My path in healthcare began as a patient transporter at Westchester Medical Center during the COVID-19 pandemic. Here, I witnessed the degree to which fear could overtake patients and their families; yet, I also saw that thoughtful gestures like a few words of kindness or a fleeting moment of sincere presence could palpably decrease their feelings of loneliness. These experiences made clear to me that truly looking after the health of others encompasses more than medicine and procedures; it is inherently about connection. Later, while working at the New York State Office for People with Developmental Disabilities, I gained the same understanding through a different lens. Seeing an individual beam with pride after independently accomplishing an activity of daily living served as a reminder that dignity is as important to health as medical care. Prior to pursuing these roles, I was in pharmaceutical distribution and consulting, making a six-figure income. On paper, it was success. In practice, it felt empty. I walked away because I knew that health should never be solely about metrics, compliance, or financial performance. I needed my work to directly connect me to people's lives and struggles. That decision—trading financial security for nursing school—was rooted in a belief that empathy, not ego, is the cornerstone of care. To me, empathy is seeing beyond yourself and truly acknowledging the humanity and suffering of others. It is silencing your own ego so that you may see individuals as they are, rather than as you presume them to be. I think society in general has a hard time with that. We are so quick to judge, to label, to dismiss—but not so quick to walk a mile in the truth of another human being. In medicine, that failure has a cost: patients feel invisible, disparities worsen, and outcomes falter. Empathy, then, is an essential trait of nursing practice; it is the most important attribute. It allows health care providers to view patients as whole persons and not just as charts or diagnostic labels. It is the bridge that links medical knowledge with true healing experiences. As a future nurse, my goal is to embody this quality by actively practicing attentive listening, by recognizing that every symptom is linked to a person who has fears, hopes, and a unique story, and by advocating for the rights of those whose voices are often silenced by poverty, stigma, or systemic injustices. Practicing from a human-centered perspective takes more than goodwill. It takes humility, patience, and an openness to tailor care to each person. It involves not only asking, "What’s wrong with you?" but also, "What matters to you?" It involves creating room for cultural beliefs, individual values, and the dignity of choice—even when represents immediate inconvenience. In my nursing practice, I will be accountable to empathy by: • Viewing patients holistically—recognizing suffering beyond physical symptoms. • Advocating for underserved populations who are too often overlooked. • Establishing trust by listening and empathy, particularly during timesof vulnerability. • Approaching every interaction as a chance to maintain dignity, not just to provide care. Walking away from a profitable career in pharmacy was not simple, but it helped me get clear about my values. I do not wish to define my success in terms of numbers only—I wish to define it in terms of those lives I touch, the pain I alleviate, and the trust I gain. Empathy brought me to nursing school, and empathy will lead me as I go forward. Because at its core, healthcare is not about us as providers. It's about the people we serve. And serving them in a real way starts with empathy.

One afternoon, while working my shift as a DSP, I was sitting next to a man who was carefully folding his clothes and methodically putting them away in his dresser. Despite the obvious fact that it was something he had done before, the peaceful contentment that emanated from his eyes when he finished it was unmistakable. In that moment—seeing a person luxuriate in a deep sense of power and agency—I was reminded that autonomy is not just a mundane requirement, but an affective one. Prior to becoming a Direct Support Professional for the New York State Office for People With Developmental Disabilities (OPWDD), my work experience was based on the pharma industry, where I worked on business consultation and operations. I felt I was making a difference by building healthcare systems from the background; but the human side of my work always escaped me. Taking on the job as a DSP changed my outlook. Every day, I worked face-to-face with adults and young people who have developmental disabilities, and I helped them not only perform daily activities but also reach major milestones. When I was showing someone to make his or her own dinner, alternatively scheduling activities for someone, or seeing someone through a difficult situation, I came to understand how these tiny steps towards autonomy instilled pride and self-confidence. It was during these experiences that I found my passion for front-line care. As a Direct Support Professional, I found not only inspiration but confirmation that I was, in fact, making the correct decision to leave a comfortable, well-established career and take up nursing as my calling. My own experience has powerfully intensified that devotion. I care for my mother, who struggles against memory loss resulting from the medical challenges of pulmonary hypertension. In doing so, I have gained a priceless first-hand insight into the challenges that patients and families face, and the patience, forbearance, and resilience needed to overcome them. Now, as I enter the profession of a future nurse, I hope to combine the analytical skills I learned while I was a pharmaceutical consultant, with the human empathy and patient advocacy I practiced as a Direct Support Professional. I hope to be the nurse who sees past the simple diagnosis, understanding that restoring a patient's sense of independence can be as important as combating their disease. Through the acceptance of this scholarship, I could realize my aspiration and pay respect to Christina Taylese Singh, who helped others live dignified, pride-filled, and autonomous lives, filling them all, and society as a whole, with happiness.

Since my earliest days working in healthcare, I have known that healing is not just about medicine but about presence, patience, and compassion. My path to nursing has been influenced by my professional experience in healthcare, my choice to completely change careers to pursue this calling, and the intensely personal experience of providing care to my mother as she deals with memory problems caused by pulmonary hypertension. Recently, my mother looked at me with tears in her eyes and begged me to help her and my father "get back together." In her mind, they were no longer husband and wife, even though they've been together for decades and live in the same house. At that point, I knew that she was not remembering reality; she was reconstructing her memory by imbuing it with her feelings. That feeling was loneliness, a deep fear that the person she loves most was no longer present for her. My role as her caregiver is more than making sure she sticks to her medication schedule or helping her navigate her daily tasks; it is about ensuring her sense of safety, love, and understanding, especially when her own mind tells her otherwise. I am a nursing student at Westchester Community College, following a post-baccalaureate degree in premedical biology and a bachelor's degree in Mass Communications and Media. Although my education has provided a firm scientific foundation, my personal and professional experiences as a caregiver have provided the heart and stamina for this profession. My career started amidst the COVID-19 pandemic as a patient transporter at Westchester Medical Center, where I saw up close the commitment of healthcare professionals in times of crisis. Then, as a Direct Support Professional for the NYS Office for People with Developmental Disabilities, I gave daily care to persons with special needs—developing individualized care plans, supporting hygiene and medication, and promoting community integration. These roles showed me that care isn't simply a list of duties—it's advocacy, human connection, and maintaining dignity. Furthermore, I worked as a consultant for 340B pharmacy business practices, helping hospitals expand medication access to patients who are underserved. This role deepened my understanding of the interaction between policy, funding, and operational workflows on patient outcomes, and reinforced my dedication to bridging the gap between healthcare systems and the communities they serve. My goal is to become a registered nurse committed to working with marginalized communities, specifically patients who are faced with Alzheimer's, dementia, and other cognitive disorders. These conditions afflict not just the victim but also drastically change the lives of their families. My mother's difficulties have opened my eyes to the immense emotional toll of memory loss, and I am firmly determined to bring empathy, advocacy, and skill to all my patients and families I encounter. Sandy Dykshoorn's legacy of advocacy, selflessness, and care resonates with me profoundly. I, too, believe in going to people where they are—in body and mind—and making them feel valued, safe, and seen. Nursing is my calling, not merely a career choice. This scholarship would enable me to pursue my education and advance a legacy of compassionate care that transforms lives in ways that extend far beyond medicine.

My name is Winthrop Jones, and I’m a nursing student who still carves out time to help others become the best versions of themselves—because I know what it’s like to need someone who believes in you. I come from a working-class Black family where service wasn’t a concept—it was a lifestyle. I grew up watching my parents quietly give to others even when they were grieving deeply. Before I was born, my older sister passed away from congenital heart failure. Though I never met her, her absence shaped my life in real ways. I saw what it meant to live with a loss that never fades, and it instilled in me an early commitment to healing and support—especially for families who carry invisible weight. I went to SUNY Oswego, where I proudly played rugby. Our team won the New York State championship, and I carry that same energy into everything I do: I train hard, show up for my teammates, and lead by example. Today, I’m still deeply involved in fitness. Despite being a full-time nursing student and working nights as a UPS supervisor, I make time to write workout plans for friends and coworkers. I genuinely love helping people feel strong—in body, mind, and spirit. I also served as a youth leader in a Buddhist organization, mentoring younger men on how to live with integrity and courage. I believe being strong doesn’t just mean being tough. It means knowing who you are and lifting others up even when your own plate is full. That’s what I try to do every day. My path hasn’t been traditional. I left a career in pharmaceutical sales because I couldn’t reconcile the profit-first mindset with my personal values. I wanted to make a real difference, not just hit quarterly numbers. So I walked away and started over—from the ground up. Now, I’m pursuing nursing to be at the heart of healing. My ultimate goal is to become a nursing professor so I can serve both patients and future nurses. I want to be the kind of teacher that inspires students the way Kalia must have inspired her peers—someone who radiates excellence, encouragement, and authenticity. Kalia’s story speaks to me because I see so many of her values in myself: her ambition, her work ethic, her commitment to serving others even while excelling in her own life. I’ve held multiple jobs to fund my education. I’ve worked 12-hour shifts and still made time to coach someone on their fitness journey. I’ve helped a coworker’s daughter through a breastfeeding struggle late at night. I don’t just care about success—I care about people. This scholarship would be a tremendous help financially. Nursing school is demanding, and the costs add up. But more than that, this scholarship would be a reminder that the life I’m building—one rooted in service, perseverance, and legacy—is the right one. It would tell me that Kalia’s values are still alive, and that others believe they’re worth carrying forward. I hope to honor her legacy not just by achieving my goals, but by becoming someone others can count on—just like she was. I want to lead, teach, and heal in a way that leaves people stronger than I found them. Because that’s what legacy really is. Thank you for considering me.

My name is Winthrop Jones, and while my degree is in nursing, my long-term goal is to become a nursing professor. I want to change lives at the bedside—and then change systems in the classroom. As a Black male student in a field where few of us exist, I know firsthand how powerful it is just to be seen. Education isn’t just about passing on facts—it’s about standing in front of students and showing them what’s possible. I didn’t always plan on becoming a nurse or an educator. I started my career in pharmaceutical contract management, helping clinics navigate the complex 340B system. I was good at it, but it didn’t fulfill me. I saw how broken the healthcare system was—especially for underserved communities—and I knew I wanted to be part of the solution, not just another cog in the machine. So I left. I walked away from corporate stability to pursue something more meaningful: people. Now I’m a full-time nursing student at SUNY Westchester Community College, and I work full-time at UPS as a Local Sort Supervisor to pay my way through school. At UPS, I lead a team of 15 workers, and while my job is to ensure safety and efficiency, I see my role as something more. I try to lead with empathy and integrity. I’ve helped team members through everything from personal losses to parenting advice. One day, a coworker’s daughter—young and struggling with breastfeeding—came to me for help. I was able to guide her using what I’d learned in school and from my own values. That moment was simple, but it reminded me why I chose this path: to help, to teach, to empower. Before UPS, I worked in direct care for individuals with developmental disabilities. I had to leave that job because it couldn’t accommodate my school schedule, but it left a lasting impact on me. I saw how much good one person can do when they show up consistently and care deeply. I also served as a leader in the Young Men’s Division of a socially engaged Buddhist organization, where I mentored others and led community dialogue. That work taught me how to lead not with ego, but with purpose. Eventually, I want to return to the classroom—not as a student, but as a professor. I want to mentor future nurses, especially Black men who might not think they belong in healthcare or higher education. I want to break cycles, challenge systems, and build trust in the communities I serve. I believe that teaching is one of the most radical forms of activism. When you teach someone, you change not just their life, but the lives of everyone they go on to care for. Representation matters. I’ve had very few Black male educators in my life, and the absence is noticeable. I want my future students—especially those who look like me—to know that they belong. That they are smart enough, capable enough, enough to lead, heal, and teach. This scholarship would lighten the financial weight I carry as I balance work, school, and service. But more than that, it would affirm that the path I’m on—though unconventional—is worthy and needed. I’m not just here to get a degree. I’m here to make an impact, and eventually, to pass the torch. Thank you for considering my application.

My relationship with Buddhism has shaped not only how I live—but why I live the way I do. I’ve been practicing Nichiren Buddhism for several years, and I previously served as a youth leader in a socially engaged lay Buddhist community. My role involved mentoring young men, organizing dialogue-centered gatherings, and helping others deepen their practice while navigating real-world struggles. That experience taught me what leadership truly means: supporting people’s growth, even in quiet, behind-the-scenes ways. It also solidified my lifelong commitment to service. One of the core lessons I’ve learned through my practice is that karma is not punishment—it’s potential. It’s a reminder that everything we do matters, even when no one is watching. This view made it impossible for me to stay in a career that conflicted with my conscience. I worked in pharmaceutical contract management and did well materially, but I constantly saw how profit was prioritized over people, and how inequity was built into the system. I left that job because I knew I could no longer participate in something that harmed more than it healed. Now, I’m a first-year nursing student at SUNY Westchester Community College. It hasn’t been easy—I work full-time as a Local Sort Supervisor at UPS to support myself. I lead a team of 15 workers, where safety and efficiency matter, but so does humanity. I strive to treat my team members with the dignity they deserve, and that means more than just meeting goals. It means showing up for them when life gets hard. When one of my employee’s daughters was struggling with breastfeeding, I was able to offer comfort and guidance based on both my nursing education and my spiritual grounding. These small moments of care are the foundation of who I am and who I want to be. After graduating, I hope to become a nurse practitioner who provides culturally competent, community-centered care. Black men, in particular, face disproportionate barriers to treatment and often feel alienated by the medical system. I want to change that. I want to create a clinic that isn’t just about checking vitals—it’s about building trust, healing trauma, and empowering patients. Beyond my career, I also want to give back through mentorship and community involvement. I’ve been on the receiving end of incredible support, and I know how much it means to have someone believe in you. I want to pay that forward, especially to young Buddhists and first-generation students navigating paths like mine. My spiritual practice has never been separate from my professional goals—it’s what gives them meaning. This scholarship would help me continue my education without losing sight of why I started this journey. More importantly, it would affirm that caregiving rooted in Buddhist principles matters—and that people like me have a place in shaping its future. Thank you for considering my application.

My name is Winthrop Jones, and I’m a first-year nursing student at SUNY Westchester Community College. Before pursuing nursing, I worked in pharmaceutical contract management and later in direct care. Now, I work full time as a Local Sort Supervisor at UPS to support my education. Nursing isn’t just a career goal for me—it’s a mission rooted in service, justice, and human connection. In my current role at UPS, I manage a team of 15 employees, maintaining a high standard of safety, efficiency, and accountability. But leadership to me isn’t just about metrics—it’s about people. I make it a point to treat my team members as human beings first. Many of them trust me enough to talk about their personal challenges. I recently gave breastfeeding advice to one of my employee’s daughters who was struggling postpartum. Thanks to what I’ve learned so far in nursing school—and my desire to help—she left that conversation feeling more supported and less overwhelmed. That’s the kind of leader I want to be in any setting. Before UPS, I worked with the NYS Office for People with Developmental Disabilities. I had to leave because they couldn’t accommodate my school schedule, but I loved that job deeply. Providing hands-on care to individuals with special needs taught me how critical compassion, patience, and consistency are in healthcare. That experience still shapes how I approach people today, whether I’m giving directions at UPS or planning a career in public health. I also previously served as a leader in the Young Men’s Division of SGI-USA, a Buddhist organization focused on personal growth and social engagement. In that role, I led community meetings, mentored youth, and supported people through their own personal development journeys. SGI taught me that real leadership is about empowering others—not controlling them. There are three key ways I hope to make a lasting impact on the world through my degree and career: First, I plan to become a nurse practitioner who provides accessible, culturally competent care to underserved communities—particularly Black men, who face disproportionate health disparities and systemic neglect. I want to create a clinic that feels less like a transaction and more like a relationship built on trust. Second, I aim to bridge the divide between policy and patient care. My background in contract work and my understanding of systems like 340B give me a unique insight into how legislation can either support or restrict access to treatment. I want to be part of building smarter, fairer policies that reach the people who need them most. Third, I will continue mentoring others. Whether it’s offering support to a coworker, volunteering with youth, or providing career guidance to students like me, I believe lifting others is part of my responsibility as a future nurse and a current leader. Public service, to me, means using whatever position you’re in—whether a student, a supervisor, or a neighbor—to make life more livable for someone else. This scholarship would lighten my financial load, yes—but more importantly, it would affirm the values I already strive to live every day. Thank you for your consideration.