When I was only eight months old, my mother walked out of my life. My father became my sole parent, raising me on his own while working hard to keep us afloat. We struggled financially and emotionally, but he did everything he could to make me feel supported. He carved out time for us, whether cooking dinner together, playing sports, or talking after long workdays. Those small moments taught me that love, resilience, and sacrifice matter more than anything else. Being raised in a single-parent household without the guidance of my mother was painful. It was even harder when I learned she had gone on to have more children but never acknowledged me. For years, I wrestled with rejection and questions about my worth. But instead of letting those feelings hold me back, I used them as fuel to succeed. Every step I take in my education is not only for me, but also to honor the sacrifices my father made. Now, as a first-generation college student and a sophomore at Morgan State University, majoring in Business Administration with a 3.9 GPA, I understand what my journey represents. For me, being first-generation means breaking barriers, rewriting the story for my family, and showing that circumstances do not determine destiny. It means I am building a foundation that those who come after me can stand on, proving that success is possible even when the odds are against you. Of course, the journey has not been easy. From financial struggles to the pressure of figuring everything out on my own, there were many moments when quitting seemed easier than continuing. But each obstacle taught me something. Financial struggles taught me how to be resourceful. Loneliness taught me empathy. And the weight of responsibility taught me discipline. I am proud that I have learned to persevere, even in the face of uncertainty. My dreams are rooted in service. With my business degree, I hope to create programs and opportunities for young people, especially those from single-parent households or underserved communities. I want to mentor them, teach financial literacy, and provide leadership training so they can see beyond their current circumstances. More than anything, I want my life to serve as proof that you don’t have to be defined by what you lost, you can rise because of it. This scholarship would make a tremendous difference in my journey. It would ease the financial burden on my father and me, allowing me to focus more fully on my studies and leadership opportunities. It would bring me one step closer to achieving my dreams and one step closer to turning my vision of helping others into reality. To me, being a first-generation student means resilience, responsibility, and hope. It means refusing to let hardship be the end of the story. With this scholarship, I will continue my journey with the same determination that carried me this far, and I will use what I’ve learned to lift others along the way.

When I was only eight months old, my mother walked out of my life. I never had the chance to grow up with her love or guidance. Instead, it was my dad who stepped up and raised me on his own. We struggled financially, emotionally, and socially, but he did everything he could to make sure I felt supported. Some of my most meaningful memories are of the small moments he carved out for us, cooking dinner together, playing sports, or simply talking after a long day at work. Those moments mattered because I knew how much effort it took for him to be both a provider and a parent. Growing up without my mother was painful, especially when I learned that she had gone on to have more children and never acknowledged me. That realization left me with feelings of rejection and questions about my worth. But instead of allowing those feelings to define me, I used them as motivation. I pushed myself to succeed academically and personally, not just for myself but to honor the sacrifices my father made. Today, I am a sophomore at Morgan State University, majoring in Business Administration, with a 3.9 GPA. Every grade I earn feels like proof that our struggles were not in vain. Being raised in a single-parent household taught me lessons no classroom could ever provide. I learned resilience, because we often had to make the most of limited resources. I learned empathy, because I know what it feels like to be overlooked, and I never want anyone else to feel that way. And most importantly, I learned responsibility. Watching my dad work hard every day instilled in me a drive to carry my weight and help others carry theirs. These values are the foundation for the kind of future I want to build. Looking ahead, I see myself using my talents and education to do good for others, especially those who have faced struggles similar to mine. I may not know my exact career yet, but I want to create opportunities for people who are often forgotten or underestimated. With my business background, I dream of starting programs that mentor young men and women from single-parent households, showing them that their family situation does not limit their potential. I want to create safe spaces where they can learn financial literacy, leadership skills, and personal confidence. Beyond formal programs, I want my life itself to serve as an example. If I can succeed despite the challenges of my upbringing, then others can too. I believe the most powerful way to “do good” is not only through words, but by living a life that inspires others to keep going. My father’s determination showed me that one person’s love and sacrifice can change the course of another’s life. I want to be that kind of influence for others. I also imagine using my business degree to give back directly to my community. Whether it’s through creating jobs, offering internships, or investing in local youth organizations, I want my career to be rooted in service. Too often, young people in single-parent or blended families are counted out before they even begin. I want to be a voice that reminds them they are more than their circumstances. What shaped me the most was not what I lost, but what I gained. Being raised by my father alone was not easy, but it gave me strength and vision. With the education I am receiving now and the opportunities ahead, I am determined to “raise up” others the same way my father raised me.

Most kids call their mom when they’re in trouble. I call my dad, because he’s all I’ve ever had. My name is Tyree Carter Jr., named after the man who gave up his dreams so I could chase mine. Being raised by a single father has shaped everything about who I am and what I want to become. My parents met in high school and had me when they were just 19. When I was eight months old, my mother decided she wasn’t ready to be a parent and left. Since then, it’s been just me and my dad. He never looked back. He never complained. He sacrificed his chance to go to college, worked two jobs, and gave everything he had to raise me. Life wasn’t easy. We moved around, stretched every paycheck, and often had to make do with less. But through all of that, my dad made sure I never felt unloved or unsupported. Growing up without my mother has been one of the hardest parts of my life. She later had another child, a daughter she raises, but she has never acknowledged me. I sometimes see her in public, and she walks past me as if I don’t exist. That rejection used to break my heart, but now it motivates me. It’s taught me that you don’t get to choose the circumstances you’re born into, but you do get to decide who you become. I chose to be determined. I’m now a sophomore at Moran State University, majoring in Business Administration. College hasn’t been easy, financially or emotionally, but I’ve pushed through with the same work ethic my dad taught me. I currently hold a 3.9 GPA and made the Dean’s List both semesters of my freshman year. I also work part-time to help with tuition and reduce the financial pressure on my dad. Every late night, every early morning, and every tough class is worth it because I know I’m building a future that will give both of us something better. My goal is to use my business degree to one day start my own company, something that can create jobs and opportunities in communities like the one I grew up in. I want to learn how to manage resources effectively, lead with purpose, and make an impact. But more than just making money, I want to create a business that gives back, offering internships, training programs, or second chances to people who need them most. Receiving the Sue & James Wong Memorial Scholarship would help tremendously in continuing my education. It would ease the financial stress my father and I carry and allow me to stay focused on my academic and professional goals. More importantly, it would be a vote of confidence, not just in my potential, but in our story. My dad once told me, “We don’t have a lot, but we’ve got each other, and that’s always enough.” That truth has carried me through my toughest days. His sacrifice is the reason I’m here, and I intend to honor that by succeeding, giving back, and one day, helping another young student realize their dreams. I may not have grown up with much, but I grew up with love, strength, and an example of what it means to never give up. I’m proud of where I come from, and I’m even more excited about where I’m going.

When I was ten years old, I watched my father work long hours and still come home with enough energy to help me with homework, cook dinner, and teach me how to be a man. As a young black boy growing up in a single-parent household, I learned early that strength doesn’t always come loud, it comes from showing up every day, no matter what. That example shaped who I am and continues to influence who I want to become. As a sophomore business administration major at thee Morgan State University, I haven't decided exactly what path my career will take. But what I do know is that I want to use my education to uplift my community, whether by starting a business that creates jobs, working with local youth, or supporting others through nonprofit work. Success, to me, is measured by impact, not just income. Being Black means carrying a legacy of resilience, creativity, and excellence, often in the face of incredible odds. As a first-generation college student, I’m proud to be walking through doors that weren’t always open to those before me. Choosing an HBCU was intentional. At Morgan, I’m surrounded by a culture that understands me, challenges me, and empowers me. It’s more than a school, it’s home. My career may not be fully mapped out yet, but one thing is certain: I will always work to give back, just like my father gave to me.

“I was just a kid when I watched my hero disappear.” My great-grandfather was a Vietnam War veteran, a proud and disciplined man with a quiet strength that shaped our entire family. He never talked much about the war, but his actions taught me about resilience, honor, and love. I remember the way he always smelled faintly of aftershave, and how his hands, weathered and strong, felt like protection itself. But cancer changed all that. It didn’t just take his body, it slowly pulled the man I loved away from me. When he was diagnosed with an aggressive form of colon cancer, none of us were prepared. At first, doctors thought it was something minor, he had stomach pain, fatigue, but by the time they found it, the cancer had already spread. The disease moved faster than we could. I watched his strong frame shrink, his voice weaken, and the light in his eyes dim. Losing him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced, and even now, years later, the grief hasn’t fully left me. I thought the worst was behind us, until it happened again. His son, my uncle, was recently diagnosed with the same kind of cancer. And once again, our family has been thrown into a storm of hospital visits, difficult conversations, and painful waiting. This time, I’m older. I understand more. And that makes it even harder. Watching someone you love, fight a battle their parent already lost is a special kind of heartbreak. It’s a cruel déjà vu. And as I witness his fight, I can't help but ask, why did it take so long for doctors to take his symptoms seriously? Colon cancer is often misdiagnosed, or diagnosed too late, in African American men. My family is living proof of this. The lack of early detection, the misinterpretation of symptoms, and the delay in proper treatment have cost us more than we can say. It’s not just a health issue; it’s a systemic issue. This experience has changed me in ways I’m still discovering. I wasn’t the one with the diagnosis, but cancer didn’t care. It shattered the foundation of my family. It made me grow up faster. It taught me to cherish every conversation, every hug, every laugh. And it showed me the importance of advocacy and speaking up about diseases that too often go undiscussed in our communities. Today, I’m a Business major at Morgan State University, my uncle’s alma mater, proudly carrying on his legacy and making my own mark. I currently hold a 3.9 GPA and have made the Dean’s List for the past two semesters. Every late-night study session and early morning class is driven by more than just ambition, it’s driven by purpose. I want to succeed not only for myself, but for the people who believed in me, supported me, and showed me what true strength looks like, even in the face of unimaginable pain. Applying for the Peter J. Musto Memorial Scholarship is more than just seeking financial assistance, it's a step in honoring my great-grandfather’s legacy. It’s a way to say, “I remember you. I learned from you. And I’ll keep fighting, even if you’re gone.” It’s a promise to use what I’ve lived through to educate others, to encourage early screenings, and to be a voice for the families like mine who are trying to hold it together. My great-grandfather taught me strength in silence. But now, it's my turn to speak.