I knew what she wanted to hear: “You’ve made it this far. Why would you change your mind at the last minute?” I’ve never been one to encourage impulsive actions, and my friends quickly learned that. If we were at the store and it occurred to one of them to ask me whether or not she should buy something, I would argue that the fact she asked me showed she didn’t want it badly enough. So, when my best friend told me she was considering changing her major from civil engineering—which she had been set on for the entirety of our time in high school—to Spanish, it was clear that she wanted to be reassured and convinced that she would be better off in engineering. Although I couldn’t relate to her doubts, I understood how unnerving they must have felt; she was deciding what to do with the rest of her life and hadn’t realized until the last year of high school that her true calling may not be in engineering. That's why I didn’t say the words she expected me to say. I didn’t even think about dismissing her uncertainty. I knew how serious of a decision this was, and the last thing I wanted to do was to make her concerns seem trivial. Instead, I thought back to one of our first conversations when she told me why her Spanish class was her favorite. “It’s not just that it’s easy for me. I love the language. It’s beautiful, and speaking it feels familiar.” While I, too, feel a similar connection to the language because of my heritage, I knew that her feelings were different. I thought back to the many times she had a new Spanish song or book to talk about, and how often she mentioned she wanted to grow up to be like her Spanish teacher. I knew how passionate she was about spreading her love for the language—a passion she did not demonstrate for engineering. And I knew that immersing herself in Spanish was something she would never regret. So, I said it all to her as I remembered it. I didn’t tell her what I thought she should do but instead left my perspective for her to contemplate. She recently decided to request a change of major from the college she was admitted to, and I now see an anticipation in her that is unmatched by the attitude she formerly had towards engineering. I will continue to give guidance to my close friends and loved ones based on the kinds of people I know them to be. Sometimes, it takes someone else to remind us to pay attention to ourselves. I never imagined that my least favorite class would be Principles of Engineering. This is what I want to dedicate my future to, and I couldn’t even walk up to the door of the classroom without feeling dread. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoyed listening to Mr. Killey explain the lessons and loved designing our projects. It was the perfect balance between science and creative freedom that drew me to civil engineering in the first place. But when my classmates and I finished building our machines I would be reminded of my fear: I didn’t belong. While everyone else had created these large, complex, and efficient machines, I sat with a largely ineffective jumble of metal. Our most recent project stood as a testament to how unfit I was to be standing among my competent peers. While everyone else designed and constructed their machines with conveyor belts, line trackers, and extensive lines of code, mine was simply a screw and a lever controlled by a few blocks of code I only came up with through trial and error. It was slow, unpredictable, and problematic. Every day I would go into class, my classmates’ machines began to look more and more alike, while mine stood out like a sore thumb. The day we all had to display our machines and their functions for Mr. Killey, I didn’t want to step foot in the classroom. When he arrived at my machine, I cringed at the high-pitched squeak it would make after every turn of the screw. Once it was over, he wrote a small note on his clipboard and moved on to the next. My embarrassment was eased by relief as I watched the rest of the machines get tested. And I realized that, in my dissatisfaction with my own machine, I hadn’t noticed that everyone else had their own complications to deal with. The fact that mine looked different did not inherently make it inferior. All the machines ultimately got the same job done. The fear of being out of place exists in many different ways, but seeing a physical representation of mine and all my classmates’ abilities made it nearly impossible to feel that I fit in with them. I’ve finally realized there is nothing wrong with being different or having different ideas. There may not be a formula for permanent self-assurance, but if you dedicate your focus and efforts to what’s in front of you, you won’t even have time to look at what’s in front of everyone else.

From a young age, my mother would tell me that I had everything I could ever need; I came into this world alone, and I would leave it just the same. "That's why," she would say, "you should never have to depend on anyone else." I took her words less as advice, and more as a law of life. I was determined to work towards a future where I would always have my freedom and autonomy, and I knew that I could do it. So, I would push myself--even when I didn't have to. "I got it," I would tell my dad whenever he saw me struggling to push a LEGO tire through its wheel when I was a child. In school, I would teach myself the math I didn't understand through YouTube videos or by reverse-engineering the answers. And whenever I was upset or overwhelmed, I wouldn't talk about my feelings, even to those closest to me. This, at the time, was what empowerment meant to me: figuring everything out on my own simply because I knew I could. However, I've realized that, even though I may not need to depend on anyone else, that doesn't mean that I shouldn't ever. In fact, I now believe that true empowerment can only be achieved through the impacts we all have on each other. Yes, I will be leaving this world alone, but not as I came into it. The person that I am today has been influenced by the most generous and inspiring people in my life--my older cousin, who was the first woman in my family to graduate from college and has dedicated her life to helping adolescents with their mental health; my ninth-grade algebra teacher, who has proved that it is possible to be an attentive mother while also being an effective educator to her students; and my mother, who was one of the first of her siblings to leave Mexico and come to America for a chance at a better future which she did not waste. Without these role models, I would not have been able to step into this sense of infinite possibility that I now know as empowerment. I now feel I can achieve anything I set my mind to, but I don't have to overcome the obstacles I face alone. I can become the civil engineer I've wanted to be from a young age and make my own effective contributions to addressing environmental concerns, all with the support and influence of my family, teachers, and role models. Since I have gained so much from the empowering people in my life, I have also acknowledged that it is important for me to provide that same inspiring influence on others. In tutoring two groups of twelve learners through Schoolhouse.world, a free online tutoring platform, I felt that I was making a small, yet meaningful contribution to their success. My goal was not only to prepare them but to motivate them and help them see that seeking support is one of the most empowering things a person can do for themselves. I look forward to continuing to inspire younger generations to recognize their potential, thereby empowering them in the same ways that I have been empowered by others before me.