I chose to pursue STEM because it gave me something I deeply needed: a way to turn uncertainty into understanding and challenges into solutions. Engineering, in particular, offered me both structure and possibility. In moments when my life felt unpredictable, STEM allowed me to ask questions, test ideas, fail safely, and try again—an approach that shaped not only my academic interests but also my resilience. My path into STEM was not conventional. I did not grow up surrounded by engineers or well-funded enrichment programs. Instead, I found my way through robotics, where I discovered that I had a natural affinity for building, designing, and organizing complex systems. What began as curiosity quickly became purpose. I learned that engineering is not just about technical skill, but about creativity, collaboration, and responsibility. It is a discipline that demands empathy—understanding the people a solution is meant to serve. As a woman in STEM, I have learned that belonging is not always assumed. In male-dominated spaces, I initially felt pressure to suppress parts of myself to fit in. Over time, I realized that my perspective, shaped by my background and experiences, was not a weakness but an asset. Embracing both technical rigor and individuality allowed me to become a stronger leader, mentor, and collaborator. I learned that representation matters not just in numbers, but in culture. I hope to make a difference in STEM by expanding access and redefining who feels entitled to participate. Through leadership in robotics, I worked to improve recruitment and retention of girls and younger students, creating pathways for those who might otherwise never see themselves as engineers. Mentorship has become central to my vision because I know firsthand how transformative it can be to feel supported and seen in technical spaces. Looking ahead, my goal is to pursue advanced study in mechanical engineering and contribute to medical-adjacent research that prioritizes affordability and accessibility. I am motivated by the belief that innovation should serve everyone, not just those with resources. Long term, I aspire to be both a researcher and educator—developing technology while mentoring the next generation of women in STEM and teaching engineers how to communicate their work responsibly. Choosing STEM is my commitment to building a future that is more inclusive, ethical, and imaginative. As a woman in the field, I hope to challenge outdated norms, support others as they find their footing, and prove that engineering is strongest when it reflects the diversity of the world it aims to improve.

Adversity has been a constant presence in my life, both physical and mental, but it has also shaped the way I pursue my career aspirations with intention and resilience. Rather than allowing challenges to derail my goals, I have learned to respond with structure, self-awareness, and adaptability—skills that now define how I approach engineering and leadership. From an early age, instability at home required me to develop independence quickly. Financial insecurity and family illness meant that long-term planning often felt uncertain, yet I learned to control what I could: my work ethic, my curiosity, and my commitment to learning. When obstacles arose, I broke large goals into manageable steps, allowing progress even during difficult periods. This approach carried into my academic life, where I sought out rigorous coursework and extracurriculars despite limited resources. Mental health challenges later added another layer of adversity. For years, anxiety and mood instability made it difficult to focus, rest, or trust my own abilities. Rather than ignoring these struggles, I took deliberate steps to address them. I sought professional support, committed to therapy, and learned strategies to manage stress and regulate my workload. Just as importantly, I learned to ask for help—an act that once felt like failure but ultimately became a source of strength. These steps allowed me to regain balance while maintaining academic momentum. In parallel, I leaned into environments that reinforced purpose. Robotics became both an intellectual challenge and a grounding outlet. Engineering gave me a framework for problem-solving that mirrored how I learned to manage adversity: identify constraints, test solutions, learn from failure, and iterate. When I encountered setbacks—whether a leadership conflict, a failed design, or a missed opportunity—I treated them as data rather than defeats. This mindset allowed me to pivot, pursue alternate paths, and continue moving toward my goals. I also sought community as a form of resilience. Mentors, teammates, and peers provided perspective during moments of doubt and accountability during moments of fatigue. Serving as a leader and mentor myself reinforced my commitment to long-term impact; supporting others reminded me why my aspirations mattered beyond personal achievement. Through adversity, I have learned that persistence is not about pushing endlessly, but about adjusting intelligently. By prioritizing mental health, building supportive networks, and applying problem-solving principles beyond the classroom, I have continued to advance toward a career in engineering. These experiences have not only strengthened my resolve but have prepared me to approach future challenges with clarity, humility, and confidence.

My “pie in the sky” dream is to become the kind of engineer who does three things at once: pushes meaningful medical innovation forward, expands access to engineering for students who are often excluded from it, and teaches future engineers how to communicate their work responsibly to the world. It feels just out of reach because it asks me not to choose a single lane—to be both a builder and an educator, a researcher and a mentor—but that is exactly why it inspires me. This dream was sparked by watching systems fail the people I loved most. Growing up in a single-parent household shaped by illness and financial instability, I saw firsthand how inaccessible medical care and technology can be. At the same time, I discovered engineering through robotics and realized that innovation doesn’t just belong to well-funded labs or privileged students—it belongs to anyone willing to ask questions, iterate, and persist. Robotics gave me control in a world that often felt unpredictable. Building something tangible, testing it, failing, and fixing it became both a technical pursuit and a form of healing. As I grew more involved in engineering, my dream evolved. I didn’t just want to invent; I wanted to make sure the people building the future actually reflected the world they were serving. I noticed how many talented students—especially girls and students of color—were discouraged from staying in STEM because they didn’t see themselves represented or supported. Stepping into leadership and mentorship roles showed me how powerful it can be to change a system from within, even in small ways. Reaching this dream will require patience, resilience, and a willingness to keep learning long after formal education ends. Academically, I plan to pursue advanced degrees in mechanical engineering, focusing on medical-adjacent research that prioritizes affordability and accessibility. Professionally, I aim to work in research environments where innovation is paired with ethical responsibility. Along the way, I want to continue mentoring younger students, building outreach programs, and advocating for inclusive engineering spaces. The part of this dream that feels most intimidating is believing I can truly belong in all these spaces at once. Imposter syndrome is real when your ambitions outpace your lived experience. But I’ve learned that growth often feels uncomfortable before it feels possible. Every step I’ve taken—teaching myself technical skills, leading teams, conducting research—has shown me that I don’t need to have everything figured out to move forward. My “pie in the sky” dream isn’t about prestige or perfection. It’s about building things that matter, lifting others as I climb, and leaving systems better than I found them. It feels far away—but each deliberate step brings it closer into view.

Growing up in a single-parent, low-income household taught me perseverance long before I understood the word. After my father left due to addiction, my mother and I faced financial instability and housing insecurity. Watching my mother return to school while managing chronic illness showed me that resilience is built through consistency, adaptability, and determination. That mindset now shapes how I approach every challenge. Limited resources meant I had to create opportunities rather than wait for them. When I joined my high school robotics team, I lacked prior technical experience and access to enrichment programs. Instead, I taught myself CAD software, leaned into my organizational strengths, and took on leadership roles. Over time, this persistence allowed me to advocate for my team, help secure funding, improve recruitment, and mentor younger students—especially those who did not initially see themselves belonging in STEM. I plan to use my life experience to expand access to engineering education and develop technology that prioritizes equity and impact. I am actively working toward this goal through robotics outreach, tutoring, and research in bioinspired additive manufacturing, where I explore how engineering can make medical tools more accessible and affordable. Long term, I hope to pursue a doctorate in mechanical engineering and become both a researcher and educator, using my background to help ensure that talent—not privilege—determines who gets to build the future.

One of the most difficult challenges I have faced was learning how to move forward from my father’s opioid addiction. For much of my childhood, his absence and the instability he left behind defined how I understood success, failure, and responsibility. For a long time, I believed that overcoming this challenge meant proving that I could do better than him. Personal growth, however, required something much harder: letting go. My father was once a physician, someone I associated with intelligence and ambition. When he became addicted to opioids, his career and our family unraveled. He became abusive and eventually left while my mother was in the middle of a serious medical crisis. In a short time, we lost financial stability and our sense of security. As a child, I internalized his departure as both a betrayal and a challenge. I responded by becoming hyper-independent and intensely achievement-oriented, believing that success would be the best form of vindication. For years, this mindset fueled me. I set high standards for myself and treated failure as unacceptable. While this helped me excel academically, it also came at a cost. I tied my self-worth to productivity and achievement, leaving little room for rest or reflection. I rarely acknowledged how much anger and grief I was carrying. Instead of processing what had happened, I used busyness as a way to outrun it. The turning point came when my mother shared more of my father’s story, including the fact that his life had been shaped by disappointments and pressures long before addiction took hold. For the first time, I began to see him not as a benchmark I needed to surpass, but as a deeply flawed person who made devastating choices. This shift did not excuse his actions, but it allowed me to separate my identity from his failures. Letting go of the need to “outperform” my father changed how I approached my goals. I stopped chasing success out of spite and began pursuing it out of genuine interest and fulfillment. Engineering, which I had once seen as a way to prove something, became a space where I could create, problem-solve, and contribute meaningfully. I learned to value the process of learning rather than just the outcome, and to measure growth by resilience instead of comparison. Moving on also required learning to ask for help. I sought therapy and mental health support, which helped me recognize that strength does not come from suppressing pain, but from addressing it honestly. Through this process, I developed greater emotional awareness, empathy, and balance. I learned how to set boundaries, manage stress, and approach challenges with clarity instead of urgency. This experience led to significant personal growth. It taught me that healing is not linear, and that progress does not require erasing the past. By releasing the need to define myself in opposition to my father, I gained a clearer sense of who I am and what motivates me. The challenge of moving on from his addiction reshaped my understanding of success—not as something earned through comparison, but as something built through intention, self-awareness, and compassion.

One of the most meaningful volunteer efforts I organized was supporting and expanding access to youth robotics competitions in my local community. Through my involvement with the Area 53 Alien Raiders robotics program, I saw how transformative these events could be for younger students—but I also saw how much coordination and behind-the-scenes work was required to make them possible. As a student board member and squad captain, I helped organize logistics for an annual robotics tournament that hosted over 30 teams and more than 30 volunteers. My responsibilities included coordinating volunteers, assisting with event scheduling, ensuring teams had the resources they needed, and troubleshooting issues as they arose. I also helped lead a grant-writing initiative that secured $7,000 in funding from aerospace contractors, which directly supported event costs, equipment, and outreach efforts. This funding allowed us to keep participation costs low and ensure that schools with fewer resources could still compete. In addition to organizing events, I volunteered directly by serving as a judge for VEX V5 and VEX IQ robotics competitions. In this role, I evaluated engineering notebooks, interviewed student teams, and provided constructive feedback. Judging gave me a unique opportunity to give back to the programs that shaped me while advocating for fairness and accessibility. I made a conscious effort to recognize creativity, effort, and growth—especially for teams that may not have had access to expensive equipment or extensive mentorship. For many students, being taken seriously as an engineer-in-progress can be just as impactful as winning an award. Beyond competitions, I have volunteered as a tutor and mentor, helping younger students build confidence in STEM subjects. Whether teaching CAD basics, explaining engineering concepts, or offering guidance about high school and college pathways, my goal has always been to make technical spaces feel less intimidating. Many students I worked with had never considered engineering as an option until someone took the time to explain it in a way that felt approachable. Leadership through service, to me, means recognizing gaps and taking responsibility for addressing them. It is not about holding a title or directing others, but about being willing to step in where support is needed—often in unglamorous or unnoticed ways. Organizing volunteer events taught me that effective leadership requires listening, collaboration, and adaptability. Plans change, people have different needs, and success often depends on how well a team is supported rather than how well it is controlled. Through service-based leadership, I learned that giving back strengthens both individuals and communities. By organizing events, mentoring students, and volunteering my time, I was able to help create spaces where young people could learn, compete, and feel valued. These experiences shaped my understanding of leadership as an act of service—one rooted in empathy, responsibility, and a commitment to lifting others as you grow.

I’m interested in engineering because it gives me a way to turn curiosity and problem-solving into something tangible and useful. I’ve always liked building things, but engineering became more than a hobby once I realized how directly it can improve people’s lives. What drew me in wasn’t just the technical side—it was the combination of creativity, structure, and impact. Engineering lets me take messy, real-world problems and work toward solutions that actually exist outside of a classroom. My interest in the field grew through robotics and hands-on design work. Being part of a robotics team showed me how ideas move from sketches to CAD models to physical systems that need to work reliably under real constraints. I loved the iteration process—testing something, seeing it fail, and improving it. Over time, I found myself especially drawn to mechanical design, manufacturing, and medical-adjacent engineering. Working in the University of Maryland’s Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab confirmed that interest. Seeing how 3D printing and design choices could influence the usability, cost, and accessibility of medical tools made engineering feel deeply human and purposeful. The kind of impact I hope to make through my work is rooted in accessibility. Growing up around chronic illness showed me how expensive and difficult medical care can be, even when treatment exists. I want to work on engineering solutions that don’t just push technology forward, but make it more affordable, scalable, and accessible to the people who need it most. Whether that’s through medical devices, assistive tools, or manufacturing innovations, I want my work to reduce barriers rather than reinforce them. Long-term, I also hope to combine engineering with mentorship or teaching, helping other students—especially those from underrepresented backgrounds—navigate technical fields that can often feel unwelcoming or opaque. The adversities I’ve faced so far have shaped both my motivation and my approach to engineering. My family was heavily impacted by the opioid crisis. My father, once a physician, became addicted to opioids and eventually left our family during a medical crisis my mother was experiencing. In a short time, we lost financial stability and housing, and my mother and I moved across the country to live with my grandmother. My mother had not worked for years due to chronic illness, and our financial situation remained unstable for much of my childhood. Growing up in a single-parent household with limited financial resources meant I learned early to be independent, adaptable, and realistic. I didn’t always have access to the same opportunities as my peers, so when I did get chances—whether in school, robotics, or research—I treated them seriously. I learned how to plan ahead, create backups, and keep moving forward even when things didn’t go as expected. These experiences taught me resilience, but also empathy for others navigating instability. Engineering gave me a sense of control during uncertain times. It offered structure, problem-solving, and a way to channel stress into something productive. The challenges I’ve faced didn’t push me away from this field—they clarified why I belong in it. They’ve shaped my desire to build solutions that are practical, accessible, and grounded in real needs, and they continue to motivate me to use engineering as a tool for meaningful change.

One social issue I care deeply about is access to STEM education and mentorship, especially for students who don’t immediately see themselves belonging in technical spaces. As a woman in engineering, I’ve learned that lack of access isn’t just about resources—it’s also about culture, confidence, and whether someone feels supported enough to keep going. Most of my volunteer and leadership work has focused on making STEM spaces more welcoming, sustainable, and inclusive. I started noticing this problem through my high school robotics team. While the program was technically open to everyone, very few girls joined, and even fewer stayed. Newer or younger students—especially those without prior experience—often struggled to find a role and quietly drifted away. When I stepped into leadership positions, I realized that simply recruiting students wasn’t enough; the real challenge was helping them feel capable and valued once they were there. As a squad captain and student board member, I worked to change how we trained and supported new members. I spent a lot of time teaching CAD and basic engineering concepts so younger students could contribute meaningfully instead of just watching from the sidelines. I also focused on documentation and knowledge-sharing, so information wasn’t locked away with a few experienced members. To address gender imbalance, I helped lead outreach efforts that intentionally encouraged girls to apply and adjusted our recruitment process to reduce bias. Over time, these changes helped double the number of girls on the team and made the environment more collaborative and supportive overall. Outside of my own team, I volunteer as a VEX V5 and IQ robotics judge. In that role, I get to interact with students from a wide range of schools and backgrounds. I make a point to give thoughtful, constructive feedback—especially to teams that may not have access to the same level of resources as others. I want students to leave competitions feeling encouraged and excited to improve, not discouraged because they don’t look like a “typical” robotics team. I’ve also spent time tutoring and volunteering in my community, working with younger students who might not yet see STEM as something they can pursue. A lot of them are capable and curious, but lack exposure or confidence. Being able to show them that someone like me—who didn’t start out as an expert—can succeed in engineering helps make those paths feel more real and attainable. This work connects closely to my long-term goals. Through my research in bioinspired additive manufacturing, I’ve seen how engineering can be used to solve real-world problems, especially in healthcare and accessibility. I want to continue combining technical work with mentorship and service, using engineering not just to build things, but to expand who gets to build them. For me, addressing this social issue isn’t about one program or title—it’s about consistently showing up, teaching what I know, and making space for others. By helping more students feel confident and supported in STEM, I hope to contribute to a future where innovation includes a wider range of voices and experiences.

My educational journey has been shaped not only by curiosity and ambition, but by instability, financial uncertainty, and the responsibility of growing up faster than expected. From an early age, I learned that opportunity is not evenly distributed, and that perseverance alone does not guarantee access. Yet it was precisely these challenges that pushed me toward engineering—a field where problem-solving is not theoretical, but deeply human. The opioid crisis that devastated countless families across the United States did not leave mine untouched. My father, once a driven physician, became addicted to opioids when I was a toddler. His addiction escalated into abuse and ultimately led him to abandon our family during a critical medical crisis my mother was facing. In a short period of time, he lost his medical license, his practice, and our home. My mother and I were left without financial support, and eventually became homeless, relocating across the country to live with my grandmother. My mother had not worked in over a decade due to chronic illness, and returning to school consumed what little savings we had. For years, our financial situation was precarious, and the idea of long-term planning—college included—felt uncertain. Growing up in a single-parent household with limited financial resources fundamentally altered how I approached education. Extracurricular opportunities were not easily accessible; transportation, equipment fees, and time were constant barriers. I learned early to maximize every opportunity I was given and to treat education not as a given, but as something fragile—something that could disappear if I did not fight for it. While many of my peers could explore interests freely, I became strategic, choosing activities that would give me both intellectual fulfillment and tangible skills. Engineering entered my life at a moment when I was searching for stability and control. As a child, I wanted to become a doctor like my father—not out of admiration, but out of a desire to prove that I could succeed where he failed. That motivation changed when my mother shared a detail that reshaped my understanding of his life: he had only pursued medicine because he did not get into engineering school. For the first time, engineering was not just a discipline—it was a possibility that represented resilience, reinvention, and agency. It planted a seed that grew into a lasting passion. I joined my high school robotics team unsure of my place and unsure of myself. I was not immediately exceptional at building, and I struggled to find where I belonged. What I did have, however, was an ability to organize information, document processes, and think systematically. When my team captain encouraged me to take on the role of writing our engineering design journal, I approached it with the same diligence I had learned growing up—over-preparing because failure felt too costly. That journal ultimately won my team a Design Award and qualified us for the state championship earlier than ever before. For the first time, I saw how my background—my tendency to plan carefully, document thoroughly, and anticipate problems—was not a liability, but an engineering strength. Over the next several years, engineering became both an intellectual pursuit and a coping mechanism. Robotics offered structure during chaos and clarity when life felt unpredictable. I took on increasing leadership roles, eventually becoming a squad captain and student board representative, advocating for better resources and mentoring younger students. I also sought out research opportunities, joining the University of Maryland’s Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab, where I worked on polymer mechanisms and medical-adjacent 3D printing. This experience solidified my desire to pursue mechanical engineering and showed me how technical innovation could intersect directly with human health. My financial circumstances have never allowed me to take education lightly. I have balanced ambition with realism, always maintaining backup plans and alternative paths. When I did not receive an internship I had planned for years, I pivoted quickly, securing a research position that ultimately reshaped my academic interests. This adaptability—born from necessity—has become one of my most valuable skills. Looking forward, I am passionate about pursuing engineering not just to innovate, but to improve accessibility. My mother’s lifelong illness exposed me to the immense financial burden of medical care and the inequities embedded in healthcare systems. Through my work in engineering, I hope to develop medical technologies that are not only effective, but affordable and scalable. Innovation should not be reserved for those who can pay for it; it should serve those who need it most. Beyond technical impact, I want to give back to the academic communities that helped me survive and grow. As a student who entered engineering without generational guidance or financial security, I understand how isolating higher education can feel. My long-term goal is to pursue a doctoral degree and become a professor, combining engineering with communication and mentorship. I want to help students—especially those from immigrant, low-income, or unstable backgrounds—learn not only how to solve equations, but how to navigate systems that were not built with them in mind. The adversity I have faced did not deter me from STEM—it shaped how I engage with it. Engineering gave me language for resilience, structure for uncertainty, and a path forward when stability was not guaranteed. Through my work, I hope to create solutions that are both technically rigorous and deeply humane, ensuring that innovation reaches beyond privilege and into the lives of those who need it most.

Entering higher education feels less like following a path that was laid out for me and more like stepping into a system I was never taught how to navigate. As a second-generation immigrant, I grew up understanding that education was important, but I did not grow up with access to the institutional knowledge that often determines success within higher education. My family emphasized discipline, perseverance, and academic excellence, yet concepts like networking, research mentorship, office hours, and long-term academic planning were unfamiliar. This disconnect has made me acutely aware of my position as an outsider to the system. Throughout my educational journey, this outsider status has shaped both my fears and my strengths. I have often worried that I am “behind” my peers—not intellectually, but procedurally. Many students enter higher education already fluent in its unspoken rules, confident in asking for opportunities because they have seen others do so before them. In contrast, I learned to rely on self-teaching, trial and error, and over-preparation. I documented my work obsessively, sought information independently, and built confidence through competence rather than assumption. While this approach was born from necessity, it became a defining strength: I learned how to learn without instruction, and how to persist without reassurance. At the same time, being an immigrant has deeply influenced how I perceive higher education’s purpose. For my family, education was never about prestige—it was about stability, survival, and possibility. That framing has stayed with me. I do not view college as a finish line or a status symbol, but as a responsibility. I am aware of how inaccessible higher education can be, especially for students from immigrant or low-income backgrounds who may lack guidance, financial security, or institutional familiarity. This awareness fuels my concern that higher education often rewards those who already know how to navigate it, rather than those who are learning to do so for the first time. Despite these concerns, I enter higher education with optimism. My experiences have taught me that feeling like an outsider can be a powerful lens rather than a limitation. It has made me attentive to inequities, intentional in seeking mentorship, and motivated to create inclusive spaces within technical fields. Looking ahead, my goals extend beyond earning a degree. I hope to pursue advanced education in engineering while actively mentoring students who, like me, arrive without a map. I want to help demystify the system—by sharing resources, normalizing questions, and advocating for access—so that future students spend less time trying to figure out how they belong and more time discovering what they are capable of building. Ultimately, my immigrant background has taught me that belonging is not inherited. It is constructed through persistence, curiosity, and community. As I enter higher education, I do so not expecting to fit seamlessly into the system, but prepared to navigate it thoughtfully—and to leave it more accessible than I found it.

When I joined my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to find my life’s purpose. After a disappointing first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony began—until I heard, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A.” I dropped my bag, ran to the podium, and stood in disbelief as my team accepted our first trophy. That moment marked the beginning of my passion for engineering and the catalyst for my desire to create change through STEM. As a woman of color, I’ve often navigated spaces where people who look like me are few and far between. In robotics, I was one of the only girls and often the only student of color on the team. Early on, I felt pressure to prove that I belonged—to be perfect, to avoid mistakes, to show that my presence wasn’t a fluke. Over time, I realized that true belonging comes not from perfection, but from persistence and purpose. I began to focus less on proving myself and more on helping others succeed beside me. My path to STEM was deeply shaped by my family’s story. My father, once a physician, lost his career and our home due to opioid addiction. My mother, battling chronic illness, raised me alone while finishing school to rebuild our lives. Growing up in that environment taught me resilience and self-reliance. It also showed me the transformative power of innovation—how technology, when used ethically and accessibly, can improve lives. When I learned that my father had once dreamed of being an engineer, I felt called to fulfill that dream in my own way—to create technologies that heal rather than harm. Through robotics, I’ve learned that engineering is about more than machines—it’s about empathy. Leading my team taught me how to analyze problems methodically while also supporting others. As team captain, I encouraged collaboration, implemented a new recruitment process to increase diversity, and mentored younger members. Our team’s culture changed: more girls joined, more students of color found confidence in their abilities, and our workspace became one where every voice mattered. Outside robotics, I deepened my technical experience as an intern at the University of Maryland’s Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab. There, I worked on 3D printing medical tools such as catheters and surgical forceps. That experience solidified my passion for using mechanical engineering to advance healthcare. I witnessed firsthand how engineering innovation can bridge gaps in medicine—especially for communities historically overlooked by the healthcare system. As a future mechanical engineer, I want to continue this mission by developing accessible biomedical technologies for marginalized populations. From affordable prosthetics to adaptable assistive devices, I envision engineering solutions that empower rather than exclude. I also hope to mentor underrepresented students in STEM, just as I was mentored by those who saw potential in me. Representation matters deeply—it tells a young girl that her ideas are worth hearing and that her hands are capable of building the future. Innovation thrives on diversity. People of color bring not only new perspectives but new ways of seeing and solving problems—rooted in lived experiences that challenge convention and drive creativity. I believe the future of STEM depends on those voices being heard, supported, and funded. With the support of this scholarship, I can continue my education, pursue research in medical engineering, and amplify the presence of women and people of color in spaces that have too long been homogeneous. I am determined to use it to build a world where every student—regardless of race, gender, or background—can look at the table of innovation and know they belong there.

My desire to help others was shaped not by stability, but by struggle. I grew up in a single-parent household after my father—once a respected physician—lost everything to addiction during the height of the opioid crisis. My mother, despite chronic illness, carried our family forward with quiet resilience. Watching her navigate medical bills, endless treatments, and inaccessible technology made me realize that the systems meant to help people often fail those who need them most. I decided early on that I wanted to change that—not by practicing medicine like my father once did, but by engineering solutions that make medicine more accessible for everyone. Today, I’m pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Mechanical Engineering at the University of Maryland, where I’m part of both the A. James Clark Scholars Program and the Gemstone Honors College. My long-term goal is to earn a Ph.D. in mechanical engineering with a focus on bioinspired design and additive manufacturing. I hope to develop technologies that blend biology and engineering to create devices that are adaptive, efficient, and resilient—technologies that can help doctors save lives, empower patients, and make care more affordable. As a lab assistant in the University of Maryland Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab, I’ve designed and tested 3D-printed medical device prototypes that aim to improve patient outcomes. Through this work, I’ve seen firsthand how engineering can directly serve people. It’s not just about equations and mechanics—it’s about empathy. Every device I work on reminds me of my mom’s struggles with healthcare accessibility. My dream is to design medical tools that are portable, affordable, and easy to deploy—especially in low-resource or emergency settings like military field hospitals. Beyond research, I’ve always tried to use my technical skills to empower others. As captain of my high school robotics team, I trained younger students, many of whom lacked confidence in STEM. I led workshops in design and problem-solving, helping students—especially girls—see that they belonged in engineering spaces. Later, as a student board representative, I helped my team secure $7,000 in grants, which allowed us to fund new outreach programs for local middle schools. Seeing younger students build their first robots was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. It reminded me that helping others isn’t limited to grand inventions—it’s often about opening doors and offering encouragement. I continue that mission as a VEX IQ Judge, mentoring younger competitors as they present their engineering journals and designs. I help them see mistakes not as failures, but as opportunities to learn. These experiences have shaped how I approach both engineering and service: with patience, optimism, and the belief that progress is built one small improvement at a time. My ultimate goal is to combine research, mentorship, and service in my career. I want to work in a field that bridges healthcare and engineering—perhaps designing field-deployable medical systems for the Department of Defense or leading research that makes prosthetics and rehabilitation devices more accessible. Eventually, I hope to become a professor, where I can mentor future engineers from underrepresented backgrounds and show them that innovation and compassion are not mutually exclusive. Helping others has never been a distant ideal for me—it’s been my way of making sense of hardship. Every late-night study session, every failed prototype, every journal entry from my robotics days has taught me that progress is possible through persistence and purpose. Like Robert F. Lawson, I want to dedicate my life to service—using the tools of engineering not just to build machines, but to build hope, opportunity, and change.

When I joined my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to find my purpose. I was quiet, unsure of my place, and hesitant to take up space in a room full of confident voices—most of them male. But when my team captain asked me to lead our engineering design notebook, something changed. For the first time, I saw that precision, creativity, and leadership could coexist—and that I had something valuable to contribute. When that same notebook won us the Design Award at our first tournament, I realized I wasn’t just documenting a project; I was building my future in engineering. As a first-generation college student raised by a single mother, pursuing higher education hasn’t been easy. My father’s story shaped my ambition in ways I didn’t expect. Once a successful physician, he lost everything to addiction and left our family when I was young. My mother, despite chronic illness, worked tirelessly to provide stability and hope. She reminded me often that intelligence means little without perseverance and integrity. Her strength inspired my own, and engineering became the way I learned to turn hardship into purpose. Today, I’m a Mechanical Engineering student at the University of Maryland, where I’m part of the A. James Clark Scholars Program and the Gemstone Honors College. I also work as a lab assistant in the Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab, where I design and test 3D-printed medical device prototypes. My research combines engineering and biology to create adaptive, efficient systems—technologies that could improve healthcare access and outcomes. Every time I hold a prototype in my hand, I think about my mother’s medical struggles and how innovation can make life better for people like her. But engineering isn’t just about machines—it’s about people. That’s why I’m passionate about making STEM more inclusive and accessible. As one of the few women of color on my robotics team, I saw firsthand how underrepresentation limits opportunity. I wanted to change that. I helped lead a recruitment initiative that doubled female participation on the team, developed a rubric to ensure equity in our selection process, and visited local middle schools to encourage girls to join. Watching younger students light up as they discovered how capable they were reminded me why representation matters—it shows others what’s possible. At the University of Maryland, I continue this work through mentoring and outreach. I volunteer as a VEX IQ Judge, helping middle schoolers refine their engineering journals and think critically about design. I’m also part of the TerpRacing Formula SAE team, where I collaborate on designing and manufacturing an electric race car chassis. These experiences have strengthened my belief that education and innovation thrive when diverse minds work together. My long-term goal is to earn a Ph.D. in Mechanical Engineering, specializing in bioinspired design and additive manufacturing. I want to develop technologies that merge biological inspiration with engineering precision—particularly for use in medical and defense applications. More importantly, I want to become a mentor and professor who helps underrepresented students see themselves as engineers, scientists, and creators. The same way mentors once believed in me, I want to build pathways for others. Coming from a low-income, single-parent household taught me to build strength from struggle and to find meaning in service. The barriers I faced didn’t stop me—they taught me how to open doors for others. I want to use my career to make engineering more equitable, accessible, and compassionate. By combining technical innovation with empathy, I hope to help redefine what it means to be an engineer—not just as someone who builds machines, but as someone who builds opportunity.

Growing up with a single parent taught me that resilience is not something you are born with; it is something you build, one obstacle at a time. My mother raised me alone after my father, once a successful doctor, fell into opioid addiction and left our family. Watching her rebuild our lives shaped how I view strength, responsibility, and purpose. Her perseverance pushed me to tackle every challenge with the same determination she showed. At first, I thought the best way to rise above my circumstances was to outdo my father’s legacy and prove I could succeed without him. That mindset drove me to join my high school robotics team, where I took advantage of every chance to build, lead, and learn. Over time, my motivation changed. I realized I wasn’t just trying to prove something to my father; I was building something for myself. Engineering became more than a competition. My experiences in robotics and later as a lab assistant in the University of Maryland’s Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab taught me how to turn ideas into real technologies. I learned to design, test, and refine 3D-printed medical prototypes—devices that could one day save lives. That work showed me how engineering can directly improve accessibility, safety, and quality of life, especially for people facing financial or health challenges like my family once did. Coming from a low-income, single-parent household also highlighted the importance of community. I have made it my mission to mentor younger students in robotics, especially girls who might feel out of place in technical fields. I want them to know there is space in engineering for people who look like them and come from different backgrounds. To me, giving back is not optional; it is an extension of the support my mom gave me.

Service, to me, isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about consistent acts of care that empower others to grow. I give back by using my skills in technology and leadership to open doors for those who may not yet see themselves as innovators. Whether I mentor younger robotics students, improve my school’s STEM programs, or volunteer at local tournaments, I’ve learned that service is less about what I can build and more about what I can build for others. My service journey began in robotics, where I learned the power of collaboration. Early on, I faced challenges fitting in and finding my voice on a community team. That experience taught me empathy. I understood what it felt like to be overlooked or underestimated. So when I joined my high school robotics team, I made it a priority to help new members feel supported and confident. As I grew into leadership roles, I focused on creating an inclusive environment where every student could contribute ideas and learn hands-on skills. I helped organize workshops to teach programming and design to beginners and created a more structured workflow to help teammates collaborate effectively. Watching others find joy in engineering, often the same joy that first inspired me, reminded me that mentorship is one of the most powerful forms of service. Beyond robotics, I extended this mindset to my broader community. As a Student Board Representative, I worked with faculty and administration to improve communication among clubs and use resources more effectively. I advocated for better access to lab materials and collaborated with my peers to make our engineering workspace safer and more welcoming. I also volunteered at local robotics tournaments, helping younger students troubleshoot their designs and learn from mistakes without losing enthusiasm. There’s nothing more rewarding than seeing a child’s face light up when their robot finally moves after hours of trial and error. These experiences taught me that service is not confined to specific projects. It’s a lifestyle rooted in empathy, initiative, and humility. It means showing up consistently, listening carefully, and acting with integrity even when no one is watching. It means using my education not just to advance myself but to create ripples of opportunity in my community. Looking forward, I plan to continue giving back through technology and innovation. I aspire to study computer engineering and work on projects that bridge accessibility gaps. I want to develop affordable assistive technologies and educational tools for under-resourced communities. I also hope to create mentorship programs that connect high school students with college engineering mentors, helping them see STEM not as an intimidating field but as a space of creativity and inclusion. Priscilla Shireen Luke’s legacy of compassion and service deeply resonates with me. Like her, I want to dedicate my career and energy to uplifting others, using technology as a means of empowerment rather than exclusivity. Service has shown me that leadership isn’t about standing above others but standing beside them—sharing what you know, encouraging what they can become, and believing in what you can build together.

When I first joined my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything, especially the Design Award at my first tournament. As I started to leave after what I thought was a mediocre performance, I suddenly heard the announcer say, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A.” I dropped my bag, ran back to the stage, and joined my teammates, filled with disbelief and pride. That moment, seeing the judges and my teammates celebrate something I had helped create, made me realize how much joy engineering could bring, not just to me but to everyone involved. At first, I struggled to find my place on the team. I wasn’t the fastest builder or coder, but my captain noticed that I had a talent for organizing and documenting ideas. He encouraged me to take charge of the engineering design journal, where I recorded our prototypes, code changes, and testing data. That journal, which grew to more than 300 pages of handwritten notes, diagrams, and CAD screenshots, became our team’s guide for innovation and helped us win multiple awards. It was rewarding to see my teammates light up when the judges praised the accuracy and creativity of our documentation, as fulfilling as any personal achievement. Over time, I realized that tinkering isn’t just about machines; it also applies to people and processes. In my sophomore year, I changed how our group operated by stepping up to lead when motivation began to wane. Later, as a Student Board Representative, I worked to improve our workspace and team environment. I also started a recruitment committee that presented at middle schools to attract younger members and more girls to the team. My greatest joy came from watching these new students, some of whom had never held a wrench, learn to design and build their first robots. Their excitement reminded me of my early attempts when I first discovered the magic of engineering. Through robotics, I’ve learned that joy doesn’t always come from winning tournaments or writing perfect code. It comes from seeing others realize their potential through curiosity and creation. My tinkering has evolved from building machines to creating opportunities by shaping processes, mentoring teammates, and nurturing the same spark that once transformed me. That’s why Kyle Lam’s story resonates with me. His spirit of experimentation, generosity, and love for innovation reflects my own journey. Like him, I’m motivated by the joy of invention and the belief that technology should connect people. Every robot, journal, and late-night design session has taught me that real joy comes not from what we build but from how it inspires others to imagine, create, and dream bigger.

I grew up in a single-parent household marked by illness, instability, and resilience. When I was a toddler, my father, who had been a successful physician, developed an opioid addiction. His addiction quickly destroyed his life, causing him to lose his medical license, his career, and eventually our family home. He left during my mother’s health crisis when she was struggling with severe arthritis and finding it hard to manage daily tasks. His departure was not just an emotional loss; it created financial instability that forced my mother and me to rely on my grandmother for housing and support. From an early age, I felt a sense of responsibility. My mother worried that her illness might leave me without parents, so she raised me to be independent. By the time I was five, I was expected to care for myself, maintain high grades, and prepare for the possibility of being on my own. That strictness shaped my discipline but also led to anxiety. I was later diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and bipolar II, conditions I didn’t fully understand until I sought therapy as a teenager. Before that, I thought I was simply “lazy” or “undisciplined” when depression made it hard for me to move forward. Balancing my mother’s health challenges, my own struggles, and caregiving for my grandmother was overwhelming at times. But I found my outlet—and eventually my passion—in engineering. Joining my high school robotics team was a turning point. At first, I was hesitant, recalling how out of place I felt on a middle school team filled with older kids. But robotics became the environment where I learned how persistence, teamwork, and creativity could turn challenges into solutions. I still remember my first robotics tournament. After a disappointing performance, I was ready to leave early when I heard my team’s name announced for the Design Award. Running back to the stage to accept it felt surreal. That recognition for the engineering journal I had written was my first real insight into how my organizational skills and determination could make a difference. Over the next three years, I dedicated myself to robotics, designing machines, leading projects, and creating detailed engineering notebooks—one of which exceeded 300 pages and helped my team win multiple awards. The process was not just technical; it was therapeutic. Building robots gave me a sense of control and purpose when other parts of my life felt uncertain. That passion turned into opportunity. At the University of Maryland’s Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab, I worked as a lab assistant, helping design, create, and test more than 100 prototypes of 3D-printed medical devices. I applied design-for-manufacturing principles, validated performance, and improved documentation workflows for multi-phase research projects. That experience showed me how mechanical engineering can directly impact healthcare by reducing costs, improving accessibility, and speeding up innovation. The challenges I’ve faced—living through instability, managing chronic illness, and caring for family—have profoundly shaped my goals. I understand what it means when medical treatment is too expensive or hard to access, and I want to change that. My career goals reflect that drive: I want to improve medical and manufacturing technologies to make treatments and devices more affordable. I want to mentor young engineers, especially those from underrepresented backgrounds, just as my mentors encouraged me. And I want to become a professor of engineering and communication, helping engineers learn how to share complex ideas in ways that the public can grasp. This journey has shown me that adversity can be a source of strength. My father’s story once motivated me to prove myself, but over time, I learned to pursue my goals not out of spite but from passion and purpose. Engineering, for me, is about more than machines; it’s about people. It’s about using creativity and persistence to solve important problems, whether in construction, manufacturing, or medicine. The challenges of my past have not defined me, but they have given me resilience, empathy, and a vision for the future.

Mechanical engineering will allow me to shape the future of construction and manufacturing by giving me the tools to design, build, and improve technologies that enhance lives. My interest in robotics started in high school when I discovered I had a knack for building solutions and managing engineering projects. As I gained experience, I saw that construction and manufacturing are at the center of engineering advancements. They are the ways ideas become real. By mastering these areas, I hope to drive innovations that make medical and structural technologies more efficient, affordable, and accessible. During my internship at the University of Maryland’s Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab, I designed and tested over 100 prototypes of 3D-printed medical tools. I used design-for-manufacturing principles, tolerance inspection methods, and strict safety standards. This experience showed me how manufacturing innovation can directly impact healthcare. Additive manufacturing is not just about faster production; it can also lower material costs, create custom solutions, and make medical devices more available in ways traditional methods cannot. The lessons I learned in the lab inspired me to see how these techniques could also transform construction, allowing for more sustainable materials and modular systems that lower costs and increase accessibility in housing and infrastructure. Looking ahead, I have three main goals for my career. First, I want to advance medical and manufacturing technologies. My mother’s long battle with chronic illness made me aware of the high cost of care, driving me to create affordable medical devices and treatment options that ease the financial burden on families. Second, I want to mentor young engineers. I know how important guidance can be—older teammates and mentors helped me grow as a leader by encouraging me to take ownership of projects and responsibilities. In the future, I want to offer that same support to others, especially women and underrepresented students in STEM. Finally, I want to change how engineers communicate. Too often, groundbreaking work is hidden behind jargon that limits public understanding. I aim to become a professor of engineering and communication, helping students explain complex ideas in clear and accessible ways that can reach and inspire people outside the lab. This scholarship will significantly impact my ability to achieve these goals. Coming from a single-parent household with limited financial resources, I have learned to balance my studies, my own chronic health challenges, and caregiving for my grandparent. Financial stability would let me spend more time on research, coursework, and leadership opportunities instead of worrying about funding my education. It would also enable me to pursue projects in construction and manufacturing focused on inclusivity—whether that means designing accessible buildings or creating affordable medical tools. To me, engineering is about making an impact, not just about invention. With the knowledge I gain in mechanical engineering, I hope to turn construction and manufacturing into tools for equity, accessibility, and progress. This scholarship will give me the chance to focus on becoming not just an engineer but a leader who helps others and builds a future where technology truly serves people.

Isaac Asimov once imagined a future where robots adhered to the Three Laws: protect humans, follow orders, and take care of themselves. However, as robotics become more integrated into medicine and accessibility, I think we need to introduce a Fourth Law: improve life not just in safety but in how people live. This law would remind us that the main goal of technology is not only to prevent harm but also to help people thrive. I see a near future where hospitals are filled with robotic activity. It won’t just be about robotic arms assisting in surgeries. There will be teams of adaptive assistants. These machines will move between patients, monitor vital signs, and use bioinspired 3D printing to create custom prosthetics or even temporary implants as needed. A child who loses mobility in a car accident won’t have to wait months for a suitable prosthetic. Instead, she could walk again in days with a device made precisely by machines that understand her body better than her doctors do. The potential goes well beyond hospitals. Rural clinics, once limited by staff shortages, could use robotic caregivers that combine a nurse's compassion with an engineer’s precision. A grandmother living alone in a remote area, previously isolated by arthritis, could rely on a household robot to cook meals, remind her to take medications, and open doors that are genuinely accessible. For millions dealing with chronic illnesses, robotic systems could change mere survival into a life of dignity and independence. Yet, Asimov’s warnings still ring true. With opportunity comes risk. What if access to robotic healthcare depends only on wealth, leaving the most vulnerable behind? What if algorithms ignore patients with rare conditions because they are not deemed "profitable"? And what happens if machines make too many decisions for us, slowly taking away our freedom? I have seen how delicate life can be when medical care is too expensive. My mother’s ongoing battle with chronic illness has shown me that cost can be as big a barrier as biology. Robotics can help break through that barrier, but we must design them with fairness and empathy at their center. My own journey into robotics started on my high school team. There, I learned that even the smallest technical choices—like adjusting a control loop or documenting a design—can have real consequences. Later, at the University of Maryland’s Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing Lab, I helped create over a hundred 3D-printed prototypes of medical devices. Each one had to meet strict safety standards and endure real-world tests. That experience taught me that the robots of the future must not only focus on speed or efficiency but also prioritize safety, inclusivity, and compassion. The challenge ahead isn’t whether robots can achieve incredible tasks—they already can. The real challenge is whether we, as engineers, researchers, and dreamers, will have the courage to connect their potential with human values. That is why the Fourth Law is important: robotics must not only protect human life but also enhance it. If we accept this challenge, the future of robotics won’t be marked by machines taking over jobs, but by machines expanding what it means to be human. Like Asimov’s stories, it will be a future driven not just by logic but also by hope.

When I began competing on my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win. After a mediocre performance at my first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony started. As I was walking out, I heard a judge announce, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A”. I immediately dropped my bag and ran to join my team at the podium. I was astonished by our win. Being recognized for my contribution to the team was one catalyst to my all-encompassing obsession with building robots. During middle school, I had been involved in a community team full of older kids. I had a hard time learning new skills and making friends on the community team, so I was reluctant to join the high school robotics team. I decided to continue pursuing robotics, when my mom shared anecdotes about my father. I knew little about my dad while growing up, but mom often said he was a smart ambitious physician whose career was abruptly halted. The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father, who had been a driven professional, became addicted to opioids when I was a toddler. He became abusive and suddenly left the family while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He lost his practice, medical license, and our home. While growing up, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without him. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. My newfound motivation led me to join the robotics team, but I struggled to find my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations and support the team. I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew exponentially. I loved analyzing the game and designing solutions. In my sophomore year, I staged a coup to take over my squad from that season’s team captain whose senioritis had started in September. Later that year, I became the team’s Student Board Representative to advocate for a better working space. In my Junior year, I crafted a detailed engineering design journal that was more than 300 pages long and led my team to win multiple awards. I also devoted time to promote and support elementary and middle school robotics competitions as a volunteer. I continue to lead my team as a senior, but I have grown past the all-encompassing desire to win that once was my driving force. In my career, there are three goals I want to achieve: push medical advancement, nurture fledgling engineers, and improve the field of engineering. I will utilize my love of tinkering to invent medical technology and make current technology cheaper and more accessible. My mother has experienced chronic illness since her youth, and witnessing the sheer expense of treating her inspired me to help others experiencing chronic illness access affordable treatments. I would also like to mentor young engineers, just as my mentors have guided me. Finally, I want to become a professor of engineering and communication to teach engineers how to communicate complex topics to the public, which many struggle with.

When I began competing on my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything. After a mediocre performance in matches at my first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony even started. As I was walking out, I heard a judge announce, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A”. I immediately dropped my bag and ran to join my team at the podium. I was astonished by our win. Being recognized for my contribution to the team was one catalyst to my all-encompassing obsession with building robots. During middle school, I had been casually involved in a community team full of older kids. I had a hard time learning new skills and making friends on the community team, so I was reluctant to join the high school robotics team when I entered 9th grade. I decided to continue pursuing robotics, when my mom shared anecdotes about my father. I knew little about my dad while growing up, but mom often said he was a smart ambitious physician whose career was abruptly halted. The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father, who had been a driven professional, became addicted to opioids when I was a toddler. He also became abusive and suddenly left the family while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. While growing up, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. My newfound motivation led me to join the robotics team, but I struggled to find my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations and support the team. I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award, and qualified my team for the state championship early in the season. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew exponentially. I loved analyzing the game and designing strategic solutions. The process was immersive and therapeutic. In my sophomore year, I staged a coup to take over my squad from that season’s team captain whose senioritis had started in September. Later that year, I became the team’s Student Board Representative to advocate for a better working space. In my Junior year, I crafted a detailed engineering design journal that was more than 300 pages long and led my team to win multiple awards. I also devoted time to promote and support elementary and middle school robotics competitions as a volunteer. I continue to lead my team as a senior, but I have grown past the all-encompassing desire to win that once was my driving force. I now focus on sharing my love of engineering with younger students and making sure my team is set up to succeed after my departure. Additionally, I no longer feel the need to pursue goals simply to show my father up. Instead, I have found joy and fulfillment in the process of analyzing, designing, strategizing, building, teaching, and supporting others.

When I began competing on my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything. After a mediocre performance in matches at my first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony even started. As I was walking out, I heard a judge announce, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A”. I immediately dropped my bag and ran to join my team at the podium. I was astonished by our win. Being recognized for my contribution to the team was one catalyst to my all-encompassing obsession with building robots. During middle school, I had been casually involved in a community team full of older kids. I had a hard time learning new skills and making friends on the community team, so I was reluctant to join the high school robotics team when I entered 9th grade. I decided to continue pursuing robotics, when my mom shared anecdotes about my father. I knew little about my dad while growing up, but mom often said he was a smart ambitious physician whose career was abruptly halted. The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father, who had been a driven professional, became addicted to opioids when I was a toddler. He also became abusive and suddenly left the family while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. While growing up, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. My newfound motivation led me to join the robotics team, but I struggled to find my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations and support the team. I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award, and qualified my team for the state championship early in the season. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew exponentially. I loved analyzing the game and designing strategic solutions. The process was immersive and therapeutic. In my sophomore year, I staged a coup to take over my squad from that season’s team captain whose senioritis had started in September. Later that year, I became the team’s Student Board Representative to advocate for a better working space. In my Junior year, I crafted a detailed engineering design journal that was more than 300 pages long and led my team to win multiple awards. I also devoted time to promote and support elementary and middle school robotics competitions as a volunteer. I continue to lead my team as a senior, but I have grown past the all-encompassing desire to win that once was my driving force. I now focus on sharing my love of engineering with younger students and making sure my team is set up to succeed after my departure.I aspire to earn a doctoral degree in engineering and become a professor, allowing me to inspire future generations by sharing my passion for innovation, problem-solving, and discovery.

1) The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father, who had been a driven professional, became addicted to opioids when I was a toddler. He also became abusive and suddenly left the family while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. While growing up, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. My newfound motivation led me to join the robotics team, but I struggled to find my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations and support the team. I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award, and qualified my team for the state championship early in the season. The joy this win brought me great into an all-encompassing rage to be the best roboticist and win. Now, as a senior, this rage has grown into the desire to dedicating my life to engineering. Specifically, pushing medical advancements to make treatments more affordable and accessible. 2) I became obsessed with robotics during my freshman year of high school. During this time, I learned I had a knack for building and designing solutions to problems. As I took on more team responsibility, I discovered I enjoyed CADing intricate designs, writing detailed engineering journals, and managing my team. During my junior year of high school, it became apparent to me that mechanical engineering would be perfect. The University of Maryland Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing lab gave me the opportunity to engage in an exciting mechanical engineering internship. This internship opened my eyes to how I can use my love of physics and engineering to push medical advancements. In my career, there are three overarching goals I want to achieve: push technological medical advancement, nurture fledgling engineers, and improve the field of engineering. I want to utilize my love of tinkering not only to invent medical technology, but also to make current technology cheaper and more accessible. My mother has experienced chronic illness since her youth, and witnessing the sheer expense of treating her inspired me to help others experiencing chronic illness access affordable treatments. I would also like to mentor young engineers, just as my mentors have guided me. Finally, I want to become a professor of engineering and communication to teach engineers how to communicate complex topics to the public, which many struggle with. 3) When I began competing on my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything. After a mediocre performance in matches at my first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony started. As I was walking out, I heard a judge announce, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A”. I immediately dropped my bag and ran to join my team at the podium. I was astonished by our win. Being recognized for my contribution to the team was one catalyst to my all-encompassing obsession with building robots. During middle school, I had been casually involved in a community team full of older kids. I had a hard time learning new skills and making friends on the community team, so I was reluctant to join the high school robotics team when I entered the 9th grade. I decided to continue pursuing robotics, when my mom shared anecdotes about my father. I knew little about my dad while growing up, but mom often said he was a smart ambitious physician. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. This newfound motivation led me to join the team, but I struggled to find my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations and support the team. As I stated, I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award, and qualified my team for the state championship earlier than ever before.

When I began competing on my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything. After a mediocre performance in matches at my first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony even started. As I was walking out, I heard a judge announce, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A”. I immediately dropped my bag and ran to join my team at the podium. I was astonished by our win. Being recognized for my contribution to the team was one catalyst to my all-encompassing obsession with building robots. During middle school, I had been casually involved in a community team full of older kids. I had a hard time learning new skills and making friends on the community team, so I was reluctant to join the high school robotics team when I entered 9th grade. I decided to continue pursuing robotics, when my mom shared anecdotes about my father. I knew little about my dad while growing up, but mom often said he was a smart ambitious physician whose career was abruptly halted. The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father, who had been a driven professional, became addicted to opioids when I was a toddler. He also became abusive and suddenly left the family while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. While growing up, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. My newfound motivation led me to join the robotics team, but I struggled to find my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations and support the team. I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award, and qualified my team for the state championship early in the season. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew exponentially. I loved analyzing the game and designing strategic solutions. The process was immersive and therapeutic. In my sophomore year, I staged a coup to take over my squad from that season’s team captain whose senioritis had started in September. Later that year, I became the team’s Student Board Representative to advocate for a better working space. In my Junior year, I crafted a detailed engineering design journal that was more than 300 pages long and led my team to win multiple awards. I also devoted time to promote and support elementary and middle school robotics competitions as a volunteer. I continue to lead my team as a senior, but I have grown past the all-encompassing desire to win that once was my driving force. I now focus on sharing my love of engineering with younger students and making sure my team is set up to succeed after my departure. Additionally, I no longer feel the need to pursue goals simply to show my father up. Instead, I have found joy and fulfillment in the process of analyzing, designing, strategizing, building, teaching, and supporting others.

The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father became addicted to opioids when I was a toddler. He left our family while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. For the first 14 years of my life, I wanted to become a doctor to prove that I could do better than him without him. This changed during my freshmen year, when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. This motivation led me to join my school’s robotics team. After my first win, I realized I had a knack for building robots and organizing a team. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew. Today, I don't feel the need to pursue goals simply to show my father up. Instead, I have found joy in the process of analyzing, designing, building, and supporting others. In my career, there are three goals I have: push medical advancement, nurture fledgling engineers, and improve the field of engineering. I will utilize my love of tinkering to invent medical technology and make current technology cheaper and more accessible. My mother experienced chronic illness for decades. Witnessing the sheer expense of her treatment inspired me to help others experiencing chronic illness access treatments. I would also like to mentor young engineers, just as my mentors have guided me. Finally, I want to become a professor of engineering and communication to teach engineers how to communicate complex topics to the public, which many struggle with.

The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father became addicted to opioids and abusive when I was a toddler. He left our family while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. For the first 14 years of my life, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed during my freshmen year of high school, when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. This newfound motivation led me to join my school’s robotics team. After my first win, I realized I had a knack for building robots as well as organizing a team. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew exponentially. Today, I no longer feel the need to pursue goals simply to show my father up. Instead, I have found joy and fulfillment in the process of analyzing, designing, strategizing, building, teaching, and supporting others. During my undergraduate degree, I want to meet like-minded individuals, pursue meaningful research opportunities, and prepare for my graduate and doctoral degrees. Finding a community is essential to my college experience. I look forward to partaking in STEM and business oriented extracurriculars. I also look forward to meeting other women and people of color in my field. Additionally, I hope to make meaningful relationships with seniors and mentors who can advise me. Engaging in research opportunities will be essential to my experience. The University of Maryland Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing lab gave me an opportunity to engage in an exciting medical/mechanical engineering internship, which opened my eyes to how I can use my love of physics and engineering to push medical advancements. I look forward to doing more research that opens my eyes to the possibilities of engineering. Finally, I want my college experience to prepare me for my graduate and doctoral degrees. During this time, I hope to access unique classes that prepare me for all facets of my advanced education and develop an understanding of the ways my research can benefit humanity. My undergraduate experience should aid in a smooth transition to my specialized studies and research, My long term goal is to receive my doctoral degree in mechanical engineering. Once I realized engineering was my passion, I decided I would receive the ultimate form of education in this field. My overall timeline is dependent on receiving my graduate and undergraduate degrees. I hope to start my PhD. in 6 years, and to spend 4 years completing my research. In my career, there are three overarching goals I want to achieve: push technological medical advancement, nurture fledgling engineers, and improve the field of engineering. I want to utilize my love of tinkering not only to invent medical technology, but also to make current technology cheaper and more accessible. My mother has experienced chronic illness since her youth, and witnessing the sheer expense of treating her inspired me to help others experiencing chronic illness access affordable treatments. I would also like to mentor young engineers, just as my mentors have guided me. Finally, I want to become a professor of engineering and communication to teach engineers how to communicate complex topics to the public, which many struggle with.

When I began competing on my robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything. After a mediocre performance at my first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony started. As I was walking out, I heard a judge announce, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A”. I immediately dropped my bag and ran to join my team at the podium. I was astonished by our win. Being recognized for my contribution to the team was one catalyst to my all-encompassing obsession with building robots. During middle school, I had been casually involved in a community team full of older kids. I had a hard time learning new skills and making friends on the community team, so I was reluctant to join the high school robotics team. I decided to continue pursuing robotics, when my mom shared anecdotes about my father. I knew little about my dad, but mom often said he was a smart ambitious physician whose career was abruptly halted. The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father, who had been a driven professional, became addicted to opioids when I was a toddler. He also became abusive and suddenly left the family while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. While growing up, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. My newfound motivation led me to join the robotics team. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations. I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award, and qualified my team for the state championship. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew exponentially. I loved analyzing the game and designing solutions. The process was immersive and therapeutic. In my sophomore year, I staged a coup to take over my squad from that season’s team captain whose senioritis had started in September. Later that year, I became the team’s Student Board Representative to advocate for a better working space. In my Junior year, I crafted a detailed engineering design journal that was more than 300 pages long and led my team to win multiple awards. I also devoted time to support elementary and middle school robotics competitions as a volunteer. I continue to lead my team as a senior, but I have grown past the all-encompassing desire to win that once was my driving force. I now focus on sharing my love of engineering with younger students and making sure my team is set up to succeed after my departure. Additionally, I no longer feel the need to pursue goals simply to show my father up. Instead, I have found joy and fulfillment in the process of analyzing, designing, strategizing, building, teaching, and supporting others. The University of Maryland BAM lab gave me the opportunity to engage in an exciting mechanical engineering internship. This internship opened my eyes to how I can use my love of physics and engineering to push medical advancements. It also helped me realize my dream: obtain a doctoral degree in mechanical angineering.

Pursuing a degree in mechanical engineering is not just a career choice for me, but a passion driven by my life experiences, the influence of my family, and a desire to make a tangible impact on society. Growing up, I often felt like I was navigating life with a sense of uncertainty, shaped by the challenges within my family and the emotional scars left by my father’s struggles with addiction and my mother’s ongoing health issues. These personal experiences helped me shape my passion for mechanical engineering, providing me with a deep sense of purpose. Through my journey with robotics and my increasing exposure to the world of engineering, I have come to realize that mechanical engineering holds the power to solve some of the most critical issues we face today, especially in healthcare and technology. My goal is not just to become a mechanical engineer, but to harness my skills and knowledge to innovate in ways that improve the lives of those facing similar struggles to those within my own family. Growing up, I often felt the absence of my father, who, due to addiction, became a shadow of the ambitious physician he once was. My father’s opioid addiction left a lasting impact on me as a child, shaping my outlook on life and my aspirations. Despite his promising career, addiction stole everything from him—his medical practice, his license, and our home. While I was too young to fully understand the depth of his struggles, I knew that his addiction and eventual departure from the family had created a void in my life that I struggled to fill. The emotional toll it took on my mother and me was immense, and I often found myself searching for a way to rise above the chaos in my family’s life. In the wake of my father’s absence, my mother became the central figure in my life. She was strong and resilient, yet she was also battling her own chronic illness. Her health struggles added another layer of difficulty to our situation. There were many times when I saw her lying in bed, exhausted from her illness, but she never gave up on taking care of me. Despite her illness, my mother always tried to instill in me a sense of hope and perseverance. When I struggled to understand my father's departure or how to navigate my emotions, she would tell me stories of how he had once been a driven physician, respected by his peers, and full of potential. These stories were not just tales of nostalgia but reminders of the immense promise he had once held. Yet, as I grew older and learned more about my father’s life choices, I realized that he never truly lived up to his full potential due to circumstances and choices that ultimately led him down the path of addiction. I also learned that my father had wanted to be an engineer, but he didn’t get into engineering school, so he settled for medicine. This revelation changed everything for me. My initial desire to follow in my father’s footsteps and become a doctor shifted dramatically. I wanted to pursue engineering—not just because it was my father’s unfulfilled dream, but because I could see that engineering was where my true passion lay. I no longer saw becoming a doctor as a way to prove myself; I saw it as a path to show that I could do better than my father, but also to forge my own identity. I wanted to surpass his greatest ambition of becoming an engineer, using the knowledge and skills I would develop in that field to make a real difference in the world, especially in healthcare. During my middle school years, I became casually involved with a community robotics team. I was drawn to robotics as a way to explore engineering, but my early experiences on the team were not without difficulty. The community team consisted of older, more experienced students, and I struggled to keep up with the technical aspects of building and programming robots. The feeling of being left behind was frustrating, and it made me question whether I was cut out for the field at all. Despite these challenges, I knew I couldn’t give up on something that had sparked my interest and excitement. When I entered high school, I joined the school’s robotics team, determined to pursue robotics and engineering more seriously. However, the initial transition wasn’t easy. I was still struggling to find my place within the team, and I wasn’t sure how I could contribute meaningfully. But as I started to learn more about the design process, I found my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to take on the responsibility of writing the engineering design journal. At first, I was unsure if I was up to the task, but I decided to take it on and do my best to support my team. To my amazement, my efforts were recognized when our engineering design journal won the Design Award at our first competition, which qualified our team for the state championship. This recognition sparked a fire within me and ignited my passion for building robots and creating innovative solutions. The experience taught me that hard work and dedication could lead to success, but more importantly, it showed me the power of collaboration and team-based problem-solving. Winning that award was a transformative moment for me—it shifted my perspective from seeing robotics as a hobby to viewing it as a serious passion and potential career path. As my involvement with robotics deepened, my passion for the field grew exponentially. I became increasingly immersed in the process of analyzing the game and designing strategic solutions, finding the entire process both challenging and therapeutic. The more I learned, the more I wanted to contribute. During my sophomore year, I took on a leadership role within the team. Our team captain had begun showing signs of senioritis, and I recognized that the team needed new leadership to keep progressing. So, I staged a coup, rallying the team to follow my vision for the season. That year, I also became the team’s Student Board Representative, advocating for better working conditions and securing a space for the team to build and collaborate. My leadership role allowed me to gain invaluable experience in team management and decision-making, while also giving me the chance to make a meaningful impact on the team’s overall success. In my junior year, I crafted a detailed engineering design journal, over 300 pages long, that contributed to our team’s victory in multiple competitions. Through my dedication and attention to detail, I led the team to greater success while also continuing to promote and support elementary and middle school robotics competitions as a volunteer. These experiences deepened my understanding of robotics and mechanical engineering, and I realized that engineering was more than just a career—it was a way to make an impact in the world and help others grow. As I continue to lead my robotics team in my senior year, I have grown past the obsession with winning that initially drove me. My focus has shifted from simply proving myself and achieving personal recognition to sharing my love of engineering with younger students and ensuring that my team will continue to thrive after I graduate. I want to create a legacy of mentorship and collaboration, passing on the knowledge and experience I have gained to the next generation of engineers and innovators. I no longer feel the need to pursue goals simply to show my father up. Instead, I have found joy and fulfillment in the process of analyzing, designing, strategizing, building, teaching, and supporting others. This shift in focus has been immensely rewarding, as I now find satisfaction not just in winning awards, but in seeing others succeed and helping them achieve their own goals. As I look toward the future, I am eager to continue my journey in mechanical engineering and take part in research opportunities that will allow me to explore new frontiers in technology and medicine. I was fortunate to gain experience at the University of Maryland’s Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing lab, where I participated in a mechanical engineering internship that opened my eyes to the intersection of engineering and healthcare. Through this experience, I learned how engineering can be used to drive advancements in medical technology, particularly in the realm of additive manufacturing, and how I can contribute to the development of new tools and treatments that could help those facing similar challenges to my family. This exposure to research was pivotal in solidifying my desire to pursue a career in mechanical engineering. I believe that research is the key to pushing the boundaries of what is possible and that my skills in engineering can be used to develop new solutions to improve healthcare access, medical technologies, and the quality of life for individuals with chronic illnesses or disabilities. The opportunity to engage in research and contribute to the development of life-changing technologies is something that excites me, and I am eager to continue exploring this path in the future. Pursuing a degree in mechanical engineering is a path I am deeply passionate about because it combines my personal experiences, my love for problem-solving, and my desire to create meaningful change in the world. My journey through robotics has given me a strong foundation in design, teamwork, and leadership, while also igniting my desire to contribute to medical advancements through engineering. The challenges I faced growing up, particularly with my father’s addiction and my mother’s health struggles, have shaped my determination to succeed and use my talents to help others.

Mental illness has profoundly shaped my life, particularly through my father’s addiction to opioids and my mother’s health struggles. My father’s addiction began when I was a toddler, leading to his abrupt departure from our home. This left my mother to shoulder the emotional and financial burdens of raising me while managing her own health crises. My mom was diagnosed with a chronic illness, and the constant toll it took on her made me realize how deeply mental health issues, both visible and hidden, can affect a family. Growing up, I often wondered why my father couldn’t be the parent I needed. Over time, I learned that mental health, particularly addiction, played a significant role in shaping his life and our family’s story. My mother’s illness was another heavy weight on our family. She fought tirelessly through long hospital visits and debilitating pain, yet always made sure I didn’t feel the extent of her suffering. Despite her strength, I could see how her illness affected her ability to fully engage with me, and this created a sense of loneliness. In response to this turmoil, I focused on academics and career aspirations. Growing up, I wanted to become a doctor, hoping to prove I could succeed without my father's support. I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. From that moment, I shifted my focus and began pursuing robotics. In high school, I joined the robotics team as a freshman, eager to explore this new passion. Robotics provided an outlet for my emotions and a way to channel my energy. However, it also brought pressure. I wanted to succeed, not just for myself, but to prove something to my family and overcome the emotional scars of my past. This drive to win often led to stress and anxiety. I became fixated on success, sometimes at the cost of my own mental well-being. As I progressed in robotics, I began to recognize that my obsession with winning was rooted in my desire to outshine my father’s unfulfilled dreams. Winning awards was no longer the most important thing to me. In my sophomore year, I shifted my focus toward leadership and mentorship. I realized that the process of learning, creating, and sharing that knowledge with others brought me true fulfillment. This change in perspective helped me build stronger connections with my team, and I found joy in mentoring younger students. Throughout my journey, I have faced moments of self-doubt and anxiety, especially when I couldn’t meet my own high expectations. I came to understand that mental health struggles are not isolated to one individual but affect families and communities as a whole. My mother’s illness taught me about resilience and the importance of finding inner strength, even when circumstances feel overwhelming. These experiences taught me empathy and the importance of supporting others. Instead of focusing solely on proving myself, I now find fulfillment in helping others grow, both in robotics and in life. Mental illness has shaped how I approach challenges, both personal and academic. It has taught me that healing and growth are ongoing processes. I now focus on the journey of learning, creating, and supporting others, without the constant pressure to be the best.

When I joined my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything. After a mediocre performance at my first tournament, I was ready to leave before the awards ceremony even began. But then, a judge announced, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A,” and I ran to the podium in disbelief. To be recognized for my contribution to the team was a catalyst for my growing passion for robotics. It ignited a fire within me to dive deeper into engineering, a journey that was rooted in my desire to surpass my father’s failed dreams and to prove myself capable. I had always been fascinated by how things worked, but it wasn’t until my mother shared the story of my dad’s career struggles that I was inspired to pursue engineering. Her comment, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school,” planted the seed for a new ambition. I wanted to prove that I could achieve what he had dreamed of, but also take it further in the field of engineering. As I progressed through high school, my passion for building robots grew exponentially. Initially, my focus was on crafting the best robots, but soon, I discovered a love for strategy, design, and leadership. I became the team captain, organizing and motivating my peers to be more innovative and collaborative. I also became involved in our outreach efforts, working to introduce younger students—especially girls—to robotics and engineering. In the beginning, I struggled to fit into the culture of my robotics team, which was predominantly male. I felt the pressure to reject my femininity to blend in, and I thought I had to suppress my identity to be accepted. But my perspective shifted after I saw a social media post by a young woman who proudly embraced both her love for engineering and her feminine side. Inspired by her example, I started to embrace my femininity and found a creative outlet in nail art. I received a manicure kit and began painting my nails regularly, something I had never allowed myself to do before. As I explored nail art, I discovered an unexpected connection between engineering principles and this creative hobby. I realized that materials science was crucial in choosing the right products for structural integrity, and mechanical engineering was necessary to ensure the nails were strong enough to withstand daily wear. In this process, I learned that engineering wasn’t limited to robotics; it was in every aspect of life. Nail art became a way for me to express my creativity, while also grounding me in the same principles that guided my robotics projects. I didn’t have to reject my femininity to be a successful engineer—I could embrace all aspects of myself. This newfound confidence in my identity extended to my role in the robotics team. Historically, our team had been predominantly male, with few female members. I made it my mission to change that. As a leader, I formed a recruitment committee and presented to local middle schools, actively encouraging girls to join our team. We revamped our intake process, making it more accessible and gender-conscious, and developed a rubric to highlight skilled female students. Though our work is ongoing, I’m proud of the progress we’ve made in fostering a more inclusive team. One of my greatest rewards has been creating a more supportive and welcoming environment for young women in STEM. I’ve learned that representation matters and that it’s not just about changing the gender dynamics of our team; it’s about showing young girls that they belong in engineering.

When I began competing on my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything. After a mediocre performance in matches at my first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony started. As I was walking out, I heard a judge announce, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A”. I immediately dropped my bag and ran to join my team at the podium. I was astonished by our win. Being recognized for my contribution to the team was one catalyst to my all-encompassing obsession with building robots. During middle school, I had been casually involved in a community team full of older kids. I had a hard time learning new skills and making friends on the community team, so I was reluctant to join the high school robotics team when I entered the 9th grade. I decided to continue pursuing robotics, when my mom shared anecdotes about my father. I knew little about my dad while growing up, but mom often said he was a smart, ambitious physician. The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. After first being prescribed opioids for post-operation pain, my father quickly developed an addiction. While my parent’s marriage was always tumultuous, my father’s addiction made his abuse much worse. He suddenly abandoned our family and left the country while my mother was in the middle of a medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. Our financial situation became dire. My mother and I started living with my grandmother to avoid becoming homeless. During this time, money was especially tight, as my mom hadn’t worked for a decade due to her illness and my father refused to pay child support. To better provide for us, my mom went back to school, but times were difficult for us in the next 4 years until she finished her degree. Not only did we not have a stable income, but attending school consumed all her savings. As my mom began to work, our financial situation became more secure. Nevertheless, with a short period of employment, my family’s savings are almost nonexistent. Having a single parent was not only financially difficult, but hindered my opportunities. It was difficult for me to access extracurriculars and participate in activities that required my mother’s time. While growing up, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. This newfound motivation led me to join the team, but I struggled to find my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations and support the team. As I stated, I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award, and qualified my team for the state championship earlier than ever before. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew exponentially. I loved analyzing the game and designing strategic solutions. The process was immersive and therapeutic. In my sophomore year, I staged a coup to take over my squad from that season’s team captain, whose senioritis had started in September. Later that year, I became the team’s Student Board Representative to advocate for better working space. In my Junior year, I crafted a detailed engineering design journal that was more than 300 pages long and lead my team to winning multiple awards. I also devoted time to promoting and supporting elementary and middle school robotics competitions as a volunteer. I continue to lead my team as a senior, but I have grown past the all-encompassing desire to win that once was my driving force. I now focus on sharing my love of engineering with younger students and making sure my team is set up to succeed after my departure. Additionally, I no longer feel the need to pursue goals simply to show my father up. Instead, I have fo und joy and fulfillment in the process of analyzing, designing, strategizing, building, teaching, and supporting others. Although robotics is my first love, I have other passions as well - debate and mock trial. They are not that different. All three of these fields require me to research, think critically, collaborate with a team, form arguments, advocate for a position, and improvise with a team to solve problems. I also learned to love what I once hated, public speaking. During my junior year of high school, it became apparent to me that mechanical engineering would be the perfect. University of Maryland Bioinspired Additive Manufacturing lab gave me the opportunity to engage in an exciting mechanical engineering internship. This internship opened my eyes to how I can use my love of physics and engineering to push medical advancements.

When I began competing on my high school robotics team, I didn’t expect to win anything. After a mediocre performance in matches at my first tournament, I packed my bag to leave before the awards ceremony started. As I was walking out, I heard a judge announce, “The Design Award is presented to Team 53A”. I immediately dropped my bag and ran to join my team at the podium. I was astonished by our win. Being recognized for my contribution to the team was one catalyst to my all-encompassing obsession with building robots. During middle school, I had been casually involved in a community team full of older kids. I had a hard time learning new skills and making friends on the community team, so I was reluctant to join the high school robotics team when I entered the 9th grade. I decided to continue pursuing robotics, when my mom shared anecdotes about my father. I knew little about my dad while growing up, but mom often said he was a smart ambitious physician. The opioid crisis that ravaged America did not leave my family unscathed. My father, became addicted to opioids and abusive when I was a toddler. He suddenly left the family while my mother was in the middle of medical crisis. He quickly lost his practice, his medical license, and our home. While growing up, I wanted to become a doctor just like my dad to prove that I could do better than him without his support. This changed when my mom shared his “origin” story. She said, “Your father only studied medicine because he didn’t get into engineering school.” This planted a desire in me to become an engineer, and prove that I could surpass my dad’s greatest ambition. This newfound motivation led me to join the team, but I struggled to find my niche. My team captain noticed my organizational skills and encouraged me to write the engineering design journal. I did my best to live up to his expectations and support the team. As I stated, I was astonished when my journal won us the Design Award, and qualified my team for the state championship earlier than ever before. Over the next three years, my passion for building robots and being on the team grew exponentially. I loved analyzing the game and designing strategic solutions. The process was immersive and therapeutic. In my sophomore year, I staged a coup to take over my squad from that season’s team captain whose senioritis had started in September. Later that year, I became the team’s Student Board Representative to advocate for better working space. In my Junior year, I crafted a detailed engineering design journal that was more than 300 pages long and lead my team to winning multiple awards. I also devoted time to promoting and supporting elementary and middle school robotics competitions as a volunteer. I continue to lead my team as a senior, but I have grown past the all-encompassing desire to win that once was my driving force. I now focus on sharing my love of engineering with younger students and making sure my team is set-up to succeed after my departure. Additionally, I no longer feel the need pursue goals simply to show my father up. Instead, I have found joy and fulfillment in the process of analyzing, designing, strategizing, building, teaching, and supporting others.