In all areas of my life, it's important to maintain healthy, sustainable habits. As a young woman, I am acutely aware of the effects of my life on the environment and find myself wrestling with the ethics of raising a child in a climate crisis. I still haven't discovered the answer to that question, but the desire to reduce my carbon footprint and move slowly through late-stage capitalism is ever-present. Although I don't have children of my own, I've been a full-time nanny for many years and worked with children for even more. This summer, a child that I work with came face-to-face with climate change for the first time, at less than one year old. Smoke from the extreme wildfires in Canada drifted down into the Chicago region, contaminating the air at extreme levels. We were constrained to indoor activities and weren't able to go outside for almost an entire week. This shocked and frustrated me. During this period, I was angry at forces beyond my control. I couldn't understand why politicians couldn't take rapid action to slow climate change and protect our lives and Earth. I hated that, although I had just enjoyed an amazing night at a Taylor Swift concert, that the carbon impact of her world tour would have an incredibly large impact on our ecosystem. I was even frustrated with myself for wanting to pursue a career in publishing. The American publishing industry uses over 32 million trees per year, producing more than 40 million metric tons of C02 (according to WordsRated). I felt polarized; useless to stop the onset of global warming, and acknowledging my responsibility as a contributor to that same environmental disaster. I took a quiz with The Nature Conservancy, and was dismayed to discover that my carbon footprint was only 45% better than average! I decided to buckle down and make some permanent changes to my lifestyle. I was excited to see that my new internship is about a mile away from the nearest CTA stop, and have been enjoying my more sustainable morning commute. I've been trying to buy more bulk groceries, like pasta and yogurt. I love to cook, and have decided to make more staple items from scratch, to cut down on my shopping bill and plastic consumption. This weekend- I'm making bagels! Instead of meeting up with friends at a restaurant, I've suggested a walk by the lake, or inviting them over to cook dinner at my apartment. These changes may be small, but they help me stay active, increase my mental health, decrease my monthly spending, and help the environment! I'm still feeling frustrated with the decisions of many others, but am trying to put that energy to good use through voting. I'm hopeful that, one day, I can make a difference in publishing and push the industry towards a more sustainable path. Although I can still be more sustainable, I'm proud of myself for taking steps towards a healthier future.

Being a student means many hours in front of a computer or sitting with a book- especially as a graduate student. Twice a week, I attend class until 9:30 pm, and often don't arrive home until after 10 pm. Eating late at night becomes both a necessity and a bad habit. Even though I'm quite active, it's important to start healthy habits that continue throughout the school year; helping me be more alert, attentive, and driven in and out of the classroom. The biggest way I maintain my personal wellness is through my nutrition. I'll admit, I love enjoying fresh chips and salsa with a spicy margarita on the weekend. I can't get through the night without a sweet snack, and I often have two coffees a day. However, I've found that with healthy choices, I can enjoy these parts of my life and not sacrifice my physical or mental health. Cooking at home saves money and helps me to make healthy choices- someone's got to eat those leftover veggies! I love cooking, and it helps me to mentally relax as well as satiate my hunger in a positive way. Meal prepping certain ingredients and dishes is a way for me to have food ready to go when I'm in a rush or heading to class- I don't need to stop for an unhealthy snack that will leave me hungry in an hour. Fueling my body in this way helps me to enjoy those chips and salsa even more, as they're a well-deserved treat. Staying active is a great tool for maintaining wellness, both mentally and physically. Using a different part of my brain while listening to an audiobook or the latest Taylor Swift song helps me unwind and stretch my legs- especially when I can soak up the sun and walk along Lake Michigan! Changing up my routine through physical activity keeps my body healthy and engaged, and gives my mind a break after a long day of work. Even though it can be a challenge to get outside when I'm feeling tired or stressed, I know that it will always be a good investment of my time. Perhaps the most enjoyable way I can maintain my wellness is through sleep! Once I began to prioritize my sleep, I noticed a dramatic shift. I felt fewer cravings throughout the day and enjoyed more stable moods. I felt energized for longer and was able to spend more time doing things I liked instead of sitting at home and watching TV. Prioritizing sleep is definitely difficult, but going to bed early when I can and taking advantage of the weekends helps me to stay rested and rejuvenated. These tips that I've been maintaining for years help me to be a successful student, employee, and friend. I have more energy to enjoy my life and activities and don't feel weighed down by bad decisions. Investing in my personal health helps me to be the best version of myself, and I'm excited to discover more as I grow older.

I am currently enrolled in an English Literature and Publishing graduate degree program in order to break into the publishing industry. Although I'm not quite sure which specific role would be a great fit for me, I know that continuing my education and work experience will help me to find out. I am starting a part-time internship at an Illinois-based publishing house as a Publishing Intern. In this role, I'll be able to work with all facets of the company and try on different hats. I'm especially excited about the mentorship opportunities I'll get; speaking with industry professionals and building relationships in the workplace will help me to get a more nuanced idea of what job may be a good fit for me. I'm hoping to work in the publishing industry because, to put it simply, I love books! I love reading and the power of imagination, and I love to share my book recommendations with other people. Although many people say that written publications are declining, I believe that words and stories gain more power every day. Working with readers and writers to better understand the world around me will shape me (and hopefully others) to become more empathetic, more kind, and a better listener. At a young age, I read Harry Potter. Like many, many others, I feel in love with his world. The joy and excitement I felt as the seventh and final novel came out on my birthday is one of my favorite childhood memories. The power of those novels still awes me- my friends talking about our favorite characters, watching my principal dress as Professor Dumbledore on Halloween, and staying up to watch the midnight premiere of the newest movie seems to be a universal experience that many people in my generation share. That experience shaped my love of books and made me aware of what stories can bring to the world. Being a part of that experience from a professional standpoint seems like the best job in the world. Although I may not discover the next J.K. Rowling, I can help writers achieve their dreams and bring imagination to a wide readership. I'm looking forward to transforming lives and sharing my passion for stories with others. Thinking about my future prospects brings me a sense of excitement, and I never want to lose that. Who knows, maybe I'll write the next generational novel myself! You'd better hang on to this essay so that I can autograph it.

Growing up, I loved reading. I still do. Reading spurred my imagination, allowed me to cast spells like Harry Potter or ride across the mountains on horseback like Legolas. When I was reading and fully immersed in a story, nothing else mattered. It gave me confidence in myself and taught me that I can always find a way out of tough situations. Beginning in fifth grade, teachers began to separate students into different groups depending on their reading level. Although I felt confident and skilled in my reading ability, I was placed in the Proficient reading group instead of the Advanced. Although this is a minor difference, I felt completely demoralized. Instead of continuing learning feeling confident in my skills, I now doubted not only the abilities I already had but my capability to acquire new ones. The disconnect between my perceived level of capabilities and others' perception of my skills was revealed to me at that moment and became a constant obstacle as I continued my education. In my senior year of high school, I decided that I would be continuing my education at the university level, pursuing English with a focus on Creative Writing. Doubts about my career choice and my capabilities to achieve my goals plagued me as my senior-year English teacher consistently scored my writing and tests lower than I thought they deserved. As someone who felt confident in her reading, writing, and rhetorical analysis, I couldn't understand why my teacher was giving me B's. I still remember the feeling of vindication when I received a 5 on my AP English test. My senior year of undergraduate studies arrived in 2020-2021, and I applied to various graduate programs. Although my expectations were relatively low, they sunk even lower when I discovered that I had only been accepted into one program. I felt as though all my hard work and persistence were for nothing, and worried that I wouldn't be able to keep up at a graduate level. Despite my trepidations, I registered for a MA program in English Literature and Publishing at DePaul University. I am currently wrapping up my first year in the program and am so happy with my professors, my classmates, and my coursework. I feel like I am growing professionally; I will be presenting one of my research papers at an academic conference this coming summer! In hindsight, I can see that my former failures have helped grow my persistence and problem-solving skills. Now, when faced with a challenge, I don't need to be afraid of a bad grade or criticism during a writing workshop. Years of practice have shown me that I do have reason to be confident in my hard and soft skills. Thanks to my fifth-grade teacher, my high-school English teacher, and those that rejected me from graduate-level programs, I can overcome obstacles with strength and conviction. Thanks to those that doubted me, I can have even more confidence in my skills and abilities.

My grandpa loves handwritten notes. We've written to each other for years; sometimes just for birthdays and holidays, other times more frequently. We always use the same stationery, too. Edward Gorey was an author and illustrator around the late 1900s. His short book, "The Gashleycrumb Tinies" is an alphabet book in which each letter is paired with a different manner of death of one of his titular characters. It's darkly funny and somehow my Grandpa knew that's exactly the kind of writing I'd gravitate to. It was a gift when I was younger, and a few years later he found stationery imprinted with the illustrations of Edward Gorey. We've used them to write to each other ever since. Unfortunately, my Grandpa is getting older, and it's harder for him to travel and move like he used to. We lived near each other for a short time, but now we are states and time zones apart. We've gone back to writing letters to each other, although I forget just how difficult it is to translate his messy cursive. He still has the same narrative voice- dry, funny, and always with a quote or saying to take to heart. I cherish these letters and look forward to finding which Gashleycrumb Tiny will be on the next one.

I'm a writer. I've been that way since I was young and first learning to write and read. I would lay on the floor of my room for hours listening to CDs of The Chronicle of Narnia or force my Mom to read aloud for just five more minutes. As early as I can remember, I've had the desire to create stories and to be apart of bigger ones. I'd imagine dragons in my sandbox and serpents in the lake. I'd look out the window and see wicked witches flying past our car on the highway or tiny fairies flitting around the woods at my grandpa's house. I've continued to love the English language throughout my high school and college education, pursuing a degree in English-Creative Writing at my undergraduate university in Chicago. However, I've been getting closer and closer to graduation. It's creeping up on me, with each day that passes and each book I read I can see the future looming up ahead. However, I'm not afraid. I know what I love to do and what I want to pursue. I admire my professors who are intelligent and wise, that use their knowledge to shape a better world for me and my classmates, who try to critically examine what's in front of them. I've felt inspired to continue my education, like them, and hope to become even just a shade of what they are. After graduation, I'm hoping to enroll in a Master's seeking program towards a degree in English Literature and Publishing. The grant I'd receive would help me towards that goal. The cost of education mounts higher by the day, and what should be accessible to everyone is now barely achievable for the elite. I've spent my time at university deeply grateful for the financial aid I've received from donors, the school, and the government, and working three on-campus jobs to pay for the rest of my tuition. I understand the cost- financial, physical, emotional, and mental- of embarking on the journey of getting a degree. For me, it's all worth it. I love school, and the learning environment and I want to continue pursuing my passions.

Being a girl is hard. I mean, it's really, really hard. I'm sure most women can relate to the intense feelings of pressure and insecurity that come with being female in the modern world. When I was in high school, I struggled with negative thoughts about my body and my self-image. I was convinced that I was worth nothing unless I was skinnier, or prettier, or funnier, or smarter. Nothing worked or made me feel better, whether it was restricting my eating or signing up for harder classes, or doing sports I didn't enjoy. As a matter of fact, I felt worse. These doubts and insecurities were eating away at me, and I became disillusioned with the things I used to love and felt like nothing I did had any meaning. The summer after my first year at college, I felt worse than ever. I was constantly worried about my appearance changing while I was away at home, and I had just left a toxic friendship in which I was blamed for the other person's struggles with mental illness. I felt isolated and alone. Then, I went to work at an overnight Christian summer camp. I had worked there previously and had always found it to be a respite from the real world and the problems I faced away from camp. That summer, I was unable to push aside my burdens. Everywhere I looked, I saw the same struggles with self-worth and body image that I had during the year. I didn't know where else to turn or where I could go until I realized what was right in front of me: my friends. I opened up to them, slowly at first, until I was more comfortable sharing my story. They empathized with me and shared their own struggles. I learned that I was not alone, that people understood me and hurt me in the same way. We talked about the good we saw in each other and lifted each other up when one of us was having a bad day. Together, we worked on positive affirmation, and eating because we were hungry, and exercising because we wanted to celebrate the strength our bodies had. When they had cookies with dinner, we ate them. When our campers came to us with struggles of their own, we were equipped to shower them with love, affection, and advice. After this summer I was able to take camp with me throughout the year. The routines and positive lifestyle I had practiced at camp came with me during the year, and I knew that if I was feeling down, I could always call one of my friends to encourage me. I re-learned to love the things I used to enjoy, and have even begun to feel excited for what my future holds. I'm continuing on my journey to accepting who I am, and I'm happy to feel in love with myself again.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a mountain climber. Not just any regular hiker, or an adventurer; I wanted to scale Mt. Everest. I poured over books like Thin Air, dreaming about what it would feel like to push my crampon into the snow or look out across the landscape, high above the clouds. Unfortunately, my aspirations never got above Ground Level, I suspect because my mother knew, deep down, that I could never be a mountain climber. My mom loves fitness; she's run multiple marathons, participated in half Iron Mans, and is always trying to get me to try her latest recipe for brownies (warning: they're made with zucchini). From a young age, she inspired me to get outside and be active, we were always going on family walks and bike rides, playing sports and swimming in the summer. However, she realized very quickly that I lacked our family's proclivity to sports. My three younger siblings are the epitome of health and athletic prowess; my sister plays field hockey at Wooster College, my youngest sister towers over the rest of her high school lacrosse teammates at 5'10", and my brother continually sets the record at his high school's cross country course. I loved sports too, I just failed to earn the same recognition that they did. I ran but always finished near the back. I played basketball with my sister, happy when I was able to play for a few minutes each half, or catch a fly ball at a softball game. For a while, this was discouraging. What was the point in participating in these sports if I was never good enough, or was always compared to my incredible siblings? However, in college, I found out how to free myself from the negative thoughts that had always surrounded fitness. I play on my school's women's club frisbee team, Allihopa. The Swedish word means, "All together", and that's what the team taught me. I grew to love frisbee, a game I'd never played before, and on the first day was thrown on the field with a rudimentary knowledge of how to catch the disk. My teammates always encouraged me, laughed with me, and pushed me to be the best version of myself. And that was the key. I wasn't compared to the other players on the team who were better or worse than I was. I was just expected to show up every practice, tournament, and scrimmage and give the best that I could. They taught me about self-motivation and working out because it was something I enjoyed and a celebration of my body and my talents. I learned about being competitive in a healthy manner, and how to encourage others when they fell down. And above all, I was able to continue staying active in a way that fit me best, have fun with a community, and stay healthy physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I didn't get in. I read the words on the flimsy page over and over, waiting for it to sink in. I didn't get in. I was holding a letter from Oberlin College, my top school. I was a senior in high school who had spent months agonizing over the application process; re-reading essays and taking the SATs and studying financial aid packages to see what I'd be able to afford. Oberlin was my top school; their creative writing program was housed in a quaint cottage, exactly where I'd pictured Charlotte Bronte writing her seminal novel back in her day. The music department was nationally renowned, and if I closed my eyes I could picture myself on it, singing with my whole heart at my senior recital. The school was small and exclusive, but I hoped that my resume packed with extracurricular activities and high English SAT and AP scores would help me to stand out. But all that came crashing down. I didn't get in. A rejection from the place I wanted to be most hurt. I was planning to finance my own education, and Oberlin's financial aid would have been enough to support me almost completely through my four years. Not very many other schools were giving me that opportunity. I finally decided on North Park University, a small Chrisitan college located in Chicago, Illinois. My parents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and even my grandparents had loved North Park and were excited for me to experience it in the way that they had. Inside, I felt that I was settling for something familiar, and I lacked the skills and talent to do the things I had always dreamed of doing. How could I write a book if I couldn't even get into the right school? I began at North Park in the fall of 2017, a skeptic. I wanted to dislike everything and wallow in my self-pity and misery. But, against my better judgement, I began to settle in. I made friends, some really great ones. I joined the club frisbee team even though I had never played a day in my life, and laughed at myself when I threw the disc to the wrong team. I joined The North Branch, a poetry and arts publication and was able to practice my editing skills and showcase my love for language. I began working as a student ambassador, utilizing my love for connection and communication to help students on their own seach for the right school. I studied abroad in Cuenca, Ecuador, where my host family knew three words of English: "Welcome to Ecuador!". The pandemic began with a bang, and I was able to stay focused, self-motivated, and encouraged to succeed in my studies at home. And now, here I am in my senior year, and I picture myself anywhere else. Even though I would have loved to attend the school I originally wanted, coming to North Park has taught me a lot more about myself. I can succeed wherever I am, as long as I continue to work hard, speak my mind, and believe in my talents. There will always be someone better than me, but that shouldn't hold me back from trying my best and giving my all. I can become the person I've always wanted to be, and I can do that wherever I am, no matter the circumstances. People face obstacles that I will never understand or be forced to encounter every single day, and learn the same lessons about truth, perseverance, and self-love. I've seen a small part of the struggles life has to offer, and I know that there are hundreds, if not thousands, more that I will see by the end of it. With all that I've already accomplished, I know that I can do everything I want to if I hold onto my experiences and never forget what they have taught me.

My mom says I like words so much because she used to read to me during her pregnancy. She read everything from Goodnight, Moon to Anna Karenina, and even did some of the voices. And after I was born, nothing changed. I made her read to me for hours on end and even had some of my favorite books memorized, and I’d correct her whenever she accidentally skipped a page. I have voraciously devoured books of all kinds since before I can remember. And then one day, I realized that I could write them, too. My world opened up when I discovered that a type of writing existed outside of essays and homework assignments. It was as if all the words I had read were trapped inside of me and could only escape through writing. In high school, I participated in Poetry Out Loud, worked in theater productions, and wrote articles for my school and town newspaper. I currently am in my third year of college at North Park University in Chicago, where I am the President of our English Honor’s Society (Sigma Tau Delta), and work as a senior editor for our poetry and arts publication, The North Branch. Majoring in Creative Writing and Spanish has given me the opportunity to try and express myself not only in English but in Spanish as well. I see my life as a series of stories, ones that I can try and share with those who care to listen. For this journalism project, I’d like to examine a subject that my family and I have experienced recently: the foster care system. Although I study in Chicago, the rest of my immediate family lives in Cape Cod, Massachusettes, and has continued to expand. At the start of 2018, we decided to foster Jayson (9), and Terren (12). All of a sudden, I was thrown into the world of court dates, CPS, DCF, background checks, drug abuse, and all of the confusion that is encompassed by foster care. Throughout the past two years, I’ve shared tears and laughter with these two boys. I’ve seen the sadness on their faces when they realize that they will have to spend another Christmas without their mom, and the absolute joy when we bring out a birthday cake in their favorite flavor. I hope that their experience with my family has been positive, but I know that hundreds of other children aren’t as lucky. With this grant, I want to explore the foster care system, specifically in Massachusetts and how it relates to my town, South Yarmouth. I want to share the stories of Jayson and Terren, and the struggles that they encounter every day. I want these children to know that they have a voice and a story, and that it deserves to be heard. I would like to interview their specific caseworker, and their therapist, as well as others that work in the foster care system. It is common knowledge that there are countless flaws, and I want to show my community that these problems are affecting people here and now. The Cape Cod Times is the newspaper most widely published in my community, and that is who I hope to work with on this project. Although I do not live directly in Boston, it would be incredible to see this story published on a wider scale in The Boston Globe. Above all, I want to explore foster care in greater detail and increase public awareness on both the good and the bad that it has to offer.