1. “Kindness in Action” - Describe a meaningful act of kindness or support you offered someone. Why was that moment important? Anguished screams pierced the misty, gray dawn before I even saw the wreck. Driving alone on a winding road to early morning wrestling practice, I'd come upon a mangled vehicle wrapped around a pillar.  The driver's screams signaled his urgent need for help. I couldn't just keep driving. I slammed my car into park, grabbed my first-aid kit from the back seat, and sprinted over, all while dialing 911. As I drew nearer, the white glint of the driver’s femur jutted from his torn flesh.  Jarred yet undeterred, I instinctively sprang into action. As an Eagle Scout certified in first aid, I improvised a tourniquet to stabilize him, then held his hand and prayed with him until EMTs arrived. That experience galvanized my calling to practice medicine. Currently, as an EMT intern, I'm completing clinical rotation hours in ambulances and hospital emergency rooms toward certification in March.  I'm encountering traumatic situations, but immeasurably grateful for the life-saving abilities and compassionate care skills I'll carry with me.  I'm drawn to emergency medicine because I want to serve on the front lines of patient care and healing. My experience assisting a stranger that morning set into motion my plans to deliver compassionate and decisive life-saving care to others, whether in a doctor’s office, an emergency room, or along a winding road in a misty, gray dawn. 2. “Creating Connection” - How have you helped bring people together, create belonging, or make your community a more inclusive place? We hadn’t won a single game all season. It was the end of my sophomore year and the first season with my rugby team was drawing to a close. Morale was abysmal. I’d been elected co-captain for the next season, and though hopeful, I wasn’t sure how to make a difference. I started by leaning into what I do best: building connections. Naturally gregarious, I’ve honed this ability through myriad leadership roles as Assistant Senior Patrol Leader of my scout troop, team captain of multiple academic teams, and in other extracurricular activities. I’ve learned that the power of connection lies in motivating others to want to perform well. I do this by communicating expectations, acknowledging strengths, and challenging others to rise to their potential. I applied these skills to my rugby team. Before the season ended, I made an effort to know each teammate personally. I organized bonding activities to maintain connection over the summer. When the new season started, we shared the goal of supporting each other to success. Because I knew each teammate’s capabilities, I provided insights to my coaches that helped them assign positions. One teammate, an artist with a creative mind for strategy, became a strong flanker. Another, a loyal team player, switched to scrum-half, where selfless passing is critical. These adjustments resulted in my coaches developing more effective game strategies, and we began winning match after match. Though we were thriving on the field, I knew our success could extend beyond it. With my coaches’ support, I led my team in hosting a free youth clinic introducing rugby to the children in the neighborhood surrounding our practice field, while simultaneously pairing them with a “Rugby buddy” mentor. The community response was overwhelming. Parents thanked us for being positive role models without realizing how much the joy of mentoring impacted us, too. We ended the season with strengthened camaraderie and a shared commitment to service. I’m Captain again this senior season, and I’ve lead by continuing to build connections.

The scar around my neck may never heal. I don’t think I want it to.  In biology, I learned that a scar forms after trauma as part of the body’s healing process. I’ve earned plenty: burns from campfires, bruises from rugby, scrapes from wrestling. Those healed with time, a testament to the body’s ability to recover. But the scar around my neck is different. It’s not from a physical injury; instead, it’s from my uncle’s influence. It’s embodied in the silver ankh necklace I wear every day. My uncle was an eclectic man. A deep thinker, he constantly asked probing questions. While some found his endless questions exhausting, my sister and I embraced them.  From an early age, he challenged us to question assumptions. Sometimes this was comically frustrating, like the time he had my sister halfway convinced she was an extraterrestrial because she couldn’t prove otherwise. From my earliest memories, he wore a silver ankh necklace. When I was in middle school, he explained it symbolized eternal life in the sense of leaving behind something that outlives you. The ankh drove his insatiable pursuit of truth and understanding. I began to associate the ankh with embracing my natural curiosity and learning to love learning. This love for learning stoked my natural affinity for math and science. I approached biology, anatomy, and physiology with wonder, eager to understand the mechanics of the body’s inner workings.  I relished my summers spent in medical enrichment and biomedical engineering programs, each experience deepening my desire to become a physician. When my uncle, with his characteristic prodding, asked me about my true motivations for wanting to become a doctor, I reflected deeply. I want to heal others. That’s why I’m currently training to become an EMT.  In clinical hours spent responding to emergencies in ambulances and shadowing physicians in emergency rooms, I’m learning to stay calm while acting quickly and decisively. Though I’m encountering traumatic situations, I’m grateful for the life-saving skills and clinical knowledge I’ll carry with me.  My experiences are drawing me to emergency medicine because I want to serve on the front lines of healing.  But I also believe healing extends beyond the physical. My Eagle Project exemplifies my broader view of healing.  While exploring shadowing opportunities at the CHRISTUS Children’s Hospital, I was struck by the lack of access to books for bedridden patients. I resolved then to create an “Adventures on Wheels” pediatric mobile library that would deliver the joy of reading directly to the children’s bedsides.  I continue to replenish the library because I believe that, while medicine heals the body, books nurture the mind. The library advances my desire to heal others and to leave a meaningful impact by cultivating a love of learning that will endure long after the children’s physical ailments have mended. Last year, my entire world shifted when my uncle passed away suddenly. His absence left a gaping wound no ointment could remedy. For weeks, I drifted, inconsolable. I skipped practices and withdrew from friends.  My grades slipped. Then, while helping to sort through his belongings, I found the ankh. I clasped it around my neck and haven’t taken it off since.  It doesn’t signify loss for me; instead, it’s a reminder of my uncle’s relentless quest for learning and his desire to leave behind something larger than himself. Most importantly, it’s a steady reminder of my purpose to heal others and to make a meaningful impact.  The scar around my neck may never heal.  Maybe it shouldn’t.