I’m a minority who never truly understood what it meant to be a minority. I was lucky to have a lot of Filipino-American friends growing up, but I also remember still wishing my skin was lighter or my eyes rounder — everyone had these thoughts though, right? I also thought that Filipinos were well-represented in pop culture because Bruno Mars is Filipino, but that's a little bit of a gray area. This is definitely treated like fun fact material, rather than as a celebration of the feats that Filipinos are able to achieve. My personal cultural turning point was when I saw Disney’s 2020 Holiday commercial featuring a Filipina-American and her Lola, and it brought me to tears. I wasn't able to appreciate the necessity of representation until I saw myself in her. Before this, I had never seen a Filipino who was "important;" I didn't know it was possible for a Filipino to be in a position where everyone could see them, if that makes sense. The lack of Filipino representation was so severe that I didn’t realize we were supposed to be represented. My heart is driven by learning, even if only for the sake of it. That's why I decided that I want to become a physician-scientist. I want to go between laboratory and clinical research and help physicians understand what all of this new information means for their medical approaches. One of the key emerging research needs is an understanding of causes of mental illness as well as neurodegenerative diseases, and I've experienced firsthand through my community service as a Crisis Counselor how more and more people are living difficult lives because they have a mental illness or neurological disease. I recently conducted a literature review about the impact of ethnoracial disparities on Alzheimer's Disease and related demetias, and during my search I discovered that mental illness is the third most common disability in the Philippines. Filipinos also have increased prevalence of diabetes, hypertension, and cardiovascular disease, all of which correlate with a higher risk of developing Alzheimer's. However, in research, ethnic categories are rarely ever more specific than "Asian," so many of these Filipino-specific problems are missed. I want to be a researcher to make sure that Filipinos are heard, and I want to occupy an important space to show other Filipinos that we can achieve anything our hearts desire.

I’m on my way towards earning a bachelor’s degree from the University of Southern Califonia, majoring in biochemistry and intending a double minor in psychology and art history. It’s certainly a mouthful, but it’s what I’m passionate about. I crafted this special mixture of studies with the hopes of becoming the best physician that I can be. Of course, pre-medical students can major in any subject, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be in the field of STEM. Knowing this, I still chose biochemistry with intention. I want to be the best doctor that I can be, and that involves attacking it from two fronts: conventional and non-conventional. In order to be a conventionally good doctor, I feel the need to major in a hard science to make up for my lack of experience. My high school didn’t offer a robust science program, and even though I made attempts to “catch up” with my nationwide peers, there’s no proper replacement for rigorously structured classes. Thus, I want to major in biochemistry to gain a solid scientific foundation upon which I’ll build my medical knowledge. I chose biochemistry specifically because I always loved to study the interactions between the different levels of science, especially biology and chemistry. I’m really excited to be able to understand the chemical nature of the biological human body and ultimately learn to correct chemical imbalances and biological malfunctions with the power of medicine. I study all of this with the intent of becoming a conventionally good doctor. As I mentioned, I strive to be a good doctor both conventionally and non-conventionally. When I say “non-conventionally,” I really just mean that I want to be so good that I stand out from all the other doctors, and hopefully, redefine the standard of care that patients should expect from their physicians. One part of this is my intended minor in psychology. I really want to be able to understand my patients, specifically how they think. I anticipate that by gaining comprehensive knowledge about the functions of behavior and the operations of the brain, I’ll be able to make better decisions about how to approach caring for a patient. Even better, I’ll formulate treatment plans and communicate information in a way that takes into account their state of mind, which allows for a revamped patient-doctor relationship that prioritizes the well-being of the patient, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I strongly believe that this should be the new standard of care because patients deserve nothing less than the best. I know the additional minor in art history seems to come out of left field, but hear me out. I think all doctors should have a meaningful experience studying art and the humanities. Often, art and science go hand in hand. Artists often create art for art’s sake, just as scientists will learn for learning’s sake. Art, at its core, is the expression of the human experience, and there’s nothing more human than the curiosity and determination that drives the discovery of new treatments and the mastery of old ones. Further, humanities focus on the study of the human condition, and what is science if not a superb endeavor to improve the human condition? It makes sense that a good student in any field should be familiar with both art and humanities since all students undergo the human experience and all students’ studies necessarily relate to the human condition. I would like to fulfill this self-imposed requirement with art history, mostly because I love visiting art museums and I already like the subject after having studied it for academic decathlon, but also because I’m an artist and have a profound respect for those who came before me. My choice of art history is definitely a personal one, as it satisfies my desire to form a closer connection to the world of art, but minoring in a humanity allows me to develop into the best doctor possible. Thus, it’s evident that my complex concoction of biochemistry, psychology, and art history for my bachelor’s degree was carefully arranged with the purpose of forming the foundations for the making of a great doctor. Patients across the country — and the world — deserve to have the best physicians. I would be doing a disservice to society if I didn’t build my career from the best education available to me.

Chess is one of the only things that I tried and failed at. I started playing because my uncle liked to play, and I don’t think to this day that I’ve won a single game. I still played and lost for fun, and I even entered a school tournament and made it to the third round because of a draw and because one of the other players got sick. I wish I could say that chess taught me something profound, like “sometimes to accomplish something one must make a sacrifice first,” or “one must be flexible in order to best respond to a changing problem,” but that would be a complete lie; I learned the first one from trying to balance a loaded academic schedule, and I learned the second one from planning vacation schedules for my family. I’ve only really learned one lesson from chess: it’s acceptable to not excel at everything. Growing up as an overachieving student, I was no stranger to ambition, and it was usually easy to be successful in all my pursuits. I read like crazy because I learned how to speed read, the moment I picked up the clarinet I was already advancing much faster than any of my classmates, and in all my years of studying I never felt that I truly struggled in an academic class. For a long time, I believed that I simply couldn’t be bad at anything I tried — until I picked up a chess piece. I’ve read several books on chess theory and strategy, I played game after game with my uncle and constantly lost. My efforts simply didn’t translate into my playing. Naturally, this was upsetting at first. I had just found out that I’m not good at everything I try. However, after several more weeks of failure, I grew to accept the fact that everyone has limits. I still knew that if I kept at it for a couple more months I was still likely to see improvement, but why? I didn’t like playing chess. I deeply respect the game and I wish I loved it, but I don’t, and I was forced to understand that this conclusion was okay. My talents were better suited to academic studies, and there was certainly no need to continue with chess. A person should never pursue something just to prove they can. Every endeavor must necessarily be derived from a place of passion and love. So, I had to cross out “chess grandmaster” on my list of potential careers. Even though I tried and failed at chess before I had any idea of what I wanted to become, it helped me cross off a lot of the options on my list. I ruled out “corporate lawyer,” “mathematician,” and “CEO,” among others. My chess epiphany helped me to realize that a lot of the prospective career options that I was considering were only being considered because I liked the idea of them, not the actual work they entail. From then on, I let my love and my passion drive my pursuits, which has ultimately lead me to art and medicine. They’re the two things I love most, and I never would have been able to articulate that without my experiences in chess.

I was the kind of person who swore off TikTok; I thought it was shallow, silly, dull. But once I tried it, I realized that I had been a fool. TikTok is truly a work of art — the perfect space for the younger generation to forge a community and create a sense of shared experience. It’s definitely an interesting platform, to say the least. However, after consuming its content and studying what videos become popular, I’m trying to use it to teach others about the wonders of art history. I’m an artist — painting, drawing, digital art, graphic design, calligraphy, and really anything else if given a twenty-four-hour notice and some supplies. The neglect of visual art in public education caused me to teach all of those mediums to myself, and I’ve gotten quite good at learning all of them. However, I realized over time that there was something missing. The isolated accumulation of knowledge is limiting. I was creating beautiful art, and for what? I couldn’t place myself in the context of the larger art scene because I wasn’t part of it. I didn’t know the history, the culture, or the implications of the works that I create. When Academic Decathlon first introduced me to the world of art history, it was love at first sight. I would refer to it as my “recovery subject” because I would look forward to being able to study it when I needed a break from studying the subjects I didn’t enjoy as much. Learning about art history was refreshing to my soul; I’ve always loved learning, that's why I joined academic decathlon in the first place and why I do so well in school in general, but art history was different. It sparked a flame of passion inside of me, making me into a better artist and a better human in general. I thoroughly enjoyed following the trials and tribulations of the world’s most well-known artists, but also those of the world’s least-known artists. I found value and purpose in everything they did, and I aspired to be like them. I’ve learned how to work towards putting purpose into my art and, by extension, to go about my entire life with purpose and intention. Because of everything art history has done for me, I was inspired to try to share art history with more people so they might have the opportunity to have a similar epiphany. Art history needs to be shared more broadly because the subject as a whole is highly inaccessible — the information only exists in the form of hefty textbooks and feature-length lectures, creating a barrier for people who might at first only have a mild interest in the topic. It really is a shame, since art history is an incredibly rich subject that brings depth to ordinary life. I never thought of myself as a “content creator,” since to me that term was always reserved for famous people, like Hank Green and Markiplier. However, after giving it a lot of thought, it’s exactly what I want to do. I want to make educational TikToks in order to teach other people about art history. Content creators are just people who create content, and I want to create content to teach others. Hank Green is easily the biggest influence on my pursuit of this new goal; he’s a respected science communicator with a degree in biochemistry, and for me, he destigmatized the idea that content creators are just kids who were popular in high school. I found his TikTok content engaging and interesting, and I would like to create a similar impact but with art history. I discovered that I enjoy teaching other people about art history in both academic decathlon and my communications class at Bakersfield College. My decathlon coaches have both told me that they see my eyes light up when another person has a question about art history, and I’ve spent hours teaching it to next year’s recruits. In my communications class, I purposefully lost points on a speech about art history by going a couple of minutes over time, simply because I couldn’t bear to cut out any of the information. Obviously, I’m not “the” best person to teach art history — I haven’t gone to college yet, I don’t have a social media following, and I’m honestly a bit shy. However, I do know a lot, I like to teach what I know, I like researching new things about art history, I like to read books, and most importantly, I’m not afraid to fail at first. The idea of a person being the “most suited” for a particular job is a big myth. After all, “the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang best” (Henry David Thoreau). I’m by no means the best art history teacher, but that’s not going to prevent me from pursuing this endeavor. I want to democratize access to art history by putting out content on TikTok where I talk about art history topics and concepts for roughly a minute at a time. Anyone who’s scrolling on TikTok has a minute to spare, and spending that minute to get acquainted with art history has the potential to be life-changing. And even if the impact isn’t so drastic, I’m sure it would at least make life a tiny bit more interesting; isn’t that why creators make content in the first place?

I had been drawing and painting since I could hold a pencil, but I honestly didn’t even realize that art history was an academic subject until I was a sophomore in high school. I delved into the subject for the first time and I immediately fell in love. I was admitted to the University of Southern California as a biochemistry major on February 12, 2021. I plan to go to medical school after graduation, but the artist in me also has a plan to pursue other dreams and aspirations alongside medicine. I chose to apply to USC because of the interdisciplinary nature of the school; it prides itself on academics, athletics, and most importantly the arts. Organizations like Art on the Grass and the Visions and Voices initiative drew me to the school, and the USC values inspired me to pursue an art history minor. In terms of practicality, the degree allows me to work a part-time job at a museum while I attend medical school, which is something I had always dreamt of. Beyond this, it provides me with the knowledge I need in order to work towards one of my passions. I genuinely believe that it’s a big problem that I hadn’t known about art history until I was almost halfway through high school; art history is pretty inaccessible, with information being available only in the form of long lectures and thick textbooks. One of the projects I’ve been working on is an art history TikTok series where I teach specific art history topics in an engaging way in under a minute. I’m currently developing enough content to ensure that I’m prepared once I start it, but I’ve found that I really enjoy teaching art history. I’ve given presentations in my communications class at Bakersfield College and also to prospective academic decathlon members. The group reports thoroughly enjoying the way I explain the concepts, and I thoroughly enjoy explaining them. With an art history minor, I would be able to expand my current understanding of art history and be better equipped to continue this passion of sharing art history with as many people as possible; they just need to have a mild interest in art and a minute to spare.

At the age of three, I began making artwork that referenced the action painting techniques of Kazuo Shiraga, and the Fauve colors of Henri Matisse. At least, that sounds more impressive than saying I used to fingerpaint with my feet, using bright nonrepresentative colors. While my knowledge of the art world has grown, my love for it has remained strong throughout my whole life. Resources for learning how to draw and how to paint are widely available, and I'm really grateful for that; I wouldn't be who I am today without them. However, one thing I did notice is that all my knowledge of art history only comes from academic decathlon. Resources for learning art history really only exists in the inaccessible forms of thick textbooks and long, convoluted lectures. I feel really strongly that my background in art history was vital to the person I've become. It gave me a solid foundation of art styles and trends that provides both inspiration and encouragement for my art today, and it also gave me confidence for knowing and understanding something niche and important. I want other people to be able to learn about art history, whether it's a practical starting point for their art career or if it's a fun subject that they can learn a little bit about each day. As a solution, I'm currently working on developing the content to create a TikTok series where I condense art history topics into engaging one-minute videos so that everyone can learn more. Although I am going to college to major in science to prepare for medical school, this is still a project that I'm really passionate about. I plan to get an art history minor in college so that I can bolster my own knowledge to better relay the information to a large audience, but also so that I might find a job at an art museum during medical school so that I can work through a larger institution to bring art history to the masses. I have always valued the idea of "learning for learning's sake," and I want others to also adopt this mindset, which I believe I can accomplish by making art history a fun and accessible subject.

Rather than creating a playlist based on a certain style or genre, I chose to elaborate on the meaning of “Experience” by Ludovico Einaudi. Music, at its core, is the expression of the human experience: happiness, sadness, and every emotion in between. The distinct message of “Experience” is the idea of pressing on. This concept appears throughout all kinds of music because the rhythm of forward motion inspires listeners to keep on keeping on. I’ve explored all kinds of musical genres, and these songs were played on repeat at different points in my life to help me persevere.

One of the most influential memories from my childhood was the game Poptropica, where I went from island to island solving puzzles and occasionally learning. Among my favorite islands was Shrink Ray Island, where a young girl needs help to prepare her science fair presentation. As my character navigates her room after accidentally being shrunk by her experiment, it becomes clear that she looks up to Marie Curie, so I, too, grew to admire her. Yes, she’s a prominent woman in STEM, but she’s so much more than that. Her work on radioactivity and unstable isotopes completely changed the fields of chemistry and physics. Through a combination of grit and luck, she published the discovery of two new elements, Radon and Polonium, as well as an explanation of how radioactivity is created from an element itself rather than an external energy source. She was the first woman to receive a Nobel Prize, be a professor at the University of Paris, and entombed in the Pantheon in Paris on her own merits, among countless other firsts for females. In an artistic and sorrowful ending, she died of aplastic anemia from being exposed to radiation in her experiments. The work she did that made her so accomplished and respected was also the cause of her demise. Her accomplishments are incredible in their own right. However, the fact that she was female in a time where gender discrimination was the norm makes her accomplishments important to not only the scientific community but also women around the globe. Despite efforts to diversify medicine, there is still a significant lack of female leaders in the medical field. It’s important for medical professions to include people of many different backgrounds because it results in better patient care, as being socially aware is necessary to ensure the people are treated with the highest quality of care possible. Patients who feel heard and represented in the institution of medicine inevitably trust physicians to understand them and the context of their condition, which is justified considering the impact of social determinants of health. I hope to add the voice of a multiracial Hispanic woman in order to better represent others of this demographic. As a future doctor, I look forward to facing challenging patients with seemingly inexplicable conditions, where the reward for solving these mysteries isn’t just a feeling of accomplishment; it’s saving a life. While this is already a fulfilling career, I still have a love for the arts which I cannot betray, and an overwhelming need to share everything I know. Thus, my dream is to pursue art and STEM together. To complement my work as a physician, I also want to use art as a medium to make others just as excited about the search for knowledge and empower young people to become leaders, despite societal obstacles that they may face.

I always wanted to be first chair, but somehow I always wound up in second. I gave my all to music, yet it seemed to slap me across the face every single time. A year ago, my school did chair placement auditions, and I practiced with everything I had. Even though I was stretched thin, with an ACT coming up and finals in other classes, I had so much passion. Despite the culmination of years upon years of practicing and suffering and losing valuable time in order to invest in my musical ability, I didn’t get first chair. I understand that this is a rather minor failure. It hardly affected anything, aside from my own pride. Actually, several people have called me petty for being disappointed, some even going so far as to tell me I’m egotistical and that my poor character has caused my musical downfall. Their words hurt, but somehow not as much as the idea itself. I lost a lot of things to pursue music. The time it required meant I couldn’t learn a sport, I couldn’t join the engineering or art program, I missed family outings, I got unhealthy amounts of sleep, and I gave up the capacity to pursue any other passion. I chose to suffer for music over nearly everything, and yet I still fell short of my goals. It made me feel like all of those choices meant nothing anymore. I had wasted years worth of time and energy pursuing something that didn’t reward me for it, and I would have to come to class every single morning and be reminded of how I failed. It was the worst three months of my high school career. While school closures because of the pandemic were overall upsetting to most students, I felt I was rather lucky. I only had to be reminded of my failure for three months, and it’s uncertain whether I will ever face the consequences of this particular failure again. For once, I wanted to experience art without the baggage of rankings and superiority. Thus, I turned my focus towards acrylic painting. I drew relatively infrequently prior to this endeavor, but I had studied art for three years with academic decathlon, and I realized I wanted to explore it more. Painting rekindled my love for art and creativity, and it opened the door to different areas of visual art that I began to explore, from total abstraction to realistic representations. With painting, there weren’t leadership positions and other extrinsic rewards to force me down the single path of virtuosity. Painting gave me room to try new techniques and styles and allowed me to test the boundaries of art itself, because painting has one intrinsic reward: happiness. My mental health flourished, and it filled the creative void in my life, creating balance. Painting set my creative mind free. Since then, I’ve become quite immersed in the world of visual art. I completed online coursework in graphic design and started building a portfolio in the hopes that it could turn into a part-time job during college. I made numerous paintings, both for personal use and as gifts to family and friends. I won an academic decathlon art contest; my design will be used to promote the statewide competition in March. I’m still enrolled in band, meeting over zoom, but it’s nothing more than a class at this point. By turning my musical failure into artistic growth, I made my world a little brighter, my life a little easier, and the world a little more beautiful.

Even as a little kid, I knew I wanted to pursue science in order to become a doctor, and the opportunities to explore the field has only reinforced my choice of career path. The summer after my sophomore year, I had the chance to attend the National Youth Leadership Forum for medicine. I stayed at UCLA where we learned in-depth information about the best way to pursue different medical career paths, so I became more aware of how my actions will impact my future as a pre-med student, a medical student, and a doctor. I also shadowed a physician at Comprehensive Medical Group in Delano to understand exactly what being a doctor entails, and I fell in love with the problem-solving process, as well as the meaningful relationship that can develop between a patient and their doctor. My absolute favorite class was General Psychology at my local community college. The class felt different from any other class that I had taken. The information that we learned was directly applicable to my own life, and every chapter of the book answered questions I often didn’t realize I had. I became so excited about everything we learned and excitedly called my friends and practically recited the textbook to them; I cried when I realized our online book was a rental, not owned. However, I still feel that my high school education only provides a surface-level understanding of the sciences, and I crave to learn more.

The word passion stems from the Latin root pati which translates as suffer. As a passionate musician myself, I’ve spent countless hours trying to perfect my playing. In the months before concert band auditions, I practice for many additional hours, despite also budgeting my time studying for final exams and the December ACT. I suffer for my passion, and each time I practice I do it more intensely than the last. I failed. Despite the culmination of years of practicing and suffering and losing valuable time in order to invest in my musical ability, I failed to earn the chair I wanted. It’s an inconsequential failure, but a failure nonetheless. My disappointment stemmed from the loss of valuable time. I felt that it would be impossible to make any large commitment without betraying music, so I effectively gave up the capacity to pursue any other passion with my whole heart. I chose to suffer for music over nearly everything, yet still fell short of my goals. I felt my choices had meant nothing. That was when I understood what failure was. In spite, I continue to pursue music. I still work hard, I still try my best to improve, and I still put in my time. I still choose music. I was forced to reflect on how I define myself. I’d always considered my identity and my worth to be based on my accolades, thinking that I was only special because I was one of the best clarinet players, or that my friends only remember me because I was “the smart one” who always pursued every academic opportunity. I had to let go of this mindset because I was only setting myself up for disaster. However, deconstructing and rebuilding my relationship with success and failure created a problem. If I’m not defined by my successes, then what does define me? I ultimately realized that my experiences, whether they are successes or failures, combine holistically as I continuously become a more wise and experienced person.

This photo shows me with three of my own paintings. When the COVID-19 lockdown first began, I became determined to continue to accomplish new goals, even though my opportunities became limited. Thus, I taught myself to paint. It was difficult to begin, and I created many failed paintings before I could create ones that brought me joy. I continued, despite facing failure after failure, and ultimately was able to paint the ones pictured.

She was in the middle of throwing up into a bag when I hit the curb with her car on the way home after donating blood. We went together a week earlier, but her hemoglobin level was 10.5 g/dl and my heart rate was 109 bpm. Sad we couldn't donate, we shared some pizza and had deep talks about the nature of humanity, and ultimately resolved to try again next week. This time, her hemoglobin level was 12.5 g/dl and my heart rate was 100 bpm — both just barely good enough to pass. We donated and shared another pizza, but she started blacking out and getting sick. I'm a terrible driver, that's why we took her car, but clearly she wasn't in any shape to drive. A few sharp turns, hard stops, and curb collisions later, I got her home. She had every right to be upset. I probably put six years' worth of wear and tear on her car to drive three miles to her house, yet she wasn't angry at all. That's just how best friends are. I can truthfully say without any doubt that I would not be the person that I am today without her. We've been through so much together over the past ten years. We joined nearly every club together, we enrolled in concurrent community college classes together, we founded a (failed) club together, and we even started our college applications together. Beyond academics, we've navigated mental health and self-care together, we discuss with each other what to do when we're upset with our parents, and above all, we make sense of this world together. I've never met someone who gets me like she does. I'm thankful that I not only don't have to figure out life alone but also that I have such a good, wholesome, loyal friend to always have by my side.

Our entire outreach team burst out into tears over a box of books. One of our volunteers is a middle school teacher, and her school was cleaning out boxes of old library books. She wanted to bring them on Sunday morning when we usually serve muffins and oatmeal to the people of Beardsley. A single mom came to our event that day with her four children, and like everyone else on Beardsley, they had no money for "extras." Their whole budget was food and rent. She told us about how she prayed last night for books for her dyslexic son because he had dreams of going to college. We encouraged her to take all the books she wanted, and our team was floored by the impeccable timing. That was the only morning that we had ever had books to give. Outreach through Olive Knolls Church seeks to fulfill the needs of the less fortunate in an underserved area, called Beardsley. I assembled 100 bags of breakfast foods to be handed out weekly and occasionally cooked enchiladas or lasagna to provide a hot, home-cooked meal. While satiating their hunger was the primary goal, our other goal was to form relationships with them to support them emotionally. The stigma against the homeless, I learned, is immeasurably harmful to them. They are all normal people, with needs and problems and emotions. It may seem like an easy concept to grasp, but as a person from a privileged household, it’s not something I knew right away. This is why the outreach program is so important, as it truly aims to teach that everyone deserves compassion and that everyone has the power to show that compassion to others. A lot of the people living in Beardsley grew up in poverty and have only ever known that kind of life, but there are also people in Beardsley who were on track to be successful and made a mistake. At certain events, my brother and sister also came to help. They would carry gift baskets to people’s doors and my brother liked to knock and say, “Hi, it’s your friends from Olive Knolls.” By showing them what service in Beardsley looks like, I actively teach them the importance of helping others, even if they still don’t fully grasp the idea. Passion is an interesting word. It’s come to connote doing something you enjoy, but its root word, pati-, actually means pain. To say that one is “passionate” about accomplishing something is to say that they would be willing to suffer for that goal. On multiple occasions, I cooked trays of enchiladas. Some were simply for my family; it was dinner. However, I would often make multiple trays of extra enchiladas for our friends who live in Beardsley. Enchiladas aren’t exactly the easiest meal to throw together. All of the ingredients require preparation: the chicken must be cooked and seasoned, the sauce must be heated, and the tortillas need to be made flexible. On top of that, every individual enchilada needs to be filled and rolled. It would make more logistical sense to prepare something simpler, but I was passionate about delivering enchiladas. I wanted them to enjoy the same standard and quality of food that my family enjoys, so I wanted to invest the extra time and extra effort to accomplish this. It’s also worth noting that Beardsley is legitimately a scary place. Beardsley is an underserved, low-income area that struggles with drugs and addictions. When people believe they’re truly alone and they don’t have their needs fulfilled, they have the opportunity to enter a state of mind where they will do anything they can to satisfy their needs. While knowing this made me nervous, I came to understand that as long as I was cautious there was no reason to believe harm would come to me. We were providing them food, but we also wanted to offer them compassion to show them that they aren’t alone. It was also necessary that our team stayed together. Working in groups gives us strength; we understand that none of us could accomplish such herculean tasks alone. It was also basic safety because working in groups increases our physical strength as well so that we can each protect each other. Being safe by working together allowed us to place our focus on fulfilling the needs of the people. With the program’s emphasis on building relationships, the inhabitants of Beardsley now have a support system that encourages them to take steps towards leading a more successful life. Our presence in the area gave them hope again. Unlike other programs, Olive Knolls Outreach is consistent and persistent in our dedication to offer help. We don’t show up once, give them a present, and leave for a year. Our people are on the ground several days out of the week. The people of Beardsley have someone that they can count on. This scholarship would fund my pre-med education so that I can one day become a specialized physician. With that kind of salary, I would be able to give so much more to the program. The $2000 scholarship is an investment in my education that would double in value after I work for just one year (yes, I did some math on it: this would pay for .86% of my undergraduate education assuming I go to the most expensive school on my list, and .86% of a starting salary is $4000). That, still, is a minimum return value. I also have dreams of a side job, writing science books for kids. Why science books for kids? Education is the key to opportunity — it's the fastest way for the kids in Beardsley to get out of there. The single mother from the earlier story showed me that. If I can get those kids excited about learning, they'll want to go to college. I want to change their lives, and I think that multiplies the return value on the $2000 investment by infinity.