Mental health is something I didn’t fully understand until I had no choice but to. I had experienced sadness before, the typical growing pains of life, but when I lost my stepdad, grief introduced me to a kind of darkness I didn’t know existed. Depression made even the simplest things, like taking a shower, feel monumental. I had opportunities and resources around me, but it felt like I was looking through fog. There was always this looming weight, this feeling of doom I couldn’t explain to anyone. And even when I tried, most people said the same few phrases, not realizing that what I really needed was for someone to just sit with me, listen, and tell me they believed in me. That experience changed how I see people. It made me more empathetic and far more understanding of what it means to struggle silently. It also gave me a level of strength and discipline that I didn’t expect. I’ve always been focused and structured, but grief taught me how to take care of myself when I didn't want to, how to follow through with my responsibilities when it felt like everything around me had shattered. That kind of resilience is something I carry with me every day. I went through most of it alone. I didn’t have the space to fall apart, because I had to be strong for my mom and little sister. I became the shoulder they cried on. I felt like I had to take on their pain just to give them a moment of peace. Whether I took that role by choice or not, I took it seriously. It wasn’t until much later that I started to open up to my friends about what I had been through. It took time to even admit to myself that he was really gone, he had passed away less than 24 hours after we were all together on a beautiful family trip. Now, I try to be the kind of person I needed back then. When my best friend Marli’s father passed away, I recognized the familiar pain in her voice. I told her what I wish someone had told me: to stay with him, to hold him, to make those final moments count. I’ve become someone others turn to for comfort, and I take that seriously. I think the time I spent sitting with my own sadness has made me wiser and more grounded. As for my career, I don’t know exactly how all of this will shape my designs as a civil engineer, but I know it will shape me as a person. Maybe it’ll give me greater awareness of the mental health challenges faced by people we often overlook, like those without housing or access to basic support. Maybe it’ll just keep me grounded, reminding me not to lose sight of who I’m helping. But what I do know is this: I learned how to keep going. I learned how to breathe through pressure, to keep moving forward even when everything inside me wanted to stop. I think that will carry me through a lot, not just in school or engineering, but in life.

If I could give one piece of advice to another first-generation college student, it would be this: Don’t be afraid to advocate for yourself. As first-gen students, we’re often so grateful just to be here that we forget we also have the right to ask for more, more help, more resources, more opportunities. For a long time, I didn’t know I could. Looking back, I realize how many doors I could have opened for myself if I’d just had the confidence to knock. In high school, I was a strong student with a lot of ambition, but I didn’t have the voice yet to push for what I needed. I watched as one of my friends negotiated with the school to take summer classes and earn her associate degree for free. She saved time and money just by asking. Meanwhile, I stayed quiet, assuming things were set in stone. I now realize I could have done the same, and I carry that lesson with me every day. Advocating for yourself means knowing your value and not being afraid to speak up for it. It’s something I’ve been learning more and more throughout college. My family’s support motivates me, but there’s also a certain pressure that comes with being the first. You have to know how to transform that pressure into motivation. When I feel overwhelmed, I try to reframe it: the support from my family isn’t a weight, it’s a reminder of why I’m doing this. Their belief in me gives me strength. It also means looking for doors that others don’t always point out, researching scholarships, internships, programs, anything that could help move you forward. In my first year, I had the chance to pursue more opportunities. People saw potential in me and encouraged me, but I let my fear get in the way. I was shy, unsure of myself, and hesitant to follow through. Now, I know better. The more you practice putting yourself out there, the more doors you’ll see, and the more confident you become in walking through them. To any first-gen student who feels like giving up: please don’t. Take a moment to look at what you do have, your family, your community, your accomplishments, no matter how small. These things matter. They’re proof that you’ve already done so much with what you’ve been given. You’re not here by accident. You’re capable, and you have every right to ask for help, to take up space, and to go after your dreams like anyone else. No one’s going to hand you everything, but if you advocate for yourself, if you raise your hand, ask the question, send the email, or walk into the room, you’ll be surprised how much opens up for you. You don’t have to have all the answers. You just have to start asking.

My name is Sara Marie Sandoval Blanco, and I was born in Linares, Nuevo León, Mexico. I’m a Mexican woman pursuing a degree in civil engineering at UTSA, with a focus on structural design. I come from a hardworking family, and from a very young age, I was raised to give 100% effort in everything I do, whether it was a class project in first grade or an internship drafting building plans. My journey to this point has been anything but easy, but it’s shaped me into the person and future engineer I am today. There has always been an expectation in my family that I would help however I could, and when my stepdad passed away unexpectedly during my junior year of high school, that expectation became a necessity. He had been the provider, and suddenly I was helping my mom with bills, taking care of my younger sisters, and grieving, all while trying to stay at the top of my class. We didn’t have access to therapy, and I battled depression quietly for nearly two years. My senior year was especially hard, but I kept pushing. I graduated as valedictorian, and ever since, I’ve continued to give back to my family while building a future of my own. I now work two jobs, pay for nearly everything on my own, and support my mother’s landscaping business, all while studying full-time. When I had the opportunity to attend an Ivy League university, I declined. Not because I didn’t have the grades or the ambition, but because I knew the cost of moving far away, emotionally and financially, would have been too much. I wanted to be present to help my mom and to watch my baby sister grow up. Even now, I’m debating whether I need to take a gap year between my bachelor's and master’s just to afford the next step. There was a moment when I truly realized I was in love with engineering. It was the first day I walked into my mentor’s office. He showed me all the plans he was working on, got me set up on the computer, and had me start drafting right away. I got to sit there and listen as he explained his process, how each line meant something bigger, and how each design choice solved a real-world problem. On the drive home, I felt like I had a crush, but not on a person, on the work itself. That was the moment I knew I had chosen the right path. Out of all the disciplines in civil engineering, structures are where my heart is. I’m grateful that my mentor is a structural engineer because I get to learn directly from someone doing exactly what I hope to do. I want to work on buildings, bridges, and public spaces that make communities better, especially here in San Antonio. I take so much pride in this city. It has so much potential, and I want to contribute to its future, particularly in underdeveloped or impoverished areas. My goal is to design smart, cost-efficient infrastructure that serves people’s needs without draining their wallets. Being a woman of color in engineering can be isolating. Sometimes it feels like there are two or three women for every twenty men in the room. No one I care about has ever made me feel lesser for being a woman in STEM, but there are still moments where I’m reminded of how others see us. My boyfriend’s mother is a project manager at an engineering firm, and she constantly gets asked if she’s “the accountant” or told she must have started as a receptionist. It’s infuriating, and honestly, it motivates me. I want to become the kind of engineer that people can’t ignore. I want to have all the certifications, all the degrees, and the kind of quality work that shuts down anyone who doubts me before I even open my mouth. If I had unlimited money, I’d keep going and get every master’s degree I could in civil engineering. I want to be a fountain of knowledge, not just for myself, but for others. That’s why I also want to be a mentor. Just like my mentor took me in and taught me, I want to take others under my wing someday. In fact, within the next ten years, I plan to propose to him that we start offering internships to high school juniors, even just one or two students at a time, so they can get real experience and build their resumes early. I never had opportunities like that, and I want to create them for someone else. In the future, I also hope to create a scholarship of my own for women and students like me, first-generation, low-income, and full of potential. The kind of people who have the drive but just need someone to say, “I believe in you.” Because someone like that can make all the difference. This scholarship would mean more than just financial help. It would be a sign that someone sees the work I’ve put in and believes in what I’m trying to build. I want to make a meaningful impact through civil engineering, not just by shaping the skyline, but by lifting others up along the way. Thank you for considering me.

Ever since I first met my stepfather’s friends, civil engineers proud to show off the projects they were building, I knew I wanted to be one of them. I saw something powerful in the way they talked: they were busy, confident, and deeply invested in the communities they served. I eventually found myself drawn to civil engineering not only because I enjoyed solving problems, but because it combined my creative side with my desire to leave something lasting behind. My long-term career goal is to become a licensed civil engineer in Texas and work on infrastructure projects that make a tangible difference in people’s lives. I am especially passionate about projects that serve the public, like bridges, roadways, and community spaces. During my internship, I’ve had the chance to work on personal renovations, like homes and churches. One church renovation in particular reminded me why I chose this path,it was beautiful to work on something that would bring people together for years to come. I want to continue working on projects like this and eventually contribute to San Antonio’s transportation issues, especially in underserved areas. In the future, I hope to run or inherit my mentor’s firm and create a learning environment for future students, especially those who are low-income or first-generation like me. I want to pass on what I’ve learned and make space for others to rise, just as others have done for me. What drives me is my family, my community, and the values I’ve learned through hardship. I immigrated to this country with my family and faced many obstacles, including the sudden loss of my stepfather, the person who was going to guide me through college. After his death, I took on adult responsibilities at a young age: caring for my siblings, working two jobs, and helping my mom keep our household afloat. I managed to graduate as valedictorian, lose over 60 pounds, and start college without asking my mom for financial help, something I take great pride in. Through it all, I have held onto my belief in doing the right thing. I’ve seen how easy it is in this field to cut corners, but I don’t want that to be part of my work. My mentor, Mr. Faraklas, has shown me what it means to be honest, thorough, and truly client-focused. I want to follow in his footsteps, not just in knowledge and professionalism, but in character. He turns away easy profit to protect clients from being overcharged or misled. That kind of integrity is rare, and it’s the standard I want to live by. Civil engineering is more than just a career to me, it’s a calling. I believe deeply in its power to shape cities, solve problems, and serve people. Whether I’m designing a small home addition or a major highway expansion, I want every project I touch to be something I’m proud of. Something that lasts. Something that helps.