I struggled intensely through my undergraduate career. I failed out of college in my first attempt, and I fought to graduate with my bachelor's during my second attempt. To many who know me, it did not make sense. I graduated high school with a 3.7 GPA; I sailed through with ease. So why did I struggle through my undergrad? After failing out of college the first time, I went to see a psychiatrist. The doctor diagnosed me with adult Attention Deficit Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Major Depressive Disorder. The doctor said I had likely been dealing with it for a long time. These issues had gone unresolved in my first attempt; I would deal with them before my second go-around. I tried to tough it out and go it alone during my first go-around at college; that did not work. During my second attempt, I depended heavily on my support system. Through it all, those closest to me never gave up on me. Despite the immensity of my failures, my parents remained adamant supporters of me. My wife helped me figure out my learning style, determine which medications worked best for me, and read through every paper I wrote and gave me feedback. I graduated with my bachelor's and even made the Dean's List my last semester there. My failures weren't the end of the road for me. Some people have called those failures speed bumps, but I like to think of them as commas found in a book— brief pauses in the greater context of the novel of my life. After graduating, I worked various jobs: retail manager, sign language interpreter, staff reporter. Now, however, I work in a surprising career field: higher education. I work for a community college as their marketing director. However, I want to do more than market higher education; I want to be a part of it. My end goal is to become a professor. In pursuit of that goal, I decided to apply to grad school. I will start my master's program this fall, where I will study philosophy. While my degree is not in mental health or social work, I recognize a struggling student when I see one. What is that adage: Takes one to know one? I notice the warning signs. I have and will continue to educate myself as to how to help students who are struggling. One of the reasons I am studying philosophy is because I want to help others understand themselves and their "Whys." As a kid, I asked a thousand questions a day, nine hundred of which were "Why?". The insatiable nature of my curiosity followed me to adulthood. When I was failing, I often found myself screaming "Why" into the void. When I struggled with depression and anxiety, I often wondered why God was not "healing" me. I want to help others confront the complexities of life. I want to help students deal with difficult questions. I want to help students as they wrestle with their beliefs as I did. My life and academic journey have are marked with both successes and failures. When I am struggling, I remind myself of this Winston Churchill quote. "Success is not final; failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts." Failure is not the end of your story; it is just a comma along the way.

My wife and I planned a trip across Europe at the beginning of 2020. When we left for Europe, COVID-19 was little more than a whisper from across the sea. It had yet to reach our shores. Little did anyone know how drastically it would affect all of our lives. Europe was remarkably quiet. There were few tourists, and everyone seemed a little tense. To be safe, we wore our masks nearly everywhere, and people told us more than once that they do not help. I would pay good money to hear those people's opinions now. Nevertheless, we traveled around and went sightseeing, as typical tourists do. We arrived home three days before the president shut down international flights and closed the U.S. borders. While we were grateful to be home, I was nervous about my job. I started a new position right before we left for Europe. Fortunately, I kept my job, but our work became virtual overnight. The government told us that it was "15 days to slow the spread." Fifteen days quickly transformed into 15 weeks. For nearly four months, we worked from home with little to no human contact. It was during this forced quarantine that I learned how important human interaction is to me. We could go nowhere; we could not go to work, church, or the park. We were barely allowed to go to the grocery store. Fifteen weeks of practically total isolation revealed my need to be around other people. However, I have learned that I was not and am not alone. Once we returned to work, there was this sense of relief and elation across campus. Why? Because people had missed people. They did not care whom they interacted with; they were just happy to interact with another human being face-to-face, or should I say mask-to-mask. The pandemic has certainly shaken me mentally and emotionally, but it has only increased my faith in humanity. While some were selfish, others were unbelievably giving and compassionate. Many went out of their way to communicate love, peace, and hope to their neighbors. While I do not believe people are inherently good, I saw goodness shine brightly in people. In hard times, people can be compassionate to one another, even when they are struggling themselves. Throughout the pandemic, I saw people's resiliency. I was able to find that same resiliency within myself. The goodness I saw on display throughout the pandemic is one of the motivating factors for me to go back to school. I am going to graduate school to earn my master's in philosophy. While my field of study does not have a natural bent towards helping others, I intend to use it that way. Throughout the pandemic, I saw people struggling with questions of a philosophical nature. I want to help others find answers to those tough questions. I do not just want to help people with pandemic-related queries. I desire to help others walk through the difficult questions and complexities of life. More than that, though, I want to help young people take on these challenges. For this reason, I intend to become a professor at the college I work at after graduating with my master's degree. I mean to teach philosophy in such a way as to prepare students to encounter the difficulties of life with confidence and grace.

Throughout most of my childhood, schooling was simple for me. For the most part, I soared through school. I never had to study. So, when it came time for me to go to college, I was not worried in the slightest. I did not realize how vastly unprepared I was for higher education. After high school, I started attending college at a private university 700 miles from home. The first semester was rocky, but I held it together. The semsters that followed, however, were another story. I began failing classes, using all of my absences and became sullen and withdrawn. My parents were disappointed and bewildered by my performance. They tried to help me, but I only withdrew further. Seeing all of this, my college mentor recommended I see a psychiatrist. Before I could do that, I failed out of college and went home. I was a broken, confused, and lost man. However, when I got home, I recalled my mentor's advice and set up an appointment with a local psychiatrist. I was quite nervous. After a few appointments with the psychiatrist, I was diagnosed with adult Attention Deficit Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Major Depressive Disorder. I would say that these disorders were direct results of my recent failure, but a family friend, who is a social worker, approached me afterward and told me otherwise. She had recommended I be tested for those very things when I was young, as she had seen some troubling characteristics in me. I eventually started taking medication to help with the depression and anxiety and went back to school. I fought my way through school the second time around, but I graduated with my bachelor's. I grew up thinking that people who dropped out of college quit because they did not want to put in the effort to complete their degree. I now understand that there are a variety of reasons why people drop out of college. Life and the difficulties it presents are more complicated than that. I also understand now that I am not alone in dealing with mental health issues; millions of people deal with mental health problems. When I began my undergraduate career, my only goal was to graduate and earn my degree. That was it. Now, my goals have changed. I want to help students struggling with mental illness and have a direct impact on their lives. In pursuit of that goal, I applied to grad school. I will start taking classes to earn my MA in Philosophy this fall. While my degree is not related to mental health, I intend to use my degree to help students dealing with mental health issues. To do that effectively, I plan to become a professor at the college where I work. I would teach students to be free thinkers and to think critically about life. I want to help students tackle the difficult questions and complexities of life. I hope to teach students to confront life's difficulties and complexities with grace and understanding. Looking back on my first attempt at college, I realize that my mentor was on the right track, just too late. When I attain professorship, I will seek out and undergo training that will allow me to recognize the warning signs of mental health issues. I already have personal experience and know what it looked like for me. I want to help students be successful no matter what they are experiencing. I want to be like my mentor, but I want to catch the issues in time.

The Bible teaches: Do not grow weary in well-doing and to love your neighbor as yourself. However, helping others is not just a religious imperative; it is incumbent upon us to assist those around us. In 1963, President John. F. Kennedy gave a speech in which he said, "A rising tide lifts all boats." I believe more people need to live by this mantra. Not only does serving one's community improve it, but it also ensures that the person helping the community has a stake in it. It fosters a sense of ownership and pride for the community members. Additionally, when students see their parents actively involved in community service, it sets a precedent for the need to help others. Growing up, I saw my parents serve our community in a variety of ways. I wanted to help make a difference in the world, too. In pursuit of that, I volunteered for mission projects at my church. I cleaned up the community, helped the elderly and disabled, and helped provide for the needs of the less fortunate. I also volunteered as a mentor for our youth group. I mentored the boys of the group. Throughout the years, I have coached them through difficult life situations, tutored them in school subjects they were struggling in, and listened to them talk about their emotions. Many of those young men have graduated high school and have moved on to college. After graduating from college myself, I looked for other ways to give back to the community. So, I joined the Rotary Club. Rotarians believe that we have a shared responsibility to take action on our world’s most persistent issues, which is why I joined in the first place. The club promotes peace and initiatives to fight disease, provide clean water, sanitation, and hygiene. The club also focuses on supporting education and taking action to grow local economies. I believe the work I have done has left a lasting impact on those I served. The community members I served have passed on the goodwill they received by helping others as they could. The boys I mentored overcame personal and academic obstacles and went to college. And my Rotary Club continually promotes community-wide peace and supports the educational goals of our local students. I do not intend to be content with what I have done thus far. I plan to do much more for the good of my neighbors and my community. For starters, I am plotting a space for a community garden. I have already ordered the seeds and have prepared the ground for planting. Once the harvest comes around, I will set up a stand in the community center and give away the fresh produce. Additionally, I have plans to raise alpacas for their wool. Every year, you have to shear the alpacas' wool. I intend to have the wool spun into yarn and then have clothing items made out of it for distribution in the winter months. I also plan to install a solar array on my house to lessen my carbon footprint on the world. I am also setting up a growth fund. The fund will finance two scholarships for those with a demonstrated financial need. One will be open to students nationwide and will not be major-specific. The other scholarship will be available to students in my community. I will also dedicate a portion of my estate to scholarships for students in my community once I am gone. Right now, however, I am enrolled in a master's program where I will study philosophy. I intend to teach philosophy at the college where I work. As a professor, I will have a direct impact on the lives of students. I will be able to instill in students the merits of community service. However, there is no need to wait on a position as a professor to promote such things. Presently, I am establishing a Rotaract Club on the college campus where I work. The reason? I want to help promote the same interests to which the Rotary is dedicated. I want to instill in young people the desire to promote peace, community service, and wellbeing for all peoples. All-in-all, I believe that the merits of community service are clear to all. If those merits need to be proven, we can re-motivate ourselves with this amalgamation: Do not grow weary in welldoing for a rising tide lifts all boats.

Espiritrompa, the Galician word for proboscis, is a word I do not think I will ever forget. It was burned in my memory by the movie La Lengua de las Mariposas, directed by José Luis Cuerda. The movie is set in a village in Galicia in the 1930s, during the Spanish Civil War. Under the rule of General Francisco Franco, societal rules were strict, especially for educators. Don Gregorio, the village's educator, teaches his students to think for themselves and to reject the cultural programming of the state. Moncho, the main character, goes to school for the first time and is taught by Don Gregorio about life and literature. Don Gregorio builds a special relationship with Moncho, priming him to love learning and think for himself. Don Gregorio teaches Moncho about the butterfly’s tongue (la espiritrompa) on a field trip. Moncho grows to love the word espiritrompa and Don Gregorio. However, Franco's nationalists sweep through the village and arrest Don Gregorio for crimes against the state. As the truck carries Don Gregorio away, the villagers gather around jeering Don Gregorio. While Moncho joins in, the last thing Moncho yells is espiritrompa— a favorite word taught to him by Don Gregorio. He yells this in an attempt to let his dear friend know that he will remember and cherish his teaching. I love this movie because Don Gregorio is the kind of teacher I aspire to be. I hope to teach my students to love learning, literature, and life. I want to help my students think for themselves and confront life's difficult questions and enormous complexities with grace. More than anything, though, I hope I have such an impact on my students that they come away from my class with their own espiritrompa.

All of my life, I have wanted to help make a difference in the lives of others. Growing up, I volunteered for mission projects at my church. I cleaned up the community, helped the elderly and disabled, and helped provide for the needs of the less fortunate. As a college student, I volunteered as a mentor for our youth group. I mentored the boys of the group. Throughout the years, I have coached them through difficult life situations, tutored them in school subjects they were struggling in, and listened to them talk about their emotions. Many of those young men have graduated high school and have moved on to college. After graduating from college myself, I wanted to look for other ways to give back to the community where I work. So, I joined the Rotary Club. Service above self. That is the motto of the Rotary Club. Rotarians believe that we have a shared responsibility to take action on our world’s most persistent issues, which is why I joined in the first place. The club promotes peace and initiatives to fight disease, provide clean water, sanitation, and hygiene. The club also focuses on supporting education and taking action to grow local economies. Now, I am working on establishing a Rotaract Club, the college version of the Rotary, on the college campus where I work. The reason? I want to help promote the same interests to which the Rotary is dedicated. I want to instill in the upcoming generation the desire to promote peace and wellbeing for all peoples. I believe the work I have done has left a lasting impact on those I served. The community members I served have passed on the goodwill they received by helping others as they could. The boys I mentored overcame personal and academic obstacles and went to college. And my Rotary Club continually promotes community-wide peace and supports the educational goals of our local students. The Bible instructs us: Do not grow weary in well-doing. So, I do not intend to be content with what I have done thus far. I plan to do much more for the good of my neighbors and my community. For starters, I am plotting a space for a community garden. I have already ordered the seeds and have prepared the ground for planting. Once the harvest comes around, I will set up a stand in the community center and give away the fresh produce. Additionally, I have plans to raise alpacas for their wool. Every year, you have to shear the alpacas' wool. I intend to have the wool spun into yarn and then have clothing items made out of it for distribution in the winter months. I also plan to install a solar array on my house to lessen my carbon footprint on the world. Lastly, I am setting up a growth fund. The fund will finance two scholarships for those with a demonstrated financial need. One will be open to students nationwide and will not be major-specific. The other scholarship will be available to students in my community. I will also dedicate a portion of my estate to scholarships for students in my community once I am gone. I may not be a wealthy man, but I intend to use as much of my personal and financial energy to help others. I am enrolled in a master's program for this reason. I want to teach and have a direct impact on students' lives. I intend to be the kind of teacher that helps his students sort through difficult questions and the complexities of life.

My great-great-grandmother was a devoted Christian. More specifically, she was a devout Pentecostal woman. Every Sunday, my great-great-grandmother would rouse her children out of bed and drag them to Sunday service. My great-grandmother would come to resent her mother and her church-going ways. However, in her older years, she was led back to God by a Pentecostal preacher. Today, my grandmother attends the Pentecostal church that my father pastors. My father has been a minister for over 20 years, and I am following in his footsteps. I am training to become a minister. That is the legacy of our family: a legacy of faith. Merriam-Webster defines a legacy as something received from an ancestor or predecessor. In my case, those family members who came before me transmitted faith to me. In my mind, however, a legacy is akin to an echo. It is the vestige left by one's life. It is how others remember you. Legacies can be many things, though. People remember others for their wealth, eccentricities, personality, goodness, or generosity. People also remember others for more innate things: their warm smiles, genuine friendship, hearty laugh, or passion for life. If you ask a politician what their legacy is, they will point to all of the policies they have implemented or the deals they made. These types of legacies may have lasting effects but, in the end, are shallow. I want to leave a legacy that will enrich and inspire others. I want others to remember me for the stories I told, not for the stuff I left behind. I hope others recall my wonder for life, not my wealth. I pray they cherish the memory of my love, not grieve the lack thereof. In writing my eulogy, I hope my family and friends write about my love for writing and literature, my heart for serving others and God, my passion for learning and teaching, and I hope they talk about the stories of mine they loved. However, I do not want to leave an impression on my family and friends alone. I am attending grad school this fall and will be studying philosophy. I intend to teach philosophy and ethics at the college where I work. My desire to teach came from a desire to help others answer the difficult questions and wade through the complexities of life. I want to help students learn how to confront the difficulties of life with understanding and grace. In becoming a teacher, I want to have a direct impact on their academic and personal trajectories. At the end of my life, I hope the legacy I leave for my students is one of compassion, grace, support, and understanding. I want students to move on from my class, remembering not the philosophies I taught them but the logical principles that will carry them through difficulty. I hope I leave students smiling as they leave my class each day. The legacy I want to leave behind this. I want others to remember me for my faith, compassion, passion for learning, and genuineness. These characteristics are inborn and un-learnable, but pursuing my dream of teaching has actionable steps. Starting this next academic journey into grad school has set me on a path to set up my legacy.

In February 2020, my wife and I took a trip to Europe. At that point, COVID-19 was little more than a whisper from across the ocean. No one had any idea yet how drastically it would impact the world. We arrived home just three days before the US closed its borders to international flights. Before leaving for Europe, I started a new job at a local college, and three weeks after I got back, the college and state shut down entirely. Those who could work remotely could continue working, but we were severely limited in what we could do. On top of that, religious institutions shuttered and canceled services. The government told us to stay home and stay safe, and so we obliged. Little did I know how harshly this would affect me. I have always known that I am a people person, but I thought I could manage isolation. However, the "15 days to slow the spread" quickly extended to more than a month. I was unable to see my family, friends, coworkers, or acquaintances during that time. I found out that being around people while I work is vital to my mental health. Even though I work alone in my office, I like taking a break and walking downstairs for a short chat with coworkers. At home, I did not have these quick social interactions. I realized that I needed a social environment to thrive, and that was not possible to have. During times of hardship, many turn to spirituality for some comfort. I, being an avid church-attender, thought I would be able to find my comfort at church. Then, the government instructed churches to shutter for the safety of the public. Churches held virtual services. Sure, you could still see and hear the pastor, but they gutted the social aspects. There were no handshakes, hugs, smiles, or laughter, and in a time when I desperately needed the social interaction, I could not get it. The lack of social interaction led to a lot of crying on my part. I have learned how much I crave and depend on social interaction as part of my mental wellbeing. Without it, it feels like I am lost. However, I have learned that I was not and am not alone. Once we returned to work, there was this sense of relief and elation across campus. Why? Because people had missed people. They did not care who they interacted with; they were just happy to interact with another human being face-to-face, or should I say mask-to-mask. The pandemic has certainly shaken me mentally and emotionally, but it has only increased my faith in humanity. While some were selfish, others were unbelievably giving and compassionate. Many went out of their way to communicate love, peace, and hope to their neighbors. While I do not believe people are inherently good, I saw the good shine brightly in people. In hard times, people can be compassionate to one another, even when they are struggling themselves. And as I watched the world respond to the pandemic, I saw the resiliency of humankind and was able to find that same resiliency within myself. The goodness I saw on display throughout the pandemic is one of the motivating factors for me to go back to school. I am going to graduate school to earn my master's in philosophy. While my field of study does not have a natural bent towards helping others, I intend to use it that way. Throughout the pandemic, I saw people struggling with questions of a philosophical nature. I want to help others find answers to those tough questions. I do not just want to help people with pandemic-related queries, though. I desire to help others walk through the difficult questions and the complexities of life. More than that, though, I want to help young people take on these challenges. For this reason, I intend to become a professor at the college I work at after graduating with my master's degree. I mean to teach philosophy in such a way as to prepare students to encounter the difficulties of life with confidence and grace. In the meantime, I have found other ways to help my community and community members. After seeing how people served their neighbors and total strangers, I joined our local Rotary Club. The Rotary's goal is to serve others, promote integrity, and promote world understanding, goodwill and peace. Given their motto of "Service Above Self," the Rotary seemed like a natural outlet to start giving back to the community. Additionally, now that churches have reopened, I have been serving others through various local mission projects: collecting food for the local pantry, preparing meals for single parents, and scraping people's driveways of snow when a snowstorm came. All of this came out of the hardships of the pandemic. Mahatma Gandhi once said, "We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. ... We need not wait to see what others do." The quote has been more simply put as: "Be the change you want to see in the world." After all of the havoc caused by COVID-19 and considering all it has taught me, I think it is time I run with that thought.

From the time I was born, we had dogs in our house. When I got married and moved into my place, I found that my landlord did not allow pets. I was disappointed but understanding. My wife and I just bought a house and will be moving soon. As a housewarming surprise, my wife got me a dog! Meet my pup: Mr. Lucas Greene! He is a mix of pug and chihuahua— a pughuahua, if you will, or maybe he is a chug? Either way, I love him! Once we get moved in, we’ll get to bring him home.

50, 60, 65, 23. No, these are not the random call-outs of a quarterback. These were grades. My grades, to be precise. I had failed out of college and had come home to rethink my life. Before I came home from my former university, I had been seeking counseling for depression and anxiety. Unfortunately, that step came too little too late. I failed all of my classes; I was withdrawn and sullen, and I had lost around 20 lbs. due to stress. When I got home, I set up an appointment with a psychiatrist. After several meetings, my psychiatrist informed me that I have Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Attention Deficit Disorder. I made several life changes, and I began taking medication to help with the depression and anxiety. After several months, I decided to go back to school at a different university and finish my degree. I was the first person in our entire family to attend college, so the idea of graduating motivated me. My journey to graduating was by no means straightforward. I was still dealing with depression, anxiety, and ADD. On top of all of that, I was haunted by my past failures. However, six years after I began my academic journey, I graduated with my bachelor's. My failures weren't the end of the road for me. Some people have called those failures speed bumps, but I like to think of them as commas found in a book— brief pauses in the greater context of the novel of my life. I tried to tough it out and go it alone during my first go-around at college; that did not work. On my second attempt at college, I depended heavily on my support system. Through it all, those closest to me never gave up on me. Despite the immensity of my failure, my parents remained adamant supporters of me. My then-girlfriend, now wife, helped me figure out my learning style, determine which medications were working best for me, and read through every paper I wrote and gave me feedback. I owe my success, in part, to them. After graduating, I worked various jobs: retail manager, sign language interpreter, staff reporter. Now, however, I work in a surprising career field: higher education. I work for a community college as their marketing director. However, I want to do more than market higher education; I want to be a part of it. My end goal is to become a professor. In working towards that goal, I decided to apply to grad school. I was accepted to a master's program, where I will study philosophy. While my degree is not in mental health or social work, I recognize a struggling student when I see one. What is that adage: Takes one to know one? I notice the warning signs, and I have and will continue to educate myself on how to help students who are struggling. One of the reasons I am studying philosophy is because I want to help others understand themselves and their "Whys." As a kid, I asked a thousand questions a day, nine hundred of which were "Why?". The insatiable nature of my curiosity followed me to adulthood. When I was failing, I often found myself screaming "Why" into the void. When I was struggling with depression and anxiety, I often wondered why God was not "healing" me. I want to help others confront the complexities of life. I want to help students deal with difficult questions. I want to help students as they wrestle with their beliefs as I did. My life and academic journey have been marked with both successes and failures. When I am struggling, I remind myself of this Winston Churchill quote. "Success is not final; failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts." Failure is not the end of your story; it is just a comma along the way.

When I went to college, I was a vibrant young man full of hope for my future. Classes began, and that hopeful man faded quickly. I failed classes and eventually dropped out. I came home a defeated and broken man. I had never experienced such failure in my life, and experiencing it then shook me to my core. I had been a diligent and successful student in high school; I understood all of the concepts we were learning, so I never needed to study. Why had I struggled so much in college, then? I decided to see a psychiatrist. After listening to my story, the doctor evaluated me for major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety, and adult ADD/ADHD. Much to my dismay, the results pointed to my having all three. I was shocked by the doctor's evaluation, but I accepted his recommendations. I made the life changes the doctor recommended. I started taking medication for anxiety and depression and went back to school. I began my second round at college with a different perspective. I knew what I was up against and how hard it would be to overcome. Classes began, and I applied myself to my studies with a determination to graduate. The journey was not simple; depression and anxiety nearly got the better of me a few times, but I made it. I graduated with my bachelor's degree in 2018. I overcame not only depression, anxiety, and ADD, but also my past failures. Now, I am beginning a new academic journey. I was accepted to a master's program. While my field of study isn't in mental health or social work, I recognize a struggling student. During my second round at college, I coached several young men through their mental struggles and on to success. I intend to teach at a local college. As a professor, I will have a direct impact on students' lives in a time when they desperately need help.

Growing up as a firstborn child, I was told I was the guinea pig. It was always in jest, but the reality is that it's true. I was the first, and my parents had no idea how to be parents. They raised me well, but their inexperience led to some rather impactful missteps. Throughout high school, I excelled with ease. The concepts we were learning came naturally to me, so I felt no need to study. My parents were pleased with my academic success, so they did not feel the need to correct this blunder. However, I graduated high school with high marks, and once again, my parents were pleased. After graduation, I began attending a private university 700 miles from home. Classes started, and I lagged academically. I failed classes, and I could not figure out why. Eventually, I dropped out of college and drove 700 miles home with my tail between my legs. I was heartbroken. As the firstborn and the first to attend college, I felt it was incumbent upon me to succeed, not just academically but in all aspects of life. However, I was failing academically, financially, and relationally. My heartbrokenness devolved into distraughtness, so I began seeing a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist evaluated me for anxiety, depression, and ADD/ADHD. As it turned out, I was struggling with all three. While it may have been that I struggled with these issues due to my circumstances, time would tell otherwise. When I reported the doctor's findings to my parents, I was dismayed to learn that a childhood mentor had recommended that I be tested for ADD/ADHD, as I displayed some characteristics they found concerning. My parents brushed it off. Despite this, my parents had raised me to be resilient and determined, so I made the life changes suggested by my doctor, started taking medication, and went back to school. I began my second attempt at college with an entirely different perspective. I was determined to earn my bachelor's degree, and six years after starting my college journey, I graduated. Being a firstborn made me determined, but being a first-generation college graduate made me proud. That was two years ago. Since that time, I have started a career that I love. Now, though, I'm starting a new adventure. Not only was I the first in my family to attend and graduate from college, but I will also be the first to attend grad school and earn a master's degree. I will be studying philosophy there. As the firstborn, I asked "Why?" a thousand times per day. My curiosity was seemingly insatiable. I needed to know how things worked, why things happened, and who was in charge. This curiosity followed me into adulthood, as my life has been a series of "Whys." In my undergraduate program, I studied languages because I wanted to know why they work the way they do. After college, I worked at a large box-store because I needed to know how and why materials are used in the construction process. I left that job and started working as a staff reporter for local newspapers because I desired to help others understand how their government operates. However, it was a personal loss that led me to pursue a Master's degree in Philosophy. My wife and I suffered two miscarriages in a year. The grief was unimaginable, and I could only manage to ask one thing: Why? I lost my firstborn, and I couldn't understand why. Now, I want to help others walk through the complexities of life and to help them understand their "Whys." My end goal is to become a philosophy professor at a college. I want to help prepare other firstborn, first-generation students to tackle the difficult questions of life.