If I could design a class that every student from the K-12 grade had to take, it would be focused on Social Emotional Learning. But not just the surface-level SEL we sometimes see, it would be a space where educators actually dig into the core of what it means to be human: empathy, compassion, understanding. These things feel overlooked lately, or even labeled as weaknesses, when in reality they’re some of the strongest traits a person can have. Empathy connects us. Compassion helps us see beyond ourselves. These aren’t radical ideas, they’re essential, and they shouldn’t be controversial. I genuinely believe that teaching kids these values can shape the future for the better. Some people might argue that these concepts are too advanced for children, but I think the opposite. Kids come into the world with open minds, and it’s our job to help shape the way they understand others. If we start early, teaching them to care, to listen, to understand, we’re setting them up to engage in more complex, meaningful conversations as they grow. It’s about planting the seeds early so empathy and equity become the norm, not the exception. Children not only deserve a place where they can feel safe, but an educational setting that believes in equality and justice for all. Children should feel welcome at school, not scared. It has become so normalized to tuck away our feelings and look down on others, we see it everyday. We see people look down on others for the color of their skin, their gender, and how much money they got. But why? Instead of jumping to anger or judgment, I think it’s important to pause and ask why. Why is that student acting out? Why did they cry when someone made fun of their lunch? Why are they pretending they have something they don’t? Questions like that remind us that everyone is experiencing life for the first time, just like us. We never really know what someone else is carrying. That’s exactly why I want to teach kids how to work through those feelings and ask those deeper questions. I want to give them the tools to better understand themselves and each other. Because if we can do that, we’re not just helping them navigate childhood, we’re helping them grow into stronger, more compassionate adults who can build a better world than the one we’re in now.

As cliché as it may sound, I consider my boyfriend to be my best friend. I first met Isaac around the time of our high school graduation, and we immediately hit it off. Initially, I had preconceived notions about him, thinking he was just a typical playboy who wasn't worth my time. However, as I got to know him, my perspective changed. While he was undoubtedly attractive, I soon realized there was more to him than just his looks. One day, I mustered up the courage to approach him, despite my nerves and to my surprise, he was just a regular guy, not the intimidating figure I had imagined. Over time, I got to know him better, and he became a part of many of my first experiences. Throughout my life, I had always prioritized others, whether it was caring for my siblings, assisting my mother, or navigating the challenges of being first-generation. I felt constrained by these responsibilities and never truly lived for myself. However, he showed me the importance of self-care and taught me that it was okay to prioritize my own needs. Having a partner means making a conscious choice to love, support, and commit to that person. In choosing Isaac as my partner and best friend, I've found someone who consistently helps me grow and become a better version of myself. His presence in my life has brought valuable lessons and unforgettable experiences, and for that, I am incredibly grateful. In a way, he rescued me. I spent my whole life caring for others without anyone caring for me in return. I've been hurt in countless ways, and at one point, I felt like I was just an empty shell. I was merely surviving day to day, not truly living. But he brought color back into my world and helped me find my footing again. Despite my mom's disapproval and her attempts to instill doubts in my mind, I fought to be with him. Even if it made me look foolish or impulsive, I didn't care because he taught me more than anyone else ever had. I loved him. This was a decision I made for myself, not for my mom or out of obligation, but because I genuinely wanted to. It was something I chose because he taught me to stand up for what I believed in and to fight for what I wanted. Truly, he is more than just my partner; he's my dearest friend. He's the one I've chosen to journey through life with, and despite the hurdles we encounter, we persist in growing together. While our path together has its lows, it's also marked by exhilarating highs, which I find to be its true beauty. With him, I experience a sense of safety, and I can authentically be myself without reservation. Although we may have seemed like typical teenagers, he has fundamentally transformed my world—reshaping my outlook and rewriting my narrative.

Over the past year, I have had the opportunity to intern at two elementary schools since relocating to Davis. These internships were with non-profit organizations, and I dedicated multiple hours and days each week to working directly in the classrooms. Coming from a low-income background, the move to UC Davis was truly transformative for me. It felt like being thrown into an ocean without knowing how to swim. I found myself immersed in these affluent neighborhoods, witnessing a creative curriculum and actively involved parents, and it was truly eye-opening. In the community I come from, my parents are often preoccupied with day-to-day survival and making ends meet. Consequently, they have little time to attend school functions as they often need to work additional shifts to provide their families with the basic necessities. Being thrust into schools of such contrasting backgrounds opened my eyes to the pervasive opportunity gap in our society, where different socioeconomic groups are unjustly neglected or disproportionately granted varying opportunities. During my internships at these elementary schools, I gradually expanded my knowledge base and observed the distinct practices and approaches employed by these schools, which differed greatly from those in Compton where I grew up. The stark differences were evident in terms of resources, community involvement, and the overall ability to create an engaging and enjoyable learning environment for the students. If we were to categorize the schools, the ones in Davis would be considered affluent compared to the working-class categorization of the schools in Compton. I hold a deep affection for my school in Compton, as they consistently made the best use of the limited resources available to them. Despite the vast disparity that exists, I managed to thrive and gain admission to UC Davis, all thanks to the inspiring teachers who motivated and supported me. Despite the challenges they faced due to the disparities, they remained resilient and dedicated, striving to make a positive impact in the lives of their students, no matter how small. As an individual from a low-income background, I aspire to prove that Hispanics can excel in academic settings and serve as role models. I aspire to be a beacon of hope, just as my previous teachers were to me. I want to serve as a constant reminder that even amidst challenging circumstances, growth and success are possible, much like a rose blooming from concrete. By being a positive influence and role model for these children, I hope to inspire them to reach for their dreams. Through my proactive pursuit of knowledge and personal growth, I actively advocate for restorative justice and challenge the misconception that individuals from backgrounds similar to mine are incapable of thriving in this environment. I aim to serve as a symbol of hope, breaking down prejudices within the educational system and advocating for a future where equality thrives not only within the classroom but also throughout society. When I envision the future in which I will raise my children, I yearn for an inclusive and nurturing environment where they can fearlessly embrace their true selves. I believe that true change is in the hands of the people, and I am reminded of the quote, "A ladder can move, but only if it is moved." Change is not a passive process, nor does it occur instantaneously. It requires ongoing efforts and the involvement of individuals. I am committed to the idea of perpetuating progress and evolution within the educational system. We, as a society, should aspire for education to become a sanctuary, free from judgment and noise, where students can truly be themselves.

Over the past year, I have had the opportunity to intern at two elementary schools since relocating to Davis. These internships were with non-profit organizations, and I dedicated multiple hours and days each week to working directly in the classrooms. Coming from a low-income background, the move to UC Davis was truly transformative for me. It felt like being thrown into an ocean without knowing how to swim. I found myself immersed in these affluent neighborhoods, witnessing a creative curriculum and actively involved parents, and it was truly eye-opening. In the community I come from, my parents are often preoccupied with day-to-day survival and making ends meet. Consequently, they have little time to attend school functions as they often need to work additional shifts to provide their families with the basic necessities. Being thrust into schools of such contrasting backgrounds opened my eyes to the pervasive opportunity gap in our society, where different socioeconomic groups are unjustly neglected or disproportionately granted varying opportunities. During my internships at these elementary schools, I gradually expanded my knowledge base and observed the distinct practices and approaches employed by these schools, which differed greatly from those in Compton where I grew up. The stark differences were evident in terms of resources, community involvement, and the overall ability to create an engaging and enjoyable learning environment for the students. If we were to categorize the schools, the ones in Davis would be considered affluent compared to the working-class categorization of the schools in Compton. I hold a deep affection for my school in Compton, as they consistently made the best use of the limited resources available to them. Despite the vast disparity that exists, I managed to thrive and gain admission to UC Davis, all thanks to the inspiring teachers who motivated and supported me. Despite the challenges they faced due to the disparities, they remained resilient and dedicated, striving to make a positive impact in the lives of their students, no matter how small. As an individual from a low-income background, I aspire to prove that Hispanics can excel in academic settings and serve as role models. I aspire to be a beacon of hope, just as my previous teachers were to me. I want to serve as a constant reminder that even amidst challenging circumstances, growth and success are possible, much like a rose blooming from concrete. By being a positive influence and role model for these children, I hope to inspire them to reach for their dreams. Through my proactive pursuit of knowledge and personal growth, I actively advocate for restorative justice and challenge the misconception that individuals from backgrounds similar to mine are incapable of thriving in this environment. I aim to serve as a symbol of hope, breaking down prejudices within the educational system and advocating for a future where equality thrives not only within the classroom but also throughout society. When I envision the future in which I will raise my children, I yearn for an inclusive and nurturing environment where they can fearlessly embrace their true selves. I believe that true change is in the hands of the people, and I am reminded of the quote, "A ladder can move, but only if it is moved." Change is not a passive process, nor does it occur instantaneously. It requires ongoing efforts and the involvement of individuals. I am committed to the idea of perpetuating progress and evolution within the educational system. We, as a society, should aspire for education to become a sanctuary, free from judgment and noise, where students can truly be themselves.

I am Sicily Brancatelli, a first-year undergraduate at the University of California, Davis, with a major in human development and a minor in education! Despite growing up in Compton, California, a stigmatized area, and facing the challenges of a single mother and an absent father, I have managed to achieve academic excellence! I have actively contributed to my community through various endeavors, including obtaining my CPR certificate, participating in conventions (where I received the best speaker award), and volunteering for my former school's after-school program. While initially considering a career as a nurse, my aspirations gradually shifted, leading me to discover my true passion for teaching. Despite being aware of the modest salaries that teachers often receive, I firmly believe in the profound impact that passionate teaching can have on inspiring and assisting the youth in our community. I am convinced that the benefits derived from dedicating myself to empowering the next generation outweigh the financial limitations associated with the teaching profession. Currently, I am making excellent progress toward an early graduation from college. Recently, I accomplished a remarkable feat by earning a place on the Dean's honor list, an achievement that fills my family with immense pride, given that I am a first-generation Hispanic student from a low-income background. At the young age of 19, I have already gained invaluable experience through internships at two elementary schools, where I had the opportunity to work with TK students and second graders. In this particular circumstance, I am increasingly conscious of the socioeconomic disparities and the underrepresentation of individuals from my background in affluent neighborhoods. It drives me to actively absorb knowledge and experiences from the affluent schools where I intern, intending to utilize that newfound understanding to benefit schools in low-income, working-class communities like my own. I am keenly aware of the significance of investing my time in these internships as a means to acquire knowledge and skills that will shape my future. My unwavering determination lies in bridging the gap between educational privilege and economic challenges, and in effecting positive change. By applying the invaluable lessons I learn in these privileged educational settings, I strive to uplift and empower students in schools facing economic hardships. Breaking the cycle of poverty and taking charge of my destiny serve as powerful motivations in my life, instilling great pride within my family. I firmly believe in my ability to make a meaningful impact and contribute to a brighter future for education. Through my proactive pursuit of knowledge and personal growth, I actively advocate for restorative justice and challenge the misconception that individuals from backgrounds similar to mine are incapable of thriving in this environment. I aim to serve as a symbol of hope, breaking down prejudices within the educational system and advocating for a future where equality thrives not only within the classroom but also throughout society. When I envision the future in which I will raise my children, I yearn for an inclusive and nurturing environment where they can fearlessly embrace their true selves. I believe that true change is in the hands of the people, and I am reminded of the quote, "A ladder can move, but only if it is moved." Change is not a passive process, nor does it occur instantaneously. It requires ongoing efforts and the involvement of individuals. We, as a society, should aspire for education to become a sanctuary, free from judgment and noise, where students can truly be themselves. Our children represent that future, and we cannot achieve success if we continue to perpetuate hate and ignorance.

As I matured, I came to admire my mother immensely. She stood as my beacon of strength and guidance throughout my upbringing. In my young eyes, she was the sole figure of adulthood, shielding me from the complexities of life. However, I later discovered that my mother, who had given birth to me at the tender age of 17, was still a vulnerable child. She faced her own fears and battled loneliness as she navigated a world that often treated women with cruelty and indifference. While she didn't provide the ideal upbringing, I understand that she was navigating unfamiliar territory herself. She sacrificed her aspirations of attending college, her freedom, and even her own sense of self for my sake. Perhaps that's why, despite the hardships of my childhood, I couldn't help but harbor a love for my mother. You see, my relationship with my mother is complex: she represented the person I could become, and I embodied all her unfulfilled potential. We were far from affluent, my family making ends meet on a meager annual income of $20,000 while raising six children. My mother, undeniably strong and worthy of admiration, evoked a sense of pity within me. It saddened me to witness her spirit gradually dimmed by the harsh realities of the world. She had endured so much pain that she began to shield her heart, navigating each day cautiously, hoping to avoid further wounds. I saw her as a precious and unique gem, yet our society failed to recognize her worth. Despite the immense hurt she carried, she persevered, determined to provide her children with the best possible life. While her approach may have been flawed, it was not malicious. It simply couldn't be. Deep down, my mother intended to ensure that I wouldn't experience the hardships she had endured. Perhaps that's why her actions pained me so deeply. She displayed a tough exterior—harsh, strict, and distant—yet there were moments when she revealed such tender warmth. I stood outside the bathroom door, witnessing her breakdowns as she sought solace in the shower. I heard her muffled cries into her pillow every night, though she remains unaware of my presence. It was in these moments that my perception of her, my guarded and resilient mother, transformed into a figure of empathy. She became someone I could both admire and connect with on a profound level. Unbeknownst to my mother, I silently stood by her side, supporting her from the shadows. Fueled by a deep desire to earn her pride, I yearned for her attention, approval, and some form of recognition. I longed to break free from the constraints that held us captive and become a shining beacon of hope for both her and our family, just as she had been for me. Determined to liberate us from the endless cycle of poverty, I toiled relentlessly. Day and night, I dedicated myself to becoming an unyielding pillar, much like my mother. I sculpted myself into an unbreakable statue, driven by the aspiration to carve out a future that offered something different, something filled with promise and possibilities.

One of my most significant achievements thus far has been making the dean's list. While being a first-generation college student is a noteworthy accomplishment in itself, I understand the importance of celebrating other milestones as well. Making the dean's list serves as a testament to my hard work and dedication, demonstrating my academic success and commitment to excellence. It allows me to embrace my achievements beyond the label of being a first-generation student, showcasing my abilities and determination in a different light. Transitioning from a low-income area to the prestigious environment of a UC school was a drastic change, and it triggered intense feelings of imposter syndrome within me. At times, I find myself doubting whether I truly deserve this opportunity or if I truly belong here. I question whether my acceptance was solely to boost diversity statistics or merely to serve as another statistic myself. Yet, when these negative thoughts threaten to overwhelm me, I remind myself that I am not only carrying the weight of my own aspirations, but I am also carrying the weight of my parents, their parents, and the generations before them. Attaining this prestigious title was undeniably challenging, and I consistently find the need to remind myself of the hurdles I overcame. I take pride in the fact that I am pursuing a Bachelor's degree in science, breaking barriers as a woman in STEM. Despite wrestling with personal financial burdens and battling imposter syndrome, I managed to achieve this remarkable feat as a freshman. It serves as a poignant reminder that my past does not define my capabilities, and I deserve to be here just as much as anyone else. I devote myself tirelessly, toiling day and night in an unending cycle that seems to engulf my entire being, all to make those who have supported me immensely proud. I am acutely conscious that my journey serves as a testament to the profound impact of my surroundings, and in this very moment, I stand as a living testament to both resilience and beauty. This experience has illuminated the truth that, as a Hispanic low-income student, I am deserving of this opportunity and capable of flourishing within this academic environment, despite the obstacles that may have previously hindered my progress. While the adjustment period was undoubtedly challenging, I acknowledge the moments when I felt as though I were sinking, and yet, I persevered. With unwavering determination, I used my hands to push the water down and behind me, propelling myself upward and forward, refusing to be weighed down by the past. Amidst the intensifying demands of my current academic workload, which includes 19 units and an additional internship, I find myself steadily approaching the formidable finals week. Yet, amidst it all, my mind is consumed by the vivid vision of my future success. I am well on track to graduate college early, thereby being classified as part of the class of 2025 instead of 2026. The prospect of working diligently towards my goals and completing this transformative journey, with the inclusion of both my desired major and minor, fills me with boundless excitement. This opportunity feels like a ray of light and a refreshing stream of water finally reaching a wilted flower on the verge of surrendering. I am determined to shoulder the weight of my family's aspirations, even if it means enduring the occasional groans and creaks of my weary bones, for I serve as a beacon of hope. As the first in my family to earn a college diploma, I carry their dreams and aspirations with pride.

Mental illness seemed to be a constant companion throughout my life. Perhaps it began with my birth, as my mother herself was both young and inexperienced. While she didn't provide the ideal upbringing, I understand that she was navigating unfamiliar territory herself. She sacrificed her aspirations of attending college, her freedom, and even her own sense of self for my sake. Perhaps that's why, despite the hardships of my childhood, I couldn't help but harbor a love for my mother. You see, my relationship with my mother is complex: she represented the person I could become, and I embodied all her unfulfilled potential. That's why, during my elementary school years, when my mother would have a panic attack, screaming and weeping in the car, expressing how she wanted to die, I found myself speechless. What could I possibly say? After all, I was merely a child. How could I have possibly known that she had sacrificed her own happiness and future solely for my sake? She was the sole presence in my life, and as a result, I held onto her with all my heart. I couldn't grasp the profound sadness underlying her words, but I could sense her loneliness and her surrender. What exactly she had given up, I couldn't comprehend at that time. All I knew was that she had indeed given up on something, of that much I was certain. I longed for my mother's gaze, for her to acknowledge my existence, and to offer me something, be it a display of affection or a trace of fondness. More often than not, I was met with indifference. I yearned for my mother's love, and perhaps, in her own way, she did love me. However, I couldn't fully feel or experience that love. There was an undeniable disconnect, a void that remained unfulfilled. Somewhere along the way, my own aspirations became blurred and hazy. My sole desire shifted from seeking my mother's recognition to craving anyone's recognition. I enrolled in spelling bees, consistently achieved honors, and floated between social circles, all in pursuit of what exactly? The void that my mother had left inside me created a profound emptiness, an insatiable void that constantly yearned for something more. It hungered incessantly, yet never found satisfaction. Perhaps this was her way of punishing us. It had to be. I transformed into a bitter and unattractive version of myself, merely a hollow shell with no clear sense of purpose or desire. Yet, one thing remained certain: I refused to accept failure. If I were to do so, who would be there to love me? Who would stand by my side? Uncertainty clouded my relationships, or perhaps they were nothing more than superficial acquaintances. There's a well-known saying that resonates deeply with me: "We accept the love we think we deserve." I firmly believe in its truth. If my mother had possessed self-love and recognized her own worth, she wouldn't have remained in relationships with men who consistently let her down, neglected her, cheated on her, subjected her to abuse, or even harmed her own children. Other mothers might have drawn a firm line, refusing to tolerate such mistreatment, but my mother chose to close her eyes to the harsh reality. She did so to maintain the illusion of a happy life—the so-called American dream of a perfect family and a blissfully married couple. Despite her inherent beauty and inner radiance, my mother was a precious gem tainted and obscured by the negativity that clung to her very being. The awareness of my mother's resentment towards me was a heavy burden to bear, but strangely enough, it might have been even more difficult if I hadn't known. Whenever she looked at me, I could see that she saw everything she could have become, everything she could have had—a future devoid of endless pain, sorrow, and betrayal. My mother's perception of herself and her relationship with me deeply influenced my own understanding of love, life, and relationships. I would argue her lack of self-love revealed to me the ugliest aspects of men. Somewhere amidst the confusion and uncertainty, I lost my own sense of self-respect. I discovered that, unconsciously, I was gradually becoming a reflection of my mother. The relationship between a mother and daughter is inherently intricate. It becomes even more challenging when you're the first in your family who plans to attend college, the first to break away from the tightly-knit nest your family had created. I wasn't merely supporting myself; I carried the weight of previous and future generations in my family. The burden was so heavy that my own legs struggled to support me, and the bones within me groaned and creaked under the strain of my parents, their parents, and the generations before them. I fear that one day, I might crumble under the pressure. I am constantly molded into an unattainable image of strength and resilience, and when something doesn't go according to plan, I find myself pelted with rocks of criticism and disappointment. In response, I bury my emotions deep within and carry myself with a proud demeanor, dedicating myself to upholding the facade my family has intricately constructed. I diligently expand my social network, strive for remarkable achievements, and bear the weight of their expectations upon my shoulders, all in the hope that one day, through my actions, I will discover inner peace and learn to love myself. I yearn for the day when I can break free from my mother's shadow, which relentlessly binds me to the ground, preventing me from truly soaring.