I want people to know I did everything I could. It is a sentence, but it is the standard by which I hope to measure my life. When someone is struggling, I do not want my role in their life to end with completing a task or doing what was expected of me. I want them to know that I cared. I want them to feel heard when they are overwhelmed, supported when life becomes difficult, and reminded that someone is still rooting for them. If I can become a ray of hope in someone’s life, even for a moment, I will consider that an impact worth making. That is part of what draws me to medicine. I am fascinated by the science, but I am fascinated by the privilege of turning knowledge into action. There is something about what a physician’s hands can do: hold a patient, close an incision, feel a pulse, or perform something precise to change the course of a life. I want to earn that responsibility. But I do not want to become a physician who only treats what is in front of me. I want to understand the person behind the problem and do everything within my ability to help them. That is why my education has taken me across disciplines. I study computer science alongside biology because I believe healthcare requires us to understand both people and the tools we build for them. Earlier diagnosis can change a patient's future. Genomics can reveal what we cannot see. Data and artificial intelligence can help us recognize patterns that may lead to more precise care. Yet none of that matters if innovation becomes another barrier between patients and the healthcare they deserve. I want to understand science and technology well enough to help bridge that gap. My parents taught me the responsibility behind that ambition. They gave me my first education before I entered a classroom: how to learn, how to work, how to care for others, and how to remain grounded while pursuing something greater. Because of them, I do not see education as something meant only to move me forward. I see it as something I should be able to give back. I want to use that education to serve people who are overlooked. I want to advocate for patients whose needs are not being heard, identify gaps in healthcare, and help create solutions that close them. I want to reduce the digital divide as healthcare becomes increasingly dependent on technology. I want to pursue research and help turn what we discover into something that improves real lives. Wherever my career takes me, I want to mentor, encourage, and remind others that they are capable of more than they may believe. I know medicine will also teach me that I cannot fix everything. Science will not always have an answer. My faith reminds me to remain humble in that uncertainty and hopeful in the face of it. I want to bring both qualities into my work: the determination to keep searching and the humility to recognize what is beyond me. Ultimately, I do not want my education to be measured only by the degrees I earn, the discoveries I make, or the patients I treat. I want it to be measured by the people who felt less alone because I was there. I want my mind to discover, my hands to heal, and my presence to give people hope. And when I look back, I want every person whose life I touched to know one thing: I did everything I could.

I have for the first 13 years of my life never imagined that I would be in the United States. A tourist visit to the U.S. by itself felt like a dream, no wonder how studying Bachelor’s in the States would be. My name is Tanisha Kanthavel, a sophomore at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte majoring in Computer Science and Biology along the pre-med track. This journey started off four years ago when my dad first came here. Later during the summer, we arrived at this land of opportunities, which was just as talked by people. At first, the culture and the feeling of not having anyone struck in me wanting me to go back to my own land. The emotions seeped in so much that I ultimately took the decision to leave behind this and insisted on moving back home. With my dad still working in the States, we came back for the next year’s summer to spend time with him. But this time, my perception was different. The one year back home did something to me that the first 13 years of my life did not. It made me realize, it made me understand the future, it made me resilient. It was the year after Covid-19 and the world was no longer the same. Life gave me a chance to change my decision for the better, and I used it wisely. I stayed. It was hard, having to build back home, make new friends, and navigate a path of life that’s unknown to us. Especially for me, as I stepped into 11th grade. Understanding what it takes to be here was so draining, both physically and emotionally. I know there have been days I cried because I did not fit in, but then I lifted myself up. I knew I had the power to make the decision I took to be my strength or be my weakness, and I started working towards shaping my pillar. I looked up and gathered information on what it takes to apply to colleges in the United States. The GPA, SAT, extracurriculars, personal essay, all of it struck my mind as one thing: What is that? But somehow as the days passed, I picked up on everything. The accent slowly no longer felt alienated, the slang, the environment, and the house started to feel like home. All of this took a lot of learning, observing and falling down but then knowing to rise back up. These three years in the United States have taught me more, not just about life but also about myself. It has pushed me to be the best version of myself, and I absolutely love it. I have started knowing the way of life, and the interpretation of it. Everyday I look back, I think to myself that I wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that difficult either. Or maybe it was difficult, but I made it seem like it wasn’t.

I never had a straight path laid out for me and maybe that's a good thing. As an immigrant and the first generation in my family to study in the US, I've always felt like I was walking in two worlds: one full of uncertainty and one bursting with opportunity. But reading Chapter Two of John Graff’s Real Insights made me realize something important: not knowing everything from the start doesn’t mean you’re lost. It means you’re learning. Growing. Becoming. His journey into real estate wasn’t planned out in perfect steps — it was shaped by flexibility, grit, and a real belief in doing work that matters. I would laugh at my situation sometimes, yearning for an elder sibling to have found and laid the way out for me: both financially and academically. With having a younger sister, I see myself in that position. I didn't have one, but the thought that I could be one drives me all the way through. I'm majoring in computer science at UNC Charlotte while minoring in biology and following a pre-med track. It might seem like a weird mix to some, but to me it is everything I care about. I see technology changing the face of medicine, not just in flashy robotic surgeries or AI-driven diagnoses but in how we blend data, empathy, and purpose to help people live better. I want to become an oncologist surgeon because I care deeply about both science and people. I have seen cancer up close and know how much it affects families. This drive to make a difference is personal and powerful. When COVID-19 hit, it changed everything. I saw firsthand how fragile life can be and how important public health is to every community. That experience led me to my first job in public health at the Rhode Island Department of Health. It wasn't extraordinary work, but it was real and it taught me that treatment is only one part of the story. Preventive measures, awareness, and access to care are just as crucial. Like Graff said in his chapter, sometimes your path takes turns you didn’t expect. I never thought my love for coding would mix with medicine. But now, I can’t imagine separating them. And I know it won’t be easy. Becoming a doctor takes time, energy, and sacrifice. But I’m okay with that. Because this journey isn’t about chasing a paycheck — it’s about chasing purpose. I want to be the kind of doctor who shows up when it matters. Who uses every tool, whether it’s a scalpel or a line of code, to help someone live a little longer, or a little better. And even though I’m still figuring things out, just like Graff did, I know I’m on the right track. Because this path, with all its curves and uncertainty, feels like mine.

Bowing to the Krishna statue at the Massachusetts Lakshmi temple, my heart relaxed. The relaxation I sought in the U.S. drew me to the temple more often than in my hometown. I placed a lotus in the 'lotus feet' of the supreme lord, and closed my eyes. It's been two year since I moved to the U.S, and life is ten times better than the year when I felt so small. The world is connected through the internet, but we decide which parts to see. I never looked beyond India; I had friends to talk to, knew my country top-to-bottom, but everything was so Indian. I didn't sense the waves of change until I started school in a new country. As an 11th grader, I spoke English—but Indian-accented English. I wanted to make friends, but I struggled to connect with their conversation topics. A joke here, a quip there - both eluded my understanding - alienated me further. This alienation galvanized my deeper exploration into Carnatic music, illuminating my path toward self-improvement and cultural integration. In the serene atmosphere of the temple, I sang “Jagadhananda Karaka,” a Keerthana praising the Almighty. “Sa...Ni...Pa...Ri...Sa...Ma...Ri...Sa…” I kept up with the demanding pace of the raga Nata; tapping my hands on the tala Adhi (a musical measure) as I added gamakas (ornamentation by oscillating my vocal cords). Towards the end of the Keerthana, I heard people applauding. One of them walked to my mom, astonished, asking how long I had been practicing Carnatic, and my mom proudly said, “ELEVEN YEARS.” Looking at the idol's smile before I left the temple, I realized everything requires perseverance. I remembered how much I struggled to master Kalyani—a Varnam less complicated than Keerthana—and now I felt flawless singing the Keerthana. To combat my solitude, I turned to Carnatic music, which strengthened my hope. I firmly believed, “Everything happens for a better reason.” I pushed myself to take challenging academic classes, joined clubs, volunteered in community events, and spent quality time with family. The very act of stepping out of my comfort zone and focusing on self-improvement broke me free from my alienation. I took the personal initiative to start Shruthilaya Music Academy. Knowing how Carnatic shaped my values, I chose to share my knowledge of music to serve as a guiding light for my peers. My initiative provides a space for children aged 5 and above to explore and appreciate music, both online and offline. I witness students transform not only their musical skills, but also their confidence and self-expression. My happiness, being the Guru for six students right now, has no bounds. This has guided me toward a path where I experience a true sense of belonging and purpose—a path where I find great satisfaction in supporting others. My revelation showed me that persistence is key to overcoming any obstacle, and music lead me towards the path of persistence. It was as if Music came up to me and said "Hey! Why worry? When I am here!" Now that I have my best friend—I say 'best' cause she has been with me for eleven years!—I don't feel alone...Pro tip: neither will you, if you make music your best friend! As I continue to navigate life—with my next step up to college—, I carry with me the teachings acquired from the ragas, shrutis and talas that shaped me into a confident person. Tyagaraja, composer of Jagadananda Karaka, said, “CARNATIC is a way of life;” his words are my truth.

I'm Tanisha Kanthavel currently completing Grade 11 and will be a high school senior during the academic year 2024-25. I moved to the U.S. last year, April 2023, and joined Grade 11 in September 2023 at North Providence High School. Until then, I did my education in Chennai, India; while the shift from my home country to another country might feel like an easy/normal shift to people who look from the outside, I personally know that it has been a huge cultural and mental change for me. When I first walked into a high school in the U.S, I experienced a sense of loneliness. I could see that all students there already had their own friend groups and it was hard for me to fit into one. Just because my views on life and how to live it are different from their views, it was difficult for me to come up with what I needed to talk to them to continue a conversation and become a part of their group. Most of the time I felt like I didn't belong there; I felt a bit different that everyone else in the same area. Everyone else knew what to talk about, what not to do, how to talk/respond, and so on. Sometimes my teachers might have felt like I was rude because I didn't know how to respond in the American way. Despite all this, I knew one thing there wasn't anything termed impossible, and if I wanted to I could improve myself. I have been a high scorer back in India so understanding concepts wasn't a base problem for me. But understanding the way the education system works here was an issue. I haven't done so many assignments in India and when asked to do projects here, I feel a bit confused. At times I would know the concept in the reading, say for Science, but I wouldn't know some terms that they use in the question. To be honest, I didn't know some words at the beginning of the year I actually mistook the question and scored a bit less. The complex terminologies were a barrier to showcasing my potential understanding of a subject like Science or Math. The term used back in India to describe something scientific is different from the term used in the United States. Even though, I had all these complications I took AP Physics 1 and AP Biology this year along with URI Writing 104/Honors English. I was successful in the class with an average of 90+ and a GPA of 3.9 for 4.0. I just came to the United States and we didn't have any relatives or friends here and so we didn't know what to do next. We didn't know that junior year was something important for college applications, we didn't know that I had to apply to scholarships and internships this year. It was tough to navigate through the process without knowing anything about the system here. I aim to become a doctor so healthcare is something that I'm into. My school has the PTECH pathway that is specially designed for students focused on healthcare. When I thought of joining it in my junior year, because that was when I joined school there, they said I couldn't. I could only join the pathway in my freshmen or sophomore year but I was in my junior year so they couldn't let me in. That deprived me of some privileges that I would have gotten if I was in the specialized pathway, taking some health courses apart from the school and having clinical workshops. But still, I tried to find the way myself. I believe that everything that happens, happens for a better reason and I trust the path that destiny makes me walk in. The SAT was another worry in junior year; I took the PSAT in the fall as soon as I joined school with the knowledge that I previously had and scored 1210. I saw from the score report that my English score was low when compared to my Math. I didn't want my parents to spend money on a SAT coaching provider so I tried to improve it at home by looking into sample questions and taking free Schoolhouse SAT sessions by Khan Academy. When I took the SAT in April, I scored 1450 with 700+ on both the Math and the Reading/Writing Sections. I'm planning to take the SAT again with even more practice and I hope I'll accomplish it. I knew that everything was possible, it was just a matter of hard and determined work. In this phase of cultural and mental struggle, I see myself standing ahead of what I was in the past. I see myself more matured understanding the path life goes on and accepting struggles as a way to self-improvement. I found a more flexible and optimistic Tanisha with a growth mindset. I feel like it's fine to ask for help when needed; it's not that nobody needs help, we all do and there's nothing wrong in asking for help rather than making a mistake due to our own assumptions. After two months, I told some of my teachers that I was new to the country and that I was still in the midst of adapting to everything over there. I sensed that I needed to let them know; it was a way of asking for help. They did support me through my way this year and I'm grateful that they helped me through the path of explaining and making the education system more clear and accessible for me.