My name is Ryan Milchman, and I am so proud to say that I attend the Summer MA Theatre Education program at the University of Houston. I have taught Middle School Theatre in Lake County for over 10 years, and have always adored my work. However, the last year has been the most difficult of my entire life. On top of the craziness of the Covid Pandemic, I admitted to my parents that I was abused by my brother as a child. I had severe anxiety and depression, and just received a diagnosis of PTSD. My entire world was pulled apart, and the life I had in which I denied or ignored my past trauma was gone in a poof. I lost myself; I hit an all-time low when I was thinking how much of a burden I was on my loved ones, and how things would be easier for them without me there. The silver lining about rock bottom is there is only one direction to go from there. The past me may be gone, but Ryan 2.0 is bigger and better than ever. I decided to stop living my life for other people and start doing what I want to do. Depression has caused me to no longer find joy in a career that I used to live for. During my rebuilding process, I thought about what I could do to spark that flame again. I have dreamed about going to grad school since I graduated with my bachelors, but between getting married, finding employment, becoming a foster mom, raising 10 foster children, and adopting 3 of them, there was always some reason or another as to why I couldn't. I decided to forget about all the can'ts and the won'ts and do what makes me happy. I applied and was accepted into an incredible graduate school program where I get to learn to not only be a better theatre teacher, but I also get to travel and work in professional theatres in Chicago, New York, and London. After just my first year at grad school, I started a program at my school that partners up general education students with special needs students and utilizes that partnership to create an improvisational troupe. We focus on working on social skills with my special needs students and on empathy with my general education students. This program is doing incredibly well so far, and in the future I hope it will take off like a rocket. I would love to travel around the country helping other schools set up similar programs so that individuals of any (dis)ability can have a home within the theatre. What made me fall in love with theatre in the first place is the warm, loving, welcoming environment it envelops everyone in. My main goal is to make that atmosphere as inclusive as possible and accessible to all, and in doing so, I will change the world one child at a time. While every day is still a struggle, I am becoming stronger. I'm constantly working on being a better me than I was yesterday, and enjoying the little things in life. I look forward to a day when I am completely anxiety-free, and depression no longer rears its ugly head, but until then, I will be grateful for my many blessings and be the best me that I can be. I would be honored to be considered for your scholarship. Not only would you help make my dreams come true, but you'd help make things a little less stressful financially while I'm reaching for the stars.

A person that's been arrested, a recovering alcoholic, recovering drug addict, and has been fired from several jobs isn't usually the first person one thinks of when contemplating a role model. However, that's the person that immediately comes to me. My father has taught me many lessons throughout my life and making sure people aren't judged by their past is one of the biggest. My father is one of six born into meager circumstances. His father was fighting in the Vietnam War, while my dad was home with an abusive and alcoholic mother. Before drinking herself to death, she brought many abusive boyfriends into his life. His father died in the war, so her death orphaned the six children when my dad was only ten. He and his siblings were split up, and he went to live with an aunt. Hoping his circumstances would better, he was quickly shown otherwise when she also became abusive. She died when he had barely turned eighteen. He then went to live with his sister and her drug dealing husband. One evening the police busted their house and arrested my father and uncle. My uncle promptly bailed himself out of jail and left my dad to serve the sentence for my uncle's possession of drugs. My father turned to alcohol and drugs as a way of coping with the dire situation into which he was born. Genetically predisposed to the addictive gene, once he went to drugs and alcohol, my he quickly spiraled out of control. The hold the mind-altering substances had on him was strong, but my father was determined to not end up the same way as his family. Whereas many addicts are unable to put anything above their habit, my dad's love for his children pulled him out of his dependence, and ensured he live a clean and honest life. My father wanted to make sure that we had everything we could ever want in life. He saw to it that we never struggled the way he did, and even went as far as working 3 hours away and only being home on weekends. Unfortunately, the crash in the early 2000s caused my dad to lose his lucrative position. While we were grateful to have him home all the time, open jobs were few and far between. He spent every day getting his resume out there but had door after door shut in his face. At this point, our financial situation was dire, but my father refused to allow us to miss out on anything. In spite of having a college degree, and having just had a six-figure salary, he turned to pest control during the daytime and stocking shelves at Walmart in the evenings. I know several families that were never able to recover financially from that depression due to refusing jobs in which they were overqualified. My dad said he would do whatever, even flipping burgers and cleaning toilets, to make sure he took care of us. I mention my father's shady history because his fight out of the depths of hell is exactly why I admire him so. All of his other siblings gave up on life before it even started and survived through petty crime and addiction. My dad left that behind and made something of himself. Every day is a battle for him, but he armors up and confidently strides into battle so that we have all the love and support we could ever need. My dad is my hero and role model. Not in spite of his rough past and mistakes, but because of them.

When my husband started teaching, my mother in law - the accountant, told him to start investing in his retirement immediately and then promptly forget the money is there. He, as most young men do, rolled his eyes and ignored his mother. A couple of years later, I received my first position teaching and was so excited to have my first "grown up" job. I was not only getting awesome benefits, but I was being paid a salary rather than hourly. In the eyes of a poor post-college grad, that was the greatest thing since sliced bread. One of my first few days there, my assistant principal sent out an email saying that there was a financial planner on campus to speak with anyone interested. I am not very good with money, so I felt a bit intimidated, but ended up going by anyways. I was going to bring the paperwork home and discuss things with my husband, but the words this financial planner was saying started to sound familiar. I suddenly remembered the advice my mother in law had tried to give my husband a couple of years prior, and I clearly heard her voice telling me to do it. I was a little nervous because, at the time, I was pretty much living paycheck to paycheck, but I did it anyways. After 10 years, I now have thousands of dollars saved up for my retirement. I can't even give you the exact amount because, as suggested, I don't even think about that money. It will be my lovely little surprise when I retire, and I'm sure my mother in law, wherever she may be at that time, will find some way to tell my husband, "I told you so."

I have taught Middle School Theatre in Lake County for almost 10 years now, and have always adored my work. However, the last several months have been the most difficult of my entire life. On top of the craziness of the Covid Pandemic, I admitted to my parents, and really to myself as well, that I was abused by my brother as a child. I had (have) severe anxiety and depression, and just received a diagnosis of PTSD. My entire world was pulled apart, and the life I had in which I denied or ignored my past trauma was gone in a poof. The silver lining about rock bottom is there is only one direction to go from there. The past me may be gone, but Ryan 2.0 is bigger and better than ever. I decided to stop living my life for other people and start doing what I want to do. Depression has caused me to no longer find joy in a career that I used to live for. During my rebuilding process, I thought about what I could do to spark that flame again. I have dreamed about going to grad school since I graduated with my bachelors, but between getting married, finding employment, becoming a foster mom, raising 10 foster children, and adopting 3 of them, there was always some reason or another as to why I couldn't. I decided to forget about all the can'ts and the won'ts and do what makes me happy. I applied and was accepted into an incredible graduate school program where I get to learn to be a better theatre teacher. For the first time in forever, I am excited about my job and improving my skills to be the best teacher and person that I can be.

The last several months have been the most difficult of my entire life. I have severe anxiety and depression, and just received a diagnosis of PTSD. My entire world was pulled apart, and the life I had in which I denied or ignored my past trauma was gone in a poof. I lost myself; I hit an all-time low when I was thinking how much of a burden I was on my loved ones, and how things would be easier if I were gone. The silver lining about rock bottom is there is only one direction to go from there. The past me may be gone, but Ryan 2.0 is bigger and better than ever. I decided to stop living my life for other people and start living for me. Depression caused me to no longer find joy in a career that I used to live for. During my rebuilding process, I thought about what I could do to spark that flame again. I have dreamed about going to grad school since I graduated with my bachelors, but between getting married, finding employment, becoming a foster mom, raising 10 foster children, and adopting 3 of them, there was always some reason or another as to why I couldn't. I decided to forget about all the can'ts and the won'ts and do what makes me happy. While every day is still a struggle, I am becoming stronger. I'm constantly working on being a better me than I was yesterday, and enjoying the little things in life. I look forward to a day when I am completely anxiety-free, and depression no longer rears its ugly head, but until then, I will be grateful for my many blessings and be the best me that I can be.

Disheveled and exasperated, I trudged home after my first day working as a teacher at Gray Middle School. My husband eagerly sat on the couch awaiting my return, and pounced as soon as he heard the grinding of the garage door. He was slightly taken aback by my appearance. I looked like I had just come home from battle, but being a teacher himself, he understood. "So...how was it?!" My husband enthusiastically queried. "I need an adult!" I whined, as I collapsed, exhausted into our plush, oversized sofa. My husband chuckled slightly and patted my back before saying, "You are the adult now." In my mind, I gave the loud "ARGH!" that the Peanuts characters shout, but even my vocal chords were too fatigued to let out a sound. This experience has been echoed throughout the world after first days in new jobs, particularly in teaching. There is no way to prepare you for what your day will be like no matter how many classes you've taken on the topic. That first year teaching was a big struggle, but I made it through, stronger and more "adultier" than ever. Now, ten years later, I still have days where I find myself screaming, "I need an adult!" but for the most part, I have put myself in a situation to be that adult for other new teachers. I want to ensure that my co-workers struggle as little as possible, and so I have put myself in leadership roles to help through my experience. A new example this year is I serve as a mentor teacher to our new choir teacher. I have unofficially mentored other teachers in the past, but this year, I was placed as her official mentor. She has taught before, but previously worked with class sizes around 10-15 students. Now, as an elective teacher, she has classes between 40-50. That is a HUGE difference, so I make sure to check on her often and give her classroom management advice. Other ways I have been a leader on campus is through the Positive Behavioral Intervention Support (PBIS) Team. I have been a part of the PBIS team for my entire ten years at Gray, but I have been the co-chair for the past five years. Being a theatre teacher, I am very creative, and have used that out-of-the-box mindset to come up with new and exciting ideas to reward our students for showcasing positive behavior. I also utilize my students to assist. One of my most popular assignments each year is making commercials for our school store and "Gator Bucks" system. I didn't just stop there. I've also served as chair of our School Advisory Counsel for the past nine years, and even served as PTO President for one crazy year. As busy as it has made me, I have loved every leadership opportunity I have taken. It gives me the chance to help others, and to show everyone just how much I love my school and job.

It's always been my dream to teach theatre, and ten years ago, I was able to start. From day one, I focused on making connections with my students. I hugged them and told them I loved them as much as possible. A cranky veteran teacher happened to be walking by one day in my first year while I was doing just that. The cantankerous old woman marched over and roughly yanked me to the side. "What do you think you're doing?" She hissed through a fake smile. She was trying to seem like she was not scolding me, but the bulging of her eyes gave away the fury she was feeling. "Umm... getting ready to start class?" I confusedly replied. I was a new teacher at the time, but I hadn't done anything that deserved a public reprimand. She rolled her eyes. "No! I mean with your student!" I shrugged, racking my brain to try and figure out what I could have done wrong. "It is not appropriate for you to be hugging your students like that, and it is DEFINITELY not appropriate for you to be telling them that you love them. I know you're new, but these things are easily misconstrued. You have to be careful!" She replied while giving me a condescending pat on my shoulder. I stared at her with my mouth agape. After a few seconds, I finally found the words in which to reply. "Ma'am," I said, "I appreciate your concern, but I started spreading the love when kids started telling me that mine was the only hug they got in a week and the first time they heard 'I love you' that they can remember. I'm happy to take any risk necessary to make sure that these kids know that they are loved."

At fourteen-years-old, life as I knew it came to a screeching halt. I rushed to the emergency room after having intense abdominal pain. Multiple hospital visits landed me with an endometriosis diagnosis, and at nineteen-years-old, I had to have a full hysterectomy. The intense pain I experienced seemed to take away all the joy from my life. However, I'm a very stubborn person, and when life decided to steal my joy, I decided to fight back. While my family, friends, and musical theatre have always brought me joy, even when my life came crashing down around me, the biggest blow to my happiness was biology telling me I could no longer be a mother. That just wasn't acceptable. I became a foster mother and cared for children that had been through challenges that, luckily, I could never even imagine. Turning my struggles into a way of helping others that are also struggling helped to start in bringing the joy back into my life. However, the day I knew my joy was here to stay was when I was able to adopt three of my foster children. While the process for me to become a mother was long, stressful, and difficult, it was worth every tear and worry. The fact that I worked so hard for my kids makes me appreciate them a little more. I can't even imagine what my life would be like without them, and everyday I make sure to tell them how much they mean to me, as well as how much joy they bring into my life.

"Have you ever felt like being somebody else? Feeling like the mirror isn't good for your health? Every day, I'm trying not to hate myself But lately, it's not hurtin' like it did before Maybe I am learning how to love me more" - Sam Smith "Love Me More" The last several months have been the most difficult of my entire life. I have severe anxiety and depression, and just received a diagnosis of PTSD from childhood sexual abuse. My entire world was pulled apart, and the life I had in which I denied or ignored my past trauma was gone in a poof. I lost myself, and hit an all time low thinking things would be easier for everyone if I was gone. The silver lining about rock bottom is there is only one direction to go from there. I decided to stop living my life for other people and, as the song says, "Love me more." During my rebuilding process, I thought about what I could do to "Love me more." I have dreamed about going to grad school since I graduated with my bachelors, but between getting married, finding employment, becoming a foster mom, raising 10 foster children, and adopting 3 of them, there was always some reason or another as to why I couldn't. I decided to forget about all the can'ts and the won'ts and "Love me more." While every day is still a struggle, I am becoming stronger. I'm constantly working on being a better me than I was yesterday, and enjoying the little things in life. I look forward to a day when I am completely anxiety-free, and depression no longer rears its ugly head, but until then, I will be grateful for my many blessings and "Love me more."

"Someday, everything will make perfect sense. So for now, laugh at the confusion, smile through the tears, and keep reminding yourself that everything happens for a reason." - John Mayer At four-years-old, I knew I HAD to share my life with the theatre. It so quickly became a part of me that ignoring it would be like denying my body oxygen. I was going to be on Broadway. Nothing could stop me. Well... nothing except for a debilitating condition that required eleven surgeries and the loss of my reproductive system. At fourteen, I began having intense abdominal pain. Multiple hospital visits landed me with an endometriosis diagnosis, and at the age of nineteen, I had a hysterectomy. The intense pain I experienced seemed to take away my life, my happiness, and my hopes and dreams all at once. I reevaluated my life and decided to focus on my health and creating a family over professional acting. I got married, became a foster mom, and adopted the three most incredible kids in the world. While my desire to be a Broadway Star changed, I still needed to be with the stage. I majored in Theatre at UCF, but struggling with my illness and the mental anguish of being a teenager going through menopause proved to be incredibly difficult. After I graduated from College, I created a middle school theatre program, and fell in love with theatre all over again in a brand new way. Seeing my passion ignited in my students’ eyes is way more rewarding to me than being a professional actress would have been. I’m a big believer in everything happens for a reason. I truly believe that I went through everything I did so I would end up doing my part to ensure the immortality of theatre.

My path to motherhood was unconventional. When I was nineteen-years-old, I had to have a hysterectomy, and feared never being a mom. However, I never needed to worry because I was able to raise many children through the foster system. I was especially fortunate to have the opportunity to adopt three of my foster children. I fostered children of all races, but Gabby happens to be a mix of Black and Latina. She has absolutely gorgeous mocha colored skin, and beautiful, thick ringlet curls. Very different from my straight hair, and my almost translucently white skin. However, my five-year-old didn't care what I looked like. I was her momma through and through. I pull my car into a parking spot so I can run inside and pick her up from extended care, eagerly waiting to hear all about her first day. She comes skipping out, excitedly shouts, "Hi, Mommy!," and I wrap her in the biggest hug. A small boy, about her age, points and laughs and obnoxiously asks, "That's your mom?" Gabby looks confused and responds, "Yes?" The boy laughs again and says, "That's weird because you're black and she's not!" I saw my daughter's face fall as she's trying to comprehend what is weird about her family. While I have visions of smacking the child that just hurt my baby on the first day of school, I decided to take a path that didn't end up with me in a jail cell. I gave him the biggest smile, grabbed her hand and said, "That's ok. We still match on the inside." She smiled as well and repeated what I said. We happily skipped off to the car. "Our skin may not match, but we match hearts." - Christy Wagner.

At fourteen-years-old, life as I knew it came screeching to a halt. I started having intense pain in my lower abdomen. Several hospital stays led to what has now become eleven surgeries, and an eventual diagnosis of Endometriosis. The rest high school career was spent trying surgery after surgery. Unfortunately, every endeavor failed, and, at nineteen-years-old, I underwent a full hysterectomy. In the blink of an eye, I lost the one thing I knew I was meant to be: a mother. I went through an extremely dark time. However, in spite of several surgeries, depression, and two medical withdrawals, I obtained my Bachelors in Theatre with a 3.5 GPA. I credit my loved ones and adoration of theatre with lifting me from my pit of despair. I married my college sweetheart and received my dream job as a theatre teacher. There, I saw everybody didn’t grow up as comfortably as I. There were so many students on free and reduced lunch, that we received a grant to give free meals to everyone. I saw children with only two pairs of pants, so in the cold, they either alternated them or braved the cold in shorts. I began to see that even though I had been through the wringer with my health issues, even on my worst days, I was still incredibly fortunate. After I was married, I still knew with my entire being, that I was born to be a mother. Obviously the conventional pathway to motherhood was not in my cards, so we decided to become foster parents. Prior to fostering, a worst case scenario to me was being faced with eviction because there just wasn’t enough money to pay for rent. While that's a terrible situation, it's no way near the circumstances we saw our foster children face. My mind was blown as I welcomed children who had experienced horrors that, luckily, I could never even imagine. We received a four-year-old with a sexual safety plan; a two-year-old terrified of police officers because he witnessed his mother getting tackled and arrested. We cared for a three-year-old that refused to eat food placed in front of him until he found out what he was having for the next meal because he was so worried about having to ration his food. Even worse, was the thirteen-year-old girl whose mother trafficked her for meth. Each situation was more heart-wrenching than the last. However, the story has a happy ending. Since experiencing my trauma, as minimal as it was in comparison to the resilient youth that walked through my doorway and into my heart, I was able to emotionally connect with them. Having been through my own darkness helped me navigate my way through theirs. Just as I used my love of theatre to pull me from my depression, I was able to use those same dramatical standards to connect with each child and help start their journey towards healing. My husband and I were fortunate enough to adopt three of our foster children. My terror of never being a mother was unnecessary, as my children may not have been born from me, but they were most definitely born for me. I am a better person for knowing them and all the other children we have loved. As I look back at myself, I can hardly recognize myself. While I hope everyone has the ability to grow up safe and sheltered, as I did, I know that is not possible. What I do know is that my purpose on this earth is to help those that are less fortunate.

The Fearless girl sculpture by Kristen Visbal has been front and center on my inspiration board for years. While the sculpture was originally intended to send a message about gender diversity and inequality in the work place, the small girl's brave and determined face, as well as her body language are incredible illustrations to the frustration of women and our persistent fight in creating change. The sculpture was made even more powerful a few months ago when it was surrounded with broken glass for National Women's Day. The girl's stance already looked very heroic, but when encompassed with shards of the glass ceiling just broken through, she looks even more fearless. While it is very important that everyone does their part to break glass ceilings for future generations, the Fearless Girl's indomitability is what makes her so inspiring to me. The last several months have been the most difficult of my entire life. I have severe anxiety and depression, and just received a diagnosis of PTSD. My entire world was pulled apart, and the life I had in which I denied or ignored my past trauma was gone in a poof. I lost myself, and I hit an all-time low when I was thinking how much of a burden I was on my loved ones, and how things would be easier for them without me. The silver lining about rock bottom is there is only one direction to go from there. The past me may be gone, but Ryan 2.0 is bigger and better than ever. Just as the Fearless Girl stands strong against The Charging Bull, Wall Street, glass ceilings, law suits, and anything else that may be thrown her way, I will withstand the storms attempting to batter me.

The Fearless girl sculpture by Kristen Visbal has been front and center on my inspiration board for years. While the sculpture was originally intended to send a message about gender diversity and inequality in the work place, the small girl's brave and determined face, as well as her body language are incredible illustrations to the frustration of women and our persistent fight in creating change. The sculpture was made even more powerful a few months ago when it was surrounded with broken glass for National Women's Day. The girl's stance already looked very heroic, but when encompassed with shards of the glass ceiling just broken through, she looks even more fearless. While it is very important that everyone does their part to break glass ceilings for future generations, the Fearless Girl's indomitability is what makes her so inspiring to me. The last several months have been the most difficult of my entire life. I have severe anxiety and depression, and just received a diagnosis of PTSD. My entire world was pulled apart, and the life I had in which I denied or ignored my past trauma was gone in a poof. I lost myself, and I hit an all-time low when I was thinking how much of a burden I was on my loved ones, and how things would be easier for them without me. The silver lining about rock bottom is there is only one direction to go from there. The past me may be gone, but Ryan 2.0 is bigger and better than ever. Just as the Fearless Girl stands strong against The Charging Bull, Wall Street, glass ceilings, law suits, and anything else that may be thrown her way, I will withstand the storms attempting to batter me.

At fourteen-years-old, life as I knew it came screeching to a halt. I started having intense pain in my lower abdomen. Several hospital stays led to a diagnosis of Endometriosis, and eleven different surgeries. Unfortunately, every endeavor failed, and, at nineteen-years-old, I underwent a full hysterectomy. Due to this, I went through an extremely dark time. In spite of several surgeries, depression, paying my own way through college, and two medical withdrawals, I was able to obtain my Bachelors in Theatre with a 3.5 GPA. I was fortunate to not only have an amazing support system of family and friends, but also to be stubborn enough to persevere through all of my trials and tribulations. I credit my loved ones, that tenacity, and my adoration of theatre with lifting me from my dark pit of despair. At the age of 25, less than a year after we were married, my husband and I started our journey as foster parents. While it was the best decision of our lives, fostering quickly showed me how blessed I had been in spite of my medical issues. Prior to fostering, a worst case scenario to me was not knowing where your next meal was coming from, or being faced with eviction because there just wasn’t enough money to pay for rent. While those are both terrible situations, they are no way near the circumstances we saw our foster children face. My mind was blown as I welcomed children that had experienced horrors that, luckily, I could never even imagine. We received a four-year-old with a sexual safety plan. We had a two-year-old terrified of police officers because he witnessed his mother getting tackled and arrested. We cared for a three-year-old that refused to eat the food placed in front of him until he found out what he was having for the next meal because he was so worried about having to ration his food. While in my bubble, sex work didn’t seem like a real issue. It seemed fictional to me, but 100% of the foster children we have taken in have had biological parents that sold their bodies so they could have enough money to eat, live, and/or buy drugs. Even worse, was the thirteen-year-old girl whose mother trafficked her for meth. Each situation was more heart wrenching than the last. However, the story has a happy ending. Since experiencing my trauma, as minimal as it was in comparison to the incredibly resilient youth that walked through my doorway and into my heart, I was able to emotionally connect with them. Having been through my own darkness helped me navigate my way through theirs. Just as I used my love of theatre to pull me from my depression, I was able to use those same dramatical standards to connect with each child and help start their journey towards healing. My husband and I were fortunate enough to adopt three of our foster children. My terror of never being a mother was unnecessary, as my children may not have been born from me, but they were most definitely born for me. I am a better person for knowing them and all the other children we have loved. As I look back, I can hardly recognize myself. While I hope everyone has the ability to grow up in a safe and sheltered bubble, I know that is not possible. What I do know is that my purpose on this earth is to help those that are less fortunate.

At fourteen-years-old, life as I knew it came screeching to a halt. I started having intense pain in my abdomen. Several hospital stays led to a diagnosis of Endometriosis and eleven surgeries. Unfortunately, every endeavor failed, and, at nineteen-years-old, I underwent a full hysterectomy. I went through an extremely dark time. However, in spite of several surgeries, depression, and two medical withdrawals, I obtained my Bachelors in Theatre with a 3.5 GPA. I credit my loved ones and my adoration of theatre with lifting me from my dark pit of despair. I married my college sweetheart, and I received my dream job as a theatre teacher. I always knew I was born to be a mother. Obviously the conventional pathway to motherhood was not in my cards, so we became foster parents. Prior to fostering, a worst case scenario was facing homelessness. However, that's no way near the circumstances we saw our foster children face. My mind was blown as we welcomed children that had experienced horrors that, luckily, I could never even imagine. We received a four-year-old with a sexual safety plan. We had a two-year-old terrified of police officers because he witnessed his mother getting tackled and arrested. We cared for a three-year-old that refused to eat the food placed in front of him until he found out what he was having for the next meal because he was so worried about having to ration his food. Even worse, was the thirteen-year-old girl whose mother trafficked her for meth. Each situation was more heart-wrenching than the last. However, the story has a happy ending. Since experiencing my trauma, as minimal as it was in comparison to the incredibly resilient youth that walked through my doorway and into my heart, I was able to emotionally connect with them. Having been through my own darkness helped me navigate my way through theirs. Just as I used my love of theatre to pull me from my depression, I was able to use those same dramatical standards to connect with each child and help start their journey towards healing. My husband and I were fortunate enough to adopt three of our foster children. My terror of never being a mother was unnecessary, as my children may not have been born from me, but they were most definitely born for me. I am a better person for knowing them and all the other children we have loved. I have learned my purpose on this earth is to help those that are not as fortunate. Until now, I have done that through teaching, directing, and fostering. However, as I have expanded on my love and support of mental health, I have become fascinated by the concept of combining all of my passions in the field of drama therapy. As a certified drama therapist, I could amplify my work healing others through theatre, and make lives, my community, and ultimately the world a better place.

Disheveled and exasperated, I trudged home after my first day working as a teacher at Gray Middle School. My husband eagerly sat on the couch awaiting my return, and pounced as soon as he heard the grinding of the garage door. He was slightly taken aback by my appearance. I looked like I had just come home from battle, but being a teacher himself, he understood. "So...how was it?!" My husband enthusiastically queried. "I need an adult!" I whined, as I collapsed, exhausted into our plush, oversized sofa. My husband chuckled slightly and patted my back before saying, "You are the adult now." In my mind, I gave the loud "ARGH!" that the Peanuts characters shout, but even my vocal chords were too fatigued to let out a sound. This experience has been echoed throughout the world after first days in new jobs, particularly in teaching. There is no way to prepare you for what your day will be like no matter how many classes you've taken on the topic. That first year teaching was a big struggle, but I made it through, stronger and more "adultier" than ever. Now, ten years later, I still have days where I find myself screaming, "I need an adult!" but for the most part, I have put myself in a situation to be that adult for other new teachers. I want to ensure that my co-workers struggle as little as possible, and so I have put myself in leadership roles to help through my experience. A new example this year is I serve as a mentor teacher to our new choir teacher. I have unofficially mentored other teachers in the past, but this year, I was placed as her official mentor. She has taught before, but previously worked with class sizes around 10-15 students. Now, as an elective teacher, she has classes between 40-50. That is a HUGE difference, so I make sure to check on her often and give her classroom management advice. Other ways I have been a leader on campus is through the Positive Behavioral Intervention Support (PBIS) Team. I have been a part of the PBIS team for my entire ten years at Gray, but I have been the co-chair for the past five years. Being a theatre teacher, I am very creative, and have used that out-of-the-box mindset to come up with new and exciting ideas to reward our students for showcasing positive behavior. I also utilize my students to assist. One of my most popular assignments each year is making commercials for our school store and "Gator Bucks" system. I didn't just stop there. I've also served as chair of our School Advisory Counsel for the past nine years, and even served as PTO President for one crazy year. As busy as it has made me, I have loved every leadership opportunity I have taken. It gives me the chance to help others, and to show everyone just how much I love my school and job.

"They just don't listen!" "No one understands!" As a middle school teacher, I hear these sentiments often as my students complain about their teachers, parents, or the other adults in their lives. Middle school was an incredibly difficult time for me, so now that I live almost every day of my life in middle school, I strive to make sure that my students have a better experience than I did. I do this by making connections with the children in my classes. The majority of them are angry and lash out because they don't feel heard, and some simple active listening techniques can solve a lot of those problems. Adults constantly snap at children for not listening, but often, when speaking with those same children, they don't practice what they preach. I have seen parents, guardians, teachers, and school support staff minimalize the issues with which their students and children are dealing. Rather than listening to hear, they listen to respond, or, sometimes, don't even listen at all. In order to make the connections with my students, I use active listening skills. First and foremost, I listen without making judgements or taking a position. I want to make sure that I gain an understanding of their point of view. I make sure that I am making eye contact, as well as showing with my body language that I am hearing them. Once I allow them to finish their thoughts without interruption, I ask what I can do to help them. Sometimes that involves action or advice on my part, but sometimes all they want is just to be heard and to feel like they are important to someone. I never want them to doubt that what they say to me matters or how much I value them.

Kids these days! The exasperated sentiment that the younger generation is worse than prior generations is a concept considered since the ancient days of Plato. However, with the ease of access to television, movies, and the internet, there really is a problem with kids these days. Preschool and Grade school children of the past would have wild and fantastical imaginations, but now, because television thinks for them, they have become passive watchers rather than active doers. My project (or projects, shall I say) not only shows my innovation and creativity, but allows for approximately 50-100 middle school aged children yearly to also show their innovation creativity, and imagination, and to truly shine while doing so. In 2012, after graduating from UCF with a BA in Theatre, I received my teaching certificate. I knew that positions teaching theatre were difficult to obtain, so in order to make myself as marketable and well-rounded as possible, I became certified in elementary education in addition to my theatre certification. I told myself that I would use my K-6 certification to teach at an elementary school until I found a high school theatre position, but that I would in no way touch middle school with a 10-foot pole. That sentiment didn't work out well because a month into the 2012-2013 school year, Gray Middle School offered me a job creating their theatre program from the ground up, and 10 years later, not only did I completely demolish that 10-foot pole rule, I am still nurturing and growing that program. Gray Middle School is in the middle of Groveland, Florida. Groveland is a quaint, little town that looks entirely as it sounds: full of farming land, animals, and farmers. I not only had to work towards fixing the lack of creativity in the younger generation, but also, convince a town, in which the Future Farmers of America is not just a club, but a way of life, to fall in love with theatre. This was accomplished by getting on their level. I found out what kinds of things they were interested in, and showed them that those qualities were in theatre as well. We played lots of improvisational games, and I chose plays and musicals that the students were excited to do. I started taking my students to competitions and gave them opportunities to meet with peers from other schools that also loved theatre. It was a slow process, but once it caught on, it spread like wildfire. I suddenly had more kids wanting to be in the shows than I could imagine. Towards the beginning, my program was struggling with money, so I wrote plays and performed royalty free murder mystery parties to fundraise for future productions. After a few years, we started partnering with the local high school. They sent construction students over to build us a 2-story set for our Legally Blonde musical, and suddenly our little middle school shows were so renowned in Groveland that people from the community came to the productions without even knowing anyone in the cast. We're now ten years into my work at Gray Middle School, and I have directed eighteen productions. More importantly, I have helped thousands of 6th-8th graders find a home, family, and a place to belong while in the difficult years of middle school, as well as introducing them to theatre. The creativity I saw used in the younger generation soared, and, while I still occasionally find myself exasperatedly saying, “Kids these days!” The reason behind those comments, at least for my students, is no longer a lack of imagination, creativity, and culture.

At the age of 25, less than a year after we were married, my husband and I started our journey as foster parents. While it was the best decision of our lives, fostering quickly clouded my rose-tinted glasses view of life. Prior to fostering, a worst case scenario to me was not knowing where your next meal was coming from, or being faced with eviction because there just wasn’t enough money to pay for rent. While those are both terrible situations, they are no way near the circumstances we saw our foster children face. My mind was blown as I welcomed children that had experienced horrors that, luckily, I could never even imagine. We received a four-year-old with a sexual safety plan. We had a two-year-old terrified of police officers because he witnessed his mother getting tackled and arrested. We cared for a three-year-old that refused to eat the food placed in front of him until he found out what he was having for the next meal because he was so worried about having to ration his food. While in my bubble, sex work didn’t seem like a real issue. It seemed fictional to me, but 100% of the foster children we have taken in have had biological parents that sold their bodies so they could have enough money to eat, live, and/or buy drugs. Even worse, was the thirteen-year-old girl whose mother trafficked her for meth. Each situation was more heart wrenching than the last. However, the story has a happy ending. My husband and I were fortunate enough to adopt three of our foster children. My children may not have been born from me, but they were most definitely born for me. I'm a better person for knowing them and all of the other children we have loved.

There's been a constant ticking in the back of my brain almost my entire life. I would have flashes why this ticking was present, but never fully comprehended it. I decided to keep the ticking to myself. tick I went to college, got married, became a mother, and did so many other amazing things that I was able to ignore the constant ticking in my brain. However, when the subject of my brother arose, the ticking got louder. It intensified when my mom showered him with attention and gifts. All I could do was hold myself back from screaming. At that point, I figured it was because he was so self-centered, but the tick got louder to inform me that wasn’t the reason. Tick A short time later, he nonchalantly said he didn’t like my son. That was the day the ticking became more prominent. I saw red as it echoed loudly in my brain, pulsating in rhythm with the blood coursing through me. It bubbled through my body as I tried to hold myself together, so I didn’t turn into the Incredible Hulk there in front of my children. Tick, tick I discussed the incident with my husband, and we agreed to keep him at arm’s length. That helped, but this time the ticking wasn’t fading into the back of my brain. It was staying. Not overwhelmingly loud, but still a constant nagging echo. Tick, Tick Then came an incident where my brother called to tell me that my son and his daughter were found “playing doctor.” I held back vomit as the room spun, and I tried to comprehend what was happening. After sobbing for several minutes, I stumbled upstairs to try to figure out what happened. My face was flushed and hot, and my little six-year-old boy was incredibly confused as to what I was talking about and why I had suddenly turned into this raging bull. Come to think of it, I was surprised I turned into a raging bull as well. My husband, son, and I sat and talked for a while. We discussed how nothing like that could ever happen again, and signed him up for counseling immediately. Tick, Tick, Tick On the very first visit, while barely allowing him to speak, this counselor told us she thought he was autistic, and called in a DCF report on him. I never wanted to see her again. However, I promised I would take him to counseling and work through it, so we at least needed to follow through while trying to find a new counselor. A mere two sessions later, she apologized. She stated she jumped to conclusions and phrased things in a way that he didn't comprehend. It wasn’t as serious as she had originally thought, and she was confident that he wouldn’t do it again. She tried to tell us that he no longer needed counseling. I insisted he continue. My husband thought I was being a little intense, but I demanded we maintain that intensity. I was constantly angry, constantly on edge, and my depression and anxiety were moving from a moderate level into the severe range. Tick, Tick, TICK I cried and did some research about differentiating between childhood curiosity and red flags. While reading through everything, I have an epiphany as to why I am constantly freaking out. It’s because of my brother. My son checked off every mark for childish curiosity while my brother checked off every mark for red flags. I was so upset over all of this because in my brain, my niece was being treated by my son the way that I was treated by my brother. However, after sending my son to a professional counselor, what happened between him and my niece was not even a fraction of what happened to me. Yes, my son was curious about the differences between girl bodies and boy bodies. However, there was no sexual activity. The DCF agent said at this age, things get confused a lot as children don’t know how to explain things of this nature, and miscommunication is very common. Tick, TICK, TICK However, my brother was not six years old when he abused me. The first time I remember anything happening was when I was six. He would’ve been nine at that point. Being an adult now, I know what grooming is, and that is exactly what he did to me. He turned everything into a game. I can feel the bile coming up into my mouth just thinking about it. I had now figured out what that ticking was. It was the ticking of a bomb, and that day I knew it was going to explode. TICK, TICK, TICK The ticking became so loud that I couldn’t think of anything else. Luckily I have an incredibly supportive husband and told him everything. I’ve always been so terrified that people wouldn’t believe me, or would treat me like I was dirty because of my trauma, but he just said, “That makes so much sense.” Then we hugged and cried together for a while. Once he accepted it, I was terrified that he was going to tell someone. I want control this time. I didn’t have control before, but I do now over how and when I tell my story. Telling my husband reset the detonator. I may still have a ticking in my head, but at least I can share that with someone else. I started seeing an awesome therapist. Tick, tick, tick. I have control issues because he took away my control over my own body. Tick, Tick, tick. I tense up and feel dizzy just hearing his name. Tick, Tick, Tick. So here's my explosion. I refuse to allow him to be a cancer in my brain. I'm not allowing him to take any more happiness from me. My husband, children, friends and family deserve a better me than that. I deserve a better me than that. The beautiful silence is deafening.

The last few months have been the most difficult of my entire life. I admitted to my parents, and really to myself as well, that I was abused by my brother as a child. I had (have) severe anxiety and depression, and just received a diagnosis of PTSD. My entire world was pulled apart, and the life I had in which I denied or ignored my past trauma was gone in a poof. I lost myself; I hit an all time low when I was thinking how much of a burden I was on my loved ones, and how things would be easier for them without me there. The silver lining about rock bottom is there is only one direction to go from there. The past me may be gone, but Ryan 2.0 is bigger and better than ever. I decided to stop living my life for other people and start doing what I want to do. I applied and was accepted to an incredible graduate school program where I get to learn to not only be a better theatre teacher, but I also get to travel and work in professional theatres in Chicago, New York, and London. While every day is still a struggle, I am becoming stronger. I'm constantly working on being a better me than I was yesterday, and enjoying the little things in life. I look forward to a day when I am completely anxiety free, and depression no longer rears its ugly head, but until then, I will be grateful for my many blessings and be the best me that I can be.

When my husband started teaching, my mother in law - the accountant, told him to start investing in his retirement immediately and then promptly forget the money is there. He, as most young men do, rolled his eyes and ignored his mother. A couple of years later, I received my first position teaching and was so excited to have my first "grown up" job. I was not only getting awesome benefits, but I was being paid a salary rather than hourly. In the eyes of a poor post-college grad, that was the greatest thing since sliced bread. One of my first few days there, my assistant principal sent out an email saying that there was a financial planner on campus to speak with anyone interested. I am not very good with money, so I felt a bit intimidated, but ended up going by anyways. I was going to bring the paperwork home and discuss things with my husband, but the words this financial planner was saying started to sound familiar. I suddenly remembered the advice my mother in law had tried to give my husband a couple of years prior, and I clearly heard her voice telling me to do it. I was a little nervous because, at the time, I was pretty much living paycheck to paycheck, but I did it anyways. After 10 years, I now have thousands of dollars saved up for my retirement. I can't even give you the exact amount because, as suggested, I don't even think about that money. It will be my lovely little surprise when I retire, and I'm sure my mother in law, wherever she may be at that time, will find some way to tell my husband, "I told you so."

Self care was always laughable to me. Being a wife, foster/adoptive mother and teacher, I barely had time to breathe, much less practice self care. Everything else was so important, and I felt not so important, so my mental health was always pushed to the bottom of the list. Shortly after I adopted my son and daughter, I was so determined to be the perfect mom that I literally worked myself into the hospital with heart attack symptoms. Turns out I wasn't having a heart attack, but I was having so much anxiety from pushing myself to perfection that I tore my body apart. I was so desperate to be the perfect mom that my body gave up and, at that point, I was unable to do anything, including mothering my kids. That was the point where I realized I was important too, and if I didn't make myself a priority, I would be unable to get any of the other things on my to do list done because I would be hospitalized or dead. That incident was the beginning of my anxiety and depression journey. It's been a long pathway, but I'm working through it. I started seeing a counselor that calls me out on all my perfectionism and reminds me that I'm human, and I practice a lot more self care. I take bubble baths with a glass of wine and a good book after a long, hard day. I take a break during my planning period and go for a walk in the park across the street. I'm much more present and work on enjoying the now rather than worrying about the future. Self care has allowed me to survive and be the best me that I can be.

Every morning in the Milchman household is insane. It doesn't matter how much preparation is done, there will always be chaos as my three children and I rush to leave. Gabby, who's 10, and Vincent, who's 9, squabble over who's sitting in the back of our van, and I grab everything needed for my day of teaching middle school. Once everything is as ready as possible I wake Bella, who's 3. As I rush in, she breaks into the biggest smile, with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. The first few months of school, getting Bella ready was always a battle. She refused to wear any clothes I picked out Clothes and shoes went flying as she threw multiple tantrums. One morning I felt particularly overwhelmed, threw my hands up, and cried. My beautiful baby climbed out of her bed, kissed me, and told me she loved me. She said she was a big girl and could do it herself. I sat back astounded as she grabbed mismatched clothes and got herself ready for the day. In my haste to leave, I took away her choices. The more impatient I was, the more miserable we both were. The next morning, I tried something new. I went in to her room first, and woke her up by singing to her. I picked out three outfits and let her choose what she wanted to wear, and I danced with her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. No fights happened. By rushing my daughter, I was taking the joy out of our mornings. Allowing her to have her time to be three and having patience made our lives infinitely better. I make sure to practice patience daily because she deserves the best mom I can be, and that's a patient one.

I have always been the person to raise everyone up except myself. As a middle school teacher, it is vital to encourage my students daily. I remember middle school being such a difficult time, so I make a point to help each student really shine. Even if they can't see how amazing they are, I cheer them on until they gain enough confidence to succeed. I can so easily see the beauty and potential in others, but I struggle to notice those qualities in myself. The district I teach in began the growth mindset initiative several years ago. We were given the language to allow students productive struggling and learning through failure. When my district announces new initiatives, it is usually met with many eye rolls, but from the very first time this initiative was delivered to us, I immediately latched on. I posted growth mindset quotes all over my classroom and made a point to correct any fixed mindset comments I heard. Well...any fixed mindset comments I heard from my students. I have always been my own biggest critic. Depression, anxiety, and PTSD often convince me that I can't do anything right. I'm very good at wearing a mask in front of my students and acting like I'm ok even when I'm at my worst, but sometimes a masochistic comment sneaks through that mask. Luckily, I have my students so well trained on growth mindset, that they even call me out on my fixed mindset comments. Being reminded by my kids that my mindset matters too, showed me I need to hold myself to the same high expectations as I hold them. Since this incident, I have worked hard to lead by example, have a growth mindset, and to love myself as much as I love my students.

Misty Copeland said, "Anything is possible when you have the right people there to support you." That is the best description of friendship I have seen. My friends are the reason I am capable of doing what I need to do to not only be successful, but just to survive. Growing up, friends were who I wanted to come over to my house. People I wanted to write notes to in class, and had the shoulders I wanted to cry on when my crush didn't reciprocate my feelings, I received a worse grade than I anticipated, or when I was bullied by the mean girls. Now that I'm an adult and a parent, while friendship still means supporting me through all of my endeavors; it looks a little different. Rather than who I want to write a note to during a boring class, it's who I can shoot a text to when an emergency comes up and my daughters or son need a ride home. Instead of shoulders to cry on because of a crush that didn't work out, I vent about my husband and how men can be so clueless. I thought bullies when I was in middle school were the worst, until I became a middle school teacher. Now I have to deal with the bullies and their victims, as well as their crazy parents because, let's be honest, most of the time the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Thank goodness I have my tribe to keep me grounded in a life full of insanity. Friendship is a vital part of life. It's just as important as food, water, and oxygen. The support my friends offer me is what makes my life worth living and makes me able to be the survivor and person I am.

At the young age of four, I found the love of my life. Many might say that four is way too young to fall in love, but I didn’t care. I found my soulmate, and no one could tell me otherwise. My aunt worked at a Children’s Theatre. She performed in their production of Fame, and my mom decided to take me. I stared at the stage with my mouth agape in awe of the gorgeous dancers, bright lights, glittery costumes, and the amazing feeling I had witnessing the magic of live theatre. That evening, I fell in love for the first time, and knew without a doubt that I HAD to share my life with the theatre. It so quickly became a part of me that if I had ignored it, it would have been like denying my body oxygen. Most people, particularly four year olds, change their minds a million times about what they want to be, but I’ve always been very focused, mixed with a little bit of stubbornness. I knew I was going to be on Broadway. I signed up for classes the same day I saw Fame, and continued at that Children’s Theatre until I graduated high school. Every second I spent there felt like one step closer to Broadway. Nothing could stop me. Well, nothing except for a debilitating medical condition that required eleven surgeries, years of pain, and the loss of my reproductive system. When I was fourteen, I began having a lot of intense lower abdominal pain. Going in and out of the hospital ended me with a diagnosis of endometriosis, and at the age of nineteen, I had a hysterectomy. The only other thing I ever wanted to be other than a Broadway Star was a mother. The intense pain I experienced from the time I was fourteen until I was twenty seemed to take away my life, my hopes, and dreams all at once. I reevaluated my life a lot, and decided that I wanted to focus on my mental and physical health, and creating a family more than professional acting. I fell in love again, got married, became a foster mom, and adopted the three most incredible kids in the world. My personal life was flourishing. I never needed to fear not being a mom because, while I didn’t make my children, they were truly made for me. As much as my heart grew, and room was made for more soulmates, I always had to keep nurturing my relationship with my first love. While my desire to be a professional actress changed, I still needed to be with the stage. I majored in Theatre at the University of Central Florida, but struggling with my illness and the mental anguish of being a teenager going through menopause caused me to be less involved in the productions than I would have liked, so I was craving time with my first love. After I graduated from College, I was given the chance to create a middle school theatre program from the ground up, and fell in love with theatre all over again in a brand new way. Seeing my same passion ignited in my students’ eyes is way more rewarding to me than being a professional actress would have been. I’m a big believer in everything happens for a reason. I truly believe that I went through everything I did just so I would end up teaching today’s youth to be tomorrow’s leaders and to do my part to ensure the immortality of theatre.