When I accepted admission to the University of Texas at Austin, my first thought was: "I better start picking up more hours at work". The school is located in the heart of Austin, Texas, the state's capitol, and the home of the Darell K. Royal stadium and Moody Center. Since UT Austin is regarded as the number one public university in Texas, I believed being accepted was nearly impossible for someone from my small town, but it was my goal. I had achieved it, and now I had to figure out how I was going to make enough money for tuition and to live in Austin. Though I worked throughout high school and into the summer, earned scholarships and grants, and saved every dollar up until August, I still couldn't have been prepared for Austin. If I brought a car, parking and monthly payments would cost the entirety of my grant money, and paying for my dorm almost did. As luck would have it, I had just enough funding to finish off my tuition for the academic year, but I am at a loss for the next one. I would like to finish school without worrying about money, so I can finish strong and give my parents less to stress about. While in high school, I planned to finish school as soon as possible in order to start working. I want to become an editor for novels, but my scope will not be limited to customers. I am a firm believer that everyone has a story embedded with history, and my hope is to encourage those who are too shy to come forward with their own. As a Hispanic woman, I developed an interest in the stories of those who are similar to me, and came to comprehend a sentiment familiar to my community: while we want to share our stories, we want those around us to understand. Whether it is through a shared language, experience, or similar family dynamics, people can be more vulnerable when they feel a connection with others. If I work hard to get into the room, I can be that source of peace for the person who struggles. As time passes by, more history is lost from the fear, so I am moving forward quickly. This year was difficult. Two weeks before I arrived on campus, I was attacked while visiting another state. The entire experience felt close to a nightmare, and I struggled to continue through the rest of my life while working through my feelings. I did not feel supported or safe for a long time, but I was given the space I needed while at school. Additionally, I pursued help for my mental health and resources to seek justice, and I am trying each day to move forward. Now, I want to finish school. I worked hard throughout my life to come to this university and qualify for a good job, and I will not let what happened to me disrupt my goals.

In ninth grade, I applied for REACH, a dual credit program that allows students an opportunity to earn an associate’s degree along with their high school diploma. Although the associate's degree was the program's main selling point, promises of an internship during my senior year sealed the deal for me. So, despite the fact that none of my friends were interested, I applied and was accepted into the REACH program. Although I experienced more hardships than anything else, I am grateful to the program for being a prime example of student negligence and inspiring me to become a teacher that cares about students who actively pursue school. The pandemic occurred the week after I turned in my application, and I graduated ninth grade in my bedroom. I would start courses from Temple College the following year, taking college electives along with advanced high school courses. I was under the impression that I needed to take two science courses in order to proceed with the program, so I did not have room for any electives apart from cross-country. Under normal circumstances, I would be taking a bus from the high school to the higher education center to receive college lectures; but due to social distancing, I was required to stay in the library for two hours each day and receive assignments online. Since the turnout for the program was so small and the fear of coronavirus was so high, I was almost always alone during those two hours. I felt that the school had "put me on the back burner" despite having been accepted into the hardest program that they offered, so I decided to graduate tenth grade in my bedroom as well. I held hope that the next two years would be different since I would have a schedule of strictly college courses. According to the information that I was given before I applied, I would take a bus to the higher education center with the dual credit students since it began in eleventh grade. I would finally be with people my own age again. However, when I arrived, I was told that my schedule was too sporadic for the school to offer me a ride to the other campus and I would need to provide my own transportation for the year. I did not have a car or driver's license, so my only choice was to ask my parents to drop me off before they went to work. With three school-aged children, this task was often troublesome for my parents, so I gave up on trying to attend cross-country practices. Additionally, I did not receive financial aid for textbooks and paid out of pocket. During this time, a new program was established at my high school: the Texas Bioscience Institute. The program also allowed students to pursue an associate's degree, starting at the beginning of their junior year. Furthermore, students received transportation to and from classes and financial aid for textbooks. I was genuinely upset by the program's sudden appearance, especially after learning that many students were continuing to participate in sports and other electives. Nonetheless, I continued studying through the REACH program and made it to twelfth grade. Needless to say, I did not receive an internship opportunity in my senior year. Facing each of these challenges caused me to wish for an adult that would step in and lift the burdens off of me, yet I received no such treatment from the staff at school. Other REACH students share the sentiment, so I hope to become a teacher that speaks up for students who work the hardest.

According to Vincent N. Parillo’s Strangers to These Shores, “far more Latinos ages 25 or older never finished high school compared to the total population” (340). I see the repercussions of this statistic amongst my peers as a high school senior. Despite reaching the final stretch of high school and standing on the edge of childhood, many Latinx students remain unprepared for adult life. Whether it is due to poorly educated parents, language barriers, or immigration statuses, these students face disproportionate amounts of challenges in education compared to students who are not Latinx. Many students have either dropped out or are currently failing at least one class, and methods to improve participation have not proved successful. However, I hope to advocate for a teaching philosophy that centers student interest and hopefully engages Latinx youth to continue their education and find success in their lives. Growing up, I had the advantage of a stable home life and a supportive mom. I did not encounter negativity outside of healthy emotions and had a childhood free from stress. I focused on reading as many books as I wanted, and excelled in my classes while my mom cheered me on. However, I soon learned that many of my friends, mostly Latinx minorities, struggled to learn in the classroom since English was not their first language. For students that learned English, the burden of education was heavier. One of my closest friends has been interpreting for her parents since she was in elementary school. She spoke on her parents' behalf when discussing bills, taxes, and even her grades. Over time, these parasitic discussions gnawed at her time and mental health, so her focus on assignments diminished throughout middle school. She could not comprehend English at the same rate as our class, so she hated the subject. Instead of providing help, we saw teachers scoff at her lack of motivation and ridicule her for not applying herself. Fortunately, she did not drop out of high school, but she will not be pursuing education at a university level. It is frustrating to watch the education system fail perfectly capable Latinx students, and I wish that there was a way I could have helped her. Although I failed to support her due to my own studies, seeing and listening to her story has fueled my desire to become the teacher that relieves Latinx students of academic stress and motivates them to pursue education. Dismissing punishments for students falling behind the learning curve- detention, public humiliation, and withholding graduation- would help Latinx students feel comfortable with expressing their needs. Education is arguably the most valuable for Latinx students, since it is a gateway to a well-paying career. Additionally, high school graduates are knowledgable in basic math and composition, which are requirements in modern America. In order to protect the community, we must first protect our youth and their education.

Growing up, I had the advantage of a stable home life and a supportive mom. I did not encounter negativity outside of healthy emotions and had a childhood free from stress. I focused on reading as many books as I wanted, and excelled in my classes while my mom cheered me on. However, I soon learned that many of my friends, mostly Hispanic, struggled to learn in the classroom since English was not their first language. For students that learned English, the burden of education was heavier. One of my closest friends has been interpreting for her parents since she was in elementary school. She spoke on her parents' behalf when discussing bills, taxes, and even her grades. Over time, these parasitic discussions gnawed at her time and mental health, so her focus on assignments diminished throughout middle school. She could not comprehend English at the same rate as our class, so she hated the subject. Instead of providing help, we saw teachers scoff at her lack of motivation and ridicule her for not applying herself. Fortunately, she did not drop out of high school, but she will not be pursuing education at a university level. It is frustrating to watch the education system fail perfectly capable students, and I wish that there was a way I could have helped her. Though her story disappoints me, seeing what negligent teaching can do has fueled my desire to become the teacher that relieves students of academic stress and motivates them to pursue education. Dismissing punishments for students falling behind the learning curve- detention, public humiliation, and withholding graduation- would help students feel comfortable with expressing their needs. In my opinion, the most important thing a teacher can do is listen to their students. Showing students that their well-being is valued can boost motivation and a desire for learning. In a nation where education is free and accessible, allowing today's youth to overlook their opportunities is a waste of potential and resources. More importantly, the need for well-educated workers will only increase with the number of high school dropouts. Instead of discouraging students, I hope to center my classroom around student needs. This method may also combat burnout, which is common for students who take many advanced classes for a consecutive amount of years. Both ends of the academic spectrum are on the edge of giving up, but I hope to influence students to give school another chance and succeed.

In ninth grade, I applied for REACH, a dual credit program that allows students an opportunity to earn an associate’s degree along with their high school diploma. Although the associate's degree was the program's main selling point, promises of an internship during my senior year sealed the deal for me. So, despite the fact that none of my friends were interested, I applied and was accepted into the REACH program. Although I experienced more hardships than anything else, I am grateful to the program for being a prime example of student negligence and inspiring me to become a teacher that cares about students who actively pursue school. The pandemic occurred the week after I turned in my application, and I graduated ninth grade in my bedroom. I would start courses from Temple College the following year, taking college electives along with advanced high school courses. I was under the impression that I needed to take two science courses in order to proceed with the program, so I did not have room for any electives apart from cross-country. Under normal circumstances, I would be taking a bus from the high school to the higher education center to receive college lectures; but due to social distancing, I was required to stay in the library for two hours each day and receive assignments online. Since the turnout for the program was so small and the fear of coronavirus was so high, I was almost always alone during those two hours. I felt that the school had "put me on the back burner" despite having been accepted into the hardest program that they offered, so I decided to graduate tenth grade in my bedroom as well. I held hope that the next two years would be different since I would have a schedule of strictly college courses. According to the information that I was given before I applied, I would take a bus to the higher education center with the dual credit students since it began in eleventh grade. I would finally be with people my own age again. However, when I arrived, I was told that my schedule was too sporadic for the school to offer me a ride to the other campus and I would need to provide my own transportation for the year. I did not have a car or driver's license, so my only choice was to ask my parents to drop me off before they went to work. With three school-aged children, this task was often troublesome for my parents, so I gave up on trying to attend cross-country practices. Additionally, I did not receive financial aid for textbooks and paid out of pocket. During this time, a new program was established at my high school: the Texas Bioscience Institute. The program also allowed students to pursue an associate's degree, starting at the beginning of their junior year. Furthermore, students received transportation to and from classes and financial aid for textbooks. I was genuinely upset by the program's sudden appearance, especially after learning that many students were continuing to participate in sports and other electives. Nonetheless, I continued studying through the REACH program and made it to twelfth grade. Needless to say, I did not receive an internship opportunity in my senior year. Facing each of these challenges caused me to wish for an adult that would step in and lift the burdens off of me, yet I received no such treatment from the staff at school. Other REACH students share the sentiment, so I hope to become a teacher that speaks up for students who work the hardest.

Despite the noble nature of the profession, teachers are selfish. Through a chosen teaching philosophy, they will determine what is more important to teach, whether it is instructing a core curriculum or encouraging critical thinking and social change. Undoubtedly, it is selfish for one group of people to pick and choose what and how students will learn; however, I can not deny that I am working towards being a part of the said group myself. My interest in teaching began in the middle of high school. Before, I was set on becoming a journalist that wrote captivating articles to bring awareness to those in need and seek change in the world. Writing was my outlet for all the conflicting emotions that appeared with adolescence, and a skill that I had been honing for years. I read books and articles about topics that were difficult to digest, but their stories compelled me to continue further research and recommend the texts to my peers. I viewed journalism as a key component of social change. With this in mind, I bounded into my high school's journalism course for freshmen, eager to start writing my first article. At the end of the semester, I would decide that I did not want to pursue journalism any longer. "Understanding the basics is understanding journalism". Miss Barrett's motto grates across my brain as I recall the endless amounts of editing assignments that I received that semester. In addition to being the only journalism teacher on campus, she was the coach of Hutto High School's journalism UIL team. So it did not surprise anyone to learn that her "lessons" on editorial writing, feature writing, and headline writing coincided with the assigned texts in a journalism UIL competition. My days in her class were spent investigating grammar mistakes and rewriting premade articles to edit out unnecessary information. My obsession with journalism was ruined by this repetition of uninteresting assignments, and I rejoiced when they dwindled to one or two a week due to quarantine. After the nationwide pandemic, I was a sophomore that loved reading and writing and wanted to change the world but did not care for journalism. Unfortunately, balancing high school and college classes was nearly impossible with entirely virtual classes. I was awake for days on end simply reading assignments and writing answers. That following semester, I had a schedule of only college courses that took place on a separate campus from my peers. Initially, I believed I would continue down an isolating and passionless path. However, composition Professor Van Note proved me wrong. Her course also revolved around editing grammar and syntax, but I wrote more than six essays in the first semester. Additionally, I was required to read some of the most intriguing short stories and articles I have ever come across. Van Note wanted her students to learn through experience, and use the textbook as a guide for problems rather than revisiting the rules during each class. Many students complained that she discussed the texts more than proper grammar, resulting in longer nights studying the textbook. Though that was her intention, some students found it inconsiderate of their time. I want to be an inconsiderate teacher in my own way. According to my experiences, there is not a single teacher that gets everything right. However, I want to fan the flames of my students passions and provide them with the knowledge to succeed in my class. I doubt there will be zero complaints about my teaching style, but I hope to adapt for the sake of my students and their futures.

My name is Syriah Enriquez, and I'm entering my senior year of high school. I'll graduate in 2023 and pursue an English degree with the support of my family. Unfortunately, there are numerous teenage girls who can not say the same, whether they want to or not. My childhood friend gave birth to her first son this January. Teenage pregancies are common, and mothers graduating high school is frequent in Texas. Still, the stigma of "getting knocked up" impacts a girl's future. Most of the adults in her life encouraged her to stay home and care for her newborn instead of returning to school and graduating. She was told that this baby would give her financial benefits, which she could use for unethical purposes. My friend did not grow up in a household that valued academics. In fact, her mother was in the same situation when she was born, and the culture around her influenced the choices that she made, and the ones that she would encourage her daughter to make today. The kind of decision that has stopped her from walking across the stage and recieving a diploma with me next year. Other friends of mine will graduate with me, but they have regrets of their own that were shared this part year. I met one girl in middle school, and she was never allowed to come over because she needed to babysit her younger brother. In addition, her parents were Mexican immigrants that needed her help to communicate with schools and pay bills. When the pandemic hit, her grades plummeted further than before. She spent years focusing on her family, but feels forced to focus on herself now that her senior year is here. Her entire academic career felt unnecessary, and she thinks that she won't even make it to college. I believe that she can if she puts in effort this year, but it's not my place to guide her. Unfortunately, her parents, teachers, and school counselors have chosen to agree with her, which only made her feel defeated, as if the adults in her life have given up on her. My heart hurts for her, because she wouldn't feel this beaten if reaching college did not matter to her. Needless to say, education matters to young women. However, support from adults is one of the most important factors to educate teenagers. I hope to become the kind of teacher that encourages young women to study, or at least be passionate about their futures. I truly believe that if at least one adult told these girls that they had the capabilities to continue their education, they would have made different decisions. The girls that grew up with me were failed, so I refuse to let down the girls that I will educate in the future.