A hair tie, bobby pins, and an old hot-pink brush were the tools I used to create my first hairstyle: a bun. Although it was small because my hair was short and tightly coiled, I was proud of it. I concluded that only a headband would elevate the look. Growing up without my mother meant that mastering fundamental skills, such as caring for my hair, had to be learned through trial and error. When I was nine, and the financial burden of raising two children rested solely on my father, so providing for us became his top priority. Meanwhile, my sibling and I focused on navigating school life on our own and maintaining strong academic performance on our own. For example, I was resolved to learn ways to style and manage my hair without any assistance. I used any resources available: websites, tutorial videos, magazines, and asking teachers. I wanted to alleviate any pressure on my father by becoming more independent. Sometimes, the bun lacked volume; other times, it was uneven and oddly shaped. Yet the flaws did not deter me from believing in my capabilities. Instead, they taught me that progress arrives after persistence. It has allowed my hairstyling skills to improve, and with that, my tools improved as well. More importantly, I developed the ability to process information independently and consistently apply effort until reaching of goal. Additionally, I learned to welcome criticism for the sake of progress. I eventually discovered that I am capable of learning anything. Having to rely on myself taught me resourcefulness and gave me confidence, which shaped the way I face challenges today. The first bun I ever made wasn’t perfect, it taught me that growth begins with the inclination to try. Because of this, I long to study the science of biochemistry—a field that thrives on research and a logical approach to problems that I often exercised as a child. After earning my degree, I plan to attend medical school to become a gynecologist. Just as I once searched for my own tools to overcome my hardships, I hope to become a source of wisdom and support for other young girls. I want them to understand that mentors and opportunities can make a difference, but the tools of determination and willingness to learn have been within them all along. As a future physician, I hope to empower my patients with the same confidence and support that I once had to cultivate for myself.

A hair band, bobby pins, and an old hot-pink brush were the tools I used to create my first hairstyle: a bun. Although it was small a because my hair was short and tightly coiled, I was proud of it. I concluded that only a headband would elevate the look. Growing up without my mother meant that mastering fundamental skills, such as caring for my hair, had to be learned from trial and error. At the time I was nine, and the financial burden of raising two children rested solely on my father, so providing for us became his top priority. Meanwhile, my sibling and I focused on navigating through school life on our own and sustaining favorable academics on our own. For example, I was resolved to learn ways to style and manage my hair without any assistance. I used any resources available: web pages, tutorial videos, magazines, and asking teachers. I wanted to alleviate any pressure on my father by becoming more independent. Sometimes, the bun lacked depth. Other times, it was uneven and oddly shaped. However, the flaws did not deter me from believing in my capabilities. With time, experience follows. It has allowed my hairstyling skills to advance, and with that, my tools have upgraded too. My ability to process information developed from this journey. Additionally, a drive to apply effort until completion was prompted as a result of this. Lastly, it sprouted a preference for accepting criticism for the sake of progress. Through persistence, effort, and constant practice, I discovered that I was capable of learning anything. Having to rely on myself taught me resourcefulness and gave me confidence, which shaped the way I face challenges today. Much like the hair band, bobby pins, and the brush that helped me prepare each day, this scholarship will be an essential tool in shaping my future academic success. Receiving the Concrete Rose Scholarship Foundation would ease the financial load on my family, allowing me to study biochemistry—a field that thrives on research and logical approach to problems that I often exercised as a child. Following this degree, I aspire to attend medical school as a prospective gynecologist. Another young girl may need their own tools to guide them through their daily lives, but they may not know where to look. I aim to become that foundation of support and knowledge so realize their tools can simply be found within.

Days before my ninth birthday, my mother kicked me out. The door slammed behind me sending echoes throughout our townhouse community. Sobbing, I trudged through the snow towards the street, waiting for my father's silver 2009 Toyota Corolla to arrive. To this day, he continues to boast about that car's cost efficiency passionately explaining the sustainability for the price. Whether it's true or not, I do not know, but it was what he could afford, so he took pride in that. When he parked near the curb, he exited the car and wrapped me in a hug. When asked about his greatest regret, my father replied stating that he wished he came to America sooner. He believes he would have had more time to understand more about this country to build a firm foundation for his family. He spoke often of "being late to the race." For nearly nine years, our reality was living in a cramped two-bedroom apartment. By high school, my younger brother and I still shared a room, something I silently felt ashamed about. Even still, my father had hope that our lives would not always be like this. He told us to focus on school and our dreams while handled the rest. My father regularly worked overtime. If he was not on the clock, he was relentlessly studying so that he could perform better at his work. He was always the first one awake and the last to fall asleep. Throughout what felt like a period of stagnation in his life, he still sent what he could to support the family we had in Nigeria every month. Such key details of my father's character made me realize that how much income one generates does not determine their value. He taught me that what matters is how I show up for those I love--like how he showed up for me during a significant moment of distress in my childhood. It can also be through sacrificing time, similar to how he arduously studied during any downtime to achieve more at work for us to live comfortably. Despite what one might have, they can still display generosity. Just like how we were barely getting by, yet he always gave to our loved ones that remained in Nigeria. As a result of my father's support, I will soon graduate from high school with honors and pursue a career I am passionate of: Obstetrics and Gynecology. In this field, I will express the themes of contribution and generosity that my father has shown throughout my life. That silver 2009 Toyota Corolla now belongs to my grandfather, who is no longer dependent on public transport in Nigeria. Even though the car has traveled many miles, covered countless roads, and survived many winters, it still performs well. Perhaps my father's attachment to the vehicle was reasonable after all.