I’ve chosen to pursue higher education because it represents more than just a degree—it symbolizes breaking generational cycles and creating a future filled with purpose, stability, and opportunity. As a first-generation college student from a single-parent household, I carry the weight of my family’s sacrifices and dreams on my shoulders. My mother, a single Latina woman, has worked tirelessly to raise me on her own. Despite the financial and emotional hardships, she always made sure I had the support and encouragement to chase my ambitions. Watching her struggle, yet never give up, taught me that perseverance is non-negotiable—and that education is the most powerful tool I can use to honor her sacrifices. My journey to college has not been easy. I currently work over 50 hours a week at LA General Medical Center while taking classes, in order to pay for my tuition and support myself. Balancing full-time work with school has been one of the most difficult challenges I’ve faced. There are days when I barely sleep, rushing from long shifts to late-night study sessions. But I do it because I know what’s at stake. I do it because I know that my hard work now will open doors—not just for me, but for my future family, and for others in my community who see me as proof that it’s possible. Growing up, there was no roadmap to college. I couldn’t turn to my mom for help with FAFSA forms, course registration, or understanding college lingo. I had to figure it all out on my own, often through trial and error. But that’s also where I learned resilience. I became resourceful, seeking out mentorship, researching scholarships, and making connections that helped me navigate this unfamiliar world. I leaned into every opportunity to grow—whether it was volunteering in music therapy with children with disabilities, taking on leadership roles in high school ASB, or guiding younger students through their own academic paths. I’ve also channeled my experiences into a passion for the medical field. I plan to attend Cal Poly Pomona and eventually lead my own research project—one that I believe could revolutionize the way we approach healthcare in underrepresented communities. This goal is deeply personal to me because I’ve seen how cultural and financial barriers can prevent families like mine from accessing proper care or understanding medical systems. I want to bridge that gap and use my degree to empower others who are often overlooked. Choosing higher education is my way of rewriting my story and building a future that reflects the strength of my mother, the determination in my heart, and the belief that no dream is too big if you’re willing to work for it. As a first-generation Latina woman, I know that the path is steep—but every step I take is proof that I am capable, worthy, and ready to make a difference.

My interest in the medical field began at a young age, driven by a special desire to help others, whether the impact was big or small. I've always been fascinated by the workings of life and the complexity of the human body. The idea of being able to care for people while understanding the intricate processes within the body has always intrigued me. However, as I grew older, this fascination turned into a hunger for deeper knowledge. A pivotal moment that solidified my passion for medicine occurred during my elementary school years. One day, a tragic accident happened at school where a student’s five fingers were completely severed from their hand. My mother, who was nearby, heard the child's screams and immediately ran to help. With her experience as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA), she instinctively knew what to do. While the school nurse and staff were in shock, unsure of how to handle the situation, my mother took action. She carefully picked up the severed fingers with gloves, applied pressure to the wound , and quickly prepared an ice bath. The staff was astonished, unable to fully process what had happened, but I was captivated by the calm and decisive way my mother handled the emergency. The thrill and excitement of that day are something I'll never forget. Witnessing my mother switch into action mode ignited a desire in me to do the same. That was the moment I knew I wanted to pursue a career in the medical field. Following that incident, I started helping my mom study for her nursing classes. I would quiz her with flashcards filled with medical terminology, and she would patiently explain each term to me. She’d then grab her anatomy book and walk me through the structures of the human body. I still remember laughing at the word “coccyx,” stumbling over its pronunciation. She showed me how to properly listen to my heart, I became mesmerized by the rhythm it created. My eyes widened with fascination as I listened to the steady beat, and then she taught me how to take my pulse. I closed my eyes, feeling the rapid thud of my heartbeat pulsing through my fingertips, and in that moment, I knew that this was what I wanted to dedicate my life to. This set the foundation for my desire to gain a deeper understanding of the medical field. I want to use the knowledge I acquire to help those who don't understand the importance of health. The lessons my mother taught me not only sparked my passion for medicine but also inspired me to help others in the same way she helped that child in need. Volunteering for 4 years at LAC+USC, I spent every break and holiday in the daycare. I learned how to create a safe nurturing space for children and lead them to become great human beings. Volunteering allowed me to be a clerk in HR, leading up to pursuing the medical field even further. I applied to the Eve and Gene program which had over 800 applicants and my insight question stood out. Giving me the possibility to work in the trauma center, OR, Morgue and Pediatrics. Sadly, I turned it down for a permanent job. Living the reality of intensive labor to what seems like a fantasy. This job and the intensive labor I had procured were worth it. I now work at Harbor UCLA Medical Center as an operator. Climbing up to a taste of success has now made me more ambitious to further the extent of my abilities and future career choices.

My interest in the medical field began at a young age, driven by a special desire to help others, whether the impact was big or small. I've always been fascinated by the workings of life and the complexity of the human body. The idea of being able to care for people while understanding the intricate processes within the body has always intrigued me. However, as I grew older, this fascination turned into a hunger for deeper knowledge. A pivotal moment that solidified my passion for medicine occurred during my elementary school years. One day, a tragic accident happened at school where a student’s five fingers were completely severed from their hand. My mother, who was nearby, heard the child's screams and immediately ran to help. With her experience as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA), she instinctively knew what to do. While the school nurse and staff were in shock, unsure of how to handle the situation, my mother took action. She carefully picked up the severed fingers with gloves, applied pressure to the wound using a white tablecloth, and quickly prepared an ice bath. The staff was astonished, unable to fully process what had happened, but I was captivated by the calm and decisive way my mother handled the emergency. The thrill and excitement of that day are something I'll never forget. Witnessing my mother switch into action mode ignited a desire in me to do the same. That was the moment I knew I wanted to pursue a career in the medical field. Following that incident, I started helping my mom study for her nursing classes. I would quiz her with flashcards filled with medical terminology, and she would patiently explain each term to me. She’d then grab her anatomy book and walk me through the structures of the human body. I still remember laughing at the word “coccyx,” stumbling over its pronunciation. My mom just smiled and handed me a stethoscope. As she showed me how to properly listen to my heart, I became mesmerized by the rhythm it created. My eyes widened with fascination as I listened to the steady beat, and then she taught me how to take my pulse. I closed my eyes, feeling the rapid thud of my heartbeat pulsing through my fingertips, and in that moment, I knew that this was what I wanted to dedicate my life to. This experience set the foundation for my desire to gain a deeper understanding of the medical field. I want to use the knowledge I acquire to become a bridge for those who may not fully understand the importance of health. The lessons my mother taught me not only sparked my passion for medicine but also inspired me to help others in the same way she helped that child in need.

My interest in the medical field began at a young age, driven by a special desire to help others, whether the impact was big or small. I've always been fascinated by the workings of life and the complexity of the human body. The idea of being able to care for people while understanding the intricate processes within the body has always intrigued me. However, as I grew older, this fascination turned into a hunger for deeper knowledge. A pivotal moment that solidified my passion for medicine occurred during my elementary school years. One day, a tragic accident happened at school where a student’s five fingers were completely severed from their hand. My mother, who was nearby, heard the child's screams and immediately ran to help. With her experience as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA), she instinctively knew what to do. While the school nurse and staff were in shock, unsure of how to handle the situation, my mother took action. She carefully picked up the severed fingers with gloves, applied pressure to the wound using a white tablecloth, and quickly prepared an ice bath. The staff was astonished, unable to fully process what had happened, but I was captivated by the calm and decisive way my mother handled the emergency. The thrill and excitement of that day are something I'll never forget. Witnessing my mother switch into action mode ignited a desire in me to do the same. That was the moment I knew I wanted to pursue a career in the medical field. Following that incident, I started helping my mom study for her nursing classes. I would quiz her with flashcards filled with medical terminology, and she would patiently explain each term to me. She’d then grab her anatomy book and walk me through the structures of the human body. I still remember laughing at the word “coccyx,” stumbling over its pronunciation. My mom just smiled and handed me a stethoscope. As she showed me how to properly listen to my heart, I became mesmerized by the rhythm it created. My eyes widened with fascination as I listened to the steady beat, and then she taught me how to take my pulse. I closed my eyes, feeling the rapid thud of my heartbeat pulsing through my fingertips, and in that moment, I knew that this was what I wanted to dedicate my life to. This experience set the foundation for my desire to gain a deeper understanding of the medical field. I want to use the knowledge I acquire to become a bridge for those who may not fully understand the importance of health. The lessons my mother taught me not only sparked my passion for medicine but also inspired me to help others in the same way she helped that child in need. My progress has reached the depth of working at Los Angeles General Medical Center which has helped me create connections with people within the medical field and strive towards nursing.

My interest in the medical field began at a young age, driven by a special desire to help others, whether the impact was big or small. I've always been fascinated by the workings of life and the complexity of the human body. The idea of being able to care for people while understanding the intricate processes within the body has always intrigued me. However, as I grew older, this fascination turned into a hunger for deeper knowledge. A pivotal moment that solidified my passion for medicine occurred during my elementary school years. One day, a tragic accident happened at school where a student’s five fingers were completely severed from their hand. My mother, who was nearby, heard the child's screams and immediately ran to help. With her experience as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA), she instinctively knew what to do. While the school nurse and staff were in shock, unsure of how to handle the situation, my mother took action. She carefully picked up the severed fingers with gloves, applied pressure to the wound using a white tablecloth, and quickly prepared an ice bath. The staff was astonished, unable to fully process what had happened, but I was captivated by the calm and decisive way my mother handled the emergency. The thrill and excitement of that day are something I'll never forget. Witnessing my mother switch into action mode ignited a desire in me to do the same. That was the moment I knew I wanted to pursue a career in the medical field. Following that incident, I started helping my mom study for her nursing classes. I would quiz her with flashcards filled with medical terminology, and she would patiently explain each term to me. She’d then grab her anatomy book and walk me through the structures of the human body. I still remember laughing at the word “coccyx,” stumbling over its pronunciation. My mom just smiled and handed me a stethoscope. As she showed me how to properly listen to my heart, I became mesmerized by the rhythm it created. My eyes widened with fascination as I listened to the steady beat, and then she taught me how to take my pulse. I closed my eyes, feeling the rapid thud of my heartbeat pulsing through my fingertips, and in that moment, I knew that this was what I wanted to dedicate my life to. This experience set the foundation for my desire to gain a deeper understanding of the medical field. I want to use the knowledge I acquire to become a bridge for those who may not fully understand the importance of health. The lessons my mother taught me not only sparked my passion for medicine but also inspired me to help others in the same way she helped that child in need.

Growing up in a Catholic household, I was taught to respect God and His ways of creation. I learned that His challenges could never be greater than mine and that His sacrifices were for the salvation of mankind. One day, while memorizing prayers, a sentence was spoken by my pastor that would stick with me: "Being gay is a sin." He said that anyone who was gay should be hated. As a child eager to learn, I went to church every day, excited to absorb something new—until the day my brother came out to our church and family. "I'm gay," he said proudly. The word "gay" became the most repulsive word I had ever heard. In my mind, being gay was a sin, a defiance of God that would surely lead to hell. I resented my brother, disgusted by his actions and who he truly was. But then, something happened that turned my world upside down. I was moved to sit next to a girl in church who had purple fake highlights. As the days passed, I found myself looking forward to seeing her. My heart began to race, and I started having strange feelings towards her. Was I gay? Was I a sinner too? How could I rid myself of this curse that had befallen me? I began to dread going to church. Every time I saw her, I knew I felt something, but I didn’t understand it. In my confusion and fear, I began taking long showers, scrubbing my skin until it became raw, trying to cleanse myself of what I was beginning to realize about my identity. I prayed to God every night, begging Him to take away these feelings. But nothing worked. Living, eating, and breathing the Bible didn’t change who I was. Repressing and denying my true self only deepened my inner turmoil. Eventually, I came out. I told my mother, and though she was confused, she accepted me with open arms. The relief I felt at that moment was overwhelming, but the thoughts that followed consumed me. I faced hate at school and questioned whether I would go to heaven if I stopped being gay. I even began to question if God was real. The Bible verse, "You shall not lie with a male as with a woman. It is an abomination" (Leviticus 18:22), confirmed what I had been taught—that being gay was a sin, a violation of divine law. But over time, my perspective began to shift. I started to see religion as a construct, a way to impose discipline and order on society, rather than a path to individual fulfillment. Teachings like "sinners go to hell" and "good behavior is rewarded with heaven" seemed designed to prevent chaos rather than address the true needs and desires of people. Slowly, I began to shed the minimalist and conservative mindset I had been taught. I freed myself from the shackles of my past beliefs. It felt like burying my former self and leaving a tombstone behind. With a metaphorical shovel in hand, I walked away from the grave of my old identity and began truly living.

Pedophiles are often seen as products of their genetics, like a poor hand dealt in a poker game. My name is Yajaira Castellanos, and I’m a sophomore at Cal Poly Pomona this fall, majoring in Criminology, though my true passion lies in Science and Genetics. Growing up in a low-income household as a first-generation college student, I knew I had to pursue something I was deeply passionate about. From a young age, science captivated me, particularly the intricate workings of the human body. Being raised in a Hispanic household came with its own set of challenges and benefits. Unfortunately, one of the negative aspects was the use of discouraging incentives rather than positive reinforcement. This environment, combined with other factors, led to a dark chapter in my life—one in which I became a survivor of abuse by a family member for 12 years. This personal experience sparked a significant discovery that could potentially revolutionize the field of medicine. Over the past few years, working at LA General Medical Center and Harbor UCLA Medical Center, I’ve encountered numerous situations that deepened my fascination with medical science and led me to develop my own research project. This project, which began in 11th grade, focuses on genetic anomalies—specifically those that might contribute to pedophilic behavior. My own story inspired me to pursue this research. As a survivor of abuse, I am driven by the desire to prevent others from enduring similar trauma. It might seem unusual for an 11th grader to dive into such a topic, but after learning about the alarming statistics of women assaulted by family members, I felt a deep need to explore the genetic underpinnings of such behaviors. My goal is not only to understand these anomalies but also to find a cure, offering hope to those affected and helping them overcome the fear that society often instills in them. This research could have broader implications as well. The genetic links I’m investigating share similarities with other diseases, making this project potentially beneficial in multiple areas of medicine. However, to bring this research to fruition, I need financial support. Obtaining a research grant and scholarships would provide me with the tools and resources necessary to advance this work. When I first started this project, I believed it was a long shot. The information available was scarce, and even my teachers questioned my choice of topic. However, some bold topics need to be explored in order to better understand and address them. Although I am passionate about this research, I lack the financial stability to move forward. A scholarship would tremendously help me get started, and I firmly believe that with the right support, I can make a significant impact by finding a cure and changing society’s perspective.

"Madre solo hay una, y como la mía ninguna," which translates to "There is only one mother, and there is no mother like mine." My mother raised me and my two siblings in a low-income household, where the simplest meals, like coffee and bread, were often all we could afford. We couldn’t indulge in the finer things, like brand-name clothing or new toys. Instead, we spent hours at the Salvation Army, picking out school clothes and other necessities. My mother always sacrificed herself, often at the expense of her health, to ensure her children were well taken care of. She would come home at 2 a.m. from one job and leave again at 7 a.m. for another. Because of this grueling schedule, she rarely had time to spend with me. I spent most holidays and school breaks longing for the moments we could be together. But as time went by, I grew older, and at just 7 years old, I found myself taking on responsibilities beyond my years. I began making dinner and lunch for my family while my brothers played video games in the living room. Although I was the youngest, I took on parental responsibilities to shield my brothers from the harsh realities of our situation. I quickly lost the carefree mindset of childhood and instead developed a strong sense of self-discipline. My mother didn’t pressure me about my responsibilities because she had her heavy burdens to bear. As a result, I matured faster than my peers, learning about the world and growing up in ways that many of my friends wouldn’t experience until much later. At 17, I look back and sometimes wish I had the childhood my friends had—the kind where you don’t worry about the future or bills, and instead are cherished and cared for until you’re ready to face the world. My mother wasn’t there for me as much as I wanted her to be when I was young, and I often felt neglected, wondering, "Why isn’t she here for me?" But now that I’m older, I look at my mother with awe. How does a single mother do it all? She kept our family together through so many challenges—from my grandmother’s passing to finding resources for my brother with autism, all while working two jobs and enduring impossible shifts to pay the bills. My mother is the epitome of everything I strive to be—hardworking, determined, and passionate. Watching her push herself and always encouraging me to strive for excellence ignited a fire within me to reach for the impossible. I often feel like I pale in comparison to my mother, who not only struggled alone but also learned English to pursue the career she wanted. Watching her study to become a CNA, despite not understanding the language, inspired me to push myself even harder. She taught me that nothing worth having in life comes easily, and that is one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned.

"Madre solo hay una, y como la mia ninguna", in other words, there is only one mother and there is no mother like mine. My mother raised me in a low-income household with 2 other siblings. She always fed us coffee with bread, as it was the cheapest thing we could afford and eat. We couldn't afford the finer things in life such as brand clothing or unopened toys. We would spend hours at Salvation Army picking out our school clothes and other necessities. Over time, my mother always sacrificed herself even if it was for her health. As long as her children were in tip-top shape. She would come at 2 am from a long shift and then leave again at 7 am for her second job. Due to this instability, she rarely spent time with me. I spent most of my holidays and school breaks longing to be with her anytime I could but, as time went by, so did my age. At 7 years old, I was making my family dinner and lunch. My brothers would sit in the living room playing video games as I cooked. I started to take over the parental responsibilities so, my brothers wouldn't be as affected although I was the youngest. I started to lose that childlike mindset rapidly so, I built in a lot of self-discipline because of it. My mom didn't pester me about my responsibilities because she had her own. Due to this, I became more mature and learned things about the world and about growing up that my friends didn't learn until much later. At age 17, I look back and I long for the childhood I wish I had. Seeing how friends around me didn't even have a plan for the future or worry about bills. I wish I had that sense of unawareness of the world, that you're cherished and cared for until you can mentally respond to the world. My mother wasn't there for me as a child, I look back and see what a role model she became for her daughter. When I was little, I often felt neglected, "Why isn't she here for me?" Now that I'm older, I look at my mother in jaw-dropping awe. How does a single mother do it all? She maintained our family together under so many situations. From my grandmother passing away to finding resources for my brother that has autism. To struggling with 2 jobs and working impossible shifts to pay bills. My mother is the epitome of how I will always strive to be. Hardworking, determined, and passionate. Watching her push herself and then her always making me strive towards excellence. It ignited this fire within me of wanting to reach the impossible. I feel as if I fail in comparison to my mother who not only struggled alone, she learned English to get the career she wanted. Seeing her studying to become a CNA and not understanding the language inspired me to push myself. She's taught me that nothing worth having in life comes easily, and it's one of the most valuable lessons I've ever learned

Pedophiles are simply products of their genome like a poor hand dealt in a poker game. Hi, my name is Yajaira Castellanos and I’m an incoming freshman at Cal Poly Pomona for this fall. My major is Criminology although my passion is Science and Genetics. Growing up in a low-income, first-generation to attend college, it was built in me to succeed, I had to do something I was passionate about. Science intrigued me when I was younger, I had this eager and oozing satisfaction learning about the body and how it functioned. Having been raised in a Hispanic household it also had its pros and cons like any family. It was normal for families to use negative and discouraging incentives as opposed to positive and uplifting ones. This sadly led to me becoming a survivor of abuse by one of my family members that continued for 12 years of my life. This has led me to a huge discovery that would break the world of medicine as we see it. In these past years of being in the medical field, working at LA General Medical Center and Harbor UCLA Medical Center. I experienced hands-on situations in these hospitals which led me to the fascination of my own project. This project began in 11th grade about genetic anomalies. I wanted to pursue this since my own story intrigued me. Being a survivor of abuse by a pedophile, I don't want other people to go through the same situation I have been in. It may be strange that an 11th grader would research such a topic, but after seeing the horrific statistics of how many women have been assaulted by their own family members also, I developed an aspiration to cure it. Giving me hope for those who have this anomaly and helping them overcome this fear within themselves and society. This topic had similarities and linkage with two other diseases which would also be beneficial to cure. I want to have the opportunity to get a research grant, and scholarships, to provide me with the tools and resources to further my research. Beginning this project, I believed it was insane, with how very little of the information was public. Even my teachers called me crazy for choosing such a topic. But some bold topics must be brought to light in an effort to understand them better. Although I have this research project I would love to pursue, I don’t have the financial stability to start. This scholarship would tremendously help in getting me started and ultimately I see the hope in finding this cure and changing society’s perspective.

Being raised in a catholic household, I was told to respect god and his ways of creation. That his challenges can never be greater than mine. Pinned at his own stake, resurrected, and created for the life of mankind. One day I was reciting the prayers given to me to memorize and was told this sentence that stuck with me. ¨Being gay is a sin” said my pastor. Being gay is a sin and I should hate anyone that is gay. Going to church every day, excited to learn something new. Until my brother came out to my church and family. ¨I´m gay¨ he said proudly. Gay was the most retching word I heard in my life. Being gay was a sin and anything opposed to god would be sent to hell. I resented my brother, disgusted at his actions and who he truly was. I went back to church and was moved to sit next to this girl that had purple fake highlights. As the days went by I looked forward to seeing her. My heart started to patter and I started to have these weird feelings for her. Was I gay? Was I a sinner too? How do I be rid of this curse that was bestowed upon me? I dreaded going to church every day after that. I saw her and I knew I felt something towards her. Every day I took showers and cleansed my body and soul from what I started to realize I was. I scrubbed until the dirt and skin of my brown tone started to become brash and red. I began praying to god every night and begging him to take being gay away, it didn’t work. Practically living, eating, and breathing the Bible, didn’t work. I tried repressing and denying who I was but even that didn´t work. I came out. I told my mother and she was confused but accepted me with open arms. Never have I felt relief in my life than at that moment. Thoughts started to consume me as I came out to everyone and I got more hate in middle school. Would I go to heaven if I stopped being gay? I started to question if god is real. “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman. It is an abomination.” Leviticus 18:22. This bible verse from the excerpt ¨Is it a sin to be gay¨ confirmed that being gay was a sin. Sleeping beside a man as a gay male was a sin and it should always be with a woman. Giving in to these lusts as the except said is a sin to do. The concept of religion perhaps only existed to bring discipline to society. ‘‘People who do sins go to hell’, and ‘good behavior is rewarded with heaven in the afterlife’ - all these teachings seemed to serve only one purpose, to ensure society doesn’t go into havoc. It had nothing to do with an individual’s needs or wants, it was only for maintaining order in society. I started to let go of this minimalistic approach and conservative mindset that I was taught. I began to let myself free of the shackles that I once was buried too. Dug my own grave and left a tombstone of my former self with a shovel in my hand. I walked away from this corpse and began living.

Being raised in a catholic household, I was told to respect god and his ways of creation. That his challenges can never be greater than mine. Pinned at his own stake, resurrected, and created for the life of mankind. His challenges were told over and over in my ear until they bled through my mind. One day I was reciting the prayers given to me to memorize and was told this sentence that stuck with me. ¨Being gay is a sin” said my pastor. Being gay is a sin and I should hate anyone that is gay. Going to church every day, excited to learn something new. Until my brother came out to my church and family. ¨I´m gay¨ he said proudly. Gay was the most retching word I heard in my life. Being gay was a sin and anything opposed to god would be sent to hell. I resented my brother, disgusted at his actions and who he truly was. I went back to church and was moved to sit next to this girl that had purple fake highlights. As the days went by I looked forward to seeing her. My heart started to patter and I started to have these weird feelings for her. Was I gay? Was I a sinner too? How do I be rid of this curse that was bestowed upon me? Every day I took showers and cleansed my body and soul from what I started to realize I was. I scrubbed until the dirt and skin of my brown tone started to become brash and red. I began praying to god every night and begging him to take being gay away, but it didn’t work. I came out. I told my mother and she was confused but accepted me with open arms. Never have I felt relief in my life than that moment? Thoughts started to consume me as I came out to everyone and I got more hate in middle school. I started to mold myself more into who I was and accept my sexuality from a group of kids in my age at school. Some were closeted and some weren't. They helped me become more secure and feel at ease of being myself without judgment. On one particular day, we all decided to come out in public to everyone in middle school and yell at the top of our lungs. It felt refreshing, and I soon realized this is the community and family that accepted me. I have always been a fanatic about science and being in the medical field. Being lgbt+ and in the medical field as a major in biology and minor in genetics, will help me and others become comfortable in being uniquely themselves without the fear of judgment in healthcare. Would I go to heaven if I stopped being gay? The concept of religion perhaps only existed to bring discipline to society. ‘‘People who do sins go to hell’, and ‘good behavior is rewarded with heaven in the afterlife’ - all these teachings seemed to serve only one purpose, to ensure society doesn’t go into havoc. It had nothing to do with an individual’s needs or wants, it was only for maintaining order in society. I started to let go of this minimalistic approach and conservative mindset that I was taught. I began to let myself free of the shackles that I once was buried too. Dug my own grave and left a tombstone of my former self with a shovel in my hand. I walked away from this corpse and began living.

From a young age, I have been fascinated by the workings of life as well as seeing how complex the body is. The aspects which fascinate me most are being able to help and care for people whilst understanding the complex processes which happen within the human body. However, there was a growing hunger for further knowledge. A specific moment that captivated my interest was an experience I had witnessed with my mother. During elementary school, there was an incident regarding a student that resulted in their 5 fingers completely severed from their hand. My mother was coincidentally nearby and heard the screaming wails of the child and ran to him. She did have medical experience since she has a certificate pertaining to her career as a CNA. The school nurse and on-campus staff had no idea how to approach this bizarre incident. My mother instinctively grabbed the fingers with gloves and hurried to assist him. She grabbed his hand with a white tablecloth and applied pressure to the wound as she quickly made an ice bath. The whole staff was astonished not having processed what had happened in front of them. Having firsthand witnessed this event, the thrill and excitement from that day is one I will never forget. A switch flipped off in her and I crave the ability to do the same. That was a key moment in my life that made me want to pursue a career in the medical field. Soon after I began to help my mom study for her nursing classes. Grabbing flashcards filled with medical terminology and asking her what all of them meant. She’d explain it and would grab her anatomy book, explaining all of the structures in the human body. I laughed at the word “coccyx”, having this rendering tongue-twisting flavor on my tongue. She just smiled and handed me a stethoscope. As she showed me how to properly listen to my heart, I began to listen to the rhythm my heart created. I felt my eyes begin to dilate and grow in a way never before. Fascinated by the beating of my own heart, she showed me more basic steps. Grabbing my two fingers and sliding it amongst my wrist, showing me how to take my pulse—feeling and closing my eyes of the rapid beat of my heart and the sensation lingering on my fingertips of my pulse. This is when I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life gaining a deeper understanding of the medical field and using the knowledge I’ll gain to be a bridge to those who may not fully understand the importance of health.

“You have to leave and do better things for yourself, Yajaira,” my supervisor stated. “Why do I have to leave, I’m just getting started?” I asked. I could never believe that volunteering at daycare would feel like home. When I turned 13, I was told I could not be taken care of, so I repaid the favor, by volunteering for 4 years at LAC+USC Medical Center. I filled the void I had from my childhood by volunteering at a daycare. Mending the inner child that was once broken, I began expanding my knowledge in the medical field and healing old scars. I would tend and take care of the children as if they were my own. Slowly, I healed my inner child with the children I took care of. Ever since becoming a volunteer, I built a family with my coworkers. I spent countless days in that daycare and I left with memories that would shape me into a more approachable person. Making me more tender. I learned how to create a safe nurturing space for children while leading them to become great human beings which led me to the opportunity of doing music therapy. A weekly routine at the daycare was to have a drum circle with all of the children. On one particular day, it just so happened that two of these kids had a disability. One had autism with sensory issues and the other was deaf and blind. I wanted both of them to still participate in our weekly music circle despite the challenges it may present. I thought that the music would overwhelm the girl with sensory issues, but to my surprise, she enjoyed the music so much that she would clap to the rhythm of the beat. Meanwhile, I guided the little boy that was deaf and blind, by putting his hand over the bell of my horn. This action allowed him to feel the vibrations coming out, without needing the sound waves to enjoy the music. He softly put his hand on the bell of my horn and would smile at the feeling of the cold brass. Afterward, I guided him onto a bongo and allowed him to feel the sensations and movement it created. He started to bang the bongos making music of his own. This created a tender moment, not only for these kids who were able to develop a healthy connection with music but also for me, since I was able to feel whole as a person, knowing they were given the accommodations and access to also enjoy music as well. Music is not just about people playing and listening to it, it also allows participants to experience a range of emotions and gain a deeper understanding. For disabled children, being able to feel the vibrations allowed for the rhythm to take over their bodies. Anyone can enjoy music whether they have a disability or not and I want to be that bridge between the medical field and music. The reality of intensive labor and drudgery I had endured volunteering became worth it. Climbing to higher levels of success has made me more ambitious to strengthen my abilities and career choices in which this scholarship will help me financially to continue my studies in the medical field and mix that with the tenderness I learned over these years volunteering. Volunteering opened this connection to care deeply about people and patients in the hospital. This scholarship will greatly benefit my low-income household and be able to sustain myself for college,

Pedophiles are simply products of their genome like a poor hand dealt in a poker game. Hi, my name is Yajaira Castellanos and I’m an incoming freshman at Cal Poly Pomona for this fall. My major is Criminology although my passion is Science and Genetics. Growing up in a low-income, first-generation to attend college, it was built in me to succeed, I had to do something I was passionate about. Science intrigued me when I was younger, I had this eager and oozing satisfaction learning about the body and how it functioned. Having been raised in a Hispanic household it also had its pros and cons like any family. It was normal for families to use negative and discouraging incentives as opposed to positive and uplifting ones. This sadly led to me becoming a survivor of abuse by one of my family members that continued for 12 years of my life. This has led me to a huge discovery that would break the world of medicine as we see it. In these past years of being in the medical field, working at LA General Medical Center and Harbor UCLA Medical Center. I experienced hands-on situations in these hospitals which led me to the fascination of my own project. This project began in 11th grade about genetic anomalies. I wanted to pursue this since my own story intrigued me. Being a survivor of abuse by a pedophile, I don't want other people to go through the same situation I have been in. It may be strange that an 11th grader would research such a topic, but after seeing the horrific statistics of how many women have been assaulted by their own family members also, I developed an aspiration to cure it. Giving me hope for those who have this anomaly and helping them overcome this fear within themselves and society. This topic had similarities and linkage with two other diseases which would also be beneficial to cure. I want to have the opportunity to get a research grant, and scholarships, to provide me with the tools and resources to further my research. Beginning this project, I believed it was insane, with how very little of the information was public. Even my teachers called me crazy for choosing such a topic. But some bold topics must be brought to light in an effort to understand them better. Although I have this research project I would love to pursue, I don’t have the financial stability to start. This scholarship would tremendously help in getting me started and ultimately I see the hope in finding this cure and changing society’s perspective.

Two lungs, one mouth, breathe. This shiny, complex instrument was bestowed upon my grubby hands. “Breathe into the mouthpiece,” said my teacher. I was one of 4 selected from 400 participants. “You have great lungs, Yajaira, I like your airflow,” said my teacher. I immediately indulged myself in music. I began piano at 4 years old and gradually progressed to the Clarinet, French horn, and Mellophone. My musical prowess created opportunities to meet musicians and create a diverse repertoire. Eight years of experience in French Horn led to more stability and consistency in my life. My skills increased rapidly and I became an expert in the field. Learning different instruments and feeling their unique vibrations made me feel more grounded. Closing my eyes allowed me to become one with the sound waves around me. Advancements in my abilities led to a solo at Walt Disney Concert Hall and leading roles at the Rose Bowl and Hollywood Bowl. These achievements are what led me to continue pursuing music as a hobby. Realizing the potential I have by earning solos and 1st chairs in most of the concerts I did, I started to unravel this other side of myself. I started to believe in myself more which, helped me gain the confidence I needed in my everyday life. Learning over 100 songs throughout a single year and developing vital leadership skills with my orchestra led to a more creative flow. Listening to and being involved in music has influenced my life so much that I feel incomplete without it. Music is not just about performance to me, it is also something I enjoy sharing with others. I was given the opportunity to do music therapy at LAC+USC for cancer patients. I remember walking into a room with crayons plastered on the bedside table and a brown teddy bear. In the room was a five-year-old girl with cancer, to whom I introduced myself and my French Horn. She had never seen an instrument or even heard live music. As sounds began vibrating from my French Horn, I saw how music benefited and helped her escape reality for a bit. This moment ignited a fire within me. I realized that my music can make a large impact on others. Helping hospital patients in need has helped me combine my passion for both medicine and music. With that passion, I will ensure my music and education are used to help improve society.

Throughout my life, I have dedicated every waking second to healthcare. Coming from a lineage of women who were nurses and doctors on my mother's side, I also pursue healthcare. The problem I would solve would be access to good free healthcare. I have been working at hospitals and volunteering but, the sad note is that most hospitals drench the pockets of people who are in poverty or lower class. Giving them more medications, surgeries, and more pain becomes endless to them, leeching off them for their own paychecks. I want to create a free healthcare clinic that helps people who cannot pay for affordable or even "good" doctors. I've seen people lose loved ones because they can't even pay their medical bills or they'll run out of their prescripted drug medication and they can't pay for it anymore. It's heartbreaking to see people suffer over something that should be affordable or even free at most. Working at Harbor UCLA Medical Center, I take emergency phone calls and am a telecommunications operator. I hear every day of people's struggles and worries. From my dad is missing to how much would the ambulance be?". I hate having to answer and sadly say "Yes we take medicare but, anything extra that won't cover it would be out of pocket for you". Something that becomes a stress factor not only for them but, for whoever is looking for treatment. So many people are left on the streets because hospitals push them out for more bedrooms. More patients in but, more on the streets left unattended medical advice and injuries. Every day I try to help at least one person that I see. Whether it can be a simple, conversation with someone on the bus or a homeless person. I try to help as many people as I can or able to. I've donated my time to children with cancer and do music therapy to volunteer with babies that have autism. If I get funded with the right materials and the right people, I can help shape the world's perspective of healthcare whether it be free or even as a simple step as giving homeless people free nursing advice and helping them with minor injuries they may have. Becoming a bridge to those in need is all I want to do in my life. Helping people is in my blood and having the opportunity to, would be life-changing not only for me but, for other lives as well.