My best friend’s name is Tyler. It’s wild how life works sometimes. We went to the same high school, but she was a year below me, and we never even spoke a word to each other. Can you believe that? We shared the same halls, saw the same faces, but our worlds just didn’t collide. Fast forward a few years after graduation, and we both ended up working at the same movie theater. The universe has a funny way of bringing people together. Our first real conversation happened at a party one of our co-workers threw. Picture this: a chaotic house, music blaring, and Tyler stumbling around frantically looking for our co-worker, AKA her roommate. “Do you know where Cole is?” she asked me, eyes wide and a little desperate. “No, I hav—” I started to say, but she was already off, determined to find Cole to change the music because it wasn’t “dancy enough.” That was Tyler, nonchalant yet so outgoing, a whirlwind of energy. I had always seen her around work, she seemed like fun with the way she made people around her laugh, but that night was the first time I truly noticed her. Little did I know she’d soon become a central character in my life. It wasn’t until I started dating her roommate that Tyler really became a regular in my world. Slowly but surely, she went from being someone I saw at parties to the person I could tell all my deepest, darkest secrets. No judgment, just pure, honest friendship. Our bond deepened during the pandemic after quarantine hit me hard. My relationship with her roommate ended disastrously, leaving me isolated and heartbroken. I had spent so much time focused on that relationship that I had neglected my other friendships, leaving me with an excruciating sense of loneliness. But then, something magical happened. Tyler, despite being closer to her now ex-roommate, started reaching out to me. It felt like a guardian angel had sent her to check up on me. She’d text regularly, asking how I was, suggesting new hobbies, and sharing hilarious TikToks to lift my spirits. Our connection grew stronger, and soon we were inseparable. Movie nights, sleepovers, you name it. While she may not know it, Tyler pulled me out of a dark place and gave me a reason to smile again. Her presence was my lifeline, and I’m endlessly grateful for her friendship. Now, we live in different states, and while we don’t see each other as often, we always remember each other’s birthdays, make plans to visit, and still share our favorite TikToks. Tyler and I may have only known each other for a few years, but when we’re in town together and we talk and laugh still like we’ve never spent a day apart, I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. Tyler is one of the most important people in my life, and I can’t imagine a world without her. She’s funny, brutally honest yet kind, a great listener, and, most importantly, my best friend. I’m proud to have Tyler in my life, and I can’t wait for all the adventures we’ll have once we graduate.

As of 2021, only 22 percent of Latino adults aged 25 and over in California have earned an associate's degree or higher, according to Excelencia in Education. Despite some improvement over the past decade, the graduation rate within my community remains a significant issue. Considering that nearly half of California's population is Latino or Hispanic, the disparity in higher education rates is striking. As a first-generation college student from immigrant parents, I have unique insights into this issue. Growing up, I rarely saw my parents due to them working multiple jobs. By middle school, all my siblings had moved out, and my mother, recovering from a work accident, spent most of her time with me. She often shared stories of her youth, including how she dropped out of high school in Mexico to support her siblings' education. Her selflessness and determination made her my biggest role model and inspired me to pursue a bachelor's degree for a successful future. Upon graduating high school, my father left, and I had to care for my mom and manage the house. Attending a four-year university was not financially feasible, so I enrolled in community college while working to afford tuition and the mortgage. Juggling these responsibilities proved overwhelming, and I eventually had to drop out to support my mom. When the pandemic struck, I managed to enroll in an audio engineering certificate program with the help of government stimulus checks. Despite achieving this certificate, I was laid off after the SAG-AFTRA strike and faced limited job opportunities. My mom’s words, "Mijo, échale muchas ganas en la escuela. Yo quiero que florezcan ustedes," echoed in my mind, encouraging me to persevere. I learned that no matter how many times life hits you hard, you have to get back up and keep going. This is why, at 24, I am returning to college to achieve what I set out for a long time ago: to receive my bachelor’s in computer science and possibly even my master’s. The legacy of Jose Prado deeply inspires me because it aligns with my mother's dream of helping others achieve a better future through education. I understand the determination and resilience required for first-generation Hispanic parents to guide their children towards success. Statistics may seem intimidating, but they don't capture our community's spirit and potential. I believe one reason for low higher education rates in my community is the hindrance of cost. Many come from underprivileged backgrounds and cannot afford university, leading to hesitation when faced with high tuition fees. I aim to bridge this gap by making higher education more affordable and accessible. I want to be another voice for Jose’s message, contributing to my community by using my education to aid in open-source projects like FreeCodeCamp, which aims to offer a free online bachelor’s degree in computer science for those who can’t afford or don’t have access to higher education. If I were fortunate enough to establish a scholarship, it would aid returning underprivileged college students. I would look for someone who values education and understands its impact, hoping they’d be inspired to pass it forward and help their community access education. Having lived without a degree, I now fully grasp my mother’s words about the importance of education. I see how my peers with degrees lead more stable lives, enjoying healthy work-life balances, livable wages, and lasting friendships from their university days. Such opportunities seem nearly impossible to achieve without higher education, and everyone deserves that chance. Education can transform lives, and I am committed to using mine to make a positive impact on my community.