My name is Vaughn Chung—I’m a first-generation college student, the eldest son of four, and an advocate for my community. At nine years old, I watched my dad spiral into opioid addiction, creating insurmountable challenges for my family. Credit cards were maxed out; hundreds of pill bottles were discovered. And our college fund? Gone. "Life is unfair. Life is unjust." That’s what I told myself. My father’s manic episodes resulted in his institutionalization—this left a void in me, and I resented him for it. In high school, I was often frustrated, impatient, and dismissive. Initially, I found refuge in playing angsty blink-182 songs on my guitar. In my senior year, my debate teacher, Mr. Aguillard, saw something in me. He knew I was hurting. He knew I had a lot to say. With his mentorship, I learned how to argue, utilize rhetoric, and lead by example. He always told me to “do excellent to make excellence.” Mr. Augillard wasn’t my dad, but he was a good man who was there when I needed it most. Mark and I aren't so different. I, too, earned an associate's degree at my local community college. Our circumstances don’t define us. We both take things as they come, take pride in our work, and trust the process. Like Mark, I didn't have the cultural capital, the right connections, or financial stability. In fact, I paused my education for a decade to be a caretaker for my father. My siblings were counting on their big brother. My mom needed her oldest boy to be strong. I harnessed my creativity and work ethic to start a tutoring business—and I never stopped learning. Eventually, I forgave my father, and this allowed me to forgive myself. My soul felt unburdened. My mind was finally clear. No more excuses—it was time for me to chase my dreams. I asked myself, “What career maximizes my impact toward the greater good?” Lawyers wield the sword and shield of justice—they both fight and defend within an adversarial system. And this is why I chose the path of law. But the law isn’t perfect. People aren’t perfect. Every day, we all grapple with the good and the bad—right from wrong. Cicero once said, “...if liberty is not equally enjoyed by all the citizens, it is not liberty at all.” While this statement resonates with me, I believe that words are empty without action. My hero, Justice Thurgood Marshall, didn’t wait for a better world—he made it better. As a civil rights lawyer, Justice Marshall travelled throughout the Jim Crow South and provided a voice to the voiceless. Despite the odds, Justice Marshall advocated zealously for the disenfranchised. And someday, I want to do the same for the Houston community. This fall, I will join the Honors Program at the University of St. Thomas, double majoring in History and Philosophy. I would be honored to be the first college graduate in my family, but my goals don't end there. To prepare for life after law school, I am interning at the Public Defender’s Office of Fort Bend County. I think it’s crucial to learn both sides of the law, so I will be applying for the prosecutor's office next. I thank the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship for considering my candidacy. I strive to "maximize the educational benefits available" to me—just like Mark did. His story inspires me to believe that hard work can lead to second chances. Nothing is guaranteed, but we must act in good faith—because character matters. Because a lifelong passion for learning matters. Because justice matters—and I will fight for it.

My name is Vaughn Chung—I’m a first-generation college student, the eldest son of four, and an advocate for my fellow citizens. At nine years old, I witnessed my father give way to his opioid addiction, creating insurmountable challenges for my family. Credit cards were maxed out; hundreds of pill bottles were discovered. And our college fund? Gone. "Life is unfair. Life is unjust." That's what I told myself. I felt indignant toward my father. Moreover, his institutionalization left a void—and I resented him for it. In high school, I was often frustrated, impatient, and dismissive. But through trial by fire, I gained the indispensable skills and moral virtues that define me today. In fact, forgiving my father allowed me to forgive myself—my soul was unburdened, and I was ready to chase my dreams. As a first-generation student and a son of Vietnam War refugees, I understood that I had a difficult path laid ahead. I didn't have the cultural capital, the right connections, or financial stability. In fact, I had to pause my education for a decade to be a caretaker for my father. I won't lie—things looked bleak. My siblings were counting on their big brother. My mom needed her oldest boy to be strong. And so, I dug deep. I utilized my creativity and work ethic to start a tutoring business. More importantly, I never stopped learning. So, why am I returning to college a decade later? Every day we read, converse, and exchange opinions on what we believe to be “good” or “bad.” In short—what’s right and what’s wrong. I was never satisfied with accepting everyday proverbs or clichés. I wanted to better inform myself and contribute to society. I wondered, “What career could maximize my impact?” My research would reveal a universal truth: all industries were inextricably linked to politics. That’s why I chose the path of law. Lawyers craft well-reasoned arguments—they fight to defend our inalienable rights. Such principles resonated deeply, helping me envision how I could serve. Lawyers wield the sword and shield of justice—they both fight and defend within an adversarial system. Law is not merely a profession—it’s my call to duty. The law isn’t perfect, and the world isn’t either. But nothing will change if we remain complacent. The words of Cicero brought me solace: “But if liberty is not equally enjoyed by all the citizens, it is not liberty at all.” Relatedly, Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird said, “The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.” I completely agree with both statements. I learned that the world isn't static, that meaningful change is always possible. I haven’t changed the world yet—but I intend to. I won’t always get it right, but I’ll always act in good faith. This fall, I will join the Honors Program at the University of St. Thomas, double majoring in History and Philosophy. It would be a tremendous honor to be the first college graduate in my family. But my goals don't end there. To prepare for life after law school, I am interning at the Public Defender’s Office of Fort Bend County. I think it’s imperative to learn both sides of the law, so I will be applying for the prosecutor's office next. I thank the Scholar Budget for considering my candidacy—your generosity will help fund my academic goals. Your mission to uplift and empower the underserved is a reminder that people deserve a second chance. As a future attorney, I want to continue spreading that message—because justice still matters, and I will fight for it.

Hello esteemed reader, and thank you for reading about my journey. My name is Vaughn Chung. I'm the eldest of four, a first-generation college student, and the son of a Vietnam War refugee. By age nine, my father became addicted to opioids. By my early twenties, he had developed Parkinson's. For this reason, I paused my educational goals and became his caretaker. But despite these challenges, I never lost my drive for learning—in fact, I started a tutoring business to support my family. Miguel and I share a common mission. I, too, believe in the importance of prioritizing social justice. First, let me tell you a story. In fall 2016, I arrived in Philadelphia to visit one of my closest friends, Sarah. We reminisced on our childhood experiences. I cherished my time with her, but there was another reason why I came to Pennsylvania. With one weekend left, I couldn't miss this. I went to the closest Hertz, picked up the white Prius, and drove for nearly 6 hours. I was getting closer to my destination, and recognized a few landmarks from my prior research. Gettysburg College; the conspicuously placed McDonald's in the downtown area—I was close. And there it was. I parked my car and took a deep breath—I couldn't believe it, but I was standing where the Battle of Gettysburg took place. The history was palpable. Little Round Top, Devil's Den, and Cemetery Ridge—it was an honor to witness my readings come to life. But beyond the battle's military significance was an underlying theme: bloodshed among countrymen. My parents were refugees from their own country's civil war, a conflict resulting in millions of innocent lives lost. Among the dead were nearly sixty thousand American souls, a debt that many of the Vietnamese diaspora have never forgotten. Politics aside, the United States and Vietnam share a similar story that helped me understand my place. Growing up a first-generation immigrant was difficult, but my thirst for knowledge, particularly contextual knowledge, naturally led me to history. History became the best way for me to understand my place—an indispensable tool to connect to students, strangers, and family. I developed a clearer understanding of where we came from, why we're here, and where we might go. History revealed the many injustices that marginalized people endured—namely, the Vietnamese resistance against the Ku Klux Klan in Seadrift, Texas. In the early 80s, Vietnamese shrimpers were harassed and threatened with violence by the local fishermen. Unbeknownst to many 'Seadrifters,' the Klan was invited to accomplish one mission: to drive the Vietnamese out by any means necessary. But the Vietnamese did not respond with hate. With the support of ACLU lawyers, the Vietnamese leveraged the law to fight for their rights. The courts eventually decided against the Klan, preventing further bloodshed. But the incident was not black or white. Indeed, history revealed nuances otherwise overlooked: many white locals opposed the Klan and willingly assisted the Vietnamese. Indeed, history shows us the power of law, advocacy, and community-driven initiatives. These events inspired me to double major in History and Philosophy, preparing me for my path to law school. Miguel and I came from different worlds, but we both believe that people matter. I think we should all be more like Miguel—every action he took had one aim: to put people first. As a future legal advocate, it would be a tremendous honor for me to carry his legacy as a civil rights attorney, to represent the voiceless and downtrodden, because justice still matters.

Thank you for taking the time to read about my journey. My name is Vaughn Chung—I’m a first-generation college student, the eldest son of four, and an advocate for the people. At nine years old, a life-altering event catalyzed my purpose. I witnessed my father succumbing to his opioid addictions, creating seemingly insurmountable challenges for my family. Credit cards were maxed out. Hundreds of pill bottles were discovered. Our college fund? Wiped out. An indignant spirit was a dangerous combination for a young man without a father. For many years, I was often angry, impatient, and dismissive about our situation. Through trial by fire, I gained both indispensable skills and moral virtues that define me today. It’s difficult to define my “greatest accomplishment.” Truthfully, it’s neither my grades nor my résumé—those achievements felt fleeting. There was something more to life. My greatest accomplishment was forgiving my father, and in turn, allowing me to forgive myself. But first, let me tell you about a dream I had last year. I was sitting in the passenger seat. As I peeked around the dashboard, I recognized it: this was my dad’s old 1994 Acura TL. It had faded white paint—the same car that our family squeezed in and out of at the church parking lot. I looked to my left, and I saw him. He was the same dad I remembered in my youth. Barely shaven, humming along to Carlos Santana, with a large Coke in one hand. It was like nothing had changed. I interrogated my father in Vietnamese, “Dad, this isn’t real, is it?” He looked at me, gently smiled, and held my hand. He said, “It’s okay, son. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. But you’re a good boy. You’re very strong. I’m proud of you.” I woke up with tears streaming down my chest. It was the first time I saw my dad—as he was—in over two decades. For many years, I witnessed my father’s gradual decline: from his addiction to dozens of hospitalizations, which culminated in a Parkinson’s diagnosis. I had to place my academic dreams on hold. I spent years lifting him in and out of my car—a neurologist appointment here, a psychiatrist evaluation there. I would be lying if I didn’t say that things looked bleak. But earned wisdom is different from learned wisdom. In fact, our financial bind inspired me to launch a tutoring business to support my family. Caregiving helped me become more emotionally attuned, to be more compassionate toward others. As the years passed, my innumerable conversations with family, friends, and strangers revealed a fundamental truth: I love bringing the best out of people. Do you need life advice? I’ll do my best to help. A shoulder to cry on? I’m here for you. At heart, I’m here to listen. Embracing my role as a caretaker helped me establish a moral framework. For me, there’s no greater sense of flourishing than when I can serve my fellow human beings. And so, you may duly ask: “What do you want out of college? And how will this support your goals?” Every day we read, converse, and exchange opinions on what we believe to be “good” or “bad.” In short—what’s right and what’s wrong. I was never satisfied with accepting everyday proverbs or clichés. I wanted to better inform myself and contribute to society. I wondered, “What career could maximize my impact?” My research would reveal a universal truth: all industries were inextricably linked to politics. That’s why I chose the path of law. Lawyers craft well-reasoned arguments—they fight to defend our inalienable rights. Such principles resonated deeply, helping me envision how I could serve. Lawyers wield the sword and shield of justice—they both fight and defend within an adversarial system. Law is not merely a profession—it’s my call to duty. The law isn’t perfect, and the world isn’t either. But nothing will change if we remain complacent. The words of Cicero brought me solace: “But if liberty is not equally enjoyed by all the citizens, it is not liberty at all.” Relatedly, Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird said, “The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.” I completely agree with both statements. I learned that the world isn't static—that change is always possible. I haven’t changed the world yet, but I want to try. I won’t always get it right, but I’ll always act in good faith. Thank you for considering my candidacy—your generosity will help fund my undergraduate pursuits and build a strong foundation for law school. With your support, I can pay it forward by transforming the challenges of caregiving into public service. Because justice still matters.

Hello esteemed reader, and thank you for reading about my journey. My name is Vaughn Chung—I'm the eldest of four children, a first-generation college student, and the son of Vietnam War refugees. By age nine, my father succumbed to his opioid addictions. By my early twenties, he developed Parkinson's. I, regrettably, paused my educational goals and became his caretaker. Despite these challenges, I never lost my drive for learning—in fact, my inquisitive disposition became a catalyst for starting a tutoring business, specializing in historical writing and analysis. But before I explain why I'm going back to school, let me tell you a story. In fall 2016, I arrived in Philadelphia to visit one of my closest friends, Sarah. We reminisced on our childhood experiences. I cherished my time with her, but there was another reason why I came to Pennsylvania. With one weekend left, I couldn't miss this. I went to the closest Hertz, picked up the white Prius, and drove for nearly 6 hours. I was getting closer to my destination, and recognized a few landmarks from my prior research. Gettysburg College; a conspicuously placed McDonald's in the downtown area—I was close. And there it was. I parked my car and took a deep breath—I couldn't believe it, but I was standing where the Battle of Gettysburg took place. The history was palpable. Little Round Top, Devil's Den, and Cemetery Ridge—it was an honor to witness my readings come to life. But beyond the battle's military significance was an underlying theme: bloodshed among countrymen. I would like to believe that Joe and I shared a kinship about Gettysburg, and the broader themes about the Civil War. My parents were refugees from their own country's civil war, a conflict resulting in millions of innocent lives lost. Among the dead were nearly sixty thousand American souls, a debt that many of the Vietnamese diaspora have never forgotten. Politics aside, the United States and Vietnam share a similar story that helped me understand my place. It was difficult growing up as an outsider, but my thirst for knowledge, particularly, contextual knowledge, naturally led me to history. History became the best way for me to understand my place. It became an indispensable tool to connect to students, strangers, and family. I gained a clearer understanding of where we came from, why we're here, and where we might go. In fact, history was how I discovered the Vietnamese resistance against the Ku Klux Klan in Seadrift, Texas. In the early 80s, Vietnamese shrimpers were harassed and threatened with violence by the local fishermen. Unbeknownst to many 'Seadrifters,' the Klan were invited to accomplish one mission: to drive the Vietnamese out by any means necessary. But the Vietnamese did not respond with hate. With support of ACLU lawyers, the Vietnamese leveraged the law to fight for their rights. The courts eventually decided against the Klan, preventing further bloodshed. But the incident was not black or white. Indeed, history revealed nuances otherwise overlooked: many white locals opposed the Klan and willingly assisted the Vietnamese. Indeed, history shows us the power of law, advocacy, and community-driven initiative. These events inspired me to double major in History and Philosophy, preparing me for my path to law school. Like Joe, I believe that learning history necessitates a rich education for everyone. He and I came from different worlds, but we walk the same path. Foremost, we both love people. And as a future attorney, I intend to give back to my community someday. Thank you for your consideration, Vaughn Chung

Hello esteemed reader and thank you for reading about my journey. My name is Vaughn Chung—I’m a first-generation college student, the eldest son of four, and an advocate for the people. At nine years old, a life-altering event catalyzed my purpose. I witnessed my father succumbing to his opioid addictions, creating seemingly insurmountable challenges for my family. Credit cards were maxed out. Hundreds of pill bottles were discovered. Our college fund? Wiped out. Although our situation seemed hopeless, my mother stepped up and provided us the best life that she could. She had only a fourth-grade education and was a dedicated homemaker. And yet, she transcended those so-called limitations—and saved our family. She embodied justice, strength, and love. I do not lament those difficult years—in fact, I greatly profited from adversity. Through trial by fire, I gained both indispensable skills and moral virtues that define me today. Becoming attuned to my emotions taught me to be more compassionate towards others. I developed emotional coping strategies through music, writing dozens of songs with my acoustic guitar. An indignant spirit was a dangerous combination for a young man without a father. Mr. Augillard, my debate coach, acutely detected my sensitivities. With his guiding hand, I learned how to channel righteous anger into powerful, convincing oratories. As I reflected upon those years, my innumerable conversations with family, friends, and strangers revealed a fundamental truth: I love bringing the best out of people. Do you need life advice? I’ll do my best to help. Or a shoulder to cry on? I’m here for you. At heart, I’m here to listen. There’s no greater sense of flourishing than when I can serve my fellow man. So, what do I want out of college? And how will this support my goals? Every day we read, converse, and exchange opinions on what we believe to be “good” or “bad.” In short—what’s right and what’s wrong. I was never satisfied with everyday proverbs or clichés without context. I wanted to inform myself and contribute to society. I wondered, “what career could maximize my impact?” My research revealed a universal truth: all industries were inextricably linked to politics. And for this reason, I chose the path of law. Not only can lawyers craft well-reasoned arguments—they fight to defend our inalienable rights. Such principles resonated deeply, helping me envision how I could serve. Whether we love lawyers or hate them—we’ll probably need them someday. Lawyers wield the sword and shield of justice—they both fight and defend within an adversarial system. Law is not merely a profession—it’s my call to duty. The law isn’t perfect, and the world isn’t either. But nothing will change if we remain complacent. The words of Cicero brought me solace: “But if liberty is not equally enjoyed by all the citizens, it is not liberty at all.” Relatedly, Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird said, “the one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.” I completely agree with both statements. My passion for history captivated my imagination—I learned that the world isn't static, that change is always possible. I haven’t changed the world yet, but I want to try. And I won’t always get things right, but I will act with good faith. Thank you for considering my candidacy—your generosity will help fund my undergraduate pursuits and create a strong foundation for law school thereafter. If given the opportunity, I pledge to uphold the law honorably—because justice matters.

Hello esteemed reader and thank you for reading about my journey. My name is Vaughn Chung—I’m a first-generation college student, the eldest son of four, and an advocate for the people. At nine years old, a life-altering event catalyzed my purpose. I witnessed my father succumbing to his opioid addictions, creating seemingly insurmountable challenges for my family. Credit cards were maxed out. Hundreds of pill bottles were discovered. Our college fund? Wiped out. Although our situation seemed hopeless, my mother stepped up and provided us the best life that she could. She had only a fourth-grade education and was a dedicated homemaker. And yet, she transcended those so-called limitations—and saved our family. She embodied justice, strength, and love. I do not lament those difficult years—in fact, I greatly profited from adversity. Through trial by fire, I gained both indispensable skills and moral virtues that define me today. Becoming attuned to my emotions taught me to be more compassionate towards others. I developed emotional coping strategies through music, writing dozens of songs with my acoustic guitar. An indignant spirit was a dangerous combination for a young man without a father. Mr. Augillard, my debate coach, acutely detected my sensitivities. With his guiding hand, I learned how to channel righteous anger into powerful, convincing oratories. As I reflected upon those years, my innumerable conversations with family, friends, and strangers revealed a fundamental truth: I love bringing the best out of people. Do you need life advice? I’ll do my best to help. Or a shoulder to cry on? I’m here for you. At heart, I’m here to listen. There’s no greater sense of flourishing than when I can serve my fellow man. So, what do I want out of college? And how will this support my goals? Every day we read, converse, and exchange opinions on what we believe to be “good” or “bad.” In short—what’s right and what’s wrong. I was never satisfied with everyday proverbs or clichés without context. I wanted to inform myself and contribute to society. I wondered, “what career could maximize my impact?” My research revealed a universal truth: all industries were inextricably linked to politics. And for this reason, I chose the path of law. Not only can lawyers craft well-reasoned arguments—they fight to defend our inalienable rights. Such principles resonated deeply, helping me envision how I could serve. Whether we love lawyers or hate them—we’ll probably need them someday. Lawyers wield the sword and shield of justice—they both fight and defend within an adversarial system. Law is not merely a profession—it’s my call to duty. The law isn’t perfect, and the world isn’t either. But nothing will change if we remain complacent. The words of Cicero brought me solace: “But if liberty is not equally enjoyed by all the citizens, it is not liberty at all.” Relatedly, Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird said, “the one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.” I completely agree with both statements. My passion for history captivated my imagination—I learned that the world isn't static, that change is always possible. I haven’t changed the world yet, but I want to try. And I won’t always get things right, but I will act with good faith. Thank you for considering my candidacy—your generosity will help fund my undergraduate pursuits and create a strong foundation for law school thereafter. If given the opportunity, I pledge to uphold the law honorably—because justice matters.