At a nonprofit called Legion of Learners, I have taught online computer science classes to elementary school students for about two years, but a few months ago, there was a time when we were starting to get fewer participants every class, and there were less students who were willing to do their homework. That disconcerted me. What could possibly be wrong? I tried to make sure it was fun and memorable. I made jokes, I maintained a consistent curriculum, and I went at a comfortable pace for the students. I thought for a bit, and that initial confusion gradually transformed into appeal. One day, I proposed that we revamp the curriculum. It was then elected that I would lead the team through everything we had to do, including planning games, making new agendas, and tailoring activities to the students’ interests. At that moment, the urge to show commitment, but more importantly, that we all could do so much more, was rushing through me. I delegated each of those three tasks to the other teachers and myself. To find the best fit, I used my observations on how enthusiastic they were when explaining a topic, as well as their contributions when collaborating on a certain project. I used the new curriculum in the first class I could. The students participated more. Despite spending more time on activities, I was actually able to cover more content. I was impressed by their outstanding homework. After each meeting, as I said bye and reached for the “End Meeting” button, I saw that more of those rectangular profile pictures stayed, as if they didn’t want to leave, but when they did at last, I let out a sign of triumph, realizing the outcome of our efforts. Revamping that computer science curriculum fulfilled me. I didn’t just make something better, but, more importantly, it was thinking of the effects on others that made it successful. To me, science doesn’t just mean learning science; it also means teaching science. Science can not only foster a love of learning in students, but also a love of teaching in teachers, adding a new layer of meaningfulness to the work I do. As things run smoothly once again, that experience continues to be momentous. I will continue to help others become a part of something so much bigger than themselves, because maximizing others’ strengths is a part of science too.

Computer science inspires me. I first truly picked up computer science during the pandemic, when I took an introductory Java course and learned about the languages that are actually used in the real world. Ever since, I have spent hours upon hours absorbing whatever knowledge I could get my hands on. All that knowledge followed me to my algebra class one day, and after the lesson on polynomials, my brain clicked. I realized that algebra and computer science weren’t very different. I took out my laptop and modeled algebraic concepts, implementing projects that automated synthetic division, finding the roots of polynomials, and anything else that I could possibly translate into code. In fact, in my sophomore year, I couldn’t take my school’s introductory computer science class (a prerequisite for AP Computer Science A) due to scheduling conflicts, but that didn’t stop me. I spoke with my counselor, and I was given the opportunity to skip the introductory class and go straight to AP Computer Science A in my junior year. There, I was exposed to the countless realms of the applications of computer science, beyond just coding. I was also able to meet software engineers, and others who shared this passion, who have fascinated me with the idea of a computer science major. In order to continue my pursuit, I decided to ask them for letters of recommendation so that I could take two summer courses at a community college that had prerequisites. Inside these classes, I made sure to deeply explore every resource, and outside of those classes, I learned new programming languages, solved practice problems, competed in competitions, and of course, added more and more mini-projects to my collection. Soon, I expanded the scope of my projects to physics and chemistry, making models and programs for my calculator and my laptop. Each time, a sense of accomplishment washed over me as I tested it and passed all the requirements and test cases I set for myself. Thus, computer science is permanently wired into my identity and my thinking style. I realize that an endless cycle of gaining new information was not just rewarding, but it could also be used to create something new. I plan to apply this mindset in college by continuing to make projects, expanding my network, performing research, and immersing myself in internships, fusing computer science with the many things I will encounter on the way.

Computer science inspires me. I first truly picked up computer science during the pandemic, when I took an introductory Java course and learned about the languages that are actually used in the real world. Ever since, I have spent hours upon hours absorbing whatever knowledge I could get my hands on. All that knowledge followed me to my algebra class one day, and after the lesson on polynomials, my brain clicked. I realized that algebra and computer science weren’t very different. I modeled algebraic concepts, implementing projects that automated synthetic division, finding the roots of polynomials, and anything else that I could possibly translate into code. In fact, in my sophomore year, I couldn’t take my school’s introductory computer science class due to scheduling conflicts, but that didn’t stop me. I spoke with my counselor, and I was given the opportunity to skip the introductory class and go straight to AP Computer Science A in my junior year. There, I was exposed to the countless realms of the applications of computer science, beyond just coding. I was also able to meet software engineers, and others who shared this passion, who have fascinated me with the idea of a computer science major. In order to continue my pursuit, I decided to ask them for letters of recommendation so that I could take two summer courses at a community college that had prerequisites. Inside these classes, I made sure to deeply explore every resource, and outside of those classes, I learned new programming languages, solved practice problems, and competed in competitions. Soon, I expanded the scope of my projects to physics and chemistry, making models and programs for my calculator and my laptop. Each time, a sense of accomplishment washed over me as I tested it and passed all the requirements I set for myself. Thus, computer science is permanently wired into my identity and my thinking style. I plan to apply this mindset in college by expanding my network, performing research, and immersing myself in internships, fusing computer science with the many things I will encounter on the way.

At a nonprofit organization called Legion of Learners, I have taught online classes for about two years, but a few months ago, there was a time when we were starting to get fewer participants every class, and there were less students who were willing to do their homework. That disconcerted me. What could possibly be wrong? I tried to make sure it was fun and memorable. I made jokes, I maintained a consistent curriculum, and I went at a comfortable pace for the students. I thought for a bit, and that initial confusion gradually transformed into appeal. One day, I proposed that we revamp the curriculum. It was then elected that I would lead the team through everything we had to do, including planning games, making new agendas, and tailoring activities to the students’ interests. At that moment, the urge to show commitment, but more importantly, that we all could do so much more, was rushing through me. I delegated each of those three tasks to the other teachers and myself. To find the best fit, I used my observations on how enthusiastic they were when explaining a topic, as well as their contributions when collaborating on a certain project. I used the new curriculum in the first class I could. The students participated more. Despite spending more time on activities, I was actually able to cover more content. I was impressed by their outstanding homework. After each meeting, as I said bye and reached for the “End Meeting” button, I saw that more of those rectangular profile pictures stayed, as if they didn’t want to leave, but when they did at last, I let out a sign of triumph, realizing the outcome of our efforts. Revamping that computer science curriculum fulfilled me. I didn’t just think of something better, but, more importantly, it was taking my team members and students into account that made it successful. As classes run smoothly once again, that experience continues to be momentous. Whether it be students’ engagement, or receiving feedback from the other team members, my attentiveness allows me to spread positivity and productivity. In the future, I can visualize myself bringing the same sense of direction, thoughtfulness, sensibility, and revival to any new community. As an aspiring software engineer, I expect to exercise similar skills. I would need problem solving skills, just like I did when my class wasn’t engaging enough. I would need attention to detail, just like I did when I chose roles for each member of my team. I would need the ability to tailor my explanations to each person’s needs, just like I did as a tutor. And lastly, I would need the ability to foster a collective purpose, just like I did when I was part of a team of teachers.

My parents would tell me about how it could be hard to get a job if you were too old. They’d tell me about how it was hard to network, tightening the noose for those at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder. They’d tell me about the coal ovens which they had to start each morning and tend throughout the day. They’d tell me about the pollution, from the yellowish faucet water to the brown, slick riverbanks to the gray, humid air. Namely, these were the reasons they gave for immigrating to America from China. As a first generation student, I didn’t experience the birthplace of my parents firsthand, but I could visualize it quite clearly. Ever since I was young, they would tell me stories of how China was back then. There were some good aspects, such as a close family and friendly neighbors, but there were also limited opportunities at the time they were living there. Thus, I grew up with the ambition to ensure equal opportunity. I wanted to better the lives of others, but initially, I didn’t really know how I could actually make that happen. However, there is another dimension to my background. One autumn day before class, I sat on the bench and opened the news app on my phone. I curiously scrolled through the topics that I pinned to the top of my feed – “Tennis”, “Technology”, “Climate”. But when I scrolled to “Bay Area,” I jolted my finger to a halt. It was a picture of a homeless man in San Francisco, curled up in a ball next to waste and needles. Almost as if I took a sip of expired milk, that image cut through my initial, unsuspecting impression of my hometown. I already knew there were homeless people in San Francisco, but I was in disbelief that their conditions would be this grim. Nonetheless, swipe after swipe, the realities of unemployment, overdose, and poor hygiene unfolded before my eyes. Soon, that initial pang of denial gave way to intrigue. I began to devote even more time outside of those 15 minutes before school to exploring more articles and news stories on homelessness, particularly in SF. Each time, that intrigue bubbled like soda. It turned into plans to help my community as much as I could. Ideas raced through my head like cars on a freeway. I could improve shelters and food banks. I could design websites for those facilities in order to get more donations. I could campaign for better economic opportunities and mental health services. But at the same time, I knew deep down inside that a teenager, especially one who no longer lives in SF, simply cannot single-handedly solve such an issue. Despite that, those articles engraved those images deep enough into my brain to encourage me to pursue it. From then on, I have focused increasingly more attention on the ongoing crisis. Taking multiple trips to the most affected places in SF, I based several of my multimedia and photography assignments, such as the Community Improvement Project, on how the crisis left streets trashed. While I did encounter a realm of dreadful anecdotes, housing statistics, and pessimistic criticism from my very own peers, who dismissed my requests for help as a “lost cause,” not a single one discouraged me from taking action and at least letting people know of the issue. When artificial intelligence became widespread, my brain clicked. I thought back to those articles and realized it could be an opportunity to take action. I began to investigate how predictions in data patterns could be used to allocate resources, how housing data could guide urban planning, how we can trace homelessness back to the downhill spirals of drugs and unaffordable housing, and how AI could match them with jobs and education. It gave me hope. Reminiscing that autumn morning before school, I realize that opening that news app might have been one of the most momentous events of my life, as those very stories spurred me into action. They armed me with a sense of social responsibility. They showed me the importance of civic consciousness. They uncovered my creative side, and they opened my eyes to how I can use resources as an outlet to better the lives of others. They were a source of motivation, pushing me to step onward. What could I achieve in college? What about after college? I hope to use the Dr. Andy Nieto Memorial First Generation Opportunity and Excellence Scholarship to learn how to use AI to help solve homelessness and lack of resources, especially in SF. With this scholarship, I would be able to access the latest technologies and data sets without financial uncertainty. I would also be able to attend conferences and workshops that would enrich my knowledge in AI and help me network with researchers who share the same ambition. I plan to continue researching ways to save the world. My dream is to be able to participate in something, or create something, that will make my parents proud, combat public health issues, and change society for the better.

I first truly picked up computer science during the pandemic, when I took an introductory Java course and learned about the languages that are actually used in the real world. Ever since, it has inspired me. When I was given the opportunity to skip my school’s introductory computer science prerequisite (which I couldn’t take due to scheduling conflicts) and go straight to AP Computer Science A, I was not just exposed to the countless realms of the applications of computer science (beyond just coding), but I was also able to meet software engineers, who have opened my eyes to the many pathways of a career in computer science. I asked them for letters of recommendation for community college courses that also had prerequisites. Inside each class, I made sure to deeply explore every resource, and outside them, I learned new programming languages, solved practice problems, created models and programs for algebra, physics, and chemistry, and competed in website and app competitions. Thus, computer science is permanently wired into my identity and my thinking style. However, there is another dimension to my background. I was born and raised in San Francisco up until my middle school years. I saw the homelessness, litter, and drug addiction. Even after my family and I moved to South San Francisco, I knew of the crisis back in my hometown. Ideas raced through my head like cars on a freeway. I could improve shelters and food banks. I could design websites for those facilities in order to get more donations. I could campaign for better economic opportunities and mental health services. But at the same time, I knew deep down inside that a teenager, especially one who no longer lives in SF, simply cannot single-handedly solve such an issue. Despite that, those articles engraved those images deep enough into my brain to encourage me to pursue it. From then on, I have focused increasingly more attention on the ongoing crisis. Taking multiple trips to the most affected places in SF, I based several of my multimedia and photography assignments, such as the Community Improvement Project, on how the crisis left streets trashed. While I did encounter a realm of dreadful anecdotes, housing statistics, and pessimistic criticism from my very own peers, who dismissed my requests for help as a “lost cause,” not a single one discouraged me from taking action and at least letting people know of the issue. When artificial intelligence became widespread, my brain clicked. I began to investigate how predictions in data patterns could be used to allocate resources, how housing data could guide urban planning, how we can trace homelessness back to the downhill spirals of drugs and unaffordable housing, and how AI could match them with jobs and education. It gave me hope. I hope to use the Career Test Scholarship to learn how to use AI to help solve homelessness and lack of resources, especially in SF. With this scholarship, I would be able to access the latest technologies and data sets without financial uncertainty. I would also be able to attend conferences and workshops that would enrich my knowledge in AI and help me network with researchers who share the same ambition. I plan to continue researching ways to save the world. My dream is to be able to participate in something, or create something, that will make my parents proud, combat public health issues, and change society for the better.

At a nonprofit organization called Legion of Learners, I have taught online classes for about two years, but a few months ago, there was a time when we were starting to get fewer participants every class, and there were less students who were willing to do their homework. That disconcerted me. What could possibly be wrong? I tried to make sure it was fun and memorable. I made jokes, I maintained a consistent curriculum, and I went at a comfortable pace for the students. I thought for a bit, and that initial confusion gradually transformed into appeal. One day, I proposed that we revamp the curriculum. It was then elected that I would lead the team through everything we had to do, including planning games, making new agendas, and tailoring activities to the students’ interests. At that moment, the urge to show commitment, but more importantly, that we all could do so much more, was rushing through me. I delegated each of those three tasks to the other teachers and myself. To find the best fit, I used my observations on how enthusiastic they were when explaining a topic, as well as their contributions when collaborating on a certain project. I used the new curriculum in the first class I could. The students participated more. Despite spending more time on activities, I was actually able to cover more content. I was impressed by their outstanding homework. After each meeting, as I said bye and reached for the “End Meeting” button, I saw that more of those rectangular profile pictures stayed, as if they didn’t want to leave, but when they did at last, I let out a sign of triumph, realizing the outcome of our efforts. Revamping that computer science curriculum fulfilled me. I didn’t just think of something better, but, more importantly, it was taking my team members into account that made it successful. As classes run smoothly once again, that experience continues to be momentous. Whether it be students’ engagement, or receiving feedback from the other team members, my attentiveness allows me to spread positivity and productivity. In addition, I had a new sense of purpose in many other communities. As an older brother, my role was to be mindful of my sister, just like I was with the other teachers. As a classmate, it was to foster a collective purpose. As a tutor, it was to tailor my explanations to the student’s needs. In the future, I can visualize myself bringing the same sense of direction, thoughtfulness, sensibility, and revival to any new community.

One autumn morning, I opened the news app on my phone, scrolling through the topics that I pinned to the top of my feed – “Tennis”, “Technology”, “Climate”. But when I scrolled to “Bay Area,” I jolted my finger to a halt. It was a picture of a homeless man in San Francisco, curled up in a ball next to waste and needles. Almost as if I took a sip of expired milk, that image cut through my initial, unsuspecting impression of my hometown. I already knew there were homeless people in San Francisco, but I was in disbelief that their conditions would be this grim. Nonetheless, swipe after swipe, the realities of unemployment, overdose, and poor hygiene unfolded before my eyes. Soon, that initial pang of denial gave way to intrigue. I began to devote even more time outside of those 15 minutes before school to exploring more articles and news stories on homelessness, particularly in SF. Each time, that intrigue bubbled like soda. It turned into plans to help my community as much as I could. Ideas raced through my head like cars on a freeway. I could improve shelters and food banks. I could design websites for those facilities in order to get more donations. I could campaign for better economic opportunities and mental health services. But at the same time, I knew deep down inside that a teenager simply cannot single-handedly solve such an issue. Despite that, those articles engraved those images deep enough into my brain to encourage me to pursue it. From then on, I have focused increasingly more attention on the ongoing crisis. Taking multiple trips to the most affected places in SF, I based several of my multimedia and photography assignments, such as the Community Improvement Project, on how the crisis left communities destroyed. While I did encounter a realm of dreadful anecdotes, housing statistics, and pessimistic criticism from my very own peers, who dismissed my requests for help as a “lost cause,” not a single one discouraged me from taking action and at least letting people know of the issue. When artificial intelligence became widespread, my brain clicked. I thought back to those articles and realized it could be an opportunity to take action. I began to investigate how data patterns could be used to allocate resources, how housing data could guide urban planning, how we can trace homelessness back to the downhill spirals of drugs and unaffordable housing, and how AI could match them with jobs and education. It gave me hope. Reminiscing that autumn morning before school, I realize that opening that news app might have been one of the most momentous events of my life, as those very stories spurred me into action. They armed me with a sense of social responsibility. They showed me the importance of civic consciousness. They uncovered my creative side, and they opened my eyes to how I can use resources as an outlet to better the lives of others. They were a source of motivation, pushing me to step onward. What could I achieve in my senior year? What about in college? As I settle into my final year in high school and travel forward, I’ll be volunteering, honing my research skills even more, and looking into nonprofits that already conduct the work that I do. I’ll continue to read articles, and I’ll continue to fight the crisis, in hopes that maybe one day I’ll open the app, scroll down to the “Bay Area” section once more, and see a new kind of eye-catching picture: a joyous family with a home.

My parents would tell me about how it could be hard to get a job if you were too old. They’d tell me about how it was hard to network, tightening the noose for those at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder. They’d tell me about the coal ovens which they had to start each morning and tend throughout the day. They’d tell me about the pollution, from the yellowish faucet water to the brown, slick riverbanks to the gray, humid air. Namely, these were the reasons they gave for immigrating to America from China. As a first generation student, I didn’t experience the birthplace of my parents firsthand, but I could visualize it quite clearly. Ever since I was young, they would tell me stories of how China was back then. There were some good aspects, such as a close family and friendly neighbors, but there were also limited opportunities at the time they were living there. Thus, I grew up with the ambition to ensure equal opportunity. I wanted to better the lives of others, but initially, I didn’t really know how I could actually make that happen. However, there is another dimension to my background. I was born and raised in San Francisco up until my middle school years. I saw the homelessness, litter, and drug addiction. Even after my family and I moved to South San Francisco, I knew of the crisis back in my hometown. Ideas raced through my head like cars on a freeway. I could improve shelters and food banks. I could design websites for those facilities in order to get more donations. I could campaign for better economic opportunities and mental health services. But at the same time, I knew deep down inside that a teenager, especially one who no longer lives in SF, simply cannot single-handedly solve such an issue. Despite that, those articles engraved those images deep enough into my brain to encourage me to pursue it. From then on, I have focused increasingly more attention on the ongoing crisis. Taking multiple trips to the most affected places in SF, I based several of my multimedia and photography assignments, such as the Community Improvement Project, on how the crisis left streets trashed. While I did encounter a realm of dreadful anecdotes, housing statistics, and pessimistic criticism from my very own peers, who dismissed my requests for help as a “lost cause,” not a single one discouraged me from taking action and at least letting people know of the issue. When artificial intelligence became widespread, my brain clicked. I began to investigate how predictions in data patterns could be used to allocate resources, how housing data could guide urban planning, how we can trace homelessness back to the downhill spirals of drugs and unaffordable housing, and how AI could match them with jobs and education. It gave me hope. I hope to use the Bright Lights Scholarship to learn how to use AI to help solve homelessness and lack of resources, especially in SF. With this scholarship, I would be able to access the latest technologies and data sets without financial uncertainty. I would also be able to attend conferences and workshops that would enrich my knowledge in AI and help me network with researchers who share the same ambition. I plan to continue researching ways to save the world. My dream is to be able to participate in something, or create something, that will make my parents proud, combat public health issues, and change society for the better.