in science—can become a turning point. Growing up, I didn’t come from a background filled with scientists or lab coats. What I did have was curiosity, a strong work ethic, and a desire to understand the world around me. What motivates me today is the belief that through science, we gain the power to transform lives—including our own. My passion for science started not in a textbook, but in observation. I remember watching the way an injured animal reacted to pain and how veterinarians worked to relieve it. That experience planted a seed. In high school, I became involved in more structured research settings and quickly fell in love with biology, physiology, and the complexity of living systems. What excites me most is that science isn’t just about knowledge—it’s about solving problems and restoring what’s broken, whether that’s in a body, a community, or the environment. I’ve pursued this interest in several research positions that helped me see how science applies in real time. At NC State, I’ve been involved in translational pain research for dogs with osteoarthritis, where we use advanced imaging and client surveys to better detect and treat chronic pain. I’ve also participated in swine nutrition studies to improve animal welfare and production outcomes. This hands-on work has not only deepened my understanding of biological systems, but also taught me that research is a form of service—especially when it’s used to improve quality of life, whether for humans or animals. What I find meaningful about science is that it demands both humility and creativity. You have to be disciplined and precise, yet willing to challenge assumptions and test new ideas. One of my favorite concepts from biology is “homeostasis”—the idea that the body strives to stay in balance even when the environment changes. That’s how I view my own journey: life brings unexpected changes, but science gives me a framework to understand, adapt, and respond with purpose. In the future, I hope to pursue a PhD in Comparative Biomedical Sciences, focusing on translational and clinical research that bridges the gap between laboratory discoveries and real-world applications. I’m particularly interested in how we can improve diagnostics and treatment in veterinary and human medicine using tools like imaging, bioinformatics, and immunology. Long-term, I see myself working in a biotech or pharmaceutical company, leading research that not only drives innovation but also makes healthcare more compassionate and accessible. I’m also committed to mentoring younger students—especially those who feel unseen in STEM fields—and to participating in public education and outreach. What drives me most is the belief that science, when pursued with integrity and compassion, is one of the greatest tools we have for good. That’s what I imagine Mr. Stockwell taught his students—that science isn’t just memorizing facts, but learning how to ask questions that matter, how to fail and try again, and how to make life better for someone else. Education gave me the direction I needed. Science gave me the tools. And mentors—like those who’ve invested in me—gave me the belief that I can use what I’ve learned to help others. I carry all of that with me into my studies and my future. Receiving this scholarship would not only honor Mr. Stockwell’s legacy—it would allow me to continue living it out through every research paper, mentorship opportunity, and life I hope to impact.

While I’ve never held a formal title in mental health support, I’ve always strived to be someone people can rely on—whether that means being a quiet listener, offering encouragement, or simply showing up consistently. In both academic and personal settings, I’ve found that people gravitate toward those who make them feel safe and understood. I try to be that person. Through my roles in research labs, clubs, and group projects, I’ve had the opportunity to support others not just intellectually, but emotionally. I’ve seen how academic stress, imposter syndrome, and burnout can weigh heavily on students. When someone around me is struggling, I don’t rush to “fix” things—I listen without judgment, help them feel seen, and remind them they’re not alone. It’s a small gesture, but it can make all the difference. My faith also shapes how I care for others. I believe each person carries inherent worth and deserves to be treated with kindness and dignity, regardless of what they’re going through. That belief is what fuels my interest in pursuing a career in healthcare—one that values the whole person, not just their symptoms. As I continue my studies in biological sciences and animal science, my goal is to enter a health-related research field where I can not only contribute to physical well-being but also foster a culture of empathy within scientific spaces. Mental health is often overlooked in research-driven environments, yet scientists and healthcare workers alike are just as human. I want to be someone who brings both technical skill and emotional awareness to whatever lab, clinic, or team I’m part of. I also believe in leading by example. Whether it’s mentoring younger students, checking in on teammates, or being transparent about my own stress and coping strategies, I want to normalize conversations around mental health. Being vulnerable doesn’t make us weak—it helps others feel stronger. In the end, my vision for a career in healthcare isn’t just about diagnostics or treatments—it’s about people. Real people with real stories. I want my work to help them feel better, and my presence to help them feel seen. That’s how I’ll continue advocating for emotional well-being—quietly, consistently, and with compassion.

Sabrina Carpenter is an artist whose career arc I respect deeply—not just for her talent, but for the precision and purpose behind everything she does. From the start, she’s demonstrated a rare ability to evolve without losing her authenticity, something I admire and seek to apply in my own path. I first saw Sabrina on Girl Meets World, and even then, she stood out. Maya Hart wasn’t just another sidekick—she was layered. Her character had grit, vulnerability, and quick wit, and Sabrina brought her to life with ease. That role showed me the power of portraying complexity, especially in a world that often oversimplifies people. As her music career grew, so did the range of her voice—both literally and artistically. Songs like because i liked a boy and Please Please Please reveal an artist who’s not afraid to dissect her own experiences and turn them into commentary. When she sings “I got death threats filling up semi-trucks,” she isn’t asking for pity—she’s making a point about perception, double standards, and resilience. It’s bold, it’s sharp, and it made me think about how I respond to criticism or pressure in my own field. I’m not in music or acting—I’m a science student. But studying someone like Sabrina has shown me that whether you’re building songs or solving problems, the same core traits matter: persistence, creativity, and purpose. Watching her refine her message and expand her platform without compromising her individuality has made me reconsider how I show up—not just in academics, but in leadership, communication, and even public outreach. Sabrina’s latest era, from Espresso to Emails I Can’t Send, blends clever lyrics with intention. She owns her choices and doesn’t flinch when it comes to navigating a complex industry. When she sings “That’s that me espresso,” it’s playful—but underneath that is someone moving on her own terms. That confidence is something I admire. It reminds me that excellence isn’t about fitting expectations—it’s about exceeding them without losing yourself. There’s also something to be said for the way Sabrina uses her visibility. She doesn’t just entertain—she brings awareness to mental health, women’s rights, and the pressures of online scrutiny. Her advocacy is quiet but consistent. It’s not performative—it’s lived. That example has pushed me to think about how I can use my skills in science not just to achieve goals, but to serve others. Whether I end up in translational research, epidemiology, or education, I want my work to have reach—beyond numbers, beyond labs, into real communities. Sabrina’s career is proof that it’s possible to be strategic without being cynical, and authentic without being vulnerable to exploitation. That’s a balance I strive for, especially as I work in academic and research environments that often prioritize performance over purpose. Being a fan of Sabrina Carpenter isn’t about idolizing a celebrity. For me, it’s about observing someone who has mastered her craft by embracing growth and standing for something beyond the charts. She’s intentional, unapologetic, and multifaceted—and because of that, she’s influenced the way I think about my own goals. She once said, “You can’t play the victim and the hero.” That stuck with me. In life—and in work—we get to choose our role. Watching her choose the harder path and still thrive reminds me that I can, too. Sabrina Carpenter is not just an artist I listen to. She’s an example I learn from.

When my youngest brother was still in the womb, doctors urged my mother to consider abortion. An ultrasound suggested he might be missing bones in his pinky—a possible sign of Down syndrome. My parents were told that continuing the pregnancy would be emotionally, mentally, and physically draining, that raising a child with a disability might negatively impact our family’s life. But my mother, grounded in her faith and her conviction that all life is inherently valuable, refused. My brother was born healthy, without any genetic disorder. Their medical advice was wrong—but even if it had been right, there would have been no justification for ending his life. That experience solidified my pro-life position. The fact that a doctor so casually recommended ending the life of a child because of a suspected disability disturbed me then and still does now. It reminded me of how casually our culture treats unborn life—how quickly we devalue it when it's seen as inconvenient or imperfect. My brother is now a thriving 13-year-old. I can’t imagine life without him. He’s not only a blessing to our family but a daily reminder that every life, regardless of what the world deems “normal,” has purpose and dignity. As a biology major, I understand scientifically that life begins at conception. Fertilization creates a unique human organism, genetically distinct from both mother and father. The claim that the unborn are "just a clump of cells" is not rooted in science—it’s rhetoric used to justify what is, biologically and ethically, the ending of a human life. If we found life on another planet with just a fraction of the complexity an embryo has, headlines would announce it as a miraculous discovery. Yet we deny that miracle every day in our clinics and hospitals. Still, it’s not science alone that shapes my convictions—it’s primarily my faith in Christ. The Bible speaks clearly to the value of life: “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb” (Psalm 139:13). Every person is made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27), and that includes the unborn. Jesus welcomed children, protected the vulnerable, and called His followers to defend those who could not defend themselves. To be pro-life is to reflect the heart of Christ toward the most defenseless among us. My commitment to the pro-life cause extends beyond my personal beliefs. I serve as a youth leader in my church’s Awana program, mentoring fifth-grade boys and teaching biblical principles, including the sanctity of life. I also engage in respectful dialogue with peers in academic settings, offering scientific and ethical arguments for the pro-life position when the topic arises. In the future, I hope to advocate through educational outreach, research, and public communication that promotes compassion and clarity on this issue. I dream of a world where no mother feels pressured to end her child’s life due to fear, misinformation, or lack of support. And I want to be part of building that world—not through judgment, but through truth and hope. Every life, no matter how small, how unexpected, or how “inconvenient,” deserves the chance to be lived. I believe that with every fiber of my being—and I will continue to live that belief out, in word and in action.

While my academic majors are in Animal Science and Biological Sciences, my work in translational research has increasingly led me to appreciate the critical importance of bioinformatics. From managing complex biological datasets to drawing meaningful conclusions from high-throughput diagnostics, I’ve seen firsthand how bioinformatics drives progress in fields ranging from pain research to infectious disease modeling. I currently serve as a research assistant in the Translational Research in Pain (TRiP) Program at NC State University’s College of Veterinary Medicine. Our team investigates osteoarthritis in dogs—a naturally occurring model for chronic pain in humans. I analyze kinetic gait data, radiographic imaging, and thermographic heat maps to identify changes in inflammation and mobility. While my work involves collecting and curating data, I’ve also learned to work with tools for organizing large, multidimensional datasets. As our lab advances, there is a clear need for integrating bioinformatics approaches to refine pain signatures and quantify therapeutic responses. This research has sparked a strong interest in the informatics side of biology—how algorithms, databases, and machine learning can make biological patterns visible and actionable. My exposure to bioinformatics grew further through my coursework and projects. In a genetics course, I explored neural tube defects and developed an educational resource tracing the role of gene-environment interactions in spina bifida. I analyzed the impact of variants in MTHFR and folate pathways and how whole-genome association studies inform risk prediction. Though not a formal bioinformatics project, the work drew me into sequencing tools, database mining, and understanding how computational biology can be leveraged to advance maternal and child health. I’ve also gained hands-on agricultural research experience through my second research position at NC State’s Swine Educational Unit. There, I assist in collecting samples—blood, feces, adipose tissue—and help evaluate how nutritional interventions affect metabolic health. Animal agriculture, like medicine, is entering an era of big data: genomic selection, microbiome analysis, and environmental sensors generate massive streams of information. I recognize how crucial bioinformatics is becoming not just in medical or pharmaceutical fields, but also in precision livestock management and agricultural sustainability. Professionally, I hope to pursue a Ph.D. in Comparative Biomedical Sciences with a focus in translational research, particularly in pain, oncology, or infectious disease. I want to work at the crossroads of animal models and human health, helping bridge clinical discovery and real-world treatment. To do this well, I must develop skills in bioinformatics, especially in analyzing omics datasets, designing reproducible workflows, and applying tools like BBtools to assess sequencing quality and align reads. The ability to interpret complex biological data accurately and efficiently will be central to my career success. To grow in this field, I’ve been independently learning about data visualization in R, RNA-seq analysis pipelines, and software used in microbiome studies. I plan to enroll in coursework that emphasizes biological data science and take part in bioinformatics modules during my upper-level lab-based classes. I’ve also sought mentorship from graduate students using machine learning to analyze pain behavior and thermographic outputs in our canine models—skills I want to refine as I prepare for graduate school. Brian Bushnell’s development of BBtools has enabled thousands of researchers to improve their data quality and analysis pipelines. Receiving a scholarship in his name would support my continued growth as a data-driven biologist. With it, I hope to sharpen my ability to generate, clean, and analyze biological datasets—not just to contribute to research, but to produce insights that improve animal and human lives alike.

Although I do not personally live with a chronic condition, I’ve come to deeply appreciate the resilience it takes to manage one while pursuing higher education. Through my academic work and research, I’ve had the privilege of learning from and supporting people—students, patients, and animals—who live with ongoing pain or illness. Their strength and determination have deeply influenced my goals and the kind of healthcare researcher I strive to be. To me, resilience means learning how to live forward while managing something that tries to hold you back. It’s balancing the weight of symptoms, fatigue, appointments, or treatment side effects with the demands of school, work, and life. Resilience isn’t about pretending everything is fine; it’s about showing up—even on the days when everything is harder than it should be. My understanding of chronic illness became more personal when I began working as a research assistant in the Translational Research in Pain (TRiP) Program at NC State’s College of Veterinary Medicine. We study dogs with osteoarthritis—many of whom experience long-term, invisible pain. Though these are veterinary patients, the lessons are universally human: pain and illness are often hidden, misunderstood, and minimized. These animals cannot speak, yet their stories are full of resilience, and it is our responsibility to advocate for them. That sense of advocacy extends beyond the lab. I’ve volunteered over 250 hours with the Turtle Rescue Team, where I’ve cared for injured wildlife in need of long-term treatment. I’ve mentored youth in Awana Clubs and led academic small groups for first-year students. These experiences have exposed me to many individuals who live with chronic physical or mental conditions—some visible, others not. I've witnessed how those challenges intersect with academic pressure, stigma, and isolation. I’ve learned how important it is to support classmates, peers, and labmates with flexibility, empathy, and genuine respect. Professionally, these experiences have shaped my career goal: to earn a Ph.D. in Comparative Biomedical Sciences and work in translational research that bridges clinical application and human care. I am especially drawn to conditions like chronic pain, autoimmune disease, and cancer—fields where patients often endure long-term struggles with limited treatment success. I want to lead research that creates accessible, meaningful tools and therapies for those living with chronic conditions. And just as importantly, I want to communicate science clearly—to ensure that the knowledge we gain doesn’t stay locked in publications but reaches real people. Resilience doesn’t always look bold. Sometimes it’s invisible. It’s logging into class after a night of pain, asking for an extension when pride says not to, or advocating for yourself in a medical system that doesn’t always listen. I deeply admire the students who live that truth daily. While I don’t claim to carry the same weight, I carry a commitment to lighten it—through science, advocacy, and compassion that endures.

My name is Nathan, and I’m an undergraduate student at North Carolina State University pursuing a double major in Biological Sciences and Animal Science. My ultimate goal is to earn a Ph.D. in Comparative Biomedical Sciences and build a career in translational biomedical research—developing tools, diagnostics, and treatments that reduce suffering in both humans and animals. I hope to serve as a laboratory director or senior scientist in the biotechnology industry, where I can lead research with both clinical relevance and community impact. This vision wasn’t formed overnight. It has grown from years of hands-on experience, from volunteering to research, each moment sharpening my understanding of the healthcare field and expanding my sense of purpose within it. As a research assistant in the Translational Research in Pain (TRiP) Program at NC State’s College of Veterinary Medicine, I work with dogs suffering from osteoarthritis. We use imaging, gait analysis, and biological data to better understand how pain manifests—and how it might be managed more effectively. Pain, especially chronic pain, doesn’t always present clearly, and that complexity fuels my curiosity. This work taught me that healthcare and medicine extend far beyond prescriptions—they begin with understanding, with listening to what data, biology, and patients are all trying to say. My earlier experiences were rooted in volunteer service. I’ve served over 250 hours with NC State’s Turtle Rescue Team, treating wildlife in a high-stakes, low-resource setting that mirrors field medicine in many ways. I also led a small group in youth discipleship through AWANA Clubs, where I guided fifth-grade boys in lessons about grace, forgiveness, and emotional maturity. These experiences gave me a front-row seat to the kinds of pain and healing that don’t show up in bloodwork but are just as real. They’ve helped me see research and medicine not as separate fields, but as part of one continuous mission to care for others. Through all of this, I’ve realized that I’m not only interested in doing research—I’m also passionate about communicating it. Public health and science education matter deeply to me. Whether teaching others about thermographic pain detection or developing accessible educational tools in animal science, I want my work to reach beyond the lab. I believe innovation is only as powerful as our ability to share it. This is why I’ve chosen translational biomedical research as my career focus. I’m particularly interested in pain, neurodegeneration, and cancer—not just for the science, but because these areas touch millions of lives. My ambition is to help bring cutting-edge research from bench to bedside, ensuring that discoveries become treatments, and data becomes hope. I want to lead teams that think not only with scientific rigor but with ethical responsibility and compassion. Though I am not pursuing occupational therapy, I deeply respect the values Christina Taylese Singh stood for: empathy, healing, and restoring quality of life. Occupational therapy reminds us that patients are not problems to be solved, but people to be understood. That same principle guides my career path. My work may focus on molecules and data, but it always comes back to people—and to the belief that every life has value, especially when it’s hurting. Christina’s story is a powerful reminder that life is precious and purpose-driven. I hope to honor her legacy by carrying that mindset into every research decision, every educational effort, and every contribution I make in the field of healthcare. Through science, service, and compassion, I am building a career that reflects not just knowledge—but care.

While I have not personally experienced substance abuse or recovery, I recognize the pain it can cause and the strength it takes to fight it. I believe that those who carry unseen burdens deserve to be supported, not judged. And I believe we honor the lives of people like Alexander Hipple when we commit ourselves to compassion, service, and empathy in both our personal and professional lives. As a student researcher pursuing a future in biomedical science, I’ve come to see addiction not as a moral failing, but as a deeply complex health challenge—one that intersects biology, psychology, community, and trauma. In my research, I work directly with animals to study pain and healing, but my motivation always comes back to people. Addiction is a form of pain, and often, it's pain that has gone unheard or unhealed for far too long. My goal is to work in translational research and biotechnology to develop better tools to understand and treat human suffering in all its forms—addiction included. Understanding the impact of addiction has also shaped how I approach relationships. Even though my circle has been untouched by direct addiction struggles, I’ve encountered many peers, mentors, and members of my broader community whose lives have been affected by it. These conversations have taught me that addiction doesn’t just harm the person struggling—it ripples out into every relationship they hold. Families are stretched thin. Trust is tested. Hope sometimes feels impossible. Yet what inspires me is that so many still choose to love through it. That kind of resilience—the choice to keep fighting, for yourself or someone else—is something I want to support. In my campus leadership roles, I’ve focused on building community and mentoring others, especially younger students navigating difficult transitions. Whether through science clubs, service programs, or youth discipleship work, I’ve made it a personal mission to be someone people can trust and talk to—especially when life feels overwhelming. I’ve found that simply listening and showing up without judgment is often the beginning of healing, whether or not addiction is involved. That’s a mindset I hope to carry into a career built not only on knowledge, but on human understanding. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of college—it would also give me a platform to continue honoring lives like Alexander Hipple’s. His story reminds me that we all have the potential to lift others, especially when they feel most alone. I want to build a career that does just that—supporting people, reducing suffering, and helping others see their worth, even when they can’t see it themselves. We may not all share the same experiences, but we can all share the same commitment to empathy. I believe that’s how we build a world that not only treats addiction but helps prevent it—by choosing compassion, by listening well, and by believing in people, even at their lowest.

Recovery, to me, represents one of the most powerful acts of human resilience. It’s a process that goes far beyond simply becoming sober—it’s about choosing growth over shame, healing over hiding, and hope over despair. It takes immense courage to acknowledge the need for help, and even greater strength to walk the path of recovery day by day. Though I am not in recovery myself, I believe in supporting and advocating for those who are. I see recovery as a journey that deserves compassion, dignity, and access to opportunity. The phrase “Lost Dreams Awaken” captures what I’ve come to admire most about this process: that no matter how dark a chapter has been, recovery creates space for new purpose and direction. As a student involved in biomedical research, I’ve committed myself to work that ultimately aims to alleviate suffering—whether in clinical care, animal health, or public health. I believe this same mindset applies to addiction and recovery. Science can help us understand the complexities of addiction, but compassion is what drives lasting change. My goal is to foster both. Everyone deserves the chance to rewrite their story. Recovery is proof that people are more than their struggles—and that with the right support, people can heal, lead, and thrive. I want to be part of a world that sees people in recovery not through the lens of what they’ve lost, but what they’re courageously building.

Growing up, I often heard the phrase, “Children are the future.” But it wasn’t until I began working directly with them that I understood just how true—and urgent—that statement is. Today’s children are tomorrow’s leaders, teachers, scientists, and neighbors. And every moment spent encouraging, guiding, and equipping them is an investment with exponential return. That belief drives everything I do. As a first-generation college student in North Carolina and an underrepresented minority in STEM, I’ve learned the value of having people who show up for you—especially when the path ahead is unclear. That’s what I try to offer to others, particularly to the next generation. Whether I’m leading character-based discussions with elementary students or helping teens explore their future in science, I want them to see that their dreams are valid, their voices are powerful, and their future is worth fighting for. I currently study Animal Science and Biological Sciences at NC State, and I plan to pursue a Ph.D. in Comparative Biomedical Sciences. My long-term goal is to work in public health or translational research—developing real-world solutions to diseases that impact both humans and animals. I’m especially passionate about using science to serve underserved communities, improve food systems, and create tools that make healthcare more accessible. But science alone won’t change the world. It takes people. It takes heart. It takes showing up in the lives of children, early and often. That’s why I serve as a small group leader in Awana Clubs at my local church, where I work weekly with fifth-grade boys. We meet to talk about faith, character, leadership, and how to grow into young men of integrity. Some days, it’s deep conversations. Other days, it’s dodgeball and jokes. But every week, it’s relationship-building—and for some of these boys, that consistency matters more than I can fully measure. Outside of Awana, I’ve also served as a counselor for VetCAMP, a pre-veterinary summer program that introduces high school students to careers in animal science. I helped lead lab activities, answered questions about college and career paths, and mentored students who had never imagined themselves in lab coats or research roles. For me, watching a young person discover their potential—especially when they come from underrepresented backgrounds like mine—is one of the greatest rewards. Through both experiences, I’ve come to believe that mentorship isn’t just about giving advice—it’s about building trust. It’s about being present. And it’s about helping young people connect who they are today to who they’re capable of becoming tomorrow. Winning this scholarship would lighten my financial load—but more importantly, it would allow me to spend more time doing what matters: serving others. I could spend more time mentoring, volunteering, and contributing to research that has long-term impact. It would also serve as a reminder that the work I do—both inside and outside the classroom—matters. I plan to make a positive impact on the world not by chasing status or recognition, but by continuing to invest in people, especially children. I want to use my education in science and health not just to publish papers, but to change lives. And I want every student I work with to see that if I can do it, so can they. Because the future doesn’t begin someday—it begins with how we serve right now.

Many medical, veterinary, and graduate school applications ask a variation of the same question: “If there were only one seat left in the incoming class, why should we choose you?” At first glance, it sounds like a challenge—an invitation to prove your worth. But for me, it’s more of a mirror. It asks me to reflect on the choices I’ve made, the challenges I’ve overcome, the people I’ve impacted, and the reason behind it all. I’ve thought about how I would answer that question in an interview, on paper, or even in a moment of quiet self-reflection. And this is what I keep coming back to: If there’s one seat left, you should choose the student who will make the most of it—for others as well as themselves. You should choose the one who sees opportunity as responsibility. You should choose the person who has shown, time and time again, that they will show up with integrity, energy, and purpose. That’s what I do. I show up. I show up early—in the pool at 6:00 AM, training as a competitive swimmer before class. I show up in the classroom and the lab—managing a 3.94 GPA while double-majoring in Animal Science and Biological Sciences, and contributing to high-level research that spans canine osteoarthritis, thermographic imaging, and swine nutrition. I show up in my community—mentoring young boys in weekly Awana Club meetings, encouraging high schoolers through pre-vet summer camps, and leading by example. I show up not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth it. My academic journey is fueled by hard work, long hours, and a deeply held belief that my gifts, opportunities, and knowledge are not just for me—they’re for the good of others. I’ve always been drawn to the intersection of biology, medicine, and impact. That’s what led me to pursue two undergraduate research assistantships—one in translational pain research using thermography in dogs, and another in livestock nutrition and health. In the first, I work on a project developing noninvasive methods to assess osteoarthritis pain in dogs using infrared thermography and gait analysis. We collect detailed imaging data, analyze movement patterns, and help bridge the gap between clinical diagnosis and scientific innovation. I’ve had the honor of contributing to a manuscript in progress, writing the materials and methods section. At first, it seemed like a routine task—but it turned into one of the most meaningful experiences of my academic career. Writing that section taught me that excellence in science isn’t just about breakthroughs—it’s about clarity, accuracy, and reproducibility. Every word I write has to guide another researcher in replicating what we’ve done. That means precision, intention, and deep understanding. It showed me how every small detail, when done with care, can contribute to the integrity and impact of scientific work. In the swine lab, my work involves studying how dietary interventions affect nutrient absorption, gut health, and animal performance. These are questions that matter not only for animal welfare but also for the global food supply. I’ve collected fecal and fat samples, analyzed results, and helped improve management systems that feed communities worldwide. Whether working with companion animals or production species, I’ve realized that what happens in a lab matters far beyond the university. It shapes policy, influences practices, and impacts lives—both human and animal. That’s the kind of science I want to be part of. Science that matters. But even the best science loses something if it exists in a vacuum. That’s why I care just as deeply about mentorship, outreach, and character-building—especially among youth. I believe that knowledge and experience aren’t meant to be hoarded. They’re meant to be multiplied through service. Each week, I lead a group of fifth-grade boys in Awana Clubs, a program that helps kids grow in faith, character, and confidence. We talk about grace, forgiveness, responsibility, and how to stand up for what’s right even when it’s hard. I’ve learned that kids don’t need perfection from their mentors. They need consistency. Presence. Someone who believes in them when they’re still learning to believe in themselves. I’ve also worked as a counselor for VetCAMP at NC State two summers now, where I guide high school students through hands-on labs, teach them about animal science, and help them explore career options they never knew existed. Some come from backgrounds where college feels far away. My job is to help close that distance—not just with knowledge, but with encouragement. These experiences have taught me that leadership doesn’t always look like a title or a spotlight. Sometimes it looks like being the quiet voice that says, “You’re capable,” or the steady hand that helps someone else rise. If there’s one habit that has shaped how I handle pressure, it’s swimming. Most people think of swimming as a sport of motion—fluid, fast, and competitive. But anyone who trains seriously will tell you: it’s just as much about stillness. Repetition. Reflection. Showing up to a silent pool at 6:00 AM, when your muscles ache, and the rest of the world is asleep, and the only sound is the rhythm of your breathing in the water. Day in, day out. Swimming has taught me about endurance—not just physically, but mentally and spiritually. It’s taught me how to keep going when no one is watching. It’s taught me to break big goals into smaller ones: one lap at a time, one breath at a time, one second faster. There’s a quiet resilience that comes from spending hours chasing progress measured in milliseconds. It’s humbling. It’s grounding. And it’s powerful. But swimming has also taught me that grit without grace becomes burnout. You can chase personal bests all day long—but if your worth is built on performance alone, it crumbles the moment you fall short. That’s why my foundation has to be something greater than GPA, PRs, or academic/work accomplishments. For me, that foundation is Christ. I don’t swim, study, or serve to earn value—I do it because I’ve already received it. My worth was settled the moment Jesus went to the cross for me. Everything else I do is a response to that grace. That truth steadies me in the pressure. Whether I’m preparing a research presentation, leading a lesson for my Awana boys, or writing a manuscript section that will be read by scientists around the world—I don’t have to be perfect. I just have to be faithful. And faithfulness, I’ve learned, often looks like the ordinary. The mundane. The moments no one claps for. The days when it would be easier to hit snooze or take shortcuts. But when I remind myself that I’m doing everything “as unto the Lord and not unto men” (Colossians 3:23), even the smallest tasks take on eternal value. That mindset doesn’t just sustain me—it strengthens me. Our culture often tells us that success is about being better than the person next to you. But Scripture teaches something different: success is being faithful with what you’ve been given. To me, that means pushing myself toward excellence—not to compare, but to honor the God who gave me these gifts in the first place. It’s why I take my work and school seriously. It’s why I write with precision, think critically, and collaborate with respect. It’s why I treat the pigs and dogs I work with humanely, knowing that the way we steward creation reflects our reverence for the Creator. It's why I put my best effort forth when studying for an exam or collaborating on a group project. It’s why I train like every lap counts, because every discipline I build in the pool translates to my discipline in life. Swimming isn't separate from my academic or spiritual journey—it's one more way God has shaped my character. I've learned to trust the process, focus through fatigue, and control what I can when the outcome is out of my hands. In those moments, my prayer life has grown deeper. My patience has stretched. My humility has matured. It’s also why I serve with intention. Whether I'm mentoring high schoolers or discipling elementary school students, I remember that Jesus didn’t call the most impressive people—He called the most available. That truth has shifted how I think about leadership. It's not about charisma or being the loudest in the room. It's about presence. Consistency. The willingness to pour out, even when you’re tired. That’s the kind of leader I strive to be. Sometimes I’m asked how I manage so much: my jobs, a double major, competitive athletics, community service, and mentoring. People assume I must have superhuman discipline or perfect time management. The truth is, I don’t. I just stay anchored. Anchored in my purpose. Anchored in my priorities. Anchored in the quiet confidence that comes from knowing I’m not walking alone—I have my faith, my family, and others in my life which all help me to continue going. I start my days early and end them late, but I end them with peace because I know why I’m doing what I’m doing. It’s not to stack achievements. It’s to be a faithful steward of this season of preparation. I want to be trusted with more in the future—whether that’s leading a lab team, teaching students, or building policy that helps both animals and people. But I know that starts with how I handle what’s in my hands now. Even when no one sees. Even when it’s just me, a stopwatch, a spreadsheet, or a stack of treatment logs. I’ll be honest: I’ve had moments where I’ve failed. Exams I didn’t ace. Practices I didn’t finish strong. Presentations that didn’t go as planned. And I’ve had moments where I’ve been tempted to let those things define me. But that’s where my faith speaks louder than the voice of doubt. When I fall short, I remember that my identity is not in performance but in Christ. That gives me resilience. It gives me perspective. It allows me to reset with grace and try again—not with shame, but with renewed commitment. That’s something that no GPA or resume bullet point can teach you. The further I go, the more clearly I see that my academic, athletic, and service paths are not separate threads—they’re woven together into a single calling. God has called me to science, not just for discovery, but for compassion. He’s called me to leadership, not for recognition, but to uplift others. He’s called me to scholarship, not just for my future security, but so I can be a voice for truth and a vessel of impact in places where science, service, and faith intersect. And He’s called me to walk in that with humility, excellence, and courage. When I think about the people who’ve shaped my life the most, it’s rarely those with titles or accolades. It’s the ones who showed up. The ones who believed in me before I believed in myself. The ones who lived their values—not with speeches, but with consistency. That’s the kind of person I want to be for others. Whether I’m leading a small group of fifth-grade boys in Awana Clubs or guiding high school students through a veterinary summer camp, my goal is never to impress. It’s to invest. I want young people to walk away from our conversations not just knowing more—but believing more. Believing they matter. Believing they’re capable. Believing they can live a life of purpose and integrity, even in a noisy world. Mentorship, for me, is ministry. It’s discipleship in the context of science, school, and everyday life. In Awana, we talk about topics like grace, forgiveness, and honesty—but we don’t just talk. We live it out through action, through modeling what it means to show up even when it’s inconvenient. Sometimes we spend our sessions laughing over snacks; other times, we open the Word and ask hard questions. But week after week, we build trust. We build character. And slowly, we build men. At VetCamp, I work with high schoolers who are just beginning to explore what’s possible. Some come in wide-eyed, others hesitant. Many have never been in a research lab or even considered a career in animal health. Through hands-on experiences and honest conversations, I help connect the dots between curiosity and calling. I teach them about physiology and research, sure—but I also remind them that no career is too big for them if they’re willing to work hard, ask questions, and seek truth with humility. One of the greatest joys I’ve experienced is seeing how my academic life and my spiritual life continue to intertwine. Science has never been a threat to my faith. In fact, it has only deepened it. Every time I witness the complexity of biological systems, the intricacy of molecular pathways, or the precision of thermographic imaging—I'm reminded that we serve a God of order, design, and brilliance. The further I go in my studies, the more I realize: my research isn’t just about solving problems—it’s about reflecting a small piece of the Creator’s intelligence and compassion. In my lab work, especially through our thermography project, I’ve seen firsthand how technology can be used not just for advancement, but for mercy. Our goal is to improve pain detection in dogs who cannot speak for themselves. We’re giving voice to the voiceless, seeking to reduce suffering, and bringing dignity to the care of animals. That’s not just research—that’s stewardship. Writing the materials and methods section for our upcoming manuscript reminded me of that truth. At face value, it’s a technical task. But it’s also an act of clarity and service. It’s how we ensure that others can replicate our work, build upon it, and ultimately, use it to help more animals. That’s a picture of what science can be—when it’s done with excellence, humility, and love. What I’ve come to realize is that leadership isn’t about taking charge—it’s about taking responsibility. I may not always be the loudest person in the room, but I am often the one people turn to for steadiness, for follow-through, for encouragement. That’s not accidental. It’s intentional. Leadership, to me, is a reflection of how well I understand what’s been entrusted to me. Whether I’m stewarding my education, my athletic ability, my research, or the time I spend with a child in discipleship—each area is sacred. Not because it’s prestigious, but because it’s been placed in my hands with purpose. And I don’t want to squander that. That’s why I manage my time so intentionally. That’s why I train my body and mind with discipline. That’s why I show up even when I’m tired or overwhelmed. Because I’ve been given much—and I plan to multiply it. I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve faced burnout. I’ve had moments where I doubted my ability to keep up with everything. But those moments haven’t broken me—they’ve refined me. They’ve taught me what really matters. They’ve drawn me closer to the Lord. They’ve helped me see that the weight I carry is not mine to shoulder alone. Looking ahead, I know I’m called to more than just success. I’m called to significance. After earning my undergraduate degree, I plan to pursue a Ph.D. in Comparative Biomedical Sciences. I want to continue building expertise in translational research, especially in areas that affect animal health, infectious disease transmission, and agricultural systems. My long-term vision is to work in an industry or public health setting where I can use data-driven tools—like thermography, disease mapping, and nutrition modeling—to improve lives at scale. But whatever I do, I want it to be missional. I want the people around me—students, lab partners, clients, policy-makers—to see that the way I work, the way I lead, the way I serve, comes from something deeper. I want them to see Christ in me—not because I preach at them, but because I live in a way that reflects His love, His wisdom, and His grace. -------------------------------------------------- At this point in the essay, I’ve shared what I do; I’ve also shared the why. But this section answers the prompt most directly: Why me? What gives me an edge over the other applicants who are just as bright, just as hard-working, and just as committed? It’s a question that invites boldness—but not arrogance. I believe the answer lies not just in what I’ve done, but in how I’ve done it—and why. I’m not just pursuing a degree. I’m building a life rooted in conviction. My ambition is not hollow—it’s shaped by vision. I’m not working hard to climb a ladder for my own sake. I’m preparing to walk into roles where I can uplift others, solve real problems, and reflect the love and truth of Christ in the process. This is more than a career path—it’s a calling. What sets me apart is not just the number of hours I’ve spent in labs, or the GPA I’ve maintained while training as a competitive athlete. It’s the way I bring faith into action in each of those spaces. I don’t separate my beliefs from my behavior. I let my faith shape how I treat teammates, how I communicate with mentors, how I care for research animals, and how I disciple students. I’ve learned that excellence without integrity is empty. And integrity without action is invisible. What I strive for is a life of visible faithfulness—where my choices, tone, presence, and priorities speak for themselves. That looks like: - Taking the time to pray before tough meetings, asking for wisdom and humility - Writing lab protocols with precision, knowing the data could shape real treatment plans for hurting animals - Encouraging a discouraged student, not just academically, but spiritually - Keeping promises, even when no one would notice if I didn’t - Being the first to show up and the last to leave—not for recognition, but because God calls us to work wholeheartedly These aren’t resume lines. They’re daily habits. They’re choices made when no one is looking. And they add up. Another advantage I bring is my experience with high-stakes responsibility. I’ve learned how to manage multiple commitments without compromising quality. That’s not just time management—it’s emotional endurance. It’s spiritual resilience. When you juggle two research assistantships, a double major, athletic training, teaching roles, and mentorship, you’re forced to make decisions every day about what matters most. I’ve learned how to prioritize not just tasks, but values. I’ve learned how to manage stress without becoming cold, how to maintain energy without burning out, and how to say “yes” to things that serve my purpose, not just pad my portfolio. Through it all, my faith has been my fuel. When I’m overwhelmed, I pray. When I’m stretched thin, I remind myself that I’m not carrying this alone. That confidence—not in myself, but in God—gives me clarity and composure that many students my age haven’t yet developed. Finally, I believe this scholarship would be an investment with exponential return. I don’t hoard resources. I use them, multiply them, and share the fruit. When I receive support—whether it’s financial aid, mentorship, or opportunity—I don’t just benefit from it personally. I use it to serve others. This scholarship would help fund my research, support my academic goals, and reduce financial pressure—but the real return would come through everything I’m able to do because of it. - It would allow me to say “yes” to conference travel and advanced research experiences without worrying about cost - It would free up time I could spend mentoring, leading Bible studies, or volunteering - It would allow me to be even more present for the kids I disciple, the high schoolers I counsel, and the classmates I encourage - It would make space for bold steps—like publishing papers, proposing new research ideas, or pursuing international outreach opportunities in animal and public health You wouldn’t just be funding a student. You’d be fueling a servant-leader, a scientist, and a disciple of Christ with a vision far bigger than himself. I don’t pretend to have it all figured out. I’m still growing—in wisdom, in skill, and in strength. But I can say this with complete honesty: I am ready. I am prepared, not because I’ve mastered everything, but because I’ve been faithful with everything I’ve had so far. And I will continue to be faithful. This scholarship wouldn’t be a reward—it would be a responsibility. One I would carry with gratitude, with excellence, and with the full awareness that this opportunity isn’t just for me. It’s for every student I’ll teach. Every animal I’ll help. Every policy I’ll help shape. Every peer I’ll encourage. Every moment I’ll carry Christ into a space that needs light. If this scholarship helps open just one more door, I will walk through it with purpose. Not because I’ve earned it, but because I’m committed to using it well. Every class, every experiment, every mentoring conversation—each is a brick in the foundation I’m laying for a career that blends science, service, and faith. But I don’t want to just build something for myself. I want to build something that others can stand on, too. I believe I was placed on this path for a reason. Not to chase credentials or accolades, but to carry Christ into every space I enter—labs, classrooms, clinics, and conversations. That’s the legacy I want to leave: not just someone who worked hard, but someone who walked faithfully. I’m not asking for this scholarship to make my journey easier. I’m asking for it so I can keep showing up—with integrity, with focus, and with open hands—ready to serve wherever I’m sent. Thank you for considering me.

As a competitive swimmer, I’ve spent countless early mornings diving into cold water before the sun rises. There’s something about swimming—it’s an individual sport with a team heartbeat. Every practice is a battle between you and your last best time. Every race is a test of not just your body, but your mindset. And yet, what makes swimming meaningful isn’t just dropping seconds—it’s the people who help you believe you can. That’s why reading about Kalia’s legacy felt so familiar. Her determination, her balance of academics and athletics, and the way she uplifted those around her remind me of the best parts of the teammates and mentors who’ve shaped me. I can picture Kalia encouraging someone after a tough race or study session, not just with words, but with actions—training beside them, pushing them, believing in them. That’s who I try to be. This past year, I balanced a full-time college schedule with two research jobs, 6 AM swim practices, and community work. I study Animal and Biological Sciences at NC State with the goal of earning a PhD in Comparative Biomedical Sciences. My research focuses on improving pain management for dogs with osteoarthritis and optimizing nutrition in pigs to promote both animal health and food security. I love the idea that something I discover could one day make life better—not just for animals, but for the people who rely on them. But while I’m driven by science and discovery, I’ve found just as much purpose outside the lab—in the moments where I can pour into others. Something that matters to me just as much is mentoring young people. I’ve had the privilege of leading weekly small group discussions with fifth-grade boys in Awana Clubs, where we talk about things that go beyond school—things like grace, forgiveness, and the kind of character that lasts. I’ve also been a counselor at a pre-vet summer camp, helping high schoolers explore animal science careers and discover their passions. There’s something powerful about watching a young person light up when they feel seen, heard, and capable. That’s why I keep showing up—not just to teach, but to be a steady presence, the kind I’ve been lucky to have in my own life. If I had the chance to meet Kalia, I think we would have connected over that shared drive to do more—not for attention, but because we care. I would’ve loved to hear how she stayed so balanced, how she found the energy to lead, serve, and still smile through it all. Maybe we would’ve swapped stories about pushing through burnout, or bonded over the pressure of chasing excellence in everything we do. And honestly, I’d probably ask her to teach me a dance move or two—because my rhythm needs work. This scholarship would help me keep showing up in all the places that matter most—my labs, my swim lane, and my communities—without having to sacrifice one for the other. More than anything, it would be an honor to carry a part of Kalia’s legacy with me. I didn’t know her personally, but I know her impact. And I’m committed to continuing it—through science, through service, and through every small moment where I can choose to uplift someone else, just like she did.

Growing up, I was always the kid who lingered too long at the animal exhibits at the fair or begged to hold the turtle just one more time at a science center. But what began as childhood fascination has grown into a purposeful passion—one grounded in agriculture, animal care, and a desire to make meaningful contributions to both. Today, I’m a junior at North Carolina State University majoring in Animal Science and Biological Sciences in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences (CALS). Through my coursework, research, and leadership roles, I’ve seen firsthand how vital agriculture is—not just to feeding the world, but to advancing science, strengthening communities, and caring for animals in thoughtful, ethical ways. My passion for agriculture is deeply tied to my work as an undergraduate research assistant at the NC State Swine Educational Unit. There, I help with nutrition trials in growing pigs, collecting and analyzing samples such as feces, blood, and fat at harvest. I’ve learned to appreciate the complexity behind every diet formulation, the rigor of running a proper trial, and the care required to ensure both scientific integrity and animal welfare. It’s not just about raising livestock—it’s about doing it better, more sustainably, and more humanely. Outside the research barn, I’ve found another outlet for my passion through the Animal Science Club. I’ve served as Junior Activities Chairperson and will step into the Senior Activities Chair role this coming academic year. One of my most meaningful responsibilities is while serving as Activities Chairperson for the club, this year I get plan our club’s annual Milk Booth at the North Carolina State Fair this October. The booth serves as both an educational exhibit and an interactive experience where the public can try milking cows, learn about the dairy industry, and discover the vital role NC State plays in supporting North Carolina agriculture. Watching children light up as they milk a cow for the first time—or answering a parent’s question about where their milk comes from—reminds me why I care so much about this field. Agriculture education matters. People want to know how their food is produced, and I want to be one of the voices that helps explain it with clarity and care. These interactions bridge the gap between producer and consumer, science and public understanding, and tradition and innovation. Beyond livestock and public outreach, I also volunteer with the Turtle Rescue Team at the NC State College of Veterinary Medicine. While this work focuses on wildlife rather than farm animals, it has taught me universal lessons about responsibility, patience, and the value of life—no matter how small or slow-moving. From administering medication to rehabilitating injured turtles for release, I’ve logged hundreds of hours that have strengthened both my technical skills and my commitment to animal welfare. Ultimately, what ties all these experiences together is a desire to serve both animals and people through science, education, and care. Whether I’m in the lab, the barn, or the fairgrounds, I see agriculture not as a static industry, but as a dynamic force—one that shapes our health, economy, and future. My long-term goal is to pursue a graduate degree in animal or biomedical sciences, focusing on improving livestock health and efficiency while upholding the highest standards of care. Agriculture is more than a career path for me—it’s a calling. It’s where my love for animals meets my drive to contribute something lasting and impactful. Through research, education, and advocacy, I hope to help move the field forward while honoring the people, animals, and values that first drew me to it.

Animal care and welfare are not just compassionate practices—they are cornerstones of effective conservation. In every habitat, from forests to wetlands, individual animals play vital roles in ecosystem balance. Ensuring their well-being, particularly in rehabilitation and release, is not just an ethical obligation—it directly supports the recovery of species, the health of ecosystems, and the survival of biodiversity. For the past three years, I have had the privilege of serving on the Turtle Rescue Team at the North Carolina State University College of Veterinary Medicine. Our volunteer-run organization rehabilitates injured wild turtles and snakes across the state, providing medical treatments, surgical interventions, and long-term housing when needed. My responsibilities have grown from basic husbandry to advanced medical care—administering medications, assisting in wound debridement, creating treatment plans, and preparing patients for release. I’ve accumulated over 250 hours of direct treatment experience and more than 500 hours supporting rehabilitation from intake through release. One of the most powerful lessons I’ve learned is that every animal matters. A single box turtle may not seem significant in the grand scope of conservation, but when treated and returned to the wild, it continues its ecological role—dispersing seeds, maintaining soil health, and contributing to genetic diversity. When multiplied across hundreds of successful releases, the impact is profound. This philosophy—of caring for the individual to protect the population—is one I carry into every aspect of my academic and professional pursuits. Currently, I am a senior at North Carolina State University, double majoring in Animal Science and Biological Sciences. I also serve as a research assistant in the Translational Research in Pain (TRiP) Program at the NCSU College of Veterinary Medicine, where I work on studies involving osteoarthritis in dogs. Although clinical pain research may seem distant from wildlife rehabilitation, both reflect my core passion: using science to improve the lives of animals. Whether it’s refining treatment protocols in a lab or developing species-specific care plans in a field hospital, I am committed to advancing evidence-based practices in animal welfare. Looking ahead, I plan to pursue a graduate degree—likely a PhD in Comparative Biomedical Sciences with a focus on animal welfare and population/conservation medicine. My goal is to combine my research background with hands-on rehabilitation experience to help bridge gaps between field care, policy, and long-term population sustainability. I envision a career where I contribute to conservation not just by rescuing and treating animals but also by generating and sharing the knowledge that improves care standards globally. I also believe in the importance of mentorship and outreach. As someone who benefited from hands-on experience early on, I hope to mentor the next generation of wildlife advocates. Whether through community education programs, university teaching roles, or public science communication, I want to inspire others to see how animal care and conservation go hand in hand—and why both matter deeply. The RodentPro® Animal Advocate Scholarship represents more than financial support; it’s a recognition of shared values. Wildlife conservation needs advocates who are not only passionate but prepared—individuals who have treated the shell cracks, written the treatment logs, and faced the daily challenges of animal care with resolve and purpose. I am proud to be one of those individuals, and I am grateful for every opportunity to continue serving the welfare of animals—one patient, one habitat, and one discovery at a time.

Education has been the cornerstone of my growth, resilience, and ambition. As a double major in Biological Sciences and Animal Science at North Carolina State University, I am committed to using my education not only to pursue a career in translational biomedical research but also to create real, lasting change in underserved communities. What makes me a strong candidate for this scholarship is my unwavering dedication to service and leadership. I have consistently sought opportunities to make a tangible difference—from volunteering over 250 hours at the Turtle Rescue Team, providing medical treatments to injured wildlife, to mentoring youth through faith-based programs that emphasize character development and leadership. These experiences have taught me that leadership is measured by action—by stepping in when others hesitate and creating opportunities where none seem to exist. As a white male in STEM, I represent an often-overlooked form of underrepresentation. At my university, men pursuing biological sciences remain a minority, and I have personally experienced the isolation that can come from being part of an underrepresented group in this field. Rather than allowing this to discourage me, it has strengthened my resolve to foster a more inclusive and supportive environment for all students pursuing scientific careers. I want to use my platform to encourage those who feel marginalized—whether by their identity, their socioeconomic background, or their lack of representation—to see that they have a place in science and research. My long-term goal is to contribute to research that advances public health solutions, particularly addressing health disparities affecting underserved populations. Through my work in the Translational Research in Pain Program at NC State’s College of Veterinary Medicine, I have seen how research directly improves lives. While my current studies focus on animal models, the ultimate goal of this research is to translate findings into human medicine, improving treatment for chronic pain conditions that disproportionately affect underrepresented and low-income communities with limited access to healthcare. However, I believe research is only one part of the equation. True change happens when education, mentorship, and advocacy work together. As someone funding my own education, I understand the financial and emotional challenges underprivileged students face. This has motivated me to mentor first-generation college students and lead programs that encourage underrepresented youth to explore careers in STEM. By creating supportive mentorship networks, I hope to inspire others to break through barriers and achieve their full potential, regardless of their starting point. With the support of the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship, I will be one step closer to achieving these goals—honoring the spirit of resilience and education that this scholarship represents. I am committed to carrying forward the legacy of service and perseverance embodied by Mark Green, working to build a future where education not only transforms individual lives but also creates lasting, generational legacies of success. Together, through hard work, mentorship, and a commitment to serving others, we can create a world where no dream is limited by circumstance—and that is the future I am determined to help build.

Intimate partner violence (IPV) is a complex societal issue rooted in cycles of control, isolation, and economic dependence. While I have not personally experienced IPV, I have seen its devastating impact on individuals and communities, and I am committed to being part of the solution. Education is a powerful tool in breaking these cycles—empowering individuals with knowledge, critical thinking skills, and economic opportunities that foster independence and resilience. As a double major in Biological Sciences and Animal Science at North Carolina State University, I am pursuing a career in translational biomedical research with the goal of advancing public health outcomes. My education has equipped me with the skills to analyze data, think critically about systemic issues, and lead with purpose. These same skills can be used to advocate for policies and programs that support IPV prevention and survivor recovery. One of the most direct ways education reduces IPV is by addressing economic vulnerability. Many individuals remain trapped in abusive situations due to financial dependence and a lack of viable alternatives. By promoting access to higher education and workforce development, we can help survivors achieve financial independence and stability. My own academic journey is entirely self-funded, and I have experienced firsthand how education creates pathways to opportunity, independence, and personal growth. Education also prepares future professionals—including healthcare providers, researchers, policymakers, and community leaders—to recognize the signs of IPV and implement effective interventions. While my career path focuses on biomedical research, the public health principles I study apply directly to addressing social issues like IPV. Through research into health disparities and population-based outcomes, I aim to contribute to data-driven solutions that improve the safety and well-being of vulnerable communities. Beyond academics, I actively participate in leadership and service initiatives, including mentoring youth through faith-based programs and engaging in volunteer work that fosters community resilience. These experiences have taught me the importance of creating safe, supportive environments where individuals can be empowered to make positive life changes. Ultimately, education serves as both prevention and intervention. It equips individuals with the tools to pursue independence, fosters informed communities that can identify and address IPV, and develops future leaders who will advocate for systemic change. Through my education and professional work, I am committed to promoting public health initiatives that address the root causes of IPV and support those working to build safer futures. Education opens doors to freedom. I plan to spend my career helping others walk through them.

As a Christian, I believe that all life is precious, from conception to natural death. Life is not ours to take, and every human being, no matter the circumstance of their conception or their perceived imperfections, is a gift from God. My pro-life position has been shaped by my faith and by a deeply personal experience with my younger brother. When my mom was pregnant with him, doctors told her he was likely to have Down syndrome and suggested terminating the pregnancy. My mom refused, trusting in God’s plan for his life. When he was born, the doctors were wrong—he was perfectly healthy, with only minor capillary differences in his arms, nothing serious. This experience opened my eyes to how often people are pressured into abortion based on fear or uncertainty. Even babies who may have disabilities or challenges are made in God’s image and deserve the chance to live out the plans He has for them. Even in the most difficult circumstances, such as pregnancies resulting from rape or incest, I believe that life remains a gift. While the situations surrounding such pregnancies are heartbreaking, the value of the child’s life does not change. Abortion often leaves mothers dealing with depression and anxiety, especially around the time their baby would have been due. Adoption provides a life-affirming alternative, allowing the child to live while also giving the mother another option if she feels she cannot parent. While I may not participate in formal pro-life organizations, I work to promote these values in the way I interact with others and in the conversations I have. I believe that rejecting the status quo and speaking up for the voiceless is an essential part of honoring the gift of life. Every interaction is an opportunity to reflect this belief, whether it's through sharing my brother’s story or simply encouraging others to see the humanity in every life, born or unborn. Conversations with friends and classmates often provide a chance to challenge the common misconceptions surrounding abortion and help people understand that every life is inherently valuable. I also see these discussions as a way to create empathy and understanding for those who may not initially share the same beliefs. Rather than confront people with arguments, I strive to listen, share my perspective with compassion, and point to the beauty and dignity of every human being. Additionally, I believe in taking small but meaningful steps in everyday life to promote a culture of life. This can include encouraging mothers to explore alternatives to abortion, offering emotional support to those who may feel overwhelmed, or even helping to raise awareness about adoption as a life-giving choice. Even though these acts may seem small, they reflect a larger commitment to affirming the dignity of all people. Life is a gift to be cherished, and every human being has inherent worth and dignity, regardless of their circumstances. By standing firm in my beliefs and sharing my perspective with those around me, I hope to contribute to a culture that protects and celebrates life, especially the most vulnerable among us—the unborn. I may not have a formal platform, but I firmly believe that living out these values in everyday interactions can make a profound difference.

In my community, food insecurity is a pervasive issue that affects many families, leading to poor nutrition and adverse health outcomes. I believe that a creative and sustainable solution to this problem is the implementation of urban agriculture initiatives. By transforming vacant lots and underutilized spaces into community gardens, we can provide fresh, nutritious produce to those in need, while also fostering a sense of community and promoting environmental sustainability. Urban agriculture offers numerous benefits beyond just providing food. It can serve as an educational tool, teaching community members about healthy eating, agriculture, and sustainability. It also creates green spaces that improve mental health and well-being, reduce urban heat islands, and promote biodiversity. Most importantly, it empowers individuals by giving them the skills and knowledge to grow their own food, thus reducing their dependence on external food sources. To implement this solution, I propose the following steps: 1. Identify Suitable Locations: Collaborate with local government and community organizations to identify vacant lots, rooftops, and other underutilized spaces that can be converted into community gardens. These locations should be easily accessible to residents, particularly those in low-income neighborhoods where food insecurity is most prevalent. 2. Engage the Community: Organize community meetings and workshops to gather input and generate support for the initiative. This will ensure that the project reflects the needs and preferences of the community and fosters a sense of ownership and responsibility among participants. 3. Secure Funding and Resources: Apply for grants, seek donations, and partner with local businesses and organizations to secure the necessary funding, tools, and materials for the gardens. This includes seeds, soil, gardening tools, and infrastructure such as raised beds and irrigation systems. 4. Provide Education and Training: Offer workshops and training sessions on topics such as gardening techniques, composting, and nutrition. Partner with local schools, universities, and agricultural experts to provide ongoing support and mentorship to community members. 5. Establish a Management and Maintenance Plan: Develop a plan for the long-term management and maintenance of the gardens. This can include forming a garden committee, scheduling regular workdays, and implementing a crop rotation plan to ensure soil health and productivity. One of the key strengths of urban agriculture is its ability to bring people together and build stronger, more resilient communities. By working collectively to grow food, residents can forge new relationships, share knowledge and resources, and create a support network that extends beyond the garden. This sense of community is essential for addressing the root causes of food insecurity and promoting long-term, sustainable change. In addition to addressing food insecurity, urban agriculture can also have a positive impact on the local economy. By creating opportunities for entrepreneurship and job training, community gardens can help residents develop new skills and generate income. For example, surplus produce can be sold at local farmers' markets or through community-supported agriculture (CSA) programs, providing a source of fresh, affordable food for the wider community and supporting local farmers. In conclusion, urban agriculture is a creative and sustainable solution to the pervasive issue of food insecurity in my community. By transforming vacant spaces into thriving community gardens, we can provide fresh produce to those in need, promote health and well-being, and foster a sense of community and empowerment. With the support of this scholarship, I am eager to bring this vision to life and make a lasting impact on my community.

"I want to be just like Daddy someday." These innocent words echoed from my childhood, painting a picture of admiration for my father. He was my hero, the epitome of what I aspired to become. His ability to provide for our family and his charismatic work ethic left an indelible mark on my young mind, shaping my dreams of having a big family and making a difference in the world just like him. However, life has a way of presenting challenges that force us to reassess our ideals. At the tender age of eleven, my world was shaken when my father chose to leave, leaving my mom to shoulder the responsibility of caring for four children. The man I once looked up to wanted nothing to do with our family. For some, this revelation might have been a devastating blow, but in the midst of adversity, I discovered a gift – the gift of resilience. Rather than succumbing to bitterness or despair, I viewed this unexpected turn of events as a challenge to be better, not bitter. His choices were his own, and I realized they did not define me. In the face of abandonment, I made a conscious decision to commit to what truly matters – to be there for my family, to pursue my dreams with unwavering determination, and to rise above the shadows cast by my father's choices. While fathers are expected to be role models, I came to understand that the role need not be confined to biological ties or earthly connections. In my quest for an exemplary figure, I found inspiration in Jesus Christ. The unconditional love that He offers to those who trust in Him became a guiding light in my life. Unlike my earthly father, Jesus embodies a commitment that never wavers; He never walks away from those He loves. The biblical analogy of a shepherd losing one sheep and tirelessly searching until it is found resonated deeply with me. This unwavering commitment and love became the blueprint for the man I aspired to be. Choosing to emulate Jesus became my anchor, providing me with a sense of purpose and direction. This commitment extended beyond familial ties and personal ambitions; it became a guiding principle for every aspect of my life. I envisioned myself as the person who stays committed to what truly matters – family, faith, and the pursuit of a meaningful and purposeful life. Reflecting on my past desire to be like my earthly dad, I've experienced a profound shift. Now, I declare with conviction, "I want to be just like my Dad. I want to be like Jesus." This transformation is not a rejection of my father's legacy but an evolution of my identity. It's a testament to the resilience I've developed, choosing to transcend the challenges and emerge stronger. In conclusion, my journey from childhood admiration to facing the harsh realities of my father's choices has shaped me into a person committed to values that endure. The abandonment I experienced became a catalyst for resilience, leading me to redefine my aspirations and values. Embracing the example set by Jesus, I've discovered a path to unwavering commitment, unconditional love, and resilience, defining the man I strive to become. As I navigate life's journey, I am guided by the belief that one's character is not defined by circumstances but by the choices made in response to them.

In honor of an extraordinary individual who valued selflessness and dedicated her life to helping others reach their potential, this scholarship aims to support students demonstrating a commitment to these generous values. I am excited to share my journey, marked by the development of skills and a passionate commitment to empowering those around me. My story begins with a profound belief in the transformative power of encouragement and support. Growing up, I became aware of the positive impact that guidance and assistance can have on individuals facing challenges. This awareness fueled my determination to overcome obstacles and contribute to the growth of those around me. Academically, my pursuit of knowledge and my desire to share that enthusiasm have been integral to my journey. As a student engaged in subjects like physics, chemistry, and genetics, I recognized the need for fostering resilience and perseverance among my peers who might find these topics challenging. I have actively encouraged them to embrace the idea that success often lies on the other side of challenges, promoting a spirit of practice and persistence. Moreover, I've discovered that I, too, learn invaluable lessons when I take on the role of a teacher. Teaching has a unique way of solidifying one's understanding of a subject. When I explain concepts or demonstrate techniques to my peers, I deepen my own comprehension and gain fresh insights. This process of teaching and learning has not only enhanced my academic journey but also has hopefully enriched my ability to convey complex ideas effectively. Beyond the academic realm, my passion for helping others has extended into the world of sports, particularly swimming. As a dedicated team member, I not only strive for personal excellence but also uplift my teammates. The pool becomes a metaphorical classroom, where the principles of resilience, discipline, and continuous improvement are taught through the strokes and laps. During swim meets, I am focused not only on my own performance but also on motivating my teammates, sharing strategies, and ensuring that each member of the team feels empowered to give their best. Volunteering has become an essential part of my commitment to helping others. From studying with others to team activities, I actively seek opportunities to share my knowledge and skills with those who may want extra support. Witnessing the moment when someone grasps a challenging concept or achieves a personal milestone is incredibly rewarding – a testament to the power of encouragement and assistance. In conclusion, my journey is marked by a deep-seated commitment to fostering growth and helping others be their best. Whether it's within the academic arena, the swimming pool, or the community, I have dedicated myself to instilling the values of resilience, encouragement, and continuous improvement. This scholarship holds immense significance for me, as it aligns perfectly with my life's purpose and passion – empowering others to unlock their true potential. I am grateful for the opportunity to be considered for this scholarship, which will further fuel my mission of making a positive impact on those around me.

Growing up without my dad has been an unexpected journey, especially with our family's encounter with substance abuse due to his struggles and eventual departure. However, contrary to common narratives, it hasn't been a constant struggle for me. My dad's exit, combined with his personal struggles with substances and legal issues, left my mom to navigate life with four kids. While money became tighter, it didn't add an overwhelming burden to our lives. Challenges have a way of building resilience, and that's been the theme of my story. Substance abuse's effects on an individual can be profound, affecting not just the person but also those around them. In my case, his struggles led me to reevaluate my goals. The realization that dad wasn't a role model I wanted to look up to made me lean on a steadier source of inspiration – my faith in Jesus Christ. The "My Father" essay captures the innocence of childhood dreams, but life's twists expanded my idea of role models. My biological dad's exit became an opportunity to reshape my goals, finding comfort in the example set by Jesus – a figure showing unconditional love, commitment, and resilience. Through the unpredictable times, my family evolved positively. My dad's absence brought my siblings and me closer, turning us into an unbreakable support system for our mom. We learned to lean on each other, emphasizing the importance of family bonds and mutual support. Reflecting on my career dreams, a connection emerges between my past and my goals. Our family's encounter with substance abuse sparked a passion for a career that aligns with my interests and helps others. With a love for animals, I aim to be a large animal researcher, geneticist, or nutrition expert. The challenges of my past fuel a desire to contribute to the well-being of animals, mirroring the care and resilience cultivated within my family. Beyond scientific pursuits, my interest in advocacy stems from our family's journey. Witnessing the impact of addiction on my loved ones has spurred a commitment to raising awareness on important issues. I envision engaging in advocacy efforts, contributing to a broader conversation on tough topics for our world today. In conclusion, my personal experience with my dad's struggles with substance abuse and eventual departure has not been a constant struggle for my family, but it has built resilience and influenced my career aspirations. These challenges prompted me to reshape my values, draw inspiration from positive role models, and turn my experiences into a passion for helping others. This scholarship isn't just financial aid; it's a recognition of my unique journey and a testament to my resilience in the face of unexpected twists. I'm committed to using this opportunity to further my education and make meaningful contributions to the field.

In the tapestry of my life, woven with threads of resilience and determination, the most influential person stands as a beacon of unwavering strength and boundless love — my mother. While the traditional choice might often be a father, it is my mother who has shaped my worldview and imparted invaluable lessons through her indomitable spirit in the face of adversity. Six years ago, our family faced a seismic shift when my father left, leaving my mom to shoulder the responsibility of caring for four children, ranging from 13 to as young as 5. This abrupt departure thrust us into financial uncertainty, navigating life with only one car and a myriad of challenges. In the midst of this upheaval, my mother emerged as the anchor that steadied our ship, a pillar of strength on which our family leaned for support. Financial hardship became a constant companion, casting shadows of doubt on the pursuit of higher education for my sister and me. The prospect of college seemed like an insurmountable mountain, but my mother, with her unwavering determination, became our guiding light. She taught us that challenges, though formidable, are not insurmountable barriers; they are opportunities for growth, resilience, and an unwavering pursuit of a better future. Through her actions, my mother instilled in us the importance of perseverance. Despite the financial constraints, she worked tirelessly to ensure that we had the essentials — a roof over our heads, food on the table, and the opportunity for education. Her sacrifices were not just a means to an end; they were a testament to the boundless love that propels a mother to go to extraordinary lengths for the well-being of her children. The experiences my mother provided were not only about survival; they were profound lessons in resilience, empathy, and optimism. She taught us that laughter can be a healing force, that joy can be found in the simplest of moments, and that every challenge is an opportunity to showcase our strength. The difficult decisions she faced, often alone, illuminated the path we now tread, teaching us the importance of independence and the ability to make choices that shape our destiny. In the tapestry of our family life, my mother wove a narrative of everyday adventure. Despite the hardships, she infused our lives with a sense of joy and wonder, demonstrating that the strength to overcome adversity lies not just in enduring it but in finding joy along the way. As I navigate the complex terrain of higher education, my mother's influence remains an unwavering source of inspiration. Her resilience, resourcefulness, and unwavering optimism have become the foundation upon which I build my ambitions. The lessons learned from her experiences fuel my drive to pursue higher education not just as a personal goal but as a tribute to the sacrifices she made and the lessons she imparted. In conclusion, my mother's influence on my life is immeasurable. Through financial hardships, emotional struggles, and everyday triumphs, she has been the embodiment of strength and love. As I embark on the journey of higher education, I carry with me the indomitable spirit she cultivated, transforming challenges into stepping stones and adversity into opportunities for growth. The Ventana Scholarship represents not only a chance to alleviate the financial burden but a recognition of the perseverance and ambition instilled in me by the most influential person in my life — my extraordinary mother.

The rhythmic cadence of the ocean's waves has always held a profound allure for me, a melody that intertwines with the very essence of my being. As I stand on the shorelines of my passion for ocean conservation, the Ventana Ocean Conservation Scholarship beckons as an opportunity to transform my heartfelt concern for our oceans into tangible and impactful action. My journey into the realm of ocean conservation is not merely an academic pursuit; it's a calling that resonates with the core of my identity. The oceans, vast and teeming with life, are not just bodies of water but intricate ecosystems that sustain life on Earth. Witnessing the escalating threats posed by pollution, climate change, and overexploitation has fueled my commitment to be a steward of the seas. The mission of Ventana Surfboards & Supplies aligns seamlessly with my values. Their dedication to being the most environmentally responsible surf company on the planet resonates deeply with my belief that collective responsibility is paramount in safeguarding our oceans. As a future custodian of marine ecosystems, I share Ventana's commitment to mitigating the impact of human activities on the ocean, ensuring its vitality for generations to come. The decision to pursue a major related to ocean conservation, specifically marine biology, is driven by a profound desire to unravel the mysteries of the ocean and contribute to its preservation. Through my academic journey, I aim to delve into the intricate relationships within marine ecosystems, understanding the delicate balance that sustains the rich biodiversity of our oceans. Armed with knowledge, my goal is to champion evidence-based conservation strategies that address the pressing issues threatening our marine environments. The ocean, to me, is not just a subject of academic curiosity; it is a source of inspiration, wonder, and solace. My passion extends beyond textbooks and classrooms, finding expression in hands-on experiences such as beach clean-ups, marine life monitoring, and community outreach initiatives. These experiences have instilled in me a deep sense of responsibility and a realization that protecting our oceans requires a multifaceted approach that combines scientific expertise with community engagement. Upon completing my degree in marine biology, I envision a future where I actively contribute to ocean conservation efforts. Whether it's researching endangered species, implementing community-based conservation projects, or advocating for sustainable policies, I aim to be a catalyst for positive change. Through collaboration with organizations like Ventana Surfboards & Supplies, I aspire to bridge the gap between scientific research and on-the-ground conservation initiatives, creating a ripple effect of awareness and action. In conclusion, the Ventana Ocean Conservation Scholarship is not just a financial support mechanism; it is a beacon guiding me toward a future where my academic pursuits translate into meaningful contributions to the preservation of our oceans. I care deeply about protecting our oceans because they embody the resilience, beauty, and interconnectedness of our planet. With my degree as a compass, I am poised to embark on a lifelong journey of ocean advocacy, inspired by the waves that carry the hopes of generations yet to come.

In the intricate tapestry of life, certain individuals leave an indelible mark, their dreams and aspirations echoing through the corridors of time. Christina Taylese Singh was one such soul, an aspiring occupational therapist whose journey was tragically cut short while pursuing her passion. Now, as I navigate my path in the realm of healthcare and medicine, I find inspiration in Christina's memory, seeking to honor her legacy through my endeavors. My journey into the world of healthcare is not just a career choice; it's a calling fueled by a deep-seated desire to make a meaningful impact on the lives of others. My academic pursuit has been guided by a genuine passion for understanding the intricacies of the human body and a commitment to fostering wellness in the community. Currently maintaining a GPA of 4.0, I recognize the importance of academic excellence as a foundation for the impactful work that lies ahead. The field of healthcare and medicine is vast, encompassing a myriad of specialties, each with its unique challenges and opportunities. As I reflect on my journey, I am drawn to the field of occupational therapy, a discipline that resonates with the compassion and empathy embedded in Christina Taylese Singh's legacy. The transformative power of occupational therapy in enhancing the quality of life for individuals facing physical, mental, or emotional challenges aligns seamlessly with my values. Occupational therapy, to me, is not just a profession; it's a bridge to empowerment and independence for those navigating the complexities of life with various health conditions. The prospect of assisting individuals in regaining the ability to engage in meaningful daily activities, fostering resilience and self-efficacy, is a calling that resonates deeply with my sense of purpose. I aspire to walk in Christina's footsteps, using my skills and knowledge to make a tangible difference in the lives of those in need. Volunteering has been a cornerstone of my journey, providing me with invaluable insights into the challenges faced by individuals in diverse healthcare settings. Whether it's spending time with elderly residents in assisted living facilities or assisting in therapeutic programs for children with developmental disorders, these experiences have reinforced my commitment to a career that goes beyond the confines of a clinic or hospital. The scholarship honoring Christina Taylese Singh holds a special place in my heart, not only because it provides financial support for my educational pursuits but because it symbolizes a shared commitment to the principles she held dear. Christina's untimely departure serves as a poignant reminder of the fragility of life and the urgency with which we must pursue our dreams. In conclusion, as I embark on this journey in healthcare and medicine, I carry with me the spirit of Christina Taylese Singh — a spirit characterized by compassion, resilience, and an unwavering dedication to the well-being of others. Through the pursuit of occupational therapy, I hope to contribute to a legacy of healing, empowerment, and service, honoring Christina's memory in every life I touch.

In the mosaic of my life, every piece carries the imprint of determination, family bonds, and a profound love for both education and athletics. As a homeschooler since kindergarten, my academic journey has been unique, shaped by my commitment to discipline, perseverance, and a passion for learning. Now a sophomore at NC State, I find myself standing at the intersection of past experiences and future aspirations, ready to share my story with the essence of Stephan Laurence Wolley's principles deeply embedded in my narrative. My homeschooling background laid the foundation for my academic pursuits, fostering an environment where curiosity thrived, and self-discipline became second nature. The decision to homeschool was driven by the belief that education is not confined to the four walls of a classroom but is a holistic experience that permeates every aspect of life. In this supportive environment, I developed the skills necessary to navigate the complexities of academia, laying the groundwork for my current pursuit of a dual major in Biological Sciences and Animal Science at NC State. As I reflect on my journey, family emerges as a central theme, an unwavering support system that has been both my anchor and my source of inspiration. The dynamics of my family changed significantly when my father left when I was eleven. The financial strain became a reality, and my mother, a beacon of strength, took on the responsibility of raising four children single-handedly. Despite the challenges, our family unit has grown stronger, and the bond between my siblings and me has deepened. This experience has instilled in me a profound appreciation for resilience and a commitment to overcoming obstacles with grace and determination. Athletics have been a constant companion in my life, shaping not only my physical well-being but also my character. While I did not play football, my involvement in soccer and basketball during my formative years laid the groundwork for a lifelong love of sports. Swimming, in particular, has been a steadfast presence, teaching me discipline, time management, and the importance of physical and mental well-being. As a current member of NC State's Club Swim team, I continue to embrace the values instilled in me by sports – teamwork, dedication, and a drive for excellence. My collegiate journey at NC State is a testament to my ambition and dedication to academic and athletic pursuits. Majoring in Biological Sciences and Animal Science, I am driven by a passion for large animal research and reproduction. My vision extends beyond the classroom, as I aspire to attain a Master's and Ph.D., delving into the realms of animal nutrition and genetics. My goal is to become a researcher and reproduction specialist, contributing to advancements in livestock and horse science. In conclusion, my journey encapsulates the essence of Stephan Laurence Wolley's principles – a commitment to family, faith, and competition. My homeschooling background, family dynamics, athletic endeavors, and academic aspirations converge to form a narrative of resilience, ambition, and a deep-rooted desire to make a positive impact in the world of animal sciences. The scholarship would not only support my educational journey but also serve as a recognition of the values I hold dear – values that mirror the spirit of Stephan Laurence Wolley and the enduring pursuit of excellence in both academics and athletics.

In the intricate tapestry of life, there are moments that shape our character, test our resilience, and define our purpose. For me, the impact of kidney disease has been a profound and transformative force, weaving its threads through the fabric of my existence and leaving an indelible mark on my journey. My connection to kidney disease is not merely academic or observational; it is deeply personal, intertwined with the narratives of two remarkable individuals: Carrie Lee Williams and Carrie Silvania. Through their stories, I have come to understand the profound implications of kidney disorders, both in the face of adversity and the triumph of the human spirit. The first chapter of this narrative introduces the late Carrie Lee Williams, a woman whose life was tragically cut short by the clutches of kidney disease. Her story serves as a poignant reminder of the insidious nature of this condition, a reminder that kidney disease does not discriminate and can affect anyone, regardless of age or background. Witnessing the toll it took on Carrie Lee's precious life has instilled in me a deep sense of empathy and a commitment to raising awareness about this silent but devastating affliction. Carrie Silvania, on the other hand, embodies resilience and triumph over adversity. Afflicted by a kidney disorder as an infant, her journey has been a testament to the strength of the human spirit. Today, as a thriving high school athlete and honor roll student, she stands as a beacon of hope for those grappling with the uncertainties of kidney disease. Her determination to not let the shadows of illness define her future has left an indomitable impression on my own perspective, inspiring me to confront challenges with courage and tenacity. The impact of kidney disease extends beyond the individual diagnosed; it casts a wide net that envelops families, friends, and communities. In my case, the diagnosis of a close family friend illuminated the interconnectedness of our lives and the shared burden of navigating the complexities of healthcare. The emotional toll of witnessing a loved one's struggle with kidney disease has fueled my desire to contribute to the field of healthcare, with a particular focus on renal care and support. As I reflect on how kidney disease has touched my life, I am aware of the need for greater advocacy and understanding. The ripple effects of this condition are far-reaching, affecting not only physical health but also mental and emotional well-being. It has motivated me to become an active participant in the fight against kidney disease, whether through volunteering at local health clinics or engaging in community outreach initiatives. Applying for the Caring 4 Carrie (C4C) Kidney Advocacy Scholarship is not just a pursuit of financial support; it is a testament to my commitment to turning adversity into advocacy. My ambition to make a difference in the lives of those affected by kidney disease is fueled by the resilience of individuals like Carrie Silvania and the memory of Carrie Lee Williams. I aspire to honor their legacies by pursuing a career in Nursing. Concluding, the impact of kidney disease has been a catalyst for personal growth, empathy, and a sense of purpose. It has taught me that adversity can be a powerful motivator for positive change and that, in the face of challenges, the human spirit can emerge stronger and more resilient than ever. The C4C Kidney Advocacy Scholarship represents not just a financial opportunity but a platform to amplify the voices of those affected by kidney disease, fostering a community dedicated to raising awareness and supporting one another on the journey to triumph over adversity.

As I lace up my cleats and step onto the field, I am reminded of the profound impact soccer has had on my life—a journey filled with highs, lows, and invaluable life lessons. Much like Nasser Seconi, whose passion for the game and commitment to helping others left an indelible mark, I too have experienced the transformative power of soccer. This scholarship is not just an opportunity; it is a chance to honor Nasser's legacy by supporting individuals who share his love for soccer and his dedication to uplifting others. My soccer journey began with the excitement and nerves of a young player stepping onto the field for the first time. The highs were pure joy—the adrenaline rush of scoring my first goal, the camaraderie with teammates, and the sense of accomplishment after grueling practices. Yet, with the highs came inevitable lows—the sting of defeat, the frustration of missed opportunities, and the physical and mental toll of pushing my limits. These experiences, both uplifting and challenging, shaped me into the player and person I am today. One particular low in my soccer career stands out—a season marked by losses and personal setbacks. Instead of succumbing to defeat, I channeled Nasser's determination and perseverance. I sought guidance from coaches, worked tirelessly on refining my skills, and leaned on the support of my teammates. In the face of adversity, I discovered the true essence of teamwork and resilience. It was not about avoiding failure but learning to rise stronger after each setback. The highs and lows of my soccer journey have been instrumental in my personal growth. I have learned the importance of discipline, time management, and teamwork. Soccer has taught me to embrace challenges, cultivate a positive mindset, and celebrate both victories and defeats as stepping stones toward improvement. These invaluable lessons extend beyond the field, influencing my academic pursuits and community involvement. In alignment with Nasser's legacy, I am not only passionate about soccer but also committed to making a positive impact on those around me. Off the field, I have volunteered as a coach for youth soccer programs, sharing my love for the game and instilling the values of teamwork and sportsmanship. The joy of seeing young players develop their skills and confidence mirrors Nasser's commitment to helping others improve. Receiving the Nasser Seconi Scholarship would be a pivotal moment in my journey. It would provide the financial support needed to pursue higher education and continue my involvement in soccer. As a recipient, I am dedicated to honoring Nasser's memory by embodying his spirit—working hard, staying positive, and uplifting others. This scholarship represents more than a financial opportunity; it is a connection to a legacy that inspires and motivates. In conclusion, my soccer journey has been a tapestry of highs and lows, each thread weaving a story of growth, resilience, and passion. Nasser Seconi's legacy serves as a beacon, guiding aspiring individuals like me toward excellence on and off the field. This scholarship is not just a means to an end; it is an affirmation of the values Nasser embodied, and I am eager to carry his spirit forward, making a lasting impact on the soccer community and beyond.

My name is Nathan Hall, and I am a 16-year-old, high school senior, graduating a year early after skipping the tenth grade, and being dual-enrolled for two years. I am a prospective college freshman for Fall 2023 at my dream school. NC State University. I have practically grown up on campus. My mom graduated from State and loved showing us around. We would go to the pool at the gym to swim every weekend, Friday to Sunday. Then we would top it all off with an ice cream sundae at the Student Union (humorously defeating the purpose!). I have gone to NC State swim meets, tennis matches, football, and basketball games. I love NC State and wanted it to be my school one day. With the help of this scholarship, my dream will become reality. What would I study though? As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me—my mom. The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she would say, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed. My mom also majored in math at NC State. She loved it and could not help but teach with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond. It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. This then led to my interest in science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love natural sciences. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but the most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation. STEM consists of various mathematical-based disciplines: science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. Many unique majors are enveloped in these subjects. Ever since I studied advanced biology (human anatomy) in eighth grade, I knew science was what I wanted to learn and practice for the rest of my life. In my freshman through junior high school years, I studied biology, chemistry, and physics. Not one of these sciences failed to excite me. I never considered a path other than science. Ultimately, I determined that biology was my favorite of these subjects. I am now pursuing a degree in biological sciences. I find the subject fascinating because it shows that even the smallest, yet most complex, structures that fabricate some of the most minute units of life, ultimately point to the intelligence of our Creator, God. It was my mom who inspired me to pursue STEM, by simply practicing math concepts until I could understand them and write them out. And it was STEM that allowed me to see God's greatness even more clearly.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a disease that affects 30,000 people in the United States alone. This rare neurological disease affects one’s control over voluntary muscle movements. ALS is a fatal disease and cannot be paused or reversed. It begins to affect a person's muscles that control their facial muscles for speech or swallowing, or it will take effect in a person's limbs, from their hands and arms to their legs and feet. "Unfortunate" is an understatement when the disease is purely tragic. 30,000 of over 3 million people in the United States are affected with ALS, with approximately 5000 new cases each year, which may not seem like a large number to some. However, it is just the opposite. If there are 30,000 individuals who contract ALS and are given--quite frankly--a death sentence, how many more individuals are indirectly hurt by the disease. Nearly every person who is diagnosed with ALS has a family. They have spouses, children, grandchildren, and friends who all care deeply about them. The diagnosed will leave behind loved ones. Imagine for a moment, if one of your loved ones was diagnosed with ALS and was suddenly taken from you. Or imagine yourself being diagnosed with ALS and leaving behind so many loved ones. All loved ones of an ALS-infected individual will experience pain and hurt when they no longer can talk to, see, or call one who has died from this disease. ALS affects those diagnosed with the disease and their loved ones. Additionally, ALS comes with major expenses. Those who are diagnosed with ALS require much medical attention and their finances or their loved ones'/care takers' financial security could be impacted by the unexpected expenses. I have personally been blessed to not be impacted by ALS, be it a family member or friend diagnosed. I may not truly know how it feels to know someone who has been diagnosed or has died from ALS. But, I can sympathize because I have experienced the loss of loved ones too. While ALS has not impacted me personally, whether emotionally or financially, there are potential ways in which my career plan can be beneficial to ALS. I desire to pursue Biological Sciences with a concentration in Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pay tuition expenses at school and I will be able to receive an education in Biology. I will then be able to start a career built on my Biology education and may be able to have a career in vaccine research and development, pharmaceuticals, or disease research and cure development. With any of these occupations, I will be blessed to play a small part in the advancement of research and, hopefully, the eventual curing of ALS. ALS is a tragic disease that affects not only 30,000+ who are diagnosed with the disease, but also their family, friends, and other loved ones who are impacted by the emotional hurt of the loss of a loved one and also major financial effects, whether expected or unexpected, are a real hit to the stomach. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pursue further education in the Biological Sciences which I can apply to a career in which I may be able to help research and develop a cure for ALS. Even if my endeavors are unsuccessful, I will be blessed to play a part in the future of ALS, hoping to eliminate all the heartbreak and other hardships that ALS causes thousands of people in the United States and around the world. Everyone deserves better, and I want to help.

As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me—my mom. The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she says, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed. A big reason math was so important in my education was that my mom majored in math. She loved it and could not help but teach math with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a problem very quickly, but not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond. It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. This then leading my interest in science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with my math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love science. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but the most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation. All this complexity was spoken into existence by a single word. I can use math in every aspect of my life. Currently, a possibility of a future career consists of research. Researchers often must make specific and exact measurements and be good at statistics to accurately consider their data. As a swimmer, I use math from strategizing a 50Y swim in a longer race as a percentage of my overall race, counting laps for long-distance, or making consecutive times and knowing when to leave the wall. In school, physics, chemistry, and statistics are required for my major. Being dual-enrolled in community college, taking College Physics 1 + 2, has taught me that math is vital for success in science. Everywhere in life, I see math being used.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a disease that affects 30,000 people in the United States alone. This rare neurological disease affects one’s control over voluntary muscle movements. ALS is a fatal disease and cannot be paused or reversed. It begins to affect a person's muscles that control their facial muscles for speech or swallowing, or it will take effect in a person's limbs, from their hands and arms to their legs and feet. "Unfortunate" is an understatement when the disease is purely tragic. 30,000 of over 3 million people in the United States are affected with ALS, with approximately 5000 new cases each year, which may not seem like a large number to some. However, it is just the opposite. If there are 30,000 individuals who contract ALS and are given--quite frankly--a death sentence, how many more individuals are indirectly hurt by the disease. Nearly every person who is diagnosed with ALS has a family. They have spouses, children, grandchildren, and friends who all care deeply about them. The diagnosed will leave behind loved ones. Imagine for a moment, if one of your loved ones was diagnosed with ALS and was suddenly taken from you. Or imagine yourself being diagnosed with ALS and leaving behind so many loved ones. All loved ones of an ALS-infected individual will experience pain and hurt when they no longer can talk to, see, or call one who has died from this disease. ALS affects those diagnosed with the disease and their loved ones. Additionally, ALS comes with major expenses. Those who are diagnosed with ALS require much medical attention and their finances or their loved ones'/care takers' financial security could be impacted by the unexpected expenses. I have personally been blessed to not be impacted by ALS, be it a family member or friend diagnosed. I may not truly know how it feels to know someone who has been diagnosed or has died from ALS. But, I can sympathize because I have experienced the loss of loved ones too. While ALS has not impacted me personally, whether emotionally or financially, there are potential ways in which my career plan can be beneficial to ALS. I desire to pursue Biological Sciences with a concentration in Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pay tuition expenses at school and I will be able to receive an education in Biology. I will then be able to start a career built on my Biology education and may be able to have a career in vaccine research and development, pharmaceuticals, or disease research and cure development. With any of these occupations, I will be blessed to play a small part in the advancement of research and, hopefully, the eventual curing of ALS. ALS is a tragic disease that affects not only 30,000+ who are diagnosed with the disease, but also their family, friends, and other loved ones who are impacted by the emotional hurt of the loss of a loved one and also major financial effects, whether expected or unexpected, are a real hit to the stomach. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pursue further education in the Biological Sciences which I can apply to a career in which I may be able to help research and develop a cure for ALS. Even if my endeavors are unsuccessful, I will be blessed to play a part in the future of ALS, hoping to eliminate all the heartbreak and other hardships that ALS causes thousands of people in the United States and around the world. Everyone deserves better, and I want to help.

As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me—my mom.      The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she says, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed.      A big reason math was so important in my education was that my mom majored in math. She loved it and could not help but teach math with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a problem very quickly, but not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond.      It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. This then leading my interest in science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with my math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love science. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but the most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation. All this complexity was spoken into existence by a single word.      I can use math in every aspect of my life. Currently, a possibility of a future career consists of research. Researchers often must make specific and exact measurements and be good at statistics to accurately consider their data. As a swimmer, I use math from strategizing a 50Y swim in a longer race as a percentage of my overall race, counting laps for long-distance, or making consecutive times and knowing when to leave the wall. In school, physics, chemistry, and statistics are required for my major. Being dual-enrolled in community college, taking College Physics 1 + 2, has taught me that math is vital for success in science. Everywhere in life, I see math being used.

Chills tingle down my spine as the muffled voice announces, “Swimmers, step in.” Black cap tightly pressed against my fastened goggles, I hop in. The crystal-clear water is bone-chillingly cold. I reach my slightly shivering hands up and grasp the bar. I only hope my hands do not slip when I pull up to dive. “Take your marks.” I pull my body up out of the water in a seemingly fetal position, every muscle in my body tense. BEEP! I launch myself away from the wall and slice through the water's surface. After I dolphin underwater halfway, I commence backstroke. Without the slightest turn of my head, I see the violent splashes of my competitors on either side of me. I am approaching the wall to flip. Heart pounding, I summersault underwater and rapidly begin my second lap. I breathlessly sprint to the wall, barely able to feel my unceasingly kicking legs. Ten yards remaining. Three. I throw my arm behind me and powerfully hit the wall. I finished! Splash! My teammate begins the second leg of the race, breaststroke. This is a relay. Many people don’t think relays are important because they do not represent a swimmer’s individual performance. But every swimmer has potential and something to offer to the relay. The coach sees their potential and places them where they will most positively impact the team’s time and increase their likelihood of winning. The coach believes each swimmer earned their spot on the relay team. All that’s left is teamwork. I have discovered that this sort of teamwork has inherent parallels in everyday life. When I took physics, my teacher paired up lab groups himself. I was nervous because, while I took on the role of lab group leader, I had to depend upon two other students for my grade. However, the purpose of the lab, I realized, was not to exhibit my personal abilities, but to practice teamwork. This is a lot like a relay race in a few ways. First, my lab partners and I all earned our spots on the “team”, just like each swimmer earns their spot on the relay. We had the same prerequisites completed, so we had the same foundational knowledge for the course. I was not in a group with elementary students but placed with students at my specific academic level. Next, our teacher was the “coach”, putting a relay together that he thought would succeed. Our teacher paired us up specifically, believing that with good teamwork, we would be successful. He knew we were well-equipped to tackle the subject matter as a team. Finally, the most important key to success is that everyone gives their all in their “leg of the race”. Each member of a team must share in the work. After completing the lab, we would split up the write-up work equally. All that was left to do was to trust in each other. Once I did my part to the best of my ability, all I could do was trust that everyone else would give one hundred and ten percent to their share of the work, to their “leg of the race”. I have found the importance of teamwork in many aspects of everyday life, from swimming in a relay race to a shared contribution in a physics lab group. Because my lab group practiced this teamwork, it paid off in our grades. In this world of “me, me, me” and “every man for himself”, it is more important than ever for us to practice teamwork. After all, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

Chills tingle down my spine as the muffled voice announces, “Swimmers, step in.” Black cap tightly pressed against my fastened goggles, I hop in. The crystal-clear water is bone-chillingly cold. I reach my slightly shivering hands up and grasp the bar. I only hope my hands do not slip when I pull up to dive. “Take your marks.” I pull my body up out of the water in a seemingly fetal position, every muscle in my body tense. BEEP! I launch myself away from the wall and slice through the water's surface. After I dolphin underwater halfway, I commence backstroke. Without the slightest turn of my head, I see the violent splashes of my competitors on either side of me. I am approaching the wall to flip. Heart pounding, I summersault underwater and rapidly begin my second lap. I breathlessly sprint to the wall, barely able to feel my unceasingly kicking legs. Ten yards remaining. Three. I throw my arm behind me and powerfully hit the wall. I finished! Splash! My teammate begins the second leg of the race, breaststroke. This is a relay. Many people don’t think relays are important because they do not represent a swimmer’s individual performance. But every swimmer has potential and something to offer to the relay. The coach sees their potential and places them where they will most positively impact the team’s time and increase their likelihood of winning. The coach believes each swimmer earned their spot on the relay team. All that’s left is teamwork. I have discovered that this sort of teamwork has inherent parallels in everyday life. When I took physics, my teacher paired up lab groups himself. I was nervous because, while I took on the role of lab group leader, I had to depend upon two other students for my grade. However, the purpose of the lab, I realized, was not to exhibit my personal abilities, but to practice teamwork. This is a lot like a relay race in a few ways. First, my lab partners and I all earned our spots on the “team”, just like each swimmer earns their spot on the relay. We had the same prerequisites completed, so we had the same foundational knowledge for the course. I was not in a group with elementary students but placed with students at my specific academic level. Next, our teacher was the “coach”, putting a relay together that he thought would succeed. Our teacher paired us up specifically, believing that with good teamwork, we would be successful. He knew we were well-equipped to tackle the subject matter as a team. Finally, the most important key to success is that everyone gives their all in their “leg of the race”. Each member of a team must share in the work. After completing the lab, we would split up the write-up work equally. All that was left to do was to trust in each other. Once I did my part to the best of my ability, all I could do was trust that everyone else would give one hundred and ten percent to their share of the work, to their “leg of the race”. I have found the importance of teamwork in many aspects of everyday life, from swimming in a relay race to a shared contribution in a physics lab group. Because my lab group practiced this teamwork, it paid off in our grades. In this world of “me, me, me” and “every man for himself”, it is more important than ever for us to practice teamwork. After all, “Teamwork makes the dream work.” Chills tingle down my spine as the muffled voice announces, “Swimmers, step in.” Black cap tightly pressed against my fastened goggles, I hop in. The crystal-clear water is bone-chillingly cold. I reach my slightly shivering hands up and grasp the bar. I only hope my hands do not slip when I pull up to dive. “Take your marks.” I pull my body up out of the water in a seemingly fetal position, every muscle in my body tense. BEEP! I launch myself away from the wall and slice through the water's surface. After I dolphin underwater halfway, I commence backstroke. Without the slightest turn of my head, I see the violent splashes of my competitors on either side of me. I am approaching the wall to flip. Heart pounding, I summersault underwater and rapidly begin my second lap. I breathlessly sprint to the wall, barely able to feel my unceasingly kicking legs. Ten yards remaining. Three. I throw my arm behind me and powerfully hit the wall. I finished! Splash! My teammate begins the second leg of the race, breaststroke. This is a relay.

As a high school, student leader in AWANA, I have watched children in kindergarten grow into fifth graders, maturing in their Biblical knowledge and in their faith. My role is to facilitate a fun and energetic environment for the kids. They say their Bible verses to me, tell me about school and soccer games, and run around playing freeze tag or cross the ocean with me. I enjoyed volunteering with the same kids as they grew older, volunteering in Kindergarten and moving up to 5th grade. I remember one boy that I had from K-5th grade and he was a wiggler. He was incredibly intelligent, but his energy made him rowdy. While the rest of the volunteer leaders were busy listening to other kids say their verses, I would hang out with this one boy. When I was with him, he wasn’t running around the room, making the rest of the kids wild, but he was calm and quiet. I would give him my wristwatch and let him mess around with it, pushing buttons and using the stopwatch feature. He needed something to touch and play with from my watch to my shoe laces or cinch sack. When he reached 3rd through 5th grade, he was very calm and didn’t need someone to occupy him as much, so I got to hang out with him during small group time and play in the gym with him. It was rewarding to see him mature in the way he did, and I wouldn’t have witnessed it if I was not serving. What this child and others have taught me in my community service is a few things. Yes, I am serving the community by taking these children off their parents’ hands and providing an afternoon care for them. But, I also learn about these kids; I get to hang out and have fun with them. The most rewarding aspect of community service in AWANA, is that I get to watch kids mature physically and spiritually, from becoming less wiggly to memorizing verses of the Bible and learning about Jesus every week. Volunteering in my community has displayed its value in my life. I may be serving the community, but it doesn’t feel like community service. It feels like I’m a little kid again, being silly and having fun with these children. Sometimes seeing the world through a child’s perspective can make the biggest difference in a community. I have been volunteering since I was in 6th grade, and I plan on continuing as far out as I can see, meeting new kids and watching them grow up in age and grow up in faith.

Chills tingle down my spine as the muffled voice announces, “Swimmers, step in.” Black cap tightly pressed against my fastened goggles, I hop in. The crystal-clear water is bone-chillingly cold. I reach my slightly shivering hands up and grasp the bar. I only hope my hands do not slip when I pull up to dive. “Take your marks.” I pull my body up out of the water in a seemingly fetal position, every muscle in my body tense. BEEP! I launch myself away from the wall and slice through the water's surface. After I dolphin underwater halfway, I commence backstroke. Without the slightest turn of my head, I see the violent splashes of my competitors on either side of me. I am approaching the wall to flip. Heart pounding, I summersault underwater and rapidly begin my second lap. I breathlessly sprint to the wall, barely able to feel my unceasingly kicking legs. Ten yards remaining. Three. I throw my arm behind me and powerfully hit the wall. I finished! Splash! My teammate begins the second leg of the race, breaststroke. This is a relay. Many people don’t think relays are important because they do not represent a swimmer’s individual performance. But every swimmer has potential and something to offer to the relay. The coach sees their potential and places them where they will most positively impact the team’s time and increase their likelihood of winning. The coach believes each swimmer earned their spot on the relay team. All that’s left is teamwork. I have discovered that this sort of teamwork has inherent parallels in everyday life. When I took physics, my teacher paired up lab groups himself. I was nervous because, while I took on the role of lab group leader, I had to depend upon two other students for my grade. However, the purpose of the lab, I realized, was not to exhibit my personal abilities, but to practice teamwork. This is a lot like a relay race in a few ways. First, my lab partners and I all earned our spots on the “team”, just like each swimmer earns their spot on the relay. We had the same prerequisites completed, so we had the same foundational knowledge for the course. I was not in a group with elementary students but placed with students at my specific academic level. Next, our teacher was the “coach”, putting a relay together that he thought would succeed. Our teacher paired us up specifically, believing that with good teamwork, we would be successful. He knew we were well-equipped to tackle the subject matter as a team. Finally, the most important key to success is that everyone gives their all in their “leg of the race”. Each member of a team must share in the work. After completing the lab, we would split up the write-up work equally. All that was left to do was to trust in each other. Once I did my part to the best of my ability, all I could do was trust that everyone else would give one hundred and ten percent to their share of the work, to their “leg of the race”. I have found the importance of teamwork in many aspects of everyday life, from swimming in a relay race to a shared contribution in a physics lab group. Because my lab group practiced this teamwork, it paid off in our grades. In this world of “me, me, me” and “every man for himself”, it is more important than ever for us to practice teamwork. After all, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

Chills tingle down my spine as the muffled voice announces, “Swimmers, step in.” Black cap tightly pressed against my fastened goggles, I hop in. The crystal-clear water is bone-chillingly cold. I reach my slightly shivering hands up and grasp the bar. I only hope my hands do not slip when I pull up to dive. “Take your marks.” I pull my body up out of the water in a seemingly fetal position, every muscle in my body tense. BEEP! I launch myself away from the wall and slice through the water's surface. After I dolphin underwater halfway, I commence backstroke. Without the slightest turn of my head, I see the violent splashes of my competitors on either side of me. I am approaching the wall to flip. Heart pounding, I summersault underwater and rapidly begin my second lap. I breathlessly sprint to the wall, barely able to feel my unceasingly kicking legs. Ten yards remaining. Three. I throw my arm behind me and powerfully hit the wall. I finished! Splash! My teammate begins the second leg of the race, breaststroke. This is a relay. Many people don’t think relays are important because they do not represent a swimmer’s individual performance. But every swimmer has potential and something to offer to the relay. The coach sees their potential and places them where they will most positively impact the team’s time and increase their likelihood of winning. The coach believes each swimmer earned their spot on the relay team. All that’s left is teamwork. I have discovered that this sort of teamwork has inherent parallels in everyday life. When I took physics, my teacher paired up lab groups himself. I was nervous because, while I took on the role of lab group leader, I had to depend upon two other students for my grade. However, the purpose of the lab, I realized, was not to exhibit my personal abilities, but to practice teamwork. This is a lot like a relay race in a few ways. First, my lab partners and I all earned our spots on the “team”, just like each swimmer earns their spot on the relay. We had the same prerequisites completed, so we had the same foundational knowledge for the course. I was not in a group with elementary students but placed with students at my specific academic level. Next, our teacher was the “coach”, putting a relay together that he thought would succeed. Our teacher paired us up specifically, believing that with good teamwork, we would be successful. He knew we were well-equipped to tackle the subject matter as a team. Finally, the most important key to success is that everyone gives their all in their “leg of the race”. Each member of a team must share in the work. After completing the lab, we would split up the write-up work equally. All that was left to do was to trust in each other. Once I did my part to the best of my ability, all I could do was trust that everyone else would give one hundred and ten percent to their share of the work, to their “leg of the race”. I have found the importance of teamwork in many aspects of everyday life, from swimming in a relay race to a shared contribution in a physics lab group. Because my lab group practiced this teamwork, it paid off in our grades. In this world of “me, me, me” and “every man for himself”, it is more important than ever for us to practice teamwork. After all, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

Chills tingle down my spine as the muffled voice announces, “Swimmers, step in.” Black cap tightly pressed against my fastened goggles, I hop in. The crystal-clear water is bone-chillingly cold. I reach my slightly shivering hands up and grasp the bar. I only hope my hands do not slip when I pull up to dive. “Take your marks.” I pull my body up out of the water in a seemingly fetal position, every muscle in my body tense. BEEP! I launch myself away from the wall and slice through the water's surface. After I dolphin underwater halfway, I commence backstroke. Without the slightest turn of my head, I see the violent splashes of my competitors on either side of me. I am approaching the wall to flip. Heart pounding, I summersault underwater and rapidly begin my second lap. I breathlessly sprint to the wall, barely able to feel my unceasingly kicking legs. Ten yards remaining. Three. I throw my arm behind me and powerfully hit the wall. I finished! Splash! My teammate begins the second leg of the race, breaststroke. This is a relay. Many people don’t think relays are important because they do not represent a swimmer’s individual performance. But every swimmer has potential and something to offer to the relay. The coach sees their potential and places them where they will most positively impact the team’s time and increase their likelihood of winning. The coach believes each swimmer earned their spot on the relay team. All that’s left is teamwork. I have discovered that this sort of teamwork has inherent parallels in everyday life. When I took physics, my teacher paired up lab groups himself. I was nervous because, while I took on the role of lab group leader, I had to depend upon two other students for my grade. However, the purpose of the lab, I realized, was not to exhibit my personal abilities, but to practice teamwork. This is a lot like a relay race in a few ways. First, my lab partners and I all earned our spots on the “team”, just like each swimmer earns their spot on the relay. We had the same prerequisites completed, so we had the same foundational knowledge for the course. I was not in a group with elementary students but placed with students at my specific academic level. Next, our teacher was the “coach”, putting a relay together that he thought would succeed. Our teacher paired us up specifically, believing that with good teamwork, we would be successful. He knew we were well-equipped to tackle the subject matter as a team. Finally, the most important key to success is that everyone gives their all in their “leg of the race”. Each member of a team must share in the work. After completing the lab, we would split up the write-up work equally. All that was left to do was to trust in each other. Once I did my part to the best of my ability, all I could do was trust that everyone else would give one hundred and ten percent to their share of the work, to their “leg of the race”. I have found the importance of teamwork in many aspects of everyday life, from swimming in a relay race to a shared contribution in a physics lab group. Because my lab group practiced this teamwork, it paid off in our grades. In this world of “me, me, me” and “every man for himself”, it is more important than ever for us to practice teamwork. After all, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

Chills tingle down my spine as the muffled voice announces, “Swimmers, step in.” Black cap tightly pressed against my fastened goggles, I hop in. The crystal-clear water is bone-chillingly cold. I reach my slightly shivering hands up and grasp the bar. I only hope my hands do not slip when I pull up to dive. “Take your marks.” I pull my body up out of the water in a seemingly fetal position, every muscle in my body tense. BEEP! I launch myself away from the wall and slice through the water's surface. After I dolphin underwater halfway, I commence backstroke. Without the slightest turn of my head, I see the violent splashes of my competitors on either side of me. I am approaching the wall to flip. Heart pounding, I summersault underwater and rapidly begin my second lap. I breathlessly sprint to the wall, barely able to feel my unceasingly kicking legs. Ten yards remaining. Three. I throw my arm behind me and powerfully hit the wall. I finished! Splash! My teammate begins the second leg of the race, breaststroke. This is a relay. Many people don’t think relays are important because they do not represent a swimmer’s individual performance. But every swimmer has potential and something to offer to the relay. The coach sees their potential and places them where they will most positively impact the team’s time and increase their likelihood of winning. The coach believes each swimmer earned their spot on the relay team. All that’s left is teamwork. I have discovered that this sort of teamwork has inherent parallels in everyday life. When I took physics, my teacher paired up lab groups himself. I was nervous because, while I took on the role of lab group leader, I had to depend upon two other students for my grade. However, the purpose of the lab, I realized, was not to exhibit my personal abilities, but to practice teamwork. This is a lot like a relay race in a few ways. First, my lab partners and I all earned our spots on the “team”, just like each swimmer earns their spot on the relay. We had the same prerequisites completed, so we had the same foundational knowledge for the course. I was not in a group with elementary students but placed with students at my specific academic level. Next, our teacher was the “coach”, putting a relay together that he thought would succeed. Our teacher paired us up specifically, believing that with good teamwork, we would be successful. He knew we were well-equipped to tackle the subject matter as a team. Finally, the most important key to success is that everyone gives their all in their “leg of the race”. Each member of a team must share in the work. After completing the lab, we would split up the write-up work equally. All that was left to do was to trust in each other. Once I did my part to the best of my ability, all I could do was trust that everyone else would give one hundred and ten percent to their share of the work, to their “leg of the race”. I have found the importance of teamwork in many aspects of everyday life, from swimming in a relay race to a shared contribution in a physics lab group. Because my lab group practiced this teamwork, it paid off in our grades. In this world of “me, me, me” and “every man for himself”, it is more important than ever for us to practice teamwork. After all, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

As a high school, a student leader in AWANA, I have watched children in kindergarten grow into fifth graders, maturing in their Biblical knowledge and in their faith. My role is to facilitate a fun and energetic environment for the kids. They say their Bible verses to me, tell me about school and soccer games, and run around playing freeze tag or cross the ocean with me. I enjoyed volunteering with the same kids as they grew older, volunteering in Kindergarten and moving up to 5th grade. I remember one boy that I had from K-5th grade and he was a wiggler. He was incredibly intelligent, but his energy made him rowdy. While the rest of the volunteer leaders were busy listening to other kids say their verses, I would hang out with this one boy. When I was with him, he wasn’t running around the room, making the rest of the kids wild, but he was calm and quiet. I would give him my wristwatch and let him mess around with it, pushing buttons and using the stopwatch feature. He needed something to touch and play with from my watch to my shoelaces or cinch sack. When he reached 3rd through 5th grade, he was very calm and didn’t need someone to occupy him as much, so I got to hang out with him during small group time and play in the gym with him. It was rewarding to see him mature in the way he did, and I wouldn’t have witnessed it if I was not serving. What this child and others have taught me in my community service are a few things. Yes, I am serving the community by taking these children off their parents’ hands and providing afternoon care for them. But, I also learn about these kids; I get to hang out and have fun with them. The most rewarding aspect of community service in AWANA is that I get to watch kids mature physically and spiritually, from becoming less wiggly to memorizing verses of the Bible and learning about Jesus every week. Volunteering in my community has displayed its value in my life. I may be serving the community, but it doesn’t feel like community service. It feels like I’m a little kid again, being silly and having fun with these children. Sometimes seeing the world through a child’s perspective can make the biggest difference in a community. I have been volunteering since I was in 6th grade, and I plan on continuing as far out as I can see, meeting new kids and watching them grow up in age and grow up in the faith. Hanging out with and teaching kids is fun and exciting for me. While I may not be going to school for something related to AWANA and volunteering with kids, I can see myself teaching students, just like them one day. My scholarly passion is for the biological sciences, and I am going to university for Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology as an undergrad, then to get my Master's and Ph.D. I would consider it an honor if I ended up teaching kids to become fascinated with the subject I have grown to love. If I receive this scholarship, I will be able to cover some of the looming costs of tuition rather than get a loan and I would be able to continue my education financially stress-free, so that I can learn what I love, practice what I love, soon to teach what I love to those I love.

My name is Nathan Hall, and I am a 16-year-old, high school senior, graduating a year early after skipping the tenth grade, and being dual-enrolled for two years. I am a prospective college freshman for Fall 2023 at my dream school. NC State University. I have practically grown up on campus. My mom graduated from State and loved showing us around. We would go to the pool at the gym to swim every weekend, Friday to Sunday. Then we would top it all off with an ice cream sundae at the Student Union (humorously defeating the purpose!). I have gone to NC State swim meets, tennis matches, football, and basketball games. I love NC State and wanted it to be my school one day. With the help of this scholarship, my dream will become reality. What would I study though? As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me—my mom. The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she would say, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed. My mom also majored in math at NC State. She loved it and could not help but teach with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond. It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. This then led to my interest in science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love natural sciences. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but the most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation. STEM consists of various mathematical-based disciplines: science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. Many unique majors are enveloped in these subjects. Ever since I studied advanced biology (human anatomy) in eighth grade, I knew science was what I wanted to learn and practice for the rest of my life. In my freshman through junior high school years, I studied biology, chemistry, and physics. Not one of these sciences failed to excite me. I never considered a path other than science. Ultimately, I determined that biology was my favorite of these subjects. I am now pursuing a degree in biological sciences. I find the subject fascinating because it shows that even the smallest, yet most complex, structures that fabricate some of the most minute units of life, ultimately point to the intelligence of our Creator, God. It was my mom who inspired me to pursue STEM, by simply practicing math concepts until I could understand them and write them out. And it was STEM that allowed me to see God's greatness even more clearly.

My name is Nathan Hall, and I am a 16-year-old, high school senior, graduating a year early after skipping the tenth grade, and being dual-enrolled for two years. I am a prospective college freshman for Fall 2023 at my dream school. NC State University. I have practically grown up on campus. My mom graduated from State and loved showing us around. We would go to the pool at the gym to swim every weekend, Friday to Sunday. Then we would top it all off with an ice cream sundae at the Student Union (humorously defeating the purpose!). I have gone to NC State swim meets, tennis matches, football, and basketball games. I love NC State and wanted it to be my school one day. With the help of this scholarship, my dream will become reality. What would I study though?      As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me—my mom.      The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she would say, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed.      My mom also majored in math at NC State. She loved it and could not help but teach with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond.      It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. This then led to my interest in science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love natural sciences. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but the most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation.       STEM consists of various mathematical-based disciplines: science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. Many unique majors are enveloped in these subjects. Ever since I studied advanced biology (human anatomy) in eighth grade, I knew science was what I wanted to learn and practice for the rest of my life. In my freshman through junior high school years, I studied biology, chemistry, and physics. Not one of these sciences failed to excite me. I never considered a path other than science. Ultimately, I determined that biology was my favorite of these subjects. I am now pursuing a degree in biological sciences. I find the subject fascinating because it shows that even the smallest, yet most complex, structures that fabricate some of the most minute units of life, ultimately point to the intelligence of our Creator, God.      It was my mom who inspired me to pursue STEM, by simply practicing math concepts until I could understand them and write them out. And it was STEM that allowed me to see God's greatness even more clearly.

As a high school, student leader in AWANA, I have watched children in kindergarten grow into fifth graders, maturing in their Biblical knowledge and in their faith. My role is to facilitate a fun and energetic environment for the kids. They say their Bible verses to me, tell me about school and soccer games, and run around playing freeze tag or cross the ocean with me. I enjoyed volunteering with the same kids as they grew older, volunteering in Kindergarten and moving up to 5th grade. I remember one boy that I had from K-5th grade and he was a wiggler. He was incredibly intelligent, but his energy made him rowdy. While the rest of the volunteer leaders were busy listening to other kids say their verses, I would hang out with this one boy. When I was with him, he wasn’t running around the room, making the rest of the kids wild, but he was calm and quiet. I would give him my wristwatch and let him mess around with it, pushing buttons and using the stopwatch feature. He needed something to touch and play with from my watch to my shoelaces or cinch sack. When he reached 3rd through 5th grade, he was very calm and didn’t need someone to occupy him as much, so I got to hang out with him during small group time and play in the gym with him. It was rewarding to see him mature in the way he did, and I wouldn’t have witnessed it if I was not serving. What this child and others have taught me in my community service are a few things. Yes, I am serving the community by taking these children off their parents’ hands and providing afternoon care for them. But, I also learn about these kids; I get to hang out and have fun with them. The most rewarding aspect of community service in AWANA is that I get to watch kids mature physically and spiritually, from becoming less wiggly to memorizing verses of the Bible and learning about Jesus every week. Volunteering in my community has displayed its value in my life. I may be serving the community, but it doesn’t feel like community service. It feels like I’m a little kid again, being silly and having fun with these children. Sometimes seeing the world through a child’s perspective can make the biggest difference in a community. I have been volunteering since I was in 6th grade, and I plan on continuing as far out as I can see, meeting new kids and watching them grow up in age and grow up in the faith. Hanging out with and teaching kids is fun and exciting for me. While I may not be going to school for something related to AWANA and volunteering with kids, I can see myself teaching students, just like them one day. My scholarly passion is for the biological sciences, and I am going to university for Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology as an undergrad, then to get my Master's and Ph.D. I would consider it an honor if I ended up teaching kids to become fascinated with the subject I have grown to love. If I receive this scholarship, I will be able to cover some of the looming costs of tuition rather than get a loan and I would be able to continue my education financially stress-free, so that I can learn what I love, practice what I love, soon to teach what I love to those I love.

As a high school, student leader in AWANA, I have watched children in kindergarten grow into fifth graders, maturing in their Biblical knowledge and in their faith. My role is to facilitate a fun and energetic environment for the kids. They say their Bible verses to me, tell me about school and soccer games, and run around playing freeze tag or cross the ocean with me. I enjoyed volunteering with the same kids as they grew older, volunteering in Kindergarten and moving up to 5th grade. I remember one boy that I had from K-5th grade and he was a wiggler. He was incredibly intelligent, but his energy made him rowdy. While the rest of the volunteer leaders were busy listening to other kids say their verses, I would hang out with this one boy. When I was with him, he wasn’t running around the room, making the rest of the kids wild, but he was calm and quiet. I would give him my wristwatch and let him mess around with it, pushing buttons and using the stopwatch feature. He needed something to touch and play with from my watch to my shoelaces or cinch sack. When he reached 3rd through 5th grade, he was very calm and didn’t need someone to occupy him as much, so I got to hang out with him during small group time and play in the gym with him. It was rewarding to see him mature in the way he did, and I wouldn’t have witnessed it if I was not serving. What this child and others have taught me in my community service are a few things. Yes, I am serving the community by taking these children off their parents’ hands and providing afternoon care for them. But, I also learn about these kids; I get to hang out and have fun with them. The most rewarding aspect of community service in AWANA is that I get to watch kids mature physically and spiritually, from becoming less wiggly to memorizing verses of the Bible and learning about Jesus every week. Volunteering in my community has displayed its value in my life. I may be serving the community, but it doesn’t feel like community service. It feels like I’m a little kid again, being silly and having fun with these children. Sometimes seeing the world through a child’s perspective can make the biggest difference in a community. I have been volunteering since I was in 6th grade, and I plan on continuing as far out as I can see, meeting new kids and watching them grow up in age and grow up in the faith. Hanging out with and teaching kids is fun and exciting for me. While I may not be going to school for something related to AWANA and volunteering with kids, I can see myself teaching students, just like them one day. My scholarly passion is for the biological sciences, and I am going to university for Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology as an undergrad, then to get my Master's and Ph.D. I would consider it an honor if I ended up teaching kids to become fascinated with the subject I have grown to love. If I receive this scholarship, I will be able to cover some of the looming costs of tuition rather than get a loan and I would be able to continue my education financially stress-free, so that I can learn what I love, practice what I love, soon to teach what I love to those I love.

In the Bible, once God had created man, Genesis 1:28 says, "God blessed [Adam and Eve] and said to them, 'Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.'" (NIV) God gave humans dominion over nature. We are to do with it that which benefits our race and the world. This requires an understanding of nature. Two major ways to acquire this understanding are through first understanding the natural sciences and social sciences. When I look at a person, animal, or even leaves on a tree, I am simply enthralled that they are all living, functioning for their survival. It is amazing that all these everyday things were created as functional beings. It is even more fascinating that there are these small living entities called cells, hundreds of thousands of times smaller than any person, floating about and performing life-supplying tasks for all living creatures. I realized, when taking chemistry in high school and when taking physics when I was dual-enrolled at community college, that I love the natural sciences. I am intrigued by how the natural world works. I found out how the elements work together to create some of the most incredible things, from water and rust to heat and explosions! I discovered the applications of Newton’s laws and the importance of mass m, in the physical world. However, biology intrigued me the most, first when I took General Biology in middle school, then Advanced (Human) Bio in high school, and finally two courses of Biology at community college (Molecular and Cellular Biology and Evolution, Ecology, and Biodiversity). Biology, simply but surely, is the study of "bio", the study of life. It is concerned with the most complex organisms so small that they can only be seen with a powerful microscope, yet they are the basis of all life and allow organisms to live and operate like well-oiled machines. Biology captivated me from a minute, cellular, life-giving level all throughout my middle-, high school, and dual-enrolled education. Being a Christian and taking Evolution/Ecology at community college challenged me to research the topic more thoroughly. A high school senior, Class of 2023, I am currently researching for and writing a 15-page Thesis and preparing a defense to be held live on Zoom at my online school, on the topic of Natural Selection being designed by God during Creation in Genesis. I was captivated by biology and dared to challenge common-held truths by the public. I uncovered a passion for biology. Being curious and learning about the natural sciences, from physiology, chemical reactions, and electrical fields, people will be able to understand the literal nature of the universe better. Second, understanding the nature of the universe requires a knowledge of the social world around us. People live life. They come across hundreds of people a day. From going to the grocery store, work, family and friends, doctor appointments, and strangers on the greenway, people are interacting with other people. We were created as social beings, and whether introverted or extroverted, we all need human interactions every once and a while. Sometimes our interactions can be irrational, however. After all, humans are sinful and prone to their human nature. God made us the same, but we are all so different. Isn’t that amazing? Our bodies work the same, and we experience emotions like joy and grief similarly, but no one looks the same, and people identify in so many ways. Tragically, the world abuses the fact that we are all different, allowing racism and sexism to become rampant in society.         To many, being “different” may seem like a curse, but it should not. In the United States, many different cultures, races, ethnicities, and identities gather together. The beautiful thing is that everyone brings unique experiences to share with others. We can learn from each other’s struggles and support each other when we need it. We need to learn to accept and be kind to everyone. Is there a quarrel about race, religion, political party, or identified gender? If so, we as people need to be civil and walk in each other’s shoes. We must not judge others, but examine our differences, learning about each other’s unique points of view, especially when everyone needs some encouragement. I noticed the state of society decline rapidly at the start of COVID. Immediate cut-off from society started protests, peaceful at the start. However, they progressed. Humans tend to want to rebel, and when masks were a mandatory apparel item in public, more protests turned into riots. People were highly on-edge and thus when cruel murders like George Floyd’s occurred, more peaceful protests became riots, which devolved into vandalism, assaults, and arsonism. When we cannot get along, we act irrationally. We need to stand up for those who are being treated unjustly and give a voice to those who feel they lost theirs, but peacefully, with an open mind. It is not right for anyone to simply watch others be discriminated against for any reason. Everyone is human, and treating someone otherwise is wrong and must be stopped. If we stand up for the abused and uphold justice, our communities will become stronger and the world a better place. One cannot stand alone without the support of the rest; as the famed quote goes, “The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.” Understanding the nature of our universe requires an understanding of science. Biology and physics reveal the laws of nature for us to better understand nature itself, but understanding society and being an ear for those who are hurting is just as important for us to understand how the world functions and do our part to encourage peace around the globe.

Since I reached middle school, I have been a volunteer leader at my church in several different ways. I served as a leader in Sunday School, was a member of the planning committee, and volunteer leader for missionary events like The Great Adventure and Vacation Bible School, and I have served in AWANA, a club for elementary children every Sunday night. Serving in AWANA, however, has truly been the most fun and rewarding for me. As a high school, student leader in AWANA, I have watched children in kindergarten grow into fifth graders, maturing in their Biblical knowledge and in their faith. My role is to facilitate a fun and energetic environment for the kids. They say their Bible verses to me, tell me about their school subjects, and their soccer game scores, and we run around playing freeze tag, duck-duck-goose, or cross the ocean together. When I “graduated” from fifth grade and became a middle schooler, I was finally able to be a student leader. I went to help in Sparks, K-2 grades to be with my younger brother, moving up with him each year. I realized that I loved serving with the same kids as they grew older because I got to watch them grow. I remember one boy that I had throughout his elementary years and he was a wiggler (to put it lightly). He was incredibly intelligent, but his energy made him rowdy. While the rest of the volunteer leaders were busy listening to other kids say their verses, or whenever he got bored of an activity currently going on, I would hang out with this one boy. When I was with him, he eventually stopped running around the room, making the rest of the kids wild, but he was calm and quiet. I would give him my wristwatch and let him press the buttons and use the stopwatch and timer features. He needed something to touch and play with from my watch to my shoelaces or cinch sack. When he reached grades three through five, he was very calm and didn’t need someone to occupy him as much, so I got to hang out with him during small group time and play in the gym with him. It was rewarding to see him mature the way he did, and I wouldn’t have witnessed it if I was not continuously serving. What this child and others have taught me through community service are a few things. Yes, I am serving the community by taking these children off their parents’ hands and providing afternoon care for them. And the kids have a great time playing games and learning Bible verses during club. But, I also learn about these kids; I get to hang out and have fun with them. The most rewarding aspect of community service in AWANA is I get to watch kids mature physically and spiritually. Volunteering in my community has displayed its value in my life. I may be serving the community, but it doesn’t feel like community service. It feels like I’m a little kid again, being silly and having fun with these children. Sometimes seeing the world from a child’s perspective can make the biggest difference in a community. I have been volunteering since I was in 6th grade, and I plan on continuing as far out as I can see, meeting new kids and watching them grow up in age and grow up in the faith. If you invest in me and other's with my same vision, the world will become a better place through our volunteer service.

God made us the same, but we are all so different. Isn’t that amazing? Our bodies work the same, and we experience emotions like joy and grief similarly, but no one looks the same, and people identify in so many ways. Tragically, the world abuses the fact that we are all different, allowing racism and sexism to become rampant in society.

         To many, being “different” may seem like a curse, but it should not. The world is full of different cultures, races, ethnicities, and identities. The beautiful thing is that everyone brings unique experiences to share with others. We can learn from each other’s differences and support each other when needed.         We should accept everyone in kindness. We must not judge others, but examine our differences, learning about each other’s points of view. We need to stand up for those who are being treated unjustly and give a voice to those who lost theirs. It is not right for anyone to simply watch others be discriminated against for any reason. Everyone is human, and treating someone otherwise is wrong and must be stopped.

         If we stand up for the abused and uphold justice, our communities and the world as a whole will become a better place. One cannot stand alone without the support of the entire pack; as the famed quote goes, “The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.”         Diversity is important in the community and in any field of work. One cannot succeed without others cheering on and supporting him/her. Today, we see the race for healthcare in a big area of medicine: COVID vaccines. Many companies are competing to develop the best vaccination first. This sort of competition is good because it challenges the medical field to improve what exists so the rest of the world can enjoy or benefit from it. But what if they put their highly intelligent minds together? What if they could collaborate and produce something amazing?         I have learned the value of collaboration in my own life.         When taking college physics at community college, my professor paired up lab groups himself. I was nervous because, while I took on the role of lab group leader, I had to depend upon two other students for good grades. However, the purpose of the lab, I realized, was not to exhibit my personal abilities. They would be a representation of our teamwork. 
        First, my lab partners and I all had the same prerequisites completed, so we had the same foundational knowledge for the course. I was not in a group with elementary students but placed with students at my academic level, so we were well-equipped to tackle the labs together. 
        Next, our teacher paired us up specifically, believing that with good teamwork, we would be successful. He knew we were well-equipped to tackle the subject matter as a team.
 
        Finally, the most important key to success is that each member of a team must share in the work. After completing the lab, we would split up the write-up work equally. All that was left to do was to trust in each other. Once I did my part to the best of my ability, all I could do was trust that everyone else would give one hundred and ten percent to their share of the work. 
        I have found the importance of teamwork in many aspects of everyday life, Because my lab group practiced this collaboration, it paid off in our grades. 
        Collaboration and cooperation can work wonders, be it in a physics class or in medicine.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a disease that affects 30,000 people in the United States alone. This rare neurological disease affects one’s control over voluntary muscle movements. ALS is a fatal disease and cannot be paused or reversed. It begins to affect a person's muscles that control their facial muscles for speech or swallowing, or it will take effect in a person's limbs, from their hands and arms to their legs and feet. "Unfortunate" is an understatement when the disease is purely tragic. 30,000 of over 3 million people in the United States are affected with ALS, with approximately 5000 new cases each year, which may not seem like a large number to some. However, it is just the opposite. If there are 30,000 individuals who contract ALS and are given--quite frankly--a death sentence, how many more individuals are indirectly hurt by the disease. Nearly every person who is diagnosed with ALS has a family. They have spouses, children, grandchildren, and friends who all care deeply about them. The diagnosed will leave behind loved ones. Imagine for a moment, if one of your loved ones was diagnosed with ALS and was suddenly taken from you. Or imagine yourself being diagnosed with ALS and leaving behind so many loved ones. All loved ones of an ALS-infected individual will experience pain and hurt when they no longer can talk to, see, or call one who has died from this disease. ALS affects those diagnosed with the disease and their loved ones. Additionally, ALS comes with major expenses. Those who are diagnosed with ALS require much medical attention and their finances or their loved ones'/care takers' financial security could be impacted by the unexpected expenses. I have personally been blessed to not be impacted by ALS, be it a family member or friend diagnosed. I may not truly know how it feels to know someone who has been diagnosed or has died from ALS. But, I can sympathize because I have experienced the loss of loved ones too. While ALS has not impacted me personally, whether emotionally or financially, there are potential ways in which my career plan can be beneficial to ALS. I desire to pursue Biological Sciences with a concentration in Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pay tuition expenses at school and I will be able to receive an education in Biology. I will then be able to start a career built on my Biology education and may be able to have a career in vaccine research and development, pharmaceuticals, or disease research and cure development. With any of these occupations, I will be blessed to play a small part in the advancement of research and, hopefully, the eventual curing of ALS. ALS is a tragic disease that affects not only 30,000+ who are diagnosed with the disease, but also their family, friends, and other loved ones who are impacted by the emotional hurt of the loss of a loved one and also major financial effects, whether expected or unexpected, are a real hit to the stomach. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pursue further education in the Biological Sciences which I can apply to a career in which I may be able to help research and develop a cure for ALS. Even if my endeavors are unsuccessful, I will be blessed to play a part in the future of ALS, hoping to eliminate all the heartbreak and other hardships that ALS causes thousands of people in the United States and around the world. Everyone deserves better, and I want to help.

“I want to be just like Daddy someday,” I remember saying to my mom when I was little. I thought my dad was the best. When I grew up, I wanted to have a big family and make money at work every day just like him. I saw my dad as an example of the man I should be. A few years later, when I was eleven, things changed. He left my mom to take care of four kids by herself. He wanted nothing to do with our family. To some, this might come as a blow. But God gifted me with resilience. I took the hit as a challenge to be better than him and commit to what matters. His choices were his own, not mine. Fathers are supposed to be an example to their sons. And although mine walked out, I agree. However, the father does not need to be biological or even on Earth. I find my example of a man in Jesus Christ. Jesus has unconditional love for those who trust in Him. He would never walk away from those He loves. When He loses one sheep, Jesus tirelessly searches until it is found, although He has ninety-nine others. This is the man that I will be, one who stays committed to what matters. I once wanted to be just like my earthly dad. And even now, I say, “I want to be just like my Dad. I want to be like Jesus.” I began to see God's handiwork in everything I saw. When I look at a person, animal, or even a tree, I am enthralled that they are truly living, and functioning for survival. Even more fascinating is that there are these small living entities called cells, hundreds of thousands of times smaller than any person, floating about and performing life-giving tasks. This truth captivated me when I took biology. With one spoken word, God created the most complex organisms so small that they are only visible through microscopes, yet they are the basis of all life! I became fascinated with organisms and structures at the microscopic level, discovering my passion for studying the life sciences. in college, focusing on these fantastic microscopic organisms. While I know what I love, I do not know precisely what to do with it. I love science. I have decided to pursue the life sciences, specifically, Biological Sciences: Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology, and am eager to discover opportunities this offers. I have received so much encouragement from my family. She helped me find what I love. She got me excited about math and science, furthering my interest to pursue the life sciences in college. But, it was God who gave me her as my mom. I owe all my thanks to God for ultimately guiding me on this path. He has a plan for my life, and I am excited to see where He takes me.

Since I reached middle school, I have been a volunteer leader at my church in several different ways. I served as a leader in Sunday School, was a member of the planning committee, and volunteer leader for missionary events like The Great Adventure and Vacation Bible School, and I have served in AWANA, a club for elementary children every Sunday night. Serving in AWANA, however, has truly been the most fun and rewarding for me. As a high school, a student leader in AWANA, I have watched children in kindergarten grow into fifth graders, maturing in their Biblical knowledge and in their faith. My role is to facilitate a fun and energetic environment for the kids. They say their Bible verses to me, tell me about their school subjects, and their soccer game scores, and we run around playing freeze tag, duck-duck-goose, or cross the ocean together. When I “graduated” from fifth grade and became a middle schooler, I was finally able to be a student leader. I went to help in Sparks, K-2 grades to be with my younger brother, moving up with him each year. I realized that I loved serving with the same kids as they grew older because I got to watch them grow. I remember one boy that I had throughout his elementary years and he was a wiggler (to put it lightly). He was incredibly intelligent, but his energy made him rowdy. While the rest of the volunteer leaders were busy listening to other kids say their verses, or whenever he got bored of an activity currently going on, I would hang out with this one boy. When I was with him, he eventually stopped running around the room, making the rest of the kids wild, but he was calm and quiet. I would give him my wristwatch and let him press the buttons and use the stopwatch and timer features. He needed something to touch and play with from my watch to my shoelaces or cinch sack. When he reached grades three through five, he was very calm and didn’t need someone to occupy him as much, so I got to hang out with him during small group time and play in the gym with him. It was rewarding to see him mature the way he did, and I wouldn’t have witnessed it if I was not continuously serving. What this child and others have taught me through community service are a few things. Yes, I am serving the community by taking these children off their parents’ hands and providing afternoon care for them. And the kids have a great time during club, playing games and learning Bible verses. But, I also learn about these kids; I get to hang out and have fun with them. The most rewarding aspect of community service in AWANA is I get to watch kids mature physically and spiritually. Volunteering in my community has displayed its value in my life. I may be serving the community, but it doesn’t feel like community service. It feels like I’m a little kid again, being silly and having fun with these children. Sometimes seeing the world from a child’s perspective can make the biggest difference in a community. I have been volunteering since I was in 6th grade, and I plan on continuing as far out as I can see, meeting new kids and watching them grow up in age and grow up in the faith. If you invest in me, I vow to continue to teach others to value community service as much as I have learned to do.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a disease that affects 30,000 people in the United States alone. This rare neurological disease affects one’s control over voluntary muscle movements. ALS is a fatal disease and cannot be paused or reversed. It begins to affect a person's muscles that control their facial muscles for speech or swallowing, or it will take effect in a person's limbs, from their hands and arms to their legs and feet. "Unfortunate" is an understatement when the disease is purely tragic. 30,000 of over 3 million people in the United States being affected with ALS, with approximately 5000 new cases each year, may not seem like a large number to some. However, it is just the opposite. If there are 30,000 individuals who contract ALS and are given--quite frankly--a death sentence, how many more individuals are indirectly hurt by the disease. Nearly every person who is diagnosed with ALS has a family. They have spouses, children, grandchildren, and friends who all care deeply about them. The diagnosed will leave behind loved ones. Imagine for a moment, if one of your loved ones was diagnosed with ALS and was suddenly taken from you. Or imagine yourself being diagnosed with ALS and leaving behind so many loved ones. All loved ones of an ALS-infected individual will experience pain and hurt when they no longer can talk to, see, or call one who has died from this disease. ALS affects those diagnosed with the disease and their loved ones. Additionally, ALS comes with major expenses. Those who are diagnosed with ALS require much medical attention and their finances or their loved ones'/care takers' financial security could be impacted by the unexpected expenses. I have personally been blessed to not be impacted by ALS, be it a family member or friend diagnosed. I may not truly know how it feels to know someone who has been diagnosed or has died from ALS. But, I can sympathize because I have experienced the loss of loved ones too. While ALS has not impacted me personally, whether emotionally or financially, there are potential ways in which my career plan can be beneficial to ALS. I desire to pursue Biological Sciences with a concentration in Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pay tuition expenses at school and I will be able to receive an education in Biology. I will then be able to start a career built on my Biology education and may be able to have a career in vaccine research and development, pharmaceuticals, or disease research and cure development. With any of these occupations, I will be blessed to play a small part in the advancement of research and, hopefully, the eventual curing of ALS. ALS is a tragic disease that affects not only 30,000+ who are diagnosed with the disease, but also their family, friends, and other loved ones who are impacted by the emotional hurt of the loss of a loved one and also major financial effects, whether expected or unexpected, are a real hit to the stomach. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pursue further education in the Biological Sciences which I can apply to a career in which I may be able to help research and develop a cure for ALS. Even if my endeavors are unsuccessful, I will be blessed to play a part in the future of ALS, hoping to eliminate all the heartbreak and other hardships that ALS causes thousands of people in the United States and around the world. Everyone deserves better, and I want to help.

My name is Nathan Hall, and I am a 16-year-old, high school senior, graduating a year early after skipping the tenth grade. I am dually enrolled in two community colleges along with being homeschooled and taking online classes through a classical online school. I also absolutely love swimming and cannot imagine not having the physical ability to swim every day. I am a prospective college freshman for Fall 2023 at my dream school. NC State University. I have practically grown up on campus. My mom graduated from State and loved showing us around. We would go to the pool at the gym to swim every weekend, Friday to Sunday. Then we would go to the Talley Student Union and get an ice cream sundae (seemingly defeating the purpose!). We have gone to NC State swim meets, tennis matches, football, and basketball games. We love NC State and I wanted it to be my school one day. And now that I have begun my college applications, my dream may become reality. I love the natural sciences, biology, and chemistry. But, I have also found myself interested in engineering and architecture. After going to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC, I was fascinated with architecture. I only wanted lego sets with complicated designs. It was amazing to see the precision and detail that each new building from the Eiffel Tower to the White House had to offer. Even now, I display these lego sets on my desk. I even had architecture kits with which I would build houses, towers, and bridges with intricate detail. Engineering also intrigued me. I would work on engineering kits where I had to make dogs out of soda cans or salt-water and solar-powered robots. I had fun engineering with these kits. I even considered becoming a biomedical engineer, putting my fascination with biology and interest in engineering together. Over the years, I have enjoyed and appreciated architecture and engineering. This scholarship will help me make my dreams a reality. I will be able to put the money toward my education at NC State in biology and even allow me to decide if I will also pursue biomedical engineering or architectural design. The scholarship will be used specifically for tuition expenses and textbooks. I am Nathan Hall, an early-rising high school senior with aspirations of higher education at NC State. I am excited to see where I will end up. Studying biology, architecture, or engineering (perhaps a mix of them!) will be rewarding and fun for me. I am excited to see where I end up. But, it is not the destination that matters so much as the journey.

“I want to be just like Daddy someday,” I remember saying to my mom when I was little. I thought my dad was the best. When I grew up, I wanted to have a big family and make money at work every day just like him. I saw my dad as an example of the man I should be. A few years later, when I was eleven, things changed. He left my mom to take care of four kids by herself. He wanted nothing to do with our family. To some, this might come as a blow. But God gifted me with resilience. I took the hit as a challenge to be better than him and commit to what matters. His choices were his own, not mine. Fathers are supposed to be an example to their sons. And although mine walked out, I agree. However, the father does not need to be biological or even on Earth. I find my example of a man in Jesus Christ. Jesus has unconditional love for those who trust in Him. He would never walk away from those He loves. When He loses one sheep, Jesus tirelessly searches until it is found, although He has ninety-nine others. This is the man that I will be, one who stays committed to what matters. I once wanted to be just like my earthly dad. And even now, I say, “I want to be just like my Dad. I want to be like Jesus.” I began to see God's handiwork in everything I saw. When I look at a person, animal, or even a tree, I am enthralled that they are truly living, and functioning for survival. Even more fascinating is that there are these small living entities called cells, hundreds of thousands of times smaller than any person, floating about and performing life-giving tasks. This truth captivated me when I took biology. With one spoken word, God created the most complex organisms so small that they are only visible through microscopes, yet they are the basis of all life! I became fascinated with organisms and structures at the microscopic level, discovering my passion for studying the life sciences. in college, focusing on these fantastic microscopic organisms. While I know what I love, I do not know precisely what to do with it. I love science. I have decided to pursue the life sciences, specifically, Biological Sciences: Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology, and am eager to discover opportunities this offers. I have received so much encouragement from my family. She helped me find what I love. She got me excited about math and science, furthering my interest to pursue the life sciences in college. But, it was God who gave me her as my mom. I owe all my thanks to God for ultimately guiding me on this path. He has a plan for my life, and I am excited to see where He takes me.

Chills tingle down my spine as the muffled voice announces, “Swimmers, step in.” Black cap tightly pressed against my fastened goggles, I hop in. The crystal-clear water is bone-chillingly cold. I reach my slightly shivering hands up and grasp the bar. I only hope my hands do not slip when I pull up to dive. “Take your marks.” I pull my body up out of the water in a seemingly fetal position, every muscle in my body tense. BEEP! I launch myself away from the wall and slice through the water's surface. After I dolphin underwater halfway, I commence backstroke. Without the slightest turn of my head, I see the violent splashes of my competitors on either side of me. I am approaching the wall to flip. Heart pounding, I summersault underwater and rapidly begin my second lap. I breathlessly sprint to the wall, barely able to feel my unceasingly kicking legs. Ten yards remaining. Three. I throw my arm behind me and powerfully hit the wall. I finished! Splash! My teammate begins the second leg of the race, breaststroke. This is a relay. Many people don’t think relays are important because they do not represent a swimmer’s individual performance. But every swimmer has potential and something to offer to the relay. The coach sees their potential and places them where they will most positively impact the team’s time and increase their likelihood of winning. The coach believes each swimmer earned their spot on the relay team. All that’s left is teamwork. I have discovered that this sort of teamwork has inherent parallels in everyday life. When I took physics, my teacher paired up lab groups himself. I was nervous because, while I took on the role of lab group leader, I had to depend upon two other students for my grade. However, the purpose of the lab, I realized, was not to exhibit my personal abilities, but to practice teamwork. This is a lot like a relay race in a few ways. First, my lab partners and I all earned our spots on the “team”, just like each swimmer earns their spot on the relay. We had the same prerequisites completed, so we had the same foundational knowledge for the course. I was not in a group with elementary students but placed with students at my specific academic level. Next, our teacher was the “coach”, putting a relay together that he thought would succeed. Our teacher paired us up specifically, believing that with good teamwork, we would be successful. He knew we were well-equipped to tackle the subject matter as a team. Finally, the most important key to success is that everyone gives their all in their “leg of the race”. Each member of a team must share in the work. After completing the lab, we would split up the write-up work equally. All that was left to do was to trust in each other. Once I did my part to the best of my ability, all I could do was trust that everyone else would give one hundred and ten percent to their share of the work, to their “leg of the race”. I have found the importance of teamwork in many aspects of everyday life, from swimming in a relay race to a shared contribution in a physics lab group. Because my lab group practiced this teamwork, it paid off in our grades. In this world of “me, me, me” and “every man for himself”, it is more important than ever for us to practice teamwork. After all, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

Many people like to think that change is all around us. But is it for the better? When COVID hit in early 2020, people in the United States began "peaceful" protests, regarding their disapproval of masks and quarantine, which started out as marches with signs. In North Carolina and other states as well, these protests quickly required the US military to get involved in keeping order. Police officers and military troops armed with weapons and ballistic shields are scary things to watch on TV. Then, when George Floyd was tragically murdered by several police officers in March of 2020, the country threw itself into more protests for the Black Lives Matter movement. This also quickly moved from peaceful protests to vandalizing, property damage, thievery, starting fires, and even illegally tearing down historical statues. Do a Google search on "January 6, 2021", and the very first headline description reads, "January 6 United States Capitol attack." No matter the alleged reason for the riot on January 6, the US Capitol was attacked. People became criminals. It is the end of the year 2022. COVID and BLM protests/riots and the January 6 attack all occurred in the last two and a half years. In all three events, the country went from free to fools. These all became excuses to commit crimes. People became vandals, thieves, trespassers, and arsonists. The country became separated. Everything changed. Change is all around us and it is not for the better. I want to see us become united once more. The world has turned on itself; wars have broken out, like Russia's persistent attacks on Ukraine. The country turned on itself; protests have easily become riots and an excuse for crimes. And our communities have turned on each other; those who wear masks or are of different ethnicities are bullied. This is not how North Carolina, America, or the world should be. We need to be united again. And it starts with the youth. It is no lie that adults are stubborn. Maybe they only want to buy a specific yogurt brand and are wary of trying new ones, or they will get every vaccine available, no vaccines at all, or try home remedies. Whatever the case may be, people are set in their ways, and it takes a lot of work for them to change. When adults were kids themselves, they were raised to acquire certain beliefs and values. Children in elementary school are in a very important stage in their life for developing their values and worldview. This sets a foundation for the person they become in high school, college, and beyond. Children are the future. If we can lead children on the right path, they will have strong foundations for their adult lives and will be able to lead the country, be judges, doctors, or regular citizens that make a difference and make the world better. The world will become more united if our future is secured in the hands of great people with solid values and common goals of a united community. As a high school, student-leader in AWANA, I have watched children in kindergarten grow into fifth graders, maturing in their Biblical knowledge and in their faith. My role is to facilitate a fun and energetic environment for the kids. They say their Bible verses to me, tell me about school and soccer games, and run around playing freeze tag or cross the ocean with me. I enjoyed volunteering with the same kids as they grew older, volunteering in Kindergarten and moving up to 5th grade. I remember one boy that I had from K-5th grade and he was a wiggler. He was incredibly intelligent, but his energy made him rowdy. While the rest of the volunteer leaders were busy listening to other kids say their verses, I would hang out with this one boy. When I was with him, he wasn’t running around the room, making the rest of the kids wild, but he was calm and quiet. I would give him my wristwatch and let him mess around with it, pushing buttons and using the stopwatch feature. He needed something to touch and play with from my watch to my shoelaces or cinch sack. When he reached 3rd through 5th grade, he was very calm and didn’t need someone to occupy him as much, so I got to hang out with him during small group time and play in the gym with him. It was rewarding to see him mature in the way he did, and I wouldn’t have witnessed it if I was not serving. What this child and others have taught me in my community service are a few things. Yes, I am serving the community by taking these children off their parents’ hands and providing afternoon care for them. But, I also learn about these kids; I get to hang out and have fun with them. The most rewarding aspect of community service in AWANA is that I get to watch kids mature physically and spiritually, from becoming less wiggly to memorizing verses of the Bible and learning about Jesus every week. Volunteering in my community has displayed its value in my life. Sometimes seeing the world through a child’s perspective can make the biggest difference in a community. I have been volunteering since I was in 6th grade, and I plan on continuing as far out as I can see, meeting new kids and watching them grow up in age and grow up in the faith, learning how to see the world and their neighbors through a clear, undistorted lens. Through volunteering with children, I have learned that the Biblical worldview these children are acquiring through AWANA, is vital for a strong future community. Our country, even the Pledge of Allegiance, was founded on Biblical truths. If we continue equipping our future with these values, our country will be united once more, our communities will be strong again, and the world will be a better place.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) is a disease that affects 30,000 people in the United States alone. This rare neurological disease affects one’s control over voluntary muscle movements. ALS is a fatal disease and cannot be paused or reversed. It begins to affect a person's muscles that control their facial muscles for speech or swallowing, or it will take effect in a person's limbs, from their hands and arms to their legs and feet. "Unfortunate" is an understatement when the disease is purely tragic. 30,000 of over 3 million people in the United States being affected with ALS, with approximately 5000 new cases each year, may not seem like a large number to some. However, it is just the opposite. If there are 30,000 individuals who contract ALS and are given--quite frankly--a death sentence, how many more individuals are indirectly hurt by the disease. Nearly every person who is diagnosed with ALS has a family. They have spouses, children, grandchildren, and friends who all care deeply about them. The diagnosed will leave behind loved ones. Imagine for a moment, if one of your loved ones was diagnosed with ALS and was suddenly taken from you. Or imagine yourself being diagnosed with ALS and leaving behind so many loved ones. All loved ones of an ALS-infected individual will experience pain and hurt when they no longer can talk to, see, or call one who has died from this disease. ALS affects those diagnosed with the disease and their loved ones. Additionally, ALS comes with major expenses. Those who are diagnosed with ALS require much medical attention and their finances or their loved ones'/care takers' financial security could be impacted by the unexpected expenses. I have personally been blessed to not be impacted by ALS, be it a family member or friend diagnosed. I may not truly know how it feels to know someone who has been diagnosed or has died from ALS. But, I can sympathize because I have experienced the loss of loved ones too. While ALS has not impacted me personally, whether emotionally or financially, there are potential ways in which my career plan can be beneficial to ALS. I desire to pursue Biological Sciences with a concentration in Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pay tuition expenses at school and I will be able to receive an education in Biology. I will then be able to start a career built on my Biology education, and may be able to have a career in vaccine research and developement, pharmacuticals, or disease research and cure development. With any of these occupations, I will be blessed to play a small part in the advancement of research and, hopefully, the eventual curing of ALS. ALS is a tragic disease that affects not only 30,000+ who are diagnosed with the disease, but also their family, friends, and other loved ones who are impacted by the emotional hurt of the loss of a loved one and also major financial effects, whether expected or unexpected, are a real hit to the stomach. The ALS Family Scholarship will help me pursue further education in the Biological Sciences which I can apply to a career in which I may be able to help research and develop a cure for ALS. Even if my endeavors are unsuccessful, I will be blessed to play a part in the future of ALS, hoping to eliminate all the heartbreak and other hardships that ALS causes thousands of people in the United States and around the world. Everyone deserves better, and I want to help.

School is starting! To the learners out there, this is so exciting. Finally, though the fun of the summer holidays are over, we can go back to school and learn. Some others are not excited at all, dreading school, given the loads of homework and stress of term projects and exams. But we should all go in with a good attitude! We are going to school to equip ourselves for higher education and our future careers. My tip is that we need to work on our school like its our job. Unpaid? Yes, it is an unpaid job. And many of us already have a job to stress about, so why add another? Well, at a job, we essentially work to impress our employers, hoping to make more money. The same goes for school. We are working to improve our college, med/vet/law school, internship, and job applications. But most importantly, we are setting ourselves up for success for our future careers in the long run. We are learning! It is so important to take our education seriously, like a job. We will become more responsible, look better for applications and employers, and actually learn! That's my tip. Who's with me?

The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education because it is the basis for all things. From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful images in art, math is employed. However, when I was given a math problem, my brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, I practiced writing every step out, proving useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond. A tolerance of math soon grew into an enjoyment. I began to see math in science; chemistry and physics are especially math-based. I was prepared and excited about these sciences with my foundation in math. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, most complex unit of life, the cell, I grew to love science and stand in awe at God’s creation. I am now passionate about and will pursue STEM at NC State University. And STEM has shown me even more of the greatness of God. Pursuing any degree is good, but it is not of the most important in the workplace. We need to be inclusive, allowing for diversity in the workplace. But we need to truly be inclusive and accepting to others. God made us the same, but we are all so different. Isn’t that amazing? Our bodies work the same, and we experience emotions like joy and grief similarly, but no one looks the same, and people identify in so many ways. Tragically, the world abuses the fact that we are all different, allowing racism and sexism to become rampant in society and in the workplace. To many, being “different” may seem like a curse, but it should not. In the United States, many different cultures, races, ethnicities, and identities gather together. The beautiful thing is that everyone brings unique experiences to share with others. We can learn from each other’s struggles and support each other when we need it. We should accept and be kind to everyone. We must not judge others, but kindly accept our differences, learning about each other’s unique points of view. We need to stand up for those who are being treated unjustly and give a voice to those who feel they lost theirs. It is not right for anyone to simply watch others be discriminated against for any reason. Everyone is human, and treating someone otherwise is wrong and must be stopped. If we stand up for the abused and uphold justice, the workplace will become a better community, and the world will become a better place. One cannot stand alone without the support of the entire pack. As the saying goes, “The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.” I have stated what I will do to accept diversity in the workplace and in the world. Now, it is your turn. What are you going to do to stop discrimination?

     As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me—my mom.      The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she says, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed.      The primary reason math was so important in my education was that my mom majored in math. She loved it and could not help but teach math with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond.      It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. This then leading my interest in science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with my math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love science. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but the most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation. All this complexity was spoken into existence by a single word.      It was my mom who inspired me to pursue STEM, by simply practicing math concepts until I could understand them and write them out. And it was STEM that allowed me to see God's greatness even more clearly. That is why STEM is so important; it is the foundation for life and we can see the wonder of God through it.      STEM consists of various mathematical-based disciplines: science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. So many majors are enveloped in these broad subjects. As a rising senior, the summertime is my time to decide what I want to study and expectedly practice for the rest of my life, until retirement. Ever since I studied advanced biology (human anatomy) in eighth grade, I knew science was what I wanted to learn and practice for the rest of my life. In my freshman through junior high school years, I studied biology, chemistry, and physics. Not one of these sciences failed to excite me. Not once did I think science was not the avenue I wanted to take in college. The question then became which major to choose. Sometimes researching majors can be overwhelming. However, I am never discouraged in my research. I love science. I have decided to pursue the life sciences, particularly biology and chemistry at NC State University. I will pursue a bachelor’s degree and a doctorate in the biological sciences. I have received so much encouragement from my family, but primarily from my mom. She taught me. She got me excited about math, leading to my excitement about science, and furthering my interest to pursue the life sciences in college. But, it was God who gave me her as my mom. Ultimately, He guided me on this path. He has a plan for my life, and I am excited to see where He takes me.

As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the “foundation” subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me. My mom. The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she says, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful images in art, math is employed. My mom loved math, and she could not help but teach math with the most enthusiasm. However, when I was given a problem, my brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, we practiced writing every step out, proving useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond. A tolerance of math soon grew into an enjoyment. I began to see math in science; chemistry and physics are especially math-based. I was prepared and excited about these sciences with my foundation in math. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, most complex unit of life, the cell, I grew to love science and stand in awe at God’s creation. My mom inspired me to pursue STEM, by simply drilling math concepts until I could write out the steps. And STEM revealed to me, even more, the greatness of God.

My name is Nathan Hall, and I am a 16-year-old, high school senior, graduating a year early after skipping the tenth grade. I am dually enrolled in two community colleges along with being homeschooled and taking online classes through a classical online school. I also absolutely love swimming and cannot imagine not having the physical ability to swim every day. I am a prospective college freshman for Fall 2023 at my dream school. NC State University. I have practically grown up on campus. My mom graduated from State and loved showing us around. We would go to the pool at the gym to swim every weekend, Friday to Sunday. Then we would go to the Talley Student Union and get an ice cream sundae (seemingly defeating the purpose!). We have gone to NC State swim meets, tennis matches, football, and basketball games. We love NC State and I wanted it to be my school one day. And now that I have begun my college applications, my dream may become reality. I love the natural sciences, biology and chemistry. But, I have also found myself interested in engineering and architecture. After going to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC, I was fascinated with architecture. I only wanted lego sets with complicated designs. It was amazing to see the precision and detail that each new building from the Eiffel Tower to the White House had to offer. Even now, I display these lego sets on my desk. I even had architecture kits with which I would build houses, towers, and bridges with intricate detail. Engineering also intrigued me. I would work on engineering kits where I had to make dogs out of soda cans or salt-water and solar-powered robots. I had fun engineering with these kits. I even considered becoming a biomedical engineer, putting my fascination with biology and interest in engineering together. Over the years, I have enjoyed and appreciated architecture and engineering. This scholarship will help me make my dreams a reality. I will be able to put the money toward my education at NC State in biology and even allow me to decide if I will also pursue biomedical engineering or architectural design. The scholarship will be used specifically for tuition expenses and textbooks. I am Nathan Hall, an early-rising high school senior with aspirations of higher education at NC State. I am excited to see where I will end up. Studying biology, architecture, or engineering (perhaps a mix of them!) will be rewarding and fun for me. I am excited to see where I end up. But, it is not the destination that matters so much as the journey.

Applying for scholarships is easy. Winning them… is a bit harder. Scholarships are important. Wide-eyed, excited children think about the days when they finish high school and move on to college. What they don’t fully comprehend at the moment is that college is expensive! I will be paying for my school, and the fact of financing my future hit me when I began moving closer to twelfth grade. As a rising high school junior, it was time to start getting some scholarships under my belt. It seemed easy. Find a scholarship, write a short essay, wait a few months, and boom! Free money! Sure, I knew I would not win them all, but maybe I would win 20% of my applications, give or take. While 20% might be an attainable goal and other people may be able to win that many, it has not been my experience. In fact, winning 1% of my applications has not even been a reality for me. But I am not complaining. I have learned a lot, especially the importance of discipline and perseverance. Discipline is key. There are thousands of scholarships every month. Is it possible to apply for them all? Most likely not. There had to be a way to manage my time and still apply for a good amount of scholarships, a way to have exceptional organization. So, my sister and I put together two documents. One: a document where we listed the scholarships and their deadlines above. The other: a spreadsheet. The spreadsheet lists scholarships I have applied to, when I applied, the date due, how much money, and if I won. This organization changed everything. I can keep track of how many scholarships I apply to. I can log if I am a finalist or winner. But most of all, I can feel accomplished at my work. This is important to me. Applying for scholarships, many times, is not easy. It takes time. But seeing how much I have accomplished is a good motivator. It may discourage others when they have not won, but it shows how willing I am to work for what I want. That is discipline. Discipline is important. Without it, I would get nowhere in my scholarship applications. I would have no chance of winning any free tuition money. But perseverance is another key component of the scholarship search. I log in to my Bold profile every day, looking for new ways to increase my Bold points. I check my standing on the leaderboards every time. Currently, I stand second for North Carolina high schoolers, eighth for all high schoolers, and fifth for all North Carolinians. This took time, over a year of logging into Bold every day and now I finally made it to the top ten’s. Without my perseverance, I would have given up when I started at the bottom. Many students feel overwhelmed at their ranking and do not think investing any time into scholarships is worth it. Will they ever make it to the top? The answer is yes if they persevere and persist. If they consistently apply for scholarships, constantly search for new ways to improve their Bold points, create new ways to become more organized, and never stop persevering, that discipline will get them where they want to go. They may not win any scholarships in a month, maybe not in a year. I haven’t, but I am not discouraged. I know my discipline and perseverance will pay off in the end. I know it will. And it can for you too.

     As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me—my mom.      The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she says, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed.      A big reason math was so important in my education was that my mom majored in math. She loved it and could not help but teach math with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond.      It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. This then leading my interest in science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with my math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love science. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but the most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation. All this complexity was spoken into existence by a single word.      It was my mom who inspired me to pursue STEM, by simply practicing math concepts until I could understand them and write them out. And it was STEM that allowed me to see God's greatness even more clearly.      STEM consists of various mathematical-based disciplines: science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. Many unique majors are enveloped in these subjects. Ever since I studied advanced biology (human anatomy) in eighth grade, I knew science was what I wanted to learn and practice for the rest of my life. In my freshman through junior high school years, I studied biology, chemistry, and physics. Not one of these sciences failed to excite me. I never considered a path other than science. Ultimately, I determined that biology was my favorite of these subjects. I am now pursuing a degree in biological sciences. I find the subject fascinating because it shows that even the smallest, yet complex, structures that fabricate some of the most minute units of life, ultimately point to the intelligence of our Creator, God. I will continue to research careers. I will get involved in student research programs at my university. I will search for opportunities in my field. And I will have fun studying the most fascinating subject.

     As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me—my mom.      The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she says, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed.      The primary reason math was so important in my education was that my mom majored in math. She loved it and could not help but teach math with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So, my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond.      It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. This then leading my interest in science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with my math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love science. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but the most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation. All this complexity was spoken into existence by a single word.      It was my mom who inspired me to pursue STEM, by simply practicing math concepts until I could understand them and write them out. And it was STEM that allowed me to see God's greatness even more clearly.      STEM consists of various mathematical-based disciplines: science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. So many majors are enveloped in these broad subjects. As a rising senior, the summertime is my time to decide what I want to study and expectedly practice for the rest of my life, until retirement. Ever since I studied advanced biology (human anatomy) in eighth grade, I knew science was what I wanted to learn and practice for the rest of my life. In my freshman through junior high school years, I studied biology, chemistry, and physics. Not one of these sciences failed to excite me. Not once did I think science was not the avenue I wanted to take in college. I have received so much encouragement from my family, but primarily from my mom. She taught me. She got me excited about math, leading to my excitement about science, and furthering my interest to pursue the life sciences in college. She has truly been the greatest driving force in my life. But, it was God who gave me her as my mom. I owe all my thanks to God for ultimately guiding me on this path. He has a plan for my life, and I am excited to see where He takes me.

As a homeschooler, I had one teacher in elementary school. It is in these grades one through five that a student learns the basics of the primary subjects, and this one teacher taught them to me. My mom. The subject of math was primarily emphasized in my education, because, as she says, “Math is the basis for all things.” From the rhythmic patterns in music to the delicate and beautiful, but complex, images in art, math is employed. The primary reason math was so important in my education was because my mom majored in math. She loved it and could not help but teach math with the most excitement. But another reason we practiced so much was for me. My brain could find the answer to a word problem as fast as the snap of a finger, but I could not so easily write down the equation, much less explain the process I thought through to arrive at my answer. So my mom and I practiced writing every step out, which proved useful in algebra, geometry, and beyond. It was my mom’s love of math that allowed me to enjoy math. It was this enjoyment of math that allowed me to enjoy learning science. Math is everywhere in science, as I came to realize in high school. Chemistry and physics are especially math-based. Because my mom helped me with my math, I was well-prepared and excited about these sciences. I came to love science. And it was this enjoyment of science that made me wonder at the greatness of God. From the perfect structure of a skeleton in anatomy to the smallest, but most complex unit of life, the cell, I can stand in awe at God’s creation. All this complexity was spoken into existence by a single word. It was my mom who inspired me to pursue STEM, by simply practicing math concepts until I could understand them and write them out. And it was STEM that allowed me to see God's greatness even more.

Most boys are crazy and wild, needing to expend much pent-up energy, and I was no different at that age. At seven years old, I would run around the basement for no apparent reason. But what most other boys do not do is stop, after running around for a minute or two, winded, totally out of breath. Soccer games were no different. Twenty little kids all running towards the kid with the ball, but I would suddenly stop, breathless. It felt like I couldn’t get the air in my lungs that I needed. My caring mother took me to the doctor. They said it was asthma. An idea to help with it was to try swimming. My mom quickly found a man who gave me swimming lessons, maybe it would help my asthma. When we arrived, I began my lesson. There were other kids too. Some older than others, but all newbies to swimming. Quickly, I advanced from floating on my back and stomach to kicking. From kicking, I advanced to vague, rather butchered, representations of the strokes. But I quickly went from knowing absolutely nothing of swimming to swimming free, back, and breast, slowly but surely. By this time, I was advanced enough to join the team. There were four levels: white, blue, silver, and platinum. All the fast kids were on higher teams, but I was ecstatic to have made the first team in the chain. Not long after making the team, it was summer. I decided I wanted to try summer meets out, and although I was slow, racing bigger kids (it seemed), I loved these meets. Over the course of four years, I had advanced from white to blue and had just reached silver. But to get to these levels was quite a challenge. It took much effort and determination. Everyone congratulated those who reached a new “team”, for it was a great accomplishment. Platinum was the only obstacle ahead. I was so close to reaching it. But, disaster struck! Enter COVID-19. The virus ruined everything. After ten weeks, when I finally got back to a pool, my times had drastically decreased; I thought I would never be at the same level for at least a year. And, not only did the coronavirus destroy my times, but it tore the team apart. Those of us who were wary and careful not to get the virus decided not to return until safer. So, I resorted to a small pool at a local gym. However, this was a blessing in disguise. Sure enough, I could make platinum team times within a matter of months. Now, I am content with the level I have reached, and am faster than ever. This obstacle of the coronavirus taught me something. Competitive swimming does not mean being the best, fastest, or on the highest level; it means pushing and challenging myself to be the best I can be, with those I love supporting me all the way.

Most boys are crazy and wild, needing to expend much pent-up energy, and I was no different at that age. At seven years old, I would run around the basement for no apparent reason. But what most other boys do not do is stop, after running around for a minute or two, winded, totally out of breath. Soccer games were no different. Twenty little kids all running towards the kid with the ball, but I would suddenly stop, breathless. It felt like I couldn’t get the air in my lungs that I needed. My caring mother took me to the doctor. They said it was asthma. An idea to help with it was to try swimming. My mom quickly found a man who gave me swimming lessons, anything to help my asthma. When we arrived, I began my lesson. There were other kids too. Some older than others, but all newbies to swimming. Quickly, I advanced from floating on my back and stomach to kicking, with my mom's encouragement. From kicking, I advanced to vague, rather butchered, representations of the strokes. But I quickly went from knowing absolutely nothing of swimming to swimming free, back, and breast, slowly but surely. By this time, I was advanced enough to join the team. There were four levels: white, blue, silver, and platinum. All the fast kids were on higher teams, but I was ecstatic to have made the first team in the chain. Not long after making the team, it was summer. My mom supported me when I decided I wanted to try summer meets out, and although I was slow, racing bigger kids (it seemed), I loved meets. My mom would get the swimmers' times. But if she wasn't timing, she would be cheering the loudest of all the coaches, parents, and teammates. Over the course of four years, I had advanced from white to blue and had just reached silver. But to get to these levels was quite a challenge. It took much effort and determination. Everyone congratulated those who reached a new “team”, for it was a great accomplishment. But, my mom did most. Platinum was the only obstacle ahead. I was so close to reaching it. But, disaster struck! Enter COVID-19. The virus ruined everything. After ten weeks, when I finally got back to a pool, my times had drastically decreased; I thought I would never be at the same level for at least a year. And, not only did the coronavirus destroy my times, but it tore the team apart. Those of us who were wary and careful not to get the virus decided not to return until safer. So, I resorted to a small pool at a local gym. However, this was a blessing in disguise. My mom believed I could get back up to my original level in no time, regardless of what I thought. Sure enough, I could make platinum team times within a matter of months. Now, I am content with the level I have reached, and am faster than ever. All because of my mom's encouragement. It taught me something. Competitive swimming does not mean being the best, fastest, or on the highest level; it means pushing and challenging myself to be the best I can be, with those I love supporting me all the way.