Growing up in a single-mother household in Houston, I learned early on what it meant to depend on—and contribute to—a community. With limited resources but endless love, my mother did everything in her power to make sure I stayed on track in life. But it wasn’t just her strength that helped shape who I am. It was also the people in my neighborhood, my church, my school, and even the basketball court where I spent most of my free time. My community gave me more than a place to live—it gave me purpose, direction, and hope. One of the most powerful experiences I’ve had serving my community came during a local food drive organized through our church. What started as a simple volunteer opportunity turned into a deeper mission for me. I wasn’t just handing out canned goods—I was connecting with families who, like mine, understood what it meant to struggle but also what it meant to keep going. I saw how a warm meal and a kind conversation could shift someone’s entire day. I saw resilience in action. And I realized that even small efforts can create lasting impact. I’ve also worked at various church events, helped distribute backpacks to kids before school started, and volunteered at cleanup efforts in my neighborhood. All of this taught me that real strength comes from togetherness. When people support one another, they build each other up in ways that ripple far beyond the present moment. These experiences shaped my view of what’s possible in the future. They taught me that connection is just as valuable as any degree or title. They reminded me that kindness isn’t weakness—it’s power. My community didn’t just teach me how to survive, it showed me how to lead with empathy and service. As I pursue a degree in civil engineering and continue growing with my Part 107 drone license, I’m not just thinking about blueprints and bridges. I’m thinking about how the spaces we build can strengthen communities—how infrastructure can bring people together rather than push them apart. I hope to eventually lead projects that revitalize underserved neighborhoods, bring sustainable design into low-income areas, and create opportunities for local youth. Community gave me my start. It gave me my first reasons to dream big. And now, it’s my turn to give back with the same connection, resilience, and kindness that once lifted me.

Books have always been more than words on a page for me—they’ve been blueprints for how to live, how to lead, and how to grow. Reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho taught me that the journey is as important as the destination. It reminded me that setbacks are part of a bigger plan and that staying true to my purpose—even when it’s difficult—is the key to fulfillment. Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates opened my eyes to the deeper dimensions of being Black in America, making me reflect on my role in shaping a better, more just future. These books—and many others—have influenced my values and shaped my goals to use my education and personal experiences to make a lasting impact on my community. I come from a single-mother household, and that alone has taught me resilience, independence, and the importance of hard work. My mom sacrificed so much so I could have a better future. That’s part of why I’m pursuing a degree in civil engineering. I want to design infrastructure that improves people’s lives—roads, bridges, buildings—but more importantly, I want to show kids who look like me that they, too, belong in the world of STEM. I’ve also earned my FAA Part 107 drone license, and I hope to merge that skill with engineering to revolutionize surveying and mapping in underserved areas. But growth doesn’t come without failure. One of my hardest lessons came during my sophomore year, when I failed to balance academics, sports, and personal stress. My grades dipped, and for the first time, I felt like I was falling short. It was humbling. But instead of giving up, I asked for help. I learned how to manage my time better, prioritize my responsibilities, and most importantly, forgive myself and keep pushing. That experience taught me that failure is not the end—it’s a stepping stone. Mentorship has been a powerful part of my journey. I’ve had coaches, teachers, and older students who believed in me even when I didn’t fully believe in myself. Their guidance helped me apply for scholarships, improve my study habits, and dream bigger. Inspired by that, I became a mentor myself—helping younger students with math, introducing them to drone technology, and simply being someone they could talk to. I know how it feels to need someone in your corner, and I want to be that for others. What makes me unique isn’t just my background—it’s how I’ve turned every challenge into motivation. I’m a young Black man in a field where there aren’t many of us, and I wear that as both a badge of pride and a call to action. I’m not afraid to ask questions, to seek support, and to bring others with me as I rise. My passion for engineering, combined with my love for community and mentorship, drives everything I do. In the future, I plan to create internship pipelines for students from underrepresented backgrounds, especially in STEM fields. I want to offer workshops on drone technology, host community clean-ups, and be part of building a future where access to opportunity isn’t determined by your zip code or income level. At the heart of everything, I just want to give back—because I know what it means to be given a chance, and I want to multiply that chance for others. That’s the impact I plan to make. That’s the legacy I hope to leave behind.

Growing up as a second-generation African immigrant in America has shaped not only how I see the world, but how I engage with it. My parents, who immigrated from West Africa, taught me the values of hard work, education, and responsibility to the community—lessons they carried with them across continents. These values didn’t just define our home—they became the foundation for the work I now do in my community and the vision I have for my future in STEM. From an early age, I recognized that I had a responsibility to give back to the community that helped raise me. I’ve been involved in several initiatives, but one of the most impactful was helping organize a mentorship and tutoring program at my local community center. The program targeted elementary and middle school students—many of whom were also children of immigrants or came from under-resourced backgrounds. I served as a tutor in math and science and also as a mentor—someone they could relate to, someone who understood the cultural tightrope they walked daily. Beyond tutoring, I’ve worked on community service projects like neighborhood clean-ups and food drives, and I’ve volunteered at STEM awareness events to get younger students—especially students of color—excited about careers in science and engineering. Representation matters, and showing up as a Black student with a passion for engineering makes a difference. I’ve seen it in their eyes when they realize that they, too, can belong in this space. My cultural heritage plays a deep role in all of this. In many African households, education is more than a goal—it’s a legacy. My parents always told me, “Your knowledge is something no one can ever take from you.” That lesson has pushed me through every challenge: financial hardship, academic pressure, and moments of self-doubt. It’s the reason I’m pursuing a degree in civil engineering and using my FAA Part 107 drone license to develop skills in surveying and infrastructure planning. My goal is to design resilient, sustainable structures in underserved communities—both here in the U.S. and abroad. But my heritage also taught me humility and collective responsibility. In many ways, my success is not just my own—it belongs to my family, my community, and everyone who’s paved the way before me. That mindset fuels my desire to mentor others, create opportunities, and design with empathy. Receiving the Dr. Soronnadi Nnaji Legacy Scholarship would be both an honor and a major stepping stone. As someone aspiring to work in STEM, the financial burden of college is a real barrier. This scholarship would not only help ease that burden, but also allow me to focus more on research, internships, and community work—without constantly worrying about tuition or textbook costs. Dr. Nnaji’s legacy as an engineer and community leader is deeply inspiring, and I hope to reflect that same spirit of innovation and service in my own career. More than anything, I want to be part of a generation of African and African-American engineers who build bridges—literally and metaphorically—between cultures, communities, and countries. I want to be someone who carries both tradition and transformation forward, using every lesson I’ve learned to make real, lasting impact.

Living with type 1 diabetes has shaped me in profound ways—both physically and emotionally. It’s a challenge that’s with me every day, every hour, often quietly in the background, but always present. Yet, through the ups and downs of managing my condition, I’ve found strength, discipline, empathy, and a fierce will to keep going. Like Carolyn, I aim to live a life that is both bold and kind, despite—and even because of—the challenges I face. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when I was in middle school. At first, it felt like my world had changed overnight. Suddenly, I had to learn how to count carbs, give myself injections, and check my blood sugar several times a day. I couldn’t just go to sleep, eat out with friends, or play basketball without planning and preparation. At an age where most kids were figuring out who they were, I was learning how to stay alive. But I made a choice early on—I would not let this condition define me. I embraced the tools, routines, and knowledge needed to take care of myself. I became fiercely independent, determined to manage my diabetes while still excelling in school, sports, and life. I played basketball all through high school, and although balancing physical activity with blood sugar levels was difficult, I never let it stop me. I learned to listen to my body, plan ahead, and never give up. There were moments—like during away games or long exams—when my blood sugar would crash, and I’d have to step away or recover quickly. It was frustrating. But I never used diabetes as an excuse. Instead, I used it as motivation. I trained harder, studied more efficiently, and became my own best advocate. That’s where the fierceness comes in: a deep internal fire to not only survive, but to thrive, even in the face of invisible struggles. But just as important as strength is kindness—and diabetes has deepened my empathy more than anything else. I understand what it’s like to feel different, to need help, and to push through fatigue or uncertainty. That understanding has made me a more compassionate person. I’m the one who checks in on others, who stays late to help a friend study, who looks out for teammates on and off the court. I believe that kindness isn’t just being nice—it’s choosing to care even when life gets hard. Over the years, I’ve mentored younger kids recently diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, helping them feel less alone. I’ve spoken at school health fairs and shared my story to increase awareness. I don’t want pity—I want to empower others. If I can make someone else’s journey a little easier, then the challenge I face becomes something greater than myself. Looking ahead, I plan to study civil engineering and use my education to design safer, more accessible spaces—especially for people living with chronic conditions. I know what it’s like to navigate a world that isn’t always built with you in mind. I want to change that, not just with plans and measurements, but with heart. Living with type 1 diabetes has made me stronger, more mindful, and more resilient. Like Carolyn, I aim to be both fierce and kind—courageous in the face of adversity, and generous in spirit. This diagnosis may be a part of my story, but it is not the limit of it. It is, in many ways, the reason I’ve grown into the person I am today—and the person I’m still becoming.

Service has always been more than just an obligation to me—it’s a calling. One of the most meaningful experiences I’ve had serving others took place during my junior year of high school when my community was hit by a severe winter storm. Roads were shut down, homes were without power, and many families—including elderly residents—were stranded without heat, groceries, or basic necessities. Seeing how quickly our daily comfort could be stripped away shook me. But it also inspired me to act. I organized a small volunteer team made up of classmates, teammates from basketball, and a few friends from my church. We called ourselves “Warm Hands, Warm Hearts,” and our goal was simple: deliver food, blankets, and bottled water to families who were shut in. We started with one block and eventually coordinated with local community centers to reach over 60 households in a week. What inspired me most was the gratitude on the faces of the people we helped. I remember delivering firewood and soup to an older couple who had been without power for three days. The husband told us, “We didn’t think anyone remembered us.” That moment stuck with me—not because we were doing something heroic, but because it showed how much even a small act of kindness could mean when someone feels forgotten. Organizing this effort was not easy. We faced logistical challenges like finding enough supplies, coordinating transportation on icy roads, and managing safety protocols. At one point, one of our drivers got stuck on a side street, and we had to figure out how to reroute deliveries while keeping volunteers safe. But through all the uncertainty, we leaned on one another—and for me personally, I leaned on my faith. This experience deepened my understanding of leadership. I realized that true leadership isn’t about titles or being in charge—it’s about showing up, making others feel seen, and creating space for people to contribute their strengths. I didn’t have all the answers, but I listened, stayed organized, and kept the team focused on our shared mission. We learned to adapt quickly, communicate clearly, and trust one another. Most importantly, this experience reshaped how I view service. I used to think service meant volunteering at events or checking boxes for community hours. But now I understand it’s about connection. It’s about being present in someone’s time of need, using whatever gifts you have—time, strength, knowledge, even a listening ear—to lift others up. It’s not always glamorous, and it doesn’t come with recognition, but it matters. It creates ripple effects far beyond what we can see. Faith was my compass throughout the entire experience. I believe we are each called to love our neighbors in action, not just words. Helping others during that storm wasn’t just a good deed—it was a reflection of my values and my belief that we are all responsible for one another. That experience helped me see that service doesn’t require perfection—just a willing heart and the courage to take the first step. Since then, I’ve looked for more ways to serve—through tutoring younger students, volunteering at food drives, and simply being someone others can rely on. I plan to carry this mindset into my future as a civil engineer, using my skills to build better infrastructure and create safer, more connected communities. Service, leadership, and faith are not separate things—they work together to drive change, and I am committed to growing in all three as I move forward.

Growing up in a single-parent household taught me the value of resilience, hard work, and compassion. My mom worked long hours to support us, and while we didn’t always have a lot, she gave me the mindset to dream big and push forward no matter the circumstances. That foundation, combined with my passion for building and problem-solving, led me to pursue a degree in civil engineering. But I’m not just chasing a career—I’m pursuing a purpose: to use my knowledge and lived experiences to make a lasting, positive impact on others. Civil engineering is more than blueprints and buildings—it’s about creating structures and systems that help communities thrive. From safer roads to cleaner water systems to accessible public spaces, I want my work to directly improve the lives of people who often get overlooked. Especially in underserved neighborhoods like the one I came from, poor infrastructure isn’t just an inconvenience—it’s a barrier to opportunity. I plan to change that by designing and developing projects that prioritize safety, accessibility, and sustainability for all. In addition to my academic goals, I earned my FAA Part 107 drone license, allowing me to use drone technology for surveying and inspections. This skill will not only give me a technical edge in the field, but it will also help reduce costs and improve efficiency for projects in low-income areas. By combining innovation with empathy, I hope to bring smart, community-centered solutions to the people who need them most. But my impact won’t stop with engineering alone. I want to be a role model—especially for youth who don’t see people like them in technical careers. I plan to return to schools in my area to speak with students, host workshops, and even provide hands-on training in trades and STEM fields. I want them to see that where you come from doesn’t limit where you can go. If I can inspire even one student to believe in their potential, that’s a win. In the long run, I hope to establish a firm that not only builds for communities but also builds within them—hiring local talent, offering apprenticeships, and reinvesting profits into community development. My dream is to create a ripple effect: one project, one person, one neighborhood at a time. My degree is my tool, but my experience is my drive. I know what it feels like to go without, to struggle, to feel unseen. That’s why everything I build will be rooted in empathy, designed to lift others up—not just physically, but emotionally and socially too. I’m not just building structures—I’m building change.

I’ve played basketball for as long as I can remember. From the first time I picked up a ball as a kid to playing on my high school team, the sport has always been a core part of who I am. What began as a simple love for the game quickly became something much more: a teacher of discipline, a builder of confidence, and a platform that taught me how to push through adversity. Basketball taught me how to manage my time, stay focused, and never back down from a challenge. These lessons proved especially important as I reached high school and had to balance the demands of practice, games, and travel with academic responsibilities. Managing both wasn’t always easy. There were late nights finishing homework after away games, early mornings squeezing in study sessions before school, and moments when I felt mentally and physically exhausted. But through it all, I learned how to prioritize, how to plan, and how to stay consistent. My schedule during the season was packed. Practice often ran until the evening, followed by strength training or team meetings. After that, I’d go home, eat dinner, and dive into assignments or study for upcoming tests. There were times I had to miss social events or sacrifice sleep, but I knew what I was working toward—a future built on both athletic discipline and academic success. Basketball also taught me how to lead. As a senior on the team, I wasn’t just responsible for my own performance—I was also someone younger teammates looked up to. That role pushed me to stay sharp in both school and sports. I couldn’t encourage others to stay on top of their responsibilities if I wasn’t doing the same. So I became more organized, more focused, and more determined to set the right example. At times, balancing both worlds was overwhelming. There were moments when I doubted whether I could maintain my GPA and perform well on the court. But every time I faced that doubt, I reminded myself why I was doing it: because I wanted to grow in every area of my life. I didn’t want to just be a good athlete—I wanted to be a well-rounded individual prepared for the future. Basketball also shaped the way I think about my career. It made me interested in how things are built—courts, stadiums, facilities—and helped guide me toward a path in civil engineering. The game sparked my curiosity about design, structure, and innovation, and I plan to combine that interest with the technical knowledge I’m gaining through school. I’ve even earned my FAA Part 107 drone license to explore how technology can enhance construction and surveying. In many ways, basketball prepared me for life. It’s taught me resilience, teamwork, and time management—skills that will serve me in college and beyond. Balancing academics with athletics has never been simple, but I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. It’s helped shape who I am and who I want to become. Whether I’m on the court or in the classroom, I’ve learned how to push myself, support others, and rise to the challenge. And those lessons will continue to guide me long after the final buzzer.

The image I uploaded is of a bridge stretching across a river, disappearing into the horizon. It may look like just a structure of steel and concrete, but to me, it represents something deeply personal—my journey, my growth, and my future. Growing up in a single-parent household, I often felt like I was stuck on one side of the river—limited resources, limited exposure, and limited opportunities. But my mother always reminded me that these circumstances didn’t define me. She taught me that with hard work, dedication, and vision, I could build my own bridge to a better future. That message stuck with me and became the way I approach my life and career goals. Pursuing civil engineering—and earning my FAA Part 107 drone license—isn’t just about entering a high-demand field. It’s about gaining the tools to literally and figuratively build bridges—infrastructure that connects communities, and opportunities that connect people to their potential. The bridge in the photo symbolizes the kind of impact I want to have: strong, reliable, and built to serve others. It also reminds me that progress isn’t always fast or easy. Bridges take time to design and build. They require vision, planning, and perseverance. That’s how I view my education and career: as a long-term project that demands patience and purpose. But every class I take, every project I complete, and every challenge I overcome is one more beam added to my bridge forward. Finally, the horizon in the image represents hope and infinite possibility. I don’t know exactly where the path will lead, but I know I’m moving forward with purpose. I want to use my education to give back—by improving infrastructure in under-resourced neighborhoods, mentoring students interested in STEM, and eventually launching a community-focused engineering firm. This image reminds me that my journey isn’t just about where I started—it’s about where I’m going, and the bridges I’ll build for others along the way.

Growing up in a single-parent household, I quickly learned the importance of hard work, resilience, and resourcefulness. My mother worked tirelessly to provide for me, and her determination showed me that even in the face of challenges, anything is possible with grit and purpose. That upbringing planted a seed in me—to not only build a better life for myself, but to one day help build stronger communities for others. That’s why I’m passionate about the trade I’m pursuing: civil engineering with a focus on drone surveying and infrastructure development. From an early age, I was fascinated by how cities and neighborhoods came together—roads, bridges, buildings, and public spaces. But as I got older, I began to see the deeper connection between infrastructure and opportunity. I noticed that in many underserved neighborhoods, broken sidewalks, outdated drainage systems, and neglected public spaces weren’t just signs of decay—they were barriers that held people back. That realization shaped my career goal: to become a civil engineer who focuses on building infrastructure that supports equity, safety, and growth. To complement my passion, I took the initiative to earn my FAA Part 107 drone license, allowing me to conduct aerial surveys and inspections. This technology is revolutionizing how infrastructure projects are planned and executed—providing faster, safer, and more accurate data. Combining this trade skill with my academic pursuit of engineering gives me a unique set of tools to help transform communities from the ground up. But my dreams extend far beyond job titles or technical skills. I want to make a real impact, and that starts with giving back. One way I plan to serve my community is by focusing on infrastructure improvements in underserved areas—places like the one I came from. Whether it’s redesigning a safer intersection, improving stormwater drainage, or making sidewalks more accessible, I believe that thoughtful infrastructure can dramatically improve people’s quality of life. I want to work alongside city planners, non-profits, and local residents to identify the most pressing needs and find solutions that are affordable, sustainable, and effective. Another major part of my plan is mentorship and outreach. When I was younger, I didn’t know anyone who looked like me working in engineering or skilled trades. I want to change that. I plan to partner with local schools to create workshops, speak at career days, and even offer internship opportunities for students who are curious about drone tech, construction, or engineering. I want young people—especially those from disadvantaged backgrounds—to know that they can enter these fields and make a difference too. In the long term, I hope to start my own engineering and surveying firm, one that’s focused not just on profit, but on purpose. I envision a company that takes on community-centered projects, hires locally, and invests in training the next generation of skilled workers and innovators. My goal is to create a cycle of growth and empowerment—where the success of one project leads to more jobs, better infrastructure, and a stronger, more united community. In every foundation I pour, every survey I conduct, and every project I complete, I want people to know that my work is rooted in care—care for where we live, for how we grow, and for who gets to benefit. This trade is my tool for change, and I’m committed to using it with purpose.

Growing up in a single-parent household, I learned early on how deeply community and opportunity are connected. I saw how a lack of access—to education, reliable infrastructure, or simply a safe environment—can create long-lasting challenges. But I also saw the strength that can grow from struggle. These experiences didn’t just shape who I am—they inspired what I want to do. I’m pursuing higher education in civil engineering because I believe that by improving the physical world around us, we can create lasting change in people’s lives. Through my continued education, I plan to make a positive impact both locally and beyond. My educational journey is not just about earning a degree—it’s about gaining the technical expertise and leadership skills necessary to serve my community in meaningful ways. Civil engineering, for me, is not just about construction—it’s about connection. Roads connect families to opportunities. Safe buildings protect students and workers. Clean water systems support health and growth. These are not just technical achievements—they’re human ones. And with every class I take and every project I complete, I get closer to being able to provide those solutions to the people who need them most. One way I’ve already begun building my skills is through earning my FAA Part 107 drone license. This certification allows me to perform aerial surveying and inspection, giving me a modern edge in infrastructure work. Drones can help gather data for more accurate planning, especially in areas where traditional surveying may be too slow or expensive. I plan to combine this technical advantage with my civil engineering education to make public works projects more efficient, sustainable, and accessible—especially in underserved neighborhoods like the one I came from. But education does more than build skills—it builds confidence and vision. I see college as the place where I will develop my voice, expand my perspective, and gain the tools I need to lead. My goal isn’t just to work on infrastructure projects—I want to lead them. I want to be a decision-maker who brings empathy into engineering, who advocates for inclusive development, and who ensures that public resources are distributed fairly and wisely. Beyond my career, I’m deeply committed to mentorship and community service. I want to use my journey as an example to young people who may not see a path forward. Through school outreach, youth workshops, and internship programs, I plan to encourage students to explore careers in STEM, especially those who might otherwise be overlooked or underestimated. I believe representation matters. When students see someone who looks like them or comes from a similar background succeeding in a technical field, it can shift what they believe is possible for their own future. Higher education will give me the platform, knowledge, and credibility to take these dreams even further. I want to contribute to a world where infrastructure doesn’t fail communities but uplifts them—where young people from all walks of life believe they can build something meaningful, and where service and progress go hand in hand. I don’t just want to study engineering—I want to use it. I want to turn my education into action, and my career into impact. With the help of continued learning and the support of programs like this, I’m confident I can help shape a world that’s stronger, smarter, and more just—starting with the communities that need it most.

I was raised in a single-parent household, where my mother worked tirelessly to give me the best life she could. Despite financial challenges and long hours, she always emphasized the value of education. Her sacrifices taught me the importance of perseverance, but also made me realize how many students—especially those from underserved communities—don’t have the same level of support. That awareness sparked my desire to become an educator, not just to teach lessons, but to be the kind of mentor and advocate I often needed growing up. Education is more than a career to me—it’s a calling. It’s a chance to help young people unlock their potential and find a sense of purpose in a world that often feels overwhelming or unfair. I plan to make a positive impact by becoming the kind of teacher who sees beyond grades and test scores—someone who notices when a student is struggling silently, who celebrates growth over perfection, and who shows students that their voice matters. My goal is to teach at the middle or high school level, where students are forming their identity and starting to envision their place in the world. I want to teach them not just academics, but life skills: how to think critically, communicate confidently, and treat others with respect. I believe every student deserves to feel seen, valued, and empowered—and I plan to make that happen, one classroom at a time. But I don’t want to stop at teaching. I want to be involved in my school and community on a deeper level. That means coaching, mentoring, leading extracurricular programs, and working with parents to create a network of support around each student. I also plan to advocate for inclusive and equitable policies that make education more accessible, especially for students from low-income or marginalized backgrounds. I know what it’s like to feel overlooked, and I’m determined to build classrooms where no student feels invisible. In the long run, I hope to take on leadership roles in education—whether as a school administrator or curriculum developer—so I can have an even greater influence on how we educate and support future generations. I’m also interested in incorporating technology and creative learning strategies to meet students where they are and help them thrive, regardless of their starting point. What drives me most is the belief that education is the foundation for a better society. If we want to solve the world’s problems—poverty, inequality, injustice—we need informed, thoughtful, and compassionate people. That begins in our schools. Teachers may not always see the end result of their work, but I believe that planting the seeds of confidence and curiosity can ripple out into families, communities, and beyond. At the end of the day, my success won’t be measured by awards or promotions—it’ll be measured by the students who walk out of my classroom believing they matter, believing they can succeed, and believing they can change the world. That is the impact I hope to make. That is why I want to teach.

Building a Better Future—One Project at a Time Growing up in a single-mother household, I learned early on the value of perseverance, responsibility, and hard work. My mother taught me how to be resourceful, stay grounded, and never stop reaching for something greater. While we didn’t always have a lot, we had enough love and determination to build a strong foundation—one that I carry with me as I pursue my education and career. From a young age, I was always curious about how things worked—especially how cities and neighborhoods were built and connected. I didn’t just see roads and buildings; I saw opportunity, design, and purpose. That curiosity grew into a passion for civil engineering, and over time, I realized that this field would allow me to do more than just build physical structures—it would give me the tools to create change. To enhance my skills, I earned my FAA Part 107 drone license, which allows me to conduct aerial surveys and inspections—something increasingly essential in the world of modern construction and infrastructure. I’m now pursuing a degree in civil engineering with plans to specialize in community-focused development and sustainable design. I want to help build better roads, bridges, and public spaces—but more importantly, I want to help build stronger communities. My dream is to use engineering not just as a career, but as a way to give back. I’ve seen firsthand how poor infrastructure can hold back neighborhoods—how broken sidewalks, poor drainage, and unsafe roads can make life harder for people already facing enough challenges. My goal is to work with local governments and organizations to improve infrastructure in underserved areas, especially in communities like the one I grew up in. Eventually, I want to start my own firm—one that prioritizes access, equity, and sustainability. I believe infrastructure should serve everyone, not just the wealthiest or most visible areas. With the help of new technologies like drone surveying, I plan to create safer, more efficient ways to assess, plan, and complete projects that really matter. But my impact won’t stop at construction. I’m deeply committed to mentorship and education, especially for young people who may not see a clear path forward. I want to show students from underrepresented backgrounds that they, too, can pursue careers in engineering, design, or any skilled trade. I plan to volunteer in schools, lead workshops, and create internship opportunities to open doors that were once closed for people like me. At the heart of everything I do is a desire to make life better for others—whether it’s through a well-designed road that makes commutes safer, a drainage system that prevents flooding, or a conversation that inspires a student to chase their dream. My studies are not just about getting a degree; they’re about building a future with purpose, compassion, and impact. I’m determined to use every opportunity ahead of me to create lasting change—not just for myself, but for my community and for generations to come.

Building a Future That Serves Others My journey has been shaped by more than just academic ambition—it’s been guided by my roots, my resilience, and a desire to make a lasting difference. I was raised by a single mother in a household where sacrifice was common and faith in the future was never lost. Watching her work hard to support our family taught me the value of persistence, humility, and community. These lessons have become the foundation for my educational and professional goals, and they continue to drive my commitment to civic and public service. My primary educational goal is to earn a degree in civil engineering, with a focus on sustainable infrastructure and community development. I’m also certified with an FAA Part 107 drone license, which allows me to conduct aerial surveys—an increasingly important skill in modern engineering and construction. Combining these two areas will help me become a versatile and forward-thinking engineer, capable of using both traditional techniques and advanced technology to solve real-world problems. After completing my degree, I plan to begin my professional career in infrastructure development—working on projects like roads, bridges, public buildings, and water systems. But I don’t want to stop at just participating in projects—I want to lead them. My long-term goal is to launch my own engineering firm that specializes in revitalizing underserved neighborhoods. I want to be part of the solution in communities that are often forgotten, using my skills to improve safety, accessibility, and sustainability for families like the one I grew up in. To me, engineering isn’t just a profession; it’s a service. Every road built or building designed impacts someone’s life. And I believe the work we do should reflect compassion, responsibility, and inclusion. I want to be the kind of professional who listens to the needs of the people, who values their voices in the design process, and who ensures that public projects actually serve the public. This mindset is rooted in my commitment to civic and public service. Service isn’t something I just talk about—it’s something I actively pursue. I’ve volunteered in local clean-up efforts, participated in youth mentorship programs, and helped with food drives in my neighborhood. But I see service as more than occasional volunteering; I see it as a way of life. As I build my career, I plan to give back regularly—by mentoring high school students who are interested in engineering or skilled trades, by offering pro bono surveying work to nonprofits or community groups, and by advocating for equitable investment in infrastructure where it’s needed most. What motivates me is the idea that no matter where you come from, you can become someone who uplifts others. I’ve seen how broken systems can leave communities behind. And I’ve also seen how one person—whether it’s a teacher, a coach, or an engineer—can help change the path of an entire neighborhood. I want to be one of those people. Education is my tool, but service is my purpose. My goals are not just about personal success; they’re about impact. I want to wake up every day knowing my work makes life better for someone else—whether by building a safer road, mentoring a younger student, or simply showing others that your background does not define your future. I know there will be challenges. Engineering is a difficult field, and the path to becoming a leader in the profession won’t be easy. But I’m ready for the work. I’ve already faced setbacks, financial obstacles, and personal losses—but I’ve never let any of that stop me. I’m not just working for a degree—I’m working for my family, my community, and for the young person out there who needs someone to prove that success is possible, no matter where you start. In every sense, I’m committed—not just to becoming an engineer, but to becoming someone who uses their education and profession to bring lasting change to the world around them.

Building More Than Structures: My Commitment to Trade and Community My name is Tristan Chacier, and I come from a home built on love, sacrifice, and strength. Raised by a single mother, I learned early on that hard work and determination are non-negotiable values. Watching her work multiple jobs to keep our household running instilled in me a deep respect for people who work with their hands, who create solutions, and who build the world around us. That’s why I’m pursuing a career in civil engineering and drone surveying—a trade where precision, creativity, and service come together. I’ve always been fascinated by how things are built—how a stretch of empty land can become a bridge, a road, or a school. That curiosity led me to discover civil engineering as a field, and from there, I pursued my FAA Part 107 drone license to deepen my technical skills. With this license, I can legally fly drones for commercial use, including surveying land, inspecting infrastructure, and gathering data for construction projects. It’s a growing part of the trade world, and one that requires attention to detail, constant learning, and a love of both technology and physical work. Mastering my trade is something I take seriously. I plan to enroll in a civil engineering program while continuing hands-on drone work through internships and certifications. But it’s not just about school or skills—it’s about the mindset. I believe that being great at what you do comes from showing up every day, asking questions, and never settling for “good enough.” I want to be the person on a job site who others can rely on for accurate data, smart solutions, and a calm, professional presence. But even more than personal success, I want to use my trade to give back to the community that shaped me. I grew up in a neighborhood where infrastructure often came last—potholes stayed open for months, sidewalks were uneven, and empty lots sat untouched. I want to change that. My goal is to one day start my own small business focused on affordable infrastructure projects in underserved areas. Whether it’s improving drainage systems, mapping safe walkways, or helping schools plan expansions, I want to use my expertise to create safer, more beautiful, and more functional spaces for families like mine. Beyond construction, I also plan to give back by mentoring youth. Trades are often overlooked in traditional education settings, and many students don’t realize how valuable these skills are—or how much potential they hold. I want to show kids that you don’t have to follow the same path as everyone else to be successful. You can build a life with your hands, your mind, and your heart—and you can do it on your own terms. Pursuing a trade isn’t a fallback for me—it’s my first choice. It’s a path of purpose, challenge, and contribution. Every project I take on, every blueprint I help bring to life, is a step toward a better future for both myself and my community. And I’m ready to give it everything I’ve got.

Finding Strength in Struggle Mental health isn’t always something people talk about openly, especially when you’re young and expected to push through everything with a smile. For a long time, I did exactly that—hid my struggles, pretending everything was fine while fighting a battle that few could see. When I was finally diagnosed with anxiety and depression, it felt both like a weight and a relief. A weight because it meant facing the reality of something I didn’t fully understand. A relief because I finally had a name for what I had been feeling for years. At first, I felt ashamed. I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak or incapable. I was afraid that being honest about my mental health would change the way people saw me—as a student, an athlete, a friend, or even as a future professional. But as I began to learn more about my diagnosis, I realized that understanding it was the first step toward healing. I wasn’t broken. I was human. Living with anxiety and depression hasn’t been easy. There were times I couldn’t get out of bed, when my thoughts would spiral and make even simple tasks feel impossible. I struggled with motivation, with self-doubt, and with the constant fear of letting people down. But despite the hard days, I never gave up. I learned how to reach out—to teachers, to counselors, to family—and slowly, I built a support system that helped me find my way forward. Therapy became one of my most important tools. It gave me a space to be honest, to unpack my fears, and to learn coping skills that actually worked for me. I started journaling, meditating, and exercising more regularly—not because it was a magical cure, but because those small habits helped me stay grounded. I also began setting realistic goals and giving myself grace when I couldn’t do everything perfectly. Through it all, I started to view my mental health not as a weakness, but as a part of me that needed care, just like my physical health. Over time, my diagnosis has helped me become more empathetic, more disciplined, and more aware of the needs of others. It’s helped me grow emotionally and mentally. I’ve learned to advocate not only for myself, but for others who might still be suffering in silence. I’ve shared my story with close friends, classmates, and even younger students to let them know they’re not alone. Now, as I pursue my academic and career goals, I carry this experience with me as a source of strength. I want to enter a field where I can create safe, functional spaces for people—spaces that support mental well-being, access, and community. Whether I’m designing infrastructure, managing a project, or leading a team, I’ll bring with me the resilience I’ve earned and the compassion I’ve cultivated. Most importantly, I’ve learned that having a mental health diagnosis doesn’t mean your dreams are out of reach. It means your path might look different, and that’s okay. What matters is the courage to keep moving forward, even when it’s hard—and I’ve proven to myself that I can do that. I don’t pretend to have it all figured out. But I’ve come a long way. And I know now that my story isn’t one of struggle—it’s one of survival, growth, and hope.

When I think about the kind of architect I want to become, it’s not just about designing beautiful spaces—it’s about designing meaningful experiences for the people who use them. That’s why the Luminaut values resonate so deeply with me. To be humble yet hungry, focused yet fun, super yet human isn’t just a catchy mantra—it’s a mindset I strive to live by as I work toward my career in architecture. Growing up in a single-mother household, humility was never something that needed to be taught—it was lived. Watching my mom work hard without asking for recognition instilled in me a quiet drive to always do more, learn more, and grow without losing sight of where I come from. As an aspiring architect, I aim to stay grounded in that humility. I know that every space I help design will affect someone’s daily life, and that’s a responsibility I take seriously. But I’m also hungry—hungry to learn from the best, to challenge myself with new ideas, and to push boundaries in sustainable, inclusive design. In school and in life, I’ve learned to be focused yet fun. Architecture requires deep concentration, attention to detail, and the discipline to manage long-term projects. I bring all of that to the table. But I also believe creativity thrives when you’re enjoying the process. Whether I’m sketching, brainstorming with a team, or walking through a build site, I bring energy and positivity to every interaction. People do their best work when they feel seen, heard, and inspired—and I try to create that environment wherever I go. To be super yet human means bringing your best every day, without pretending to be perfect. I hold myself to a high standard, not for praise, but because I genuinely care about what I create. At the same time, I know I’m human. I ask questions when I don’t know something. I value teamwork over ego. I listen to clients deeply, because their needs and stories are at the heart of every successful design. I’m not interested in being the architect with the flashiest resume—I want to be the one who listens, who adapts, who creates spaces that feel like home, like possibility, like belonging. Ultimately, I believe great design is about empathy. It’s about understanding how people move through space, what makes them feel safe, inspired, productive, or relaxed—and then shaping environments to meet those needs. Whether I’m designing a workplace, a school, or a family home, I want the people who walk into those spaces to feel cared for, respected, and uplifted. If given the chance to grow with Luminaut, I won’t just bring my skills—I’ll bring my values. I’ll bring my curiosity, my willingness to collaborate, and my commitment to making every space not only functional but full of life. I want to design with intention and with joy. I want to contribute not just to buildings, but to stories. Because that’s what architecture is, in the end: a way to serve others by giving shape to their dreams. And I can’t imagine anything more human—or more super—than that.

Growing up in a single-mother household has shaped nearly every part of who I am today—my drive, my values, and my vision for the future. My mother raised three kids on her own, often working multiple jobs and sacrificing her own comfort so that we could have opportunities she never had. Watching her push forward day after day with strength, determination, and love instilled in me a powerful sense of responsibility—not only to succeed, but to use my success to lift others, especially my family. I’m the oldest of three, and that role has never been just a title. From a young age, I helped take care of my younger siblings, balancing school, athletics, and home life. Our situation wasn’t always easy. There were times when we had to be resourceful, rely on one another, and stay focused on long-term goals, even when day-to-day life felt uncertain. But those experiences taught me resilience, and more importantly, empathy. They taught me the value of hard work, sacrifice, and dreaming big even when the odds seem stacked against you. Academically, I’ve always been passionate about building and creating—solving problems with precision and purpose. That’s why I plan to pursue a degree in civil engineering. I believe that engineering isn’t just about structures and designs—it’s about building better communities, ensuring safer infrastructure, and creating sustainable systems that improve everyday life. I’m especially interested in how civil engineering can be used to address environmental challenges, improve access to safe housing, and rebuild communities after natural disasters. I want to be part of that change. In addition to my academic interests, I recently earned my FAA Part 107 license, which allows me to operate drones commercially. This certification has opened up a new world of opportunities. Drones are becoming increasingly vital in civil engineering—for surveying land, inspecting infrastructure, and even aiding in disaster response. I plan to use this license to gain hands-on experience while I pursue my degree, and eventually incorporate aerial surveying and mapping into my future engineering career. I believe this combination of practical skills and engineering knowledge will make me a valuable asset in a rapidly evolving field. But beyond career goals, my ultimate mission is to create a legacy—not just of financial stability for my family, but of impact. I want my younger siblings to grow up knowing that they can break barriers too. I want to support my mother, not only to repay her for her sacrifices but to give her the peace and pride of knowing that everything she gave us wasn’t in vain. And I want to show other kids from single-parent households or under-resourced backgrounds that your starting point doesn’t determine your endpoint. In the long term, I hope to give back to communities like mine—whether that’s through mentoring, developing infrastructure in underserved areas, or starting my own engineering firm that hires and trains young people from diverse and challenging backgrounds. I understand what it feels like to be overlooked or underestimated, and I want to help others rise above those circumstances. Every step I take—from the classroom to the job site—is rooted in the strength I saw growing up, the lessons I learned from hardship, and the belief that we rise by lifting others. Civil engineering and drone technology are just tools; my real mission is to build a better world—starting with my family, and expanding to the communities around me.