My journey into the world of computer science and information technology began out of necessity, but it has evolved into a passion that now drives my academic and professional goals. As a single father and a former police sergeant with over two decades of service, I’ve spent most of my adult life working two full-time jobs—one in law enforcement and one in IT—to provide for my daughter. These experiences gave me a deep appreciation for the power of technology to solve problems, streamline operations, and protect communities. What started as a practical career move quickly became something I truly loved, and now, in my late 40s, I am pursuing a formal education in the field to fully realize my potential. Currently, I’m on track to complete my Bachelor of Science in Information Technology by December 2025. My goal is to immediately continue into a Master of Science program in Information and Communication Sciences starting in Spring 2026. My dream job is to become a Chief Information Officer (CIO), where I can lead innovation, create meaningful change through strategic technology use, and help organizations succeed in a digital world. I don’t just want to maintain systems—I want to build cultures of innovation and resilience within the companies I serve. What draws me most to this scholarship is the story of Chris Jackson. I relate deeply to his struggles to afford education and his dedication to both his career and his family. Like Chris, I strive to be fully present for those around me, especially my daughter, while pursuing a path that will help others. Balancing work, school, and fatherhood isn’t easy, but the sacrifices are worth it when I think about the example I’m setting and the future I’m working to build. I believe I’m a strong candidate for this scholarship because of the determination and perspective I bring. I’m not just pursuing this degree for myself—I'm doing it to create a better life for my daughter and to make a greater impact in my community. I’ve already had the honor of serving the public in one form, and now I aim to do so in another: by leading with integrity and advancing technology in ways that benefit real people. This scholarship would alleviate some of the financial burden associated with returning to school later in life, enabling me to focus more fully on my studies and accelerate my path to leadership in the field of technology. Thank you for considering my application. I hope to honor Chris Jackson’s legacy by using my education to serve others, drive innovation, and make a lasting impact, just as he did.

From the moment I enrolled in my university’s Information Technology program, I knew I had found a field that aligned with my interests, challenged my mind, and gave me purpose. What makes technology especially meaningful to me is its capacity to solve real-world problems and create tools that make people’s lives easier, safer, and more efficient. One project I’m especially proud of is a custom-built asset-tracking dashboard I developed at my current job as Senior Director of IT Infrastructure and Information Security for a logistics company. Not only was this project technically challenging, but it reminded me why I love working in technology: every line of code, every design decision, and every bit of collaboration was a step toward real-world impact. The project started as a conversation with operations about inefficiencies and gaps in visibility across multiple warehouses. Inventory data was delayed or inaccurate, affecting routing decisions and customer satisfaction. I proposed developing a centralized dashboard that would pull real-time data from various systems and display the status of critical hardware assets across our facilities. I designed the layout, integrated APIs from our inventory and ticketing systems, and worked closely with end users to ensure the interface was intuitive and useful. By the end of the rollout, we reduced asset search time by over 50%, improved accountability, and empowered our staff with faster insights. But more than the technical wins, this project reminded me of the human side of tech. I mentored junior team members throughout development, helping them gain confidence in scripting and user interface design. I coordinated with non-technical staff to gather feedback and iterate. Seeing people light up when they realized that tech could actually make their jobs easier was deeply fulfilling. To me, that’s what technology should do—amplify human potential. Working in technology inspires me because it’s a space where lifelong learning is essential. It’s not enough to master a skill once—you have to keep pushing, adapting, and staying curious. As someone who returned to college later in life after serving 20 years as a police officer, I see tech as the ultimate meritocracy. What matters isn’t your age, your background, or your history—it’s your ability to solve problems, communicate ideas, and build solutions that work. That mindset motivates me every day, whether I’m troubleshooting a network issue, working on a digital transformation plan, or pursuing my Bachelor’s in Information Technology with plans to enter a graduate program in Information and Communication Sciences. Chadwick D. McNab’s legacy as a mentor and champion of growth resonates with me deeply. Like him, I believe in empowering others, continuously improving, and never settling for “good enough.” The tools we create, the systems we architect, and the teams we uplift—all of it contributes to a better, more connected world. As I continue my studies and expand my knowledge in cybersecurity, infrastructure, and AI integration, I remain driven by the desire to use my skills to help others and to inspire the next generation of IT professionals the way others once inspired me. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial challenges of balancing full-time work and part-time study, but it would also affirm that people like me—mid-career students with a passion for tech and a heart for service—belong in this field. I am deeply committed to making the most of this opportunity and to continuing a career that blends innovation with impact, just as Chadwick D. McNab did.

Selflessness is often defined not by dramatic moments but by quiet, consistent acts of compassion. It’s about seeing someone in need and deciding to act—not for recognition, but because it's the right thing to do. As someone who served as a police officer for two decades and is now pursuing a degree later in life, I’ve come to understand that the most meaningful impact we have on the world comes from the relationships we build and the small ways we show up for others. One of the most formative examples of selflessness in my life came during my time as a police officer. I worked in a community where homelessness was a visible and growing issue. Every day, I encountered individuals facing unimaginable challenges—addiction, mental illness, poverty, and isolation. Amid the pressure and demands of law enforcement, I felt a responsibility to do more than just enforce the law; I wanted to show the people in my community that someone still saw them as human beings. So once a week, during my lunch break, I would quietly order a second meal—nothing fancy, just a hot sandwich, chips, and a drink—and drive to an area where I knew a particular homeless man stayed. I never asked for his story. I never made it a spectacle. I would simply hand him the lunch, say hello, and share a few words. Sometimes he’d smile and thank me, other times he’d just nod—but every time, I knew it mattered. It was a simple gesture, but I saw how much it meant to him to be acknowledged, to be treated with dignity. That small routine became a touchstone for me. It reminded me that while I wore a uniform and held a position of authority, my most important job was to be a decent human being. It wasn’t about solving homelessness or changing the world overnight—it was about doing what I could, when I could, for someone who had less. That weekly act helped me stay grounded, especially in a career that could be emotionally taxing and morally complex. It was my way of honoring the humanity in someone society had long ignored. Now, as a middle-aged college student studying Information Technology, I bring that same spirit of selflessness and service to my new chapter. I’m pursuing this degree to continue making a difference—this time by helping bridge the digital divide and increasing access to technology in underserved communities. I want to use my skills to build tools and systems that empower others, particularly those who have been left behind by economic or educational barriers. Receiving the Michael Rudometkin Memorial Scholarship would be deeply meaningful. Michael’s legacy—of kindness, compassion, and community—resonates strongly with me. Like him, I believe that life is about doing what makes us happy and fulfilled, and most importantly, helping others along the way. We need more people in this world who care, who listen, and who are willing to act, even in small, quiet ways. I don’t consider myself extraordinary. But I do believe in showing up—for my family, my community, and my future. Whether in uniform or in a classroom, I try to lead with integrity and empathy. My hope is that in continuing my education, I can serve in new ways—ways that honor both the people I've helped and those who’ve inspired me, like Michael Rudometkin.

The first time I heard Chappell Roan’s music, it wasn’t just a song—it was a moment. I was driving home late at night after a long day, exhausted from trying to balance work, school, and raising my teenage daughter. I randomly queued up “Pink Pony Club,” and as the chorus exploded with color and freedom, I felt something inside me shift. Her music gave me permission to feel again, to dream, and to embrace all the parts of myself I had quietly put away while trying to be strong for everyone else. That night, I didn’t just become a fan—I became a believer. What Chappell Roan does so beautifully is blend unapologetic storytelling with deep vulnerability. “Good Hurt,” for example, speaks to the quiet emotional battles we fight in toxic relationships. It mirrored past struggles in my own life, and her courage to sing those truths helped me reflect on how far I’ve come. It’s like she took the words out of my chest and gave them melody. She reminds me that healing isn’t always pretty, but it’s always worth it. As a single dad returning to college in his 40s, I’ve had moments where I’ve felt out of place, like I missed the chance to chase my dreams. But Chappell’s bold individuality and authenticity make me feel seen. She’s not afraid to be radically herself—to be emotional, messy, loud, proud, and wildly creative—and that message of self-acceptance speaks volumes to someone like me, who has spent much of life trying to “fit in” for the sake of survival. Supporting her career isn’t just about loving her music. It’s about standing behind an artist who is redefining what it means to be unapologetically yourself in a world that often wants you to tone it down. I’ve introduced Chappell’s music to my daughter, and it’s become something we connect over. Watching her fall in love with Chappell’s empowering messages reminds me how important representation is. Chappell shows my daughter—and me—that you can be both strong and soft, bold and kind, and that you never have to shrink to make others comfortable. That’s a legacy worth supporting. Even beyond the music, Chappell’s stage presence and activism are unmatched. She creates inclusive spaces where people feel free to be who they are. She uses her platform to amplify queer voices, uplift marginalized communities, and speak on issues that matter. In a world full of manufactured personas, she’s the real deal. Supporting Chappell Roan’s career isn’t just a matter of enjoying good music—it’s about standing with someone who stands for something. She’s helped me reclaim pieces of myself I didn’t even realize I had lost. She’s given me the courage to dream again, even in midlife. And she’s shown my daughter the kind of woman she can look up to: fierce, fearless, and full of heart. Whether she’s belting out an anthem of liberation or softly sharing her scars, Chappell Roan creates art that resonates on a soul level. That’s why I support her career, and why I’m proud to call myself a superfan.

One lyric from Charli XCX’s album brat that has echoed in my mind ever since I first heard it is: “I think about it all the time, that I might run out of time.” From the song “I think about it all the time,” this line hit me like a lightning bolt. It’s rare that a piece of music captures exactly what you’ve been feeling, especially in a time of transition, but that’s what Charli did for me. This track, and this lyric in particular, has served as both a reflection of my current fears and a push to keep moving forward. As a single father returning to college in my 40s after a long absence, I often feel I’ve missed my window. That my goals—academic, personal, even emotional—were meant to be chased in my 20s, not now. But Charli’s voice trembling through that lyric reminded me I’m not alone in that anxiety. Whether you’re a global pop star or a middle-aged dad juggling parenting, school, and work, time weighs heavily on all of us. Hearing that vulnerability in brat, tucked inside such a bold, fearless album, reminded me that self-doubt doesn’t negate ambition. It often sharpens it. Charli’s music has always been about sonically, emotionally, and personally pushing boundaries. But brat in particular feels like a diary disguised as a synth-pop record. It’s raw and confident, insecure and commanding, all at once. “I think about it all the time” might not be one of the flashiest tracks on the album, but for me, it’s the most emotionally resonant. The song speaks to the unspoken parts of adulthood—the weight of time, the pressure to do more, and the quiet fear that maybe you’re too late to catch up. But in voicing that fear, Charli empowers listeners to face it, process it, and act anyway. Charli’s music has been a lifeline this past year when I’ve felt overwhelmed. Whether studying late into the night after tucking my daughter into bed or driving to campus, replaying her songs to shake off self-doubt, her music gives me energy. It’s not just the sound—it’s the spirit. Brat is not an album for people with perfect lives. It’s for those still figuring it out, rebuilding, questioning, and daring to believe we’re not done yet. Beyond emotional resonance, “I think about it all the time” has impacted how I move through my days. I’ve learned to reframe the lyrics’ anxiety into motivation. I might run out of time, yes, but I haven’t yet. I’m still here, I’m still trying, I’m still growing, and that’s what matters. Charli XCX’s music isn’t just entertainment to me. It’s a mirror. It’s a flashlight. It’s a shot of courage when I feel like I’m out of chances. Among many brilliant ones on Brat, that one line has stuck with me and reminded me to make every moment count. It’s helped me show up as a better father, a better student, and a more fearless version of myself. So yes, I think about it all the time. But instead of letting that thought haunt me, I let it move me. And that shift—thanks to Charli—is why her song “I think about it all the time” is my favorite from Brat, and why it means so much to me this year.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always admired athletes who showed grit and heart, but no one embodies those qualities for me more than wrestler Tamyra Mensah-Stock. Watching her win gold at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics wasn’t just about witnessing history—it was about seeing someone who radiated joy, determination, and deep pride in her country and sport. As a middle-aged father returning to college after decades away, I find her story of perseverance and positivity to be incredibly motivating. Tamyra’s journey wasn’t an easy one. From the loss of her father after a wrestling meet in high school to funding her own Olympic dreams by selling meat from a food truck, she never gave up. Her path reminds me of my own in a lot of ways. Life didn’t go as planned for me either. I joined the workforce early to support my family, took a long break from education, and now, as a full-time IT professional and single father of a teenage daughter, I’ve returned to college to finally pursue my degree. Watching Tamyra succeed against the odds reminded me that it's never too late to rise, to push forward, and to embrace the fire that still burns inside. Tamyra is also a role model because she breaks molds. As the first Black woman to win Olympic wrestling gold for the U.S., she’s a trailblazer who lifts others up with her infectious enthusiasm. She celebrates her roots, her faith, and her identity unapologetically—something I hope to pass on to my daughter as she begins her own journey toward adulthood. We watched her match together, and I told my daughter, “This is what perseverance looks like.” Tamyra became more than an athlete to us—she became a symbol of what it means to keep showing up, no matter the struggle. What truly sets Tamyra apart is the grace she carries through it all. She speaks with humility, laughs freely, and smiles in victory with the same heart she wrestled with on the mat. That balance of fierce competitiveness and joyful humanity is what inspires me the most. In my own journey—balancing work, fatherhood, and college—I try to bring the same energy. I may not be aiming for gold on the mat, but every paper I submit, every course I complete, and every late night I spend studying is my own version of a medal round. In cheering for Tamyra Mensah-Stock, I’m not just applauding athletic excellence. I’m standing with someone who reminds us all that obstacles are meant to be overcome, that joy and success can coexist, and that no dream—no matter how long it's been delayed—is ever out of reach.

As a devoted fan of The Bear, the show has captured my heart with its raw emotion, relentless tension, and deeply human characters. From the chaos of the kitchen to the quiet struggles each character faces in their personal lives, The Bear has been more than a TV show—it’s been an emotional journey. For me, the perfect ending wouldn’t tie everything up in a neat bow but would instead celebrate the growth each character has fought for while keeping true to the authenticity that makes the series so powerful. In my perfect ending, the restaurant “The Bear” finally earns its first Michelin star. But it doesn’t come easily. The team is pushed to their limits, tensions rise, and personal sacrifices are made. Carmy, who has wrestled with self-doubt and perfectionism from the very beginning, finally realizes that his worth isn’t tied solely to culinary accolades. While the Michelin star is an incredible achievement, Carmy’s true growth comes when he begins to trust others and let go of the obsession that has isolated him for so long. He rekindles relationships he previously pushed away—especially with Sydney and Richie—and even opens the door to personal healing and peace. Sydney becomes a rising star in the culinary world in her own right. She continues to evolve as a chef, gaining confidence and finding her voice. In the final season, she launches her own restaurant, with mentorship and encouragement from Carmy, who now supports her not as a boss but as a friend and peer. Her restaurant becomes a beacon for diversity and inclusion in the industry, a space where innovation and respect are core values. Her success represents not only professional triumph but a reclaiming of space in a field that often overlooks voices like hers. Richie, who arguably has one of the most profound arcs in the series, continues his transformation from hot-headed skeptic to a mature and grounded manager. In the end, Richie takes over day-to-day operations at “The Bear,” bringing a balance of tradition, loyalty, and newfound purpose. His relationship with his daughter strengthens, and he becomes a role model—not by being flashy or perfect, but by showing up, learning, and growing. Tina and Ebra find stability in their roles and emerge as leaders within the team. Tina begins to mentor new kitchen staff, embracing the maternal role she once resisted, and Ebra finds his rhythm in the new modern kitchen environment. They symbolize resilience and adaptation—proof that change is possible at any age. The restaurant itself becomes more than a place to eat—it becomes a community hub, a symbol of second chances and collective effort. It’s a space where people from all walks of life feel welcome, respected, and nourished in more ways than one. In the final episode, there is no over-the-top drama or explosive event—just a quiet, fulfilling moment. The kitchen is buzzing, the team is working in harmony, and guests fill the dining room with laughter and conversation. The camera pans across each character, capturing a moment of peace, purpose, and connection. A satisfied smile from Carmy as he looks around the kitchen says it all—not every wound is healed, not every problem solved, but they’ve made something beautiful together. This ending would satisfy me as a fan because it honors the heart of The Bear: that healing is messy, growth is nonlinear, and family—chosen or otherwise—is built through shared struggle, mutual respect, and resilience. It’s not about perfection; it’s about progress. That’s what makes The Bear so real, and that’s the story I would want it to end with.

Returning to college after a significant absence is not a decision I made lightly. As a middle-aged student, I represent a demographic often overlooked in conversations about underrepresented minorities in education—those who step back into the classroom after years or even decades away. My journey into the field of Information Technology has been shaped not only by passion, but also by necessity, resilience, and a deep-rooted desire to prove to my daughter—and to myself—that it’s never too late to pursue your dreams. Growing up, college wasn’t part of my family’s narrative. The focus was survival, not schooling. So, like many in my position, I entered the workforce young and prioritized stability over ambition. I eventually built a career in public service, serving as a police officer for two decades. While I was proud of the work I did, I always had a pull toward technology—tinkering with systems, troubleshooting software, and finding new ways to use tech to solve problems. I never imagined I’d return to school to formalize that interest, but life has a way of nudging us forward. The spark that pushed me to finally pursue Information Technology came from two places: watching the industry evolve rapidly around me, and wanting to set an example for my teenage daughter. Technology is the foundation of the modern world—it’s not just a career path, it’s the infrastructure of progress. From cybersecurity and cloud services to AI and data analytics, the field is constantly growing, and I knew that with my discipline and life experience, I could contribute meaningfully to it. I wanted my daughter to see that ambition doesn’t expire with age, and that embracing education is always a worthwhile investment. One of the most fascinating aspects of IT is its intersection with problem-solving and critical thinking. I’ve found myself drawn especially to cybersecurity and infrastructure design. In my coursework, I’ve been able to apply real-world logic and leadership skills gained from my past career to technical challenges in programming and systems analysis. The thrill of learning how to secure networks, identify vulnerabilities, and ensure systems operate efficiently has made this return to education feel like the beginning of a brand-new chapter, not just the continuation of an old one. Though I’m not part of a traditional IT club, I’ve contributed to group projects and collaborated with classmates in ways that have allowed me to mentor younger students. Being the “nontraditional student” in the room has helped me offer a unique perspective during team assignments, often bridging communication gaps and encouraging structure within the group. It’s a role I embrace fully. I believe that leadership and knowledge-sharing are as vital in IT as technical proficiency. Financially, going back to school as an adult is challenging. Unlike many younger students, I don’t have the safety net of parental support. I juggle work, parenting, and classes—all while planning for the future. Scholarships like this one don’t just relieve financial stress; they validate the hard work and commitment of students like me who’ve taken an unconventional path to education. Technology has the power to change lives, communities, and the future. My goal is to complete my IT degree and transition into a leadership role in infrastructure and security, ideally within the logistics or public service sectors. I want to continue being part of solutions that make systems safer, more efficient, and more accessible. Most of all, I want to show my daughter—and others like her—that even when life takes unexpected detours, the courage to return and pursue what excites you is what makes you truly unstoppable.

I’m a lifelong fan of LeBron James—not just for what he’s accomplished on the basketball court, but for who he is off of it. As a single father raising a teenage daughter while working full time and going back to college as a first-generation student, I find deep inspiration in LeBron’s journey, resilience, and commitment to excellence in every area of life. Watching him throughout my daughter’s life has given us a shared figure to admire, and his story continues to fuel my own motivation to push forward, no matter the odds. LeBron James is the greatest basketball player of all time, not just because of the records he’s broken or the championships he’s won, but because of his consistency, leadership, and the positive impact he’s made on and off the court. From the very beginning, LeBron’s path was marked with pressure and expectation. He didn’t just meet those expectations—he shattered them. He has redefined longevity in the NBA, playing at an elite level well into his late 30s, and now into his 40s, proving that greatness isn't a moment—it's a mindset and a lifetime of discipline. But what makes LeBron’s legacy even more powerful to me is his commitment to uplifting others. The I PROMISE School he opened in his hometown of Akron, Ohio is just one example of his dedication to education and social impact. That resonates deeply with me, as someone working hard to create a better future for my daughter by pursuing my degree. I didn’t come from a family where college was the norm—so I’m forging a path while carrying responsibilities at home, at work, and in school. In that way, I see a reflection of LeBron’s ability to juggle the immense demands of his life while still showing up for his family and community. My daughter and I bond over LeBron highlights, his interviews, and even the occasional debate over who’s better—LeBron or Jordan. For me, it’s not a hard decision. LeBron represents a modern athlete who understands the weight of influence and chooses to use it wisely. He leads with intention. He mentors. He listens. And most of all, he never quits—even when the media, fans, or even his body might tell him to slow down. That’s a lesson I try to live by and pass on to my daughter. In a time when many athletes are known only for their performance, LeBron James stands out for his character. He’s shown us that greatness is about more than stats—it’s about legacy. He’s shown us that it’s possible to excel in your career while staying grounded, supporting your loved ones, and giving back to your community. That’s the version of greatness I’m striving for. Being a fan of LeBron James has taught me that challenges don’t define you—your response to them does. Whether it's fighting through fatigue during a finals game or balancing family, school, and work responsibilities like I do every day, we’re both in the arena, doing what it takes to move forward. That’s why LeBron is the GOAT in my book—not just the greatest basketball player, but the greatest example of what dedication, resilience, and leadership can achieve.

As a single father raising a teenage daughter, I never expected to become a Billie Eilish fan. But through her music, my daughter and I found common ground, and I found an emotional language that helped me better understand both my own experiences and my daughter’s journey. Billie’s music doesn’t just appeal to one generation—it bridges them. Her lyrics speak to feelings that are often hard to articulate: alienation, pressure, fear, and defiance. Out of her entire catalog, three songs in particular—“Everything I Wanted,” “Your Power,” and “Happier Than Ever”—resonate with me on a deeply personal level because they reflect the struggles I’ve lived through, the protection I want to give my daughter, and the growth I’ve been fighting for in my own life. “Everything I Wanted” stopped me in my tracks the first time I heard it. As someone who spent two decades as a police officer, constantly navigating stress, trauma, and the expectation to be emotionally invulnerable, I never made much room for mental health conversations. But this song cracked through that exterior. Billie’s honesty about feeling overwhelmed even while achieving success reminded me of the moments in my own life when I was juggling work, school, and fatherhood and still felt like I was failing. It reminded me that it's okay to feel those emotions—and more importantly, that it's okay to say them out loud. That vulnerability has brought my daughter and me closer. We’ve had late-night talks sparked by that song that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. “Your Power” resonates because it speaks to a darker but crucial truth about the world my daughter is growing up in. The lyrics touch on the abuse of power and the importance of safeguarding one’s boundaries. As a father, I want to protect her from everything—but I know I can’t. What I can do is help her recognize manipulation, speak up for herself, and know her worth. This song gave us a powerful conversation starter. It didn’t just create a moment of connection; it helped me reinforce her voice and autonomy in a world that sometimes tries to take those away from young women. Finally, “Happier Than Ever” speaks to a shift I’ve made in my own life. After leaving law enforcement, returning to college in my late 40s, and working full-time in IT while raising a teenager, I’ve had to let go of people and mindsets that didn’t serve me. The raw emotion and release in that song echo the journey I’ve taken in learning to prioritize my well-being, set boundaries, and fight for a future I actually want. It’s not just a breakup song—it’s a liberation anthem. It’s about reclaiming your voice, something I’ve encouraged in my daughter and had to rediscover in myself. Billie Eilish’s music has done more than just entertain—it’s been a tool for connection, healing, and empowerment in my household. These songs remind me that no matter your age, background, or burdens, it’s possible to grow, to open up, and to thrive. Being a fan of Billie Eilish isn’t just about the music—it’s about believing that even the quietest voice has power. And thanks to her, both my daughter and I are learning to use ours.

Being the first in my family to earn a college degree is more than a personal milestone—it is a symbol of transformation. It represents breaking a long-standing cycle where higher education felt out of reach, almost like an abstract dream rather than a realistic option. For me, becoming a first-generation college student is about reclaiming a future I wasn’t sure I was allowed to pursue. It’s about proving that dedication, resilience, and sacrifice can rewrite the narrative—not just for myself, but for my daughter and the generations that follow. As a full-time Information Technology professional and a single father, the road to college was never straightforward. I spent over two decades serving my community as a police sergeant, while simultaneously raising my daughter and working an IT career to provide stability and a future for her. Life demanded that I put others first for a long time—but I never stopped believing that I could return to school and complete what I started. In Fall 2025, I will graduate with my Bachelor of Science in Information Technology, and in Spring 2026, I will begin working toward my Master’s degree in Information and Communication Sciences. I chose to pursue a career in technology because it’s a field driven by innovation, impact, and constant evolution—qualities I strive to embody. I’ve always been fascinated by how systems work, how information flows securely, and how thoughtful infrastructure can empower organizations to operate more effectively. But my vision extends beyond solving technical problems. I want to lead. I want to become a Chief Information Officer (CIO) who not only guides technological strategies but also champions inclusivity, mentorship, and responsible innovation. My long-term goals are rooted in service—both to the companies I work for and to the communities I’m part of. I want to build resilient IT environments that allow businesses to grow, while also mentoring young professionals from underrepresented or nontraditional backgrounds. I want to create internship pipelines, offer career guidance, and support programs that make technology accessible to everyone—especially to students who, like me, never had someone to walk them through FAFSA forms or explain what graduate school was. In this way, I hope to become not just a leader, but a bridge—connecting people to opportunities they didn’t know they could reach. My daughter is the heartbeat of everything I do. She’s watched me study at the kitchen table, work late nights, and press forward even when exhausted. She sees me not only as her dad, but as someone who never gave up. That’s what this degree means. It’s not just a credential—it’s a message. It says that no matter your starting point, you can rise. It says that if one person takes the leap, others will follow. This scholarship would help me carry that message forward. It would relieve some of the financial pressure that comes with trying to fund education while supporting a family and managing a full-time career. More importantly, it would serve as encouragement—a signal that my efforts matter, and that people believe in students like me who are forging new paths through sheer will and hard work. To be the first means to build the road as you walk it. I intend to build one strong enough for others to follow.

I love math because it gives structure to uncertainty, logic to chaos, and confidence to doubt. While some see math as just numbers and formulas, I see it as a language—one that can describe the physical world, solve real-world problems, and even power the future. Math is more than a subject to me; it’s a mindset—one that has helped me navigate life, career, and education. As a full-time IT professional and a senior pursuing my bachelor’s in Information Technology, math has been essential in everything I do. Whether I’m troubleshooting a system, working through data analytics, or planning capacity for a network, mathematical thinking is behind every decision. It sharpens my reasoning and helps me break problems down into manageable parts, something I rely on daily in my field. But my love for math goes back further than my career. Growing up, I always appreciated how math gave me a sense of control. No matter how unpredictable life became, I could count on math to follow the rules. It’s the one place where things make sense if you work through them step by step. That reliability, especially for someone like me who’s juggled work, parenthood, and education, is more than comforting—it’s empowering. Now, as a single father to a teenage daughter, I see math through a new lens. I use it to teach her more than arithmetic—I use it to teach her problem-solving, discipline, and perseverance. Watching her build the same confidence I once found through math reinforces why I love it even more. It’s a gift I get to pass on, not just as a parent but as a mentor and example. Math has opened doors for me—from advancing in a technology career to preparing for graduate school. It’s helped me become not only a better professional but a better thinker. It’s allowed me to imagine a future where I can lead others, innovate responsibly, and teach the next generation that math isn’t just useful—it’s powerful. In a world filled with challenges, math remains a tool for clarity and progress.

Why Calculus Is Essential to STEM Innovation Calculus is more than just a challenging math subject—it is the foundation upon which much of the modern STEM world is built. From designing secure networks and analyzing algorithms in computer science to optimizing complex systems in engineering, calculus is the language of change. It gives us the tools to model, predict, and ultimately shape the world around us. As someone studying Information Technology with aspirations to become a Chief Information Officer (CIO), I’ve come to understand firsthand why calculus is not just important in STEM—it’s indispensable. At its core, calculus provides a framework for understanding how variables change in relation to one another. This concept is fundamental to nearly every STEM discipline. In cybersecurity, for instance, calculus underpins the modeling of encryption algorithms, data compression, and threat detection. In software engineering, calculus allows developers to improve computational efficiency and simulate performance scenarios before deploying new systems. Even artificial intelligence—a field reshaping how businesses operate—relies heavily on calculus to build neural networks, optimize learning rates, and minimize errors in predictive modeling. What makes calculus particularly valuable in STEM is its power to solve real-world problems. Whether it’s calculating the maximum load a bridge can handle, predicting the trajectory of a spacecraft, or determining the optimal configuration for a server network, calculus offers precision, structure, and clarity. In my own experience as a full-time IT professional, I’ve encountered situations where understanding how systems respond to variables like time, load, or bandwidth made the difference between failure and resilience. Calculus doesn’t just make those systems more efficient—it makes them possible. But calculus also teaches something deeper: the ability to think abstractly, to approach problems with logic and creativity, and to persist through complexity. These are traits every STEM professional must develop. For me, returning to school in my 40s as a single father working full-time was already a daunting challenge. Taking on calculus as part of my degree program added another layer of difficulty—but also another layer of growth. It forced me to slow down, to think critically, and to build a mental discipline that has made me a better student, a better technician, and a better leader. I believe that supporting students who take on calculus is an investment in the future of innovation. Calculus is the entry point into a mindset that questions, explores, and builds. As someone who came from a background where higher education wasn’t the norm, I see calculus as a gatekeeper—but also as a key. When students like me succeed in it, we unlock the potential to break barriers—not just for ourselves, but for our families and communities. We prove that logic and hard work can overcome circumstance. My long-term goal is to lead IT strategy and infrastructure at the executive level. In that role, I won’t just use what I’ve learned—I’ll advocate for STEM education, mentor nontraditional students, and help others build the confidence to tackle subjects like calculus head-on. I want to be a leader who uses technology to improve lives—and that starts with mastering the fundamentals. In a world increasingly driven by data, automation, and innovation, calculus will remain the cornerstone of progress. It equips us with the tools to ask better questions, solve harder problems, and build smarter solutions. And for students pursuing a future in STEM, there is no better foundation than that.

What I want to build isn’t just a career—it’s a legacy of impact. I want to build systems that work not only efficiently, but ethically and inclusively. My goal is to become a Chief Information Officer (CIO), where I can use my skills in technology and leadership to build secure digital infrastructures, support diverse teams, and ensure that innovation never comes at the cost of people. But more than that, I want to build bridges—between departments, between leadership and employees, and between underserved communities and the opportunities they’ve long been denied access to. Returning to school in my 40s, as a full-time IT professional and single father, was not an easy decision. But it was a necessary one. I knew that in order to truly build the future I envision—not just for myself, but for my daughter and my community—I needed to go back, finish my degree in Information Technology, and continue on to graduate school. The climb has been steep. I balance full-time work, raise a teenager, and take classes at night, often running on little more than grit and faith. But every step forward brings me closer to building something that matters. Through my work in IT and my experience as a former police sergeant, I’ve seen how technology can either empower people—or alienate them. I want to lead organizations in a way that ensures the former. I want to build IT systems that protect user data, improve communication, and streamline processes for the good of employees and customers alike. But just as importantly, I want to build an inclusive culture in the workplace—one that uplifts and supports voices that are too often overlooked. This vision doesn’t stop at the office. As a first-generation college student and single parent, I understand how limited access to education and leadership can keep entire communities stuck in cycles of disadvantage. I want to use my position to advocate for mentorship, tech training, and upward mobility programs in underserved communities. I want to speak to students who think success is out of reach and show them—by example—that it isn’t. My daughter is already watching, and I hope that others will too. Education has been my blueprint. It’s given me the tools, the confidence, and the clarity I need to design a better future. But building anything worthwhile takes more than knowledge—it takes vision, and it takes action. This scholarship would help me continue building without sacrificing my stability. It would allow me to finish what I started and move forward into the next phase of my journey—not just as a student, but as a leader committed to creating lasting change. I’m not just looking to build a job title. I’m looking to build a career that helps others find their path, just as I’ve found mine.

Breaking Barriers and Building a Future As a first-generation college student, the decision to pursue higher education was never just about personal advancement—it was about rewriting a narrative. In my family, college was always something other people did. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t value education—they just never had the opportunity to access it. I made the decision to go to college because I wanted to be the one to break that cycle. I wanted to show my daughter that anything is possible, no matter where you start or how long it takes to get there. Returning to school in my 40s hasn’t been easy. I’ve spent most of my adult life working full-time—first as a police sergeant for over two decades, and now as a full-time IT professional—while raising my daughter on my own. Balancing the demands of a full-time job, single parenthood, and academic coursework has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it’s also one of the most rewarding. I’m not only doing this for myself—I’m doing it to create a better life for my daughter and to demonstrate that perseverance, grit, and education can open doors that once seemed permanently shut. Choosing to pursue a degree in Information Technology wasn’t just a career move—it was a statement of purpose. I’ve always had a passion for systems, problem-solving, and innovation, and I want to take that passion to the highest level. My ultimate goal is to become a Chief Information Officer (CIO) where I can lead organizations through secure, strategic digital transformation while also mentoring others from underserved or nontraditional backgrounds. I believe strongly in lifting others as you climb, and I want to use my position to give others the opportunities I had to fight for myself. The journey hasn’t come without challenges. As a first-gen student, I had no one to guide me through the college admissions process, no parent to explain financial aid paperwork, and no family member to offer advice on navigating university life. I had to figure it out on my own—researching programs, applying for scholarships, and building an academic plan that fit my work and parenting schedule. It meant long nights, sacrificed weekends, and moments of doubt. But I was determined to succeed, not just for me, but for my daughter. I wanted her to see that dreams are worth chasing, no matter how delayed or difficult. To prepare myself for success, I’ve treated college like a mission. I created detailed time-management systems, built relationships with professors, and engaged deeply with every course. I also made sure to include my daughter in the process—letting her see me study, inviting her to ask questions, and talking openly about the importance of education. In doing so, I’ve turned what was once an isolated personal goal into a shared family achievement. We’re both learning that growth isn’t about where you start—it’s about where you’re willing to go. Being a first-generation college student means carrying the weight of uncertainty, but it also means carrying the fire of determination. I’ve chosen higher education because I believe in the transformative power of knowledge—not only to change my own life, but to change the lives of those around me. This scholarship would help ease the financial burden of that journey and allow me to continue moving forward without losing momentum. More than anything, it would be a reminder that people believe in students like me—students who may be the first, but certainly won’t be the last.

“I Tried to Be Tough but I Wanna Scream” – A Window into Growing Up The lyric “I tried to be tough but I wanna scream” from Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS album is a perfect distillation of what it feels like to grow up trying to hold yourself together while the world seems to be pulling you apart. It’s the kind of line that hits hard because it’s not just poetic—it’s real. It captures the constant push and pull of adolescence, the emotional pressure to stay composed, and the quiet desperation that comes with trying to seem okay when you're really not. As a teenager, I didn’t have the words or the space to express how overwhelming life sometimes felt. I tried to be the tough one—the reliable one—the one who didn’t ask for help even when I needed it. I pushed myself through school and work, constantly trying to prove I was strong enough to handle anything. But behind all that effort was the same urge Olivia so vulnerably captures in that lyric: the need to release, to be heard, to admit that strength doesn’t mean silence. Hearing that line as an adult now brings back all those moments I kept to myself. And more importantly, it gives me a powerful tool for connecting with my teenage daughter. She and I listened to GUTS together, and when that lyric came on, I could feel something shift. It was like the song gave her permission to feel what she was feeling, without shame or pressure to “be okay.” It opened a door between us—not just for conversation, but for understanding. That lyric reminds me that being tough doesn’t mean bottling things up. And it’s a message I try to pass on to my daughter every day. As a single father, I’ve had to learn how to balance guidance with empathy—how to be strong for her without making her feel like she has to hide her own emotions. Songs like this help me meet her where she is. When I don’t have the perfect words, Olivia Rodrigo does. Her music, especially GUTS, doesn’t just resonate because it’s catchy or current—it resonates because it’s honest. That one lyric reflects a universal adolescent experience: feeling like you have to keep it together when you’re actually falling apart inside. And it validates that pain. It says it’s okay to be vulnerable, that wanting to scream doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human. In my own life, I still feel the pull of that lyric sometimes. I’m in my late 40s, working full-time in IT, finishing my bachelor’s degree, raising my daughter, and preparing to enter graduate school. There are days I have to be the adult who keeps everything running—and days I just want to scream too. But the difference now is that I’ve learned not to suppress it. I’ve learned that acknowledging stress, fear, and frustration isn’t a flaw. It’s strength. “I tried to be tough but I wanna scream” speaks not just to teenagers, but to anyone trying to navigate the complexities of life while holding it together. It captures the courage it takes to admit when we’re struggling—and the quiet hope that we’re not alone in it. That lyric reminded me of who I was, helped me understand who my daughter is, and continues to shape the kind of father, student, and leader I want to be.

As a single father raising a teenage daughter, finding ways to truly connect with her—on a level that goes beyond school, chores, and daily routine—is one of my greatest joys and challenges. Wicked has become one of those rare, beautiful bridges between our two worlds. At first, I thought we were just going to enjoy a Broadway show together. What I didn’t expect was that Wicked would become a shared language between us—a story that speaks to both of our experiences, while offering powerful messages about courage, identity, and standing firm in who you are. Watching Wicked with my daughter for the first time was more than entertainment—it was transformative. We both found ourselves drawn into the world of Elphaba and Glinda, not just because of the music and visuals, but because of the emotional truth behind their journeys. As a father, I saw my daughter in Elphaba’s struggle to be understood and accepted for who she truly is. Teen years can be tough—kids are figuring out who they are while facing the pressure to fit in. Elphaba’s journey gave us a safe space to talk about being different, about being brave enough to stand out instead of blend in. That conversation has stuck with us. For me personally, “Defying Gravity” hit home in a different way. I returned to school in my 40s to finish my degree and work toward my goal of becoming a CIO. Balancing full-time work, school, and parenting hasn’t been easy. There are days when self-doubt creeps in and the weight of responsibility feels overwhelming. But that line—“I’m through accepting limits 'cause someone says they’re so”—reminds me that I’m not too old to grow, not too late to dream, and not too busy to make it happen. It’s become an anthem in our home. Sometimes we sing it together—loudly and off-key—but always with conviction. Glinda’s arc also sparked meaningful dialogue between my daughter and me. We talk often about how people grow and change, and how true friendship means challenging each other to be better. The friendship between Elphaba and Glinda models that kind of growth. It shows that strength doesn’t always look the same—that popularity and kindness aren’t mutually exclusive, and that integrity is more powerful than approval. As a dad, I want to raise my daughter to value both authenticity and compassion, and Wicked gave us a story that shows what that looks like in action. What makes Wicked so special to us isn’t just its Broadway magic—it’s the way it sparks real-life conversations about identity, courage, and kindness. It’s given us moments of laughter, reflection, and connection. In a time when it’s so easy to become disconnected—by screens, schedules, or stress—Wicked has become one of our constants. A reminder that being “different” can be powerful. That standing up for what you believe in may not be easy, but it’s worth it. And that love, friendship, and understanding can change the world—or at least, change one family’s perspective. I’m a fan of Wicked because it gave my daughter and me something we didn’t know we needed—a shared story, a shared strength, and a shared sense of what’s possible when you dare to defy expectations… together.

Leading with Purpose in Public Service and Technology Leadership is not defined by title or authority—it’s revealed in the moments when action, integrity, and empathy intersect. One of the most pivotal leadership experiences of my life occurred during my 20-year career as a police sergeant, when I was tasked with managing a multi-agency response to a critical community incident. The situation required not only logistical coordination, but also emotional intelligence, decisiveness, and the ability to unify diverse personalities under intense pressure. It tested every skill I had—and solidified the kind of leader I strive to be. In this specific incident, an escalating neighborhood dispute had erupted into a dangerous standoff involving multiple families and the threat of violence. I was the ranking officer on duty and had to quickly establish control. Emotions were running high, and misinformation was spreading rapidly. Rather than defaulting to force or rigid command, I chose a different strategy—one rooted in communication and de-escalation. I divided the scene into zones, appointed leaders from each supporting agency, and ensured we had a chain of communication that flowed both ways. I also made a point to speak directly with the families involved, listening first, then offering solutions that centered on their safety and dignity. This approach not only prevented violence—it restored trust between the police and the neighborhood. It took courage to lead with compassion in an environment where tactical action is often expected, but that decision ultimately diffused a volatile situation and laid the groundwork for longer-term community engagement. It reminded me that leadership means serving others, making tough calls under pressure, and staying grounded in values even when it's inconvenient. Since retiring from law enforcement, I’ve carried that leadership mindset into the next phase of my career in Information Technology. Now a full-time IT professional and undergraduate student pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Information Technology, I continue to lead through action, empathy, and strategic thinking. I manage infrastructure and security operations while mentoring junior staff and facilitating communication across departments. I’ve learned that in both law enforcement and IT, the key to success is the ability to adapt, remain calm under stress, and bring people together to solve problems. Looking ahead, I plan to leverage these leadership skills as I pursue my Master’s degree in Information and Communication Sciences and work toward becoming a Chief Information Officer (CIO). In that role, I aim to lead organizations through secure and strategic digital transformation—building tech environments where innovation is encouraged, data is protected, and diverse voices are included in the decision-making process. I want to be the kind of CIO who isn’t just focused on systems, but on the people those systems serve. The leadership lessons I’ve learned—from high-stakes field operations to complex IT environments—have shaped my approach to every challenge. I lead by listening, by staying calm under pressure, and by making decisions that prioritize both mission success and human dignity. These are the values I will continue to carry forward in my career, and I am committed to using them to make a meaningful difference in my field and community. This scholarship would help relieve some of the financial burden of continuing my education while working full-time and raising my daughter. More importantly, it would be an investment in the kind of leader I’m becoming—one who leads with purpose, resilience, and a deep commitment to impact.

Building a Better World Through Empathy, Technology, and Leadership As a first-generation college student, single father, and full-time IT professional, I’ve come to believe that our greatest strength as a global community lies not just in technological innovation or education, but in empathy and human connection. My journey has been anything but conventional—I’m in my late 40s, raising my daughter on my own, and returning to school after years of public service as a police sergeant. The road hasn’t been easy, but it has shaped me into someone who values service, perseverance, and the importance of listening to and understanding others. My goal is to use my background and skills in technology, leadership, and communication to help bridge divides, promote ethical innovation, and create inclusive environments where every voice is heard. In my current role in Information Technology, I see how much the world depends on connection. Technology is a powerful force that can bring people together across cultures, geographies, and beliefs—but it can also be a source of division when it’s used without empathy. As I pursue my Bachelor’s in Information Technology and prepare for my Master’s in Information and Communication Sciences, I’m focused on becoming a future CIO who leads with integrity, inclusion, and a global mindset. I believe that leadership isn’t just about strategy or technical expertise—it’s about understanding the people you serve and creating systems that empower them. One of my unique talents is my ability to bring people together across differences. As a former police sergeant, I was often called to de-escalate conflicts, build trust, and advocate for those who felt unheard. Those skills have translated directly into my IT work, where I’m frequently the bridge between technical teams and non-technical stakeholders. I’ve learned to listen, to translate complex ideas into clear communication, and to ensure that technology serves people—not the other way around. I plan to use this ability to build systems that are not only efficient but equitable—platforms that include accessibility features, prioritize data privacy, and are designed with empathy in mind. Being a single father has also made me more attuned to the struggles that many families face. I’ve balanced school, work, and parenting with very little margin for error, and I know what it feels like to be overlooked or underestimated. That experience has given me deep empathy for others navigating difficult paths. I want to use my voice to advocate for underrepresented communities in tech, to mentor younger students, and to push for inclusive hiring practices that create opportunities for those who often get left behind. In building a more understanding global community, I believe change begins at the personal level. It starts with how we treat our neighbors, how we lead our teams, and how we respond to conflict. It means being the person who asks, “How can I help?” even when no one else does. My journey—full of detours, setbacks, and hard-earned victories—has equipped me to be that person. And it’s why I’m committed to leading with compassion, whether I’m managing IT systems, mentoring a student, or simply helping someone feel seen and heard. This scholarship would help me continue this mission—by easing the financial burden of education and allowing me to focus on becoming the kind of leader who doesn’t just build systems, but builds bridges between people. Thank you for considering me.

Balancing Fatherhood, Career, and Higher Education Returning to school as a non-traditional student and a single parent has been one of the most challenging and rewarding journeys of my life. At 47 years old, I am currently pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Information Technology with plans to begin a Master’s program immediately after graduation. This decision was not made lightly—it came after decades of full-time work, raising my daughter on my own, and serving my community as a police sergeant for over 20 years. The decision to return to school was born out of both ambition and necessity: a desire to grow, to lead in the IT field, and to provide a better future for my daughter. Yet the road back has not been easy. One of the greatest challenges I have faced is time—or more accurately, the lack of it. My days are filled with full-time work in a demanding IT role, parenting a teenager, and trying to carve out hours for lectures, assignments, and exams. Unlike traditional students who may have the flexibility to focus solely on academics, my responsibilities extend far beyond the classroom. There are evenings when I’m helping my daughter with her schoolwork while simultaneously reviewing coursework of my own, and weekends when I’m up before dawn to study before tending to errands, chores, and parenting duties. The challenge is not just managing time, but managing energy and focus with so many competing priorities. Financial strain is another constant hurdle. Returning to school means paying tuition and related expenses while maintaining a household on a single income. I work full-time, yet the rising costs of education and living make it difficult to build financial security. Every dollar invested in my education is a dollar not spent elsewhere—on my daughter’s needs, on home repairs, on savings. There is little room for error, and no safety net. Scholarships like this one aren’t just helpful—they’re essential. They relieve pressure and create space to focus on the long-term rewards rather than the short-term struggles. Social isolation can also be a challenge. As an older student, I often feel out of place among peers who are decades younger. I don’t have the luxury of joining study groups or campus events, and I often find myself working late into the night alone, balancing responsibilities that most of my classmates have yet to experience. Yet despite the isolation, I find strength in knowing that I am setting an example for my daughter—that learning doesn’t stop at a certain age, and that it’s never too late to chase a dream. Perhaps the most difficult challenge, though, is the internal one: self-doubt. There are moments when I question whether I can really do this—whether I can handle the demands of school, career, and fatherhood all at once. But in those moments, I remind myself why I started. I remind myself that I want to lead by example, to prove that growth and ambition have no expiration date. I want to be a CIO, to guide organizations through digital transformation, and to serve as a leader who understands both technology and people. This dream requires education—and perseverance. Returning to school while raising a child and working full-time is a balancing act few understand unless they’ve lived it. But every challenge I’ve faced has strengthened my resolve. I’m not just earning a degree—I’m building a future for my daughter and myself. And I’m deeply grateful for any support that helps me stay the course.

In his succinct declaration, “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength,” Marcus Aurelius presents a foundational Stoic principle that centers personal power within the mind, offering a path to resilience and true strength by urging individuals to accept the limits of control and embrace the sovereignty of internal thought and perception. Selected Passage (from Meditations, Book 4, Section 3): “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” At first glance, the sentence is brief and clear, but its implications are profound and far-reaching. Marcus Aurelius, a Roman emperor and philosopher, encapsulates in these few words an entire worldview—one grounded in Stoic philosophy. This statement, while ancient, speaks directly to the anxieties of modern life. It invites us to reframe how we perceive adversity, setbacks, and even success. Through a close reading of the passage, we can explore three interwoven themes: the dichotomy of control, the mind as the seat of human power, and the realization of strength through acceptance and discipline. The Dichotomy of Control The first sentence, “You have power over your mind—not outside events,” introduces the Stoic concept of the dichotomy of control. This principle, also echoed by Epictetus in his Enchiridion, separates the world into two realms: what is within our control and what is not. According to the Stoics, the only true domain we govern is our own mind—our thoughts, judgments, values, and actions. Everything else—other people’s opinions, natural disasters, the economy, even our own health to some extent—is subject to forces outside our influence. Aurelius' use of the word “power” is critical. It implies not just ownership but agency. We are not merely possessors of our minds—we are commanders of them. In contrast, we are at the mercy of “outside events,” which are indifferent to our desires. The distinction creates a clear framework for how to live: strive to improve and discipline what lies within, and cultivate equanimity toward all else. This teaching resonates in a world that often feels overwhelming. Social media, global conflict, economic instability, and personal hardships constantly challenge our emotional balance. Yet, Marcus Aurelius reminds us that no matter how chaotic the world becomes, our ability to choose our response remains intact. By anchoring ourselves in what we can control, we reassert a form of independence and peace. The Mind as the Seat of Power The emphasis on the mind aligns with a core Stoic belief that virtue is sufficient for happiness. For the Stoics, external things—wealth, fame, even health—are neither good nor bad. What matters is how we interpret and respond to them. The mind, therefore, becomes the primary theater of moral action. Our character, reason, and values are forged not by events, but by our mental framing of them. Aurelius' own life adds weight to this idea. As emperor, he faced war, plague, betrayal, and the death of children. Despite these trials, he maintained a commitment to self-governance. His journal, Meditations, was not written for publication, but as a personal exercise in reinforcing his ideals. This context makes his message even more compelling—it was not theory, but lived philosophy. By declaring that we have “power over [our] mind,” Aurelius implies responsibility. Autonomy of thought is not freedom from discipline; it demands it. It means resisting irrational fears, curbing destructive desires, and practicing continual reflection. The power we have is not passive, but active—a power that must be cultivated through effort. In contemporary terms, this can be understood through cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), which mirrors Stoic thought in many ways. CBT teaches that our thoughts shape our emotions and behaviors, and that by changing negative thought patterns, we can improve our mental health. Like Stoicism, it shifts the locus of control inward and empowers the individual to reclaim agency through deliberate introspection. Realization as the Catalyst of Strength The second sentence, “Realize this, and you will find strength,” is a call to enlightenment. It transforms the first sentence from a statement of fact into a prescription for inner fortitude. The keyword here is “realize.” It suggests that merely understanding the principle intellectually is not enough. One must internalize it, live it, and embody it. Strength, in the Stoic sense, is not brute force or domination—it is the resilience of character. It is the ability to remain steady amid life’s storms, to neither become elated by praise nor crushed by misfortune. By “realizing” the limits of control, we become free. This freedom is paradoxical: we find power not by expanding influence over the world, but by surrendering that ambition and turning inward. This idea challenges modern cultural narratives that often equate strength with status, influence, or material success. In Aurelius’ view, true strength is the quiet courage to endure, to accept loss with grace, and to persist in virtue regardless of circumstance. It is the will to remain principled even when life is unfair. Application to Personal Experience This passage resonates deeply with my own journey. As a single father in my 40s, working full-time and pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Information Technology, I have encountered countless challenges. There are days when everything feels out of control—when unexpected expenses arise, when time is short, when exhaustion sets in. But I have learned, through both faith and experience, that my greatest power lies in my response to these challenges. I cannot control external events—illness, job market fluctuations, or the actions of others. But I can control my mindset. I can choose to persevere, to prioritize my daughter’s future, and to act with purpose. Every decision to study instead of sleep, to encourage others while feeling depleted myself, or to trust that effort will bear fruit—is an exercise of power over my mind. This realization has been a source of tremendous strength. It has helped me overcome doubt, manage stress, and remain focused on my goals. It has allowed me to continue growing, even when circumstances suggest I should stand still. In this way, Aurelius’ words are not abstract—they are a blueprint for how I live. Literary Devices and Rhetorical Structure The structure of the passage contributes to its impact. It consists of two short, declarative sentences, each with parallel structure and a clear subject-verb-object construction. This simplicity belies the depth of its message, making it easy to remember and recite—an important quality for meditative practice. Aurelius employs antithesis: “your mind” versus “outside events.” This contrast sharpens the reader’s awareness of the two domains. He also uses imperative verbs—“realize”—to engage the reader directly and demand introspection. This rhetorical strategy places responsibility on the audience to act. Furthermore, the use of second-person address (“you have power…”) creates intimacy. It feels as though Aurelius is speaking directly to the reader, not from a throne, but from a shared human experience. This personal tone reinforces the Stoic ideal that wisdom is not confined to philosophers, but available to all who seek it. Historical and Philosophical Context Stoicism emerged in a time of political instability and uncertainty. Zeno of Citium founded the school in the 3rd century BCE, and it was later advanced by philosophers like Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius. Its emphasis on rationality, virtue, and emotional resilience made it popular among both common citizens and Roman elites. Aurelius, writing as an emperor, had every reason to feel overwhelmed by external pressures. That he still turned inward for strength speaks to the enduring power of Stoic thought. His writings have influenced countless thinkers—from Descartes to modern psychologists—and continue to offer solace and clarity to those navigating hardship. Implications for Today’s World In the digital age, where attention is fragmented and comparison is constant, the wisdom of this passage is more relevant than ever. We are bombarded by news, opinions, and events far beyond our control. Anxiety, depression, and burnout are on the rise. In this climate, the ability to focus inward—to govern the mind—is a radical act. Students, especially, face immense pressure: to succeed, to belong, to plan an uncertain future. Aurelius offers a liberating message—success is not defined by GPA or job offers, but by the integrity of thought and intention. If we can “realize” our power over perception, we can reclaim peace amid chaos. Conclusion Marcus Aurelius’ brief yet profound passage, “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength,” encapsulates the core of Stoic philosophy and provides a timeless guide for navigating life’s complexities. It teaches that control is an illusion when directed outward, but a superpower when cultivated within. By mastering our thoughts and accepting what we cannot change, we unlock a strength that is resilient, ethical, and deeply human. This wisdom is not confined to ancient Rome—it lives on in every person who chooses to respond to adversity with grace, who commits to personal growth over blame, and who, like Aurelius, strives to lead not by force, but by inner clarity. As a student, a parent, and a professional, I find in these words not just comfort, but a compass—pointing toward a life of intention, dignity, and unwavering strength.

Faith, Fatherhood, and the Road to Leadership Faith has always been my anchor—a steady foundation through life’s uncertainties and responsibilities. As a single father, full-time worker, and full-time college student in my late 40s, it is faith that continues to fuel my resilience and shape the way I view success, service, and leadership. While the road I’ve chosen is anything but easy, my belief in a purpose greater than myself gives me the strength to keep going. My journey to higher education is a calling not just to better myself, but to model perseverance and stewardship for my daughter and others who may be watching. Growing up, I learned that faith is more than belief—it’s action. It’s doing the right thing even when no one is watching, showing up for others, and trusting that hard work, honesty, and compassion will lead to something meaningful. These principles became deeply rooted in my life through my 20-year career as a police sergeant, where I served my community with integrity and resolve. That experience challenged me to lean on my faith daily. I faced moments of danger, uncertainty, and heartbreak, yet I always tried to lead with fairness and courage, believing that my actions could be part of a larger good. When I transitioned from law enforcement to the field of Information Technology, my purpose shifted but my core values stayed the same. I now work full-time in IT while pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Information Technology, with plans to begin a Master’s in Information and Communication Sciences immediately after graduation. My goal is to become a Chief Information Officer (CIO) who leads organizations through ethical innovation and strategic growth. For me, leadership isn’t about power—it’s about service. I want to be the kind of leader who builds systems that support people, protects information, and strengthens communities. That vision is rooted in my faith. Being a single father has been the greatest blessing and the greatest responsibility of my life. Every decision I make is influenced by my desire to provide my daughter with a better future. Faith has carried me through the nights when exhaustion set in, when finances were tight, and when the weight of responsibilities felt overwhelming. I often pray not just for strength, but for wisdom—to know how to lead her well, to teach her perseverance, and to show her that dreams are possible with sacrifice and commitment. One of the verses that has always stuck with me is Galatians 6:9: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” That scripture captures the essence of my academic and personal journey. I returned to school not because I had to, but because I knew that equipping myself with knowledge, credentials, and leadership skills was the next right step. It’s a long-term investment in myself, my family, and the people I hope to lead in the future. Faith has also shaped my academic discipline. I see learning not just as a personal pursuit, but as a form of stewardship. God has given me the ability to think critically, solve problems, and lead teams, and I believe I am responsible for developing those gifts fully. In every course I take—whether it's project management, cybersecurity, or systems architecture—I approach the material with a sense of duty and purpose. I’m not just working toward a degree; I’m preparing to serve in a meaningful way. What’s pushed me to pursue higher education—beyond faith and family—is the example I want to set. I want my daughter to know that it’s never too late to grow, that education is powerful, and that we can rise even from difficult circumstances. I want her to see a father who didn’t give up, who chose the harder road because it was the right one. I also want other adult learners and career changers to see that there’s value in persistence—that experience and faith can coexist with ambition and success. This scholarship would ease the financial pressure that comes with balancing school, work, and parenting. More importantly, it would be a reminder that others believe in the mission I’ve taken on. It would allow me to continue my education without compromising my responsibilities as a father and provider. Most of all, it would help me stay the course toward becoming a leader of impact and integrity—someone who carries faith into every boardroom, project, and relationship.

Building a Better Future Through Education, Dedication, and Leadership My educational journey hasn’t followed a traditional path, but it has been shaped by purpose, resilience, and an unwavering desire to provide a better life for my family while creating meaningful impact through my career. I am a 47-year-old single father, full-time IT professional, and a full-time college student, currently completing my Bachelor of Science in Information Technology. I’m on track to graduate in December 2025 and intend to immediately begin my Master of Science in Information and Communication Sciences in the Spring 2026 semester. My ultimate goal is to become a Chief Information Officer (CIO) who leads organizations through innovation, transformation, and ethical technology practices. Receiving this scholarship would play a critical role in helping me sustain this momentum and bring these goals to life. For over two decades, I served my community as a police sergeant. During those years, I raised my daughter as a single father, often while simultaneously working another full-time job in IT. I knew from the beginning that I wanted to give her every opportunity possible, even if it meant sacrificing time, energy, and comfort. My life has been one of constant responsibility—providing, protecting, and planning ahead. That responsibility is what has driven me to pursue higher education at this stage in my life. It’s not just about career advancement; it’s about building a sustainable future for my daughter and creating space for others to succeed as well. While working in law enforcement, I saw firsthand how essential it is to have systems that work—not just in policing, but in government, education, and business. I also saw the consequences of outdated technology and poor decision-making in leadership roles. These experiences led me to IT, where I’ve spent the past several years supporting infrastructure, security, and systems that keep organizations running. The more I learned and contributed, the more I realized I had a passion for strategic thinking, long-term planning, and innovation. That’s when I knew I wanted to become a CIO. But transitioning to a leadership role in a complex, ever-evolving field like Information Technology isn’t easy—especially without the right education. That’s why I made the decision to return to school in my 40s. It wasn’t an easy decision, especially as someone balancing full-time work and parenting. Going back to college meant late nights, early mornings, and weekends spent studying instead of resting. It meant financial strain and a packed schedule with no room for downtime. But I knew it was the right choice. I knew that to grow, I had to challenge myself, and that the sacrifices I made now would pay dividends later—not just for me, but for my daughter and the organizations I serve. In my coursework, I’ve developed a deeper understanding of systems architecture, cybersecurity, cloud computing, project management, and data analysis. I’ve also refined my leadership and communication skills—essential tools for any executive. But beyond technical knowledge, this journey has reinforced my belief in the power of perseverance. Every paper I submit, every exam I pass, and every course I complete is a victory not just over academic content, but over doubt, fatigue, and the weight of real-world responsibilities. Once I complete my undergraduate and graduate degrees, my goal is to serve as a CIO who can lead organizations through digital transformation. I want to be at the forefront of aligning IT initiatives with business strategy, making data-informed decisions, ensuring cybersecurity resilience, and fostering innovation across teams. I believe that technology, when managed well, can solve complex problems, create efficiency, and empower people. But technology must be implemented with care, foresight, and responsibility—qualities I have honed through both my professional experience and personal journey. I also believe that great leadership is about empathy and service. As a police sergeant, I led teams in high-stress environments. I learned how to listen, de-escalate conflict, and support people through difficult moments. I’ve carried those lessons with me into IT, where I work with cross-functional teams and often serve as a bridge between technical staff and executive leadership. I want to lead by example—not through authority, but through vision, collaboration, and a deep understanding of how people and systems work together. This scholarship would make a tremendous difference in my ability to complete graduate school while continuing to work full-time and raise my daughter. Financially, it would reduce the pressure of tuition and fees, allowing me to allocate more resources to our household and reduce the need to take on additional work or student loan debt. But more than that, it would be a vote of confidence. It would affirm that people see value in investing in adult learners—those of us who may have taken a longer road to get here, but who bring grit, wisdom, and a profound sense of purpose to everything we do. I’m pursuing this journey not just for personal gain, but because I want to make a real impact. In every position I’ve held—from patrolling streets to managing IT systems—I’ve looked for ways to leave things better than I found them. As a future CIO, I plan to support diversity and inclusion in tech, mentor younger professionals, and advocate for secure, ethical use of data and emerging technologies. I want to help companies not just adopt the latest tools, but use them responsibly and with long-term value in mind. Education has already transformed the way I approach problems, plan strategies, and communicate with others. It’s given me the confidence to lead complex projects and the tools to make decisions that drive results. But I’m just getting started. With a graduate degree, I’ll be able to move into roles with greater influence and responsibility, where I can shape organizational direction and create systems that benefit employees, customers, and communities. Looking forward, I have clear and actionable goals. In the next five years, I aim to complete my master’s degree and step into an upper-management IT role focused on infrastructure and innovation. Within 10 years, I plan to take on a CIO or CTO position where I can lead digital strategy and foster an agile, resilient tech culture. Throughout this journey, I intend to continue learning, mentoring, and contributing to both the organizations I serve and the broader IT community. There’s no denying that this journey is challenging. Balancing work, school, and parenting takes incredible discipline and sacrifice. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I know why I’m doing this. I know who I’m doing it for. And I know that with the right support—including scholarships like this one—I will achieve my goals and give back tenfold to the systems and people who helped me get here. Thank you for considering my application and for supporting students like me who are working hard every day to make a better life—for ourselves, our families, and our communities.

In Chapter 2 of Real Insights, John Graff outlines why many new real estate agents fail in their first year. While the chapter focuses on the real estate profession, its core lessons are surprisingly relevant to my career path in Information Technology. As someone pursuing a long-term goal of becoming a Chief Information Officer (CIO), the themes of realistic expectations, discipline, planning, and adaptability resonate deeply with the demands of IT leadership. Graff emphasizes that many agents enter real estate with unrealistic expectations, believing success will come quickly and easily. This mirrors a common misconception in IT, especially among those entering leadership roles. The idea that technology alone will solve problems or that promotions happen solely based on technical skill often leads to frustration. Just like real estate agents who underestimate the time and effort needed to build a client base, IT professionals can fail if they don’t invest in strategic thinking, communication, and continuous learning. The chapter also highlights the importance of having a business plan. In IT, this translates into developing clear roadmaps, aligning tech initiatives with business goals, and preparing for short-term tasks and long-term innovation. A CIO must understand the current tech environment and anticipate changes and guide the organization through them. Without planning and a firm grasp of stakeholder needs, IT leaders risk becoming reactive instead of proactive, much like new agents who wait for leads instead of prospecting. The chapter also addresses financial preparedness and marketing knowledge. While not directly tied to IT, these principles echo the importance of resource management and internal “branding.” For example, a CIO must justify technology investments and communicate value across departments. Marketing oneself, building credibility, and cultivating professional relationships are as essential in the boardroom as in a real estate office. Finally, Graff’s point about learning from mistakes is critical. The tech world is constantly evolving, and setbacks are inevitable. The key is not avoiding mistakes but using them to grow. Just as successful agents persist through early challenges, future CIOs must embrace a mindset of resilience and continuous improvement. In summary, Graff's advice to real estate agents—set realistic goals, create a plan, work hard, adapt quickly, and learn from failure—applies broadly to any professional field, especially IT. These insights will help guide me not only as I finish my education but also as I continue advancing toward my goal of becoming a transformative leader in the tech industry.

My life has been shaped by service, responsibility, and a deep commitment to bettering not just my own future, but the future of those I love. As a single father and a former police sergeant with over 20 years of service, I’ve spent my adult life balancing the duty of protecting my community with the greater responsibility of providing for my daughter. Now, at 47, I’m pursuing higher education not only to strengthen my career but to show my daughter—and others—that it is never too late to chase a dream. For years, I worked two full-time jobs: one in law enforcement, and another in IT. Juggling the demands of both roles wasn’t easy, but I did it to ensure my daughter had every opportunity I could offer. That commitment to her success continues to be a driving force in my life. I’m currently on track to complete my Bachelor of Science in Information Technology by December 2025. From there, I plan to begin a Master of Science in Information and Communication Sciences in Spring 2026. My long-term goal is to become a Chief Information Officer (CIO), helping to guide organizations toward success through thoughtful leadership, strategic innovation, and secure, scalable technology. My experiences have deeply shaped my values—hard work, integrity, resilience, and a strong belief in the power of education. Being a non-traditional student has given me a unique perspective on learning; I value every lecture, every assignment, and every opportunity to grow because I know firsthand what it costs to be here. I’ve sacrificed sleep, time, and comfort to earn this chance, and I do not take it for granted. I believe that technology can transform businesses, communities, and lives, but only when used responsibly and with purpose. In my future career as a CIO, I plan to prioritize not only innovation and performance but also security, ethical data use, and inclusion. I want to lead by example, encouraging others to find creative solutions that uplift entire teams and foster lasting success. My ultimate goal is to drive meaningful change in the organizations I serve—creating efficient systems, stronger teams, and better outcomes. This scholarship would significantly ease the financial burden of graduate school, allowing me to dedicate more time to my studies and less time to working multiple jobs. It would accelerate my ability to complete my degree and continue advancing in my field. More importantly, it would demonstrate to my daughter and others watching my journey that persistence pays off, and that with the right support, anything is possible. In everything I do—from raising my daughter to leading in the workplace—I strive to be someone who builds others up. I see this scholarship not just as financial assistance, but as an investment in a future CIO, a father, a community servant, and a lifelong learner. Thank you for considering me.