Education has always been more than academics for me—it has been a source of stability, direction, and possibility. Growing up as the child of immigrant parents from Fuzhou, China, I witnessed firsthand the challenges of navigating a new country with limited resources, limited English, and limited opportunities. When my parents arrived in the United States in 2008 with two suitcases and unwavering determination, they had no roadmap—only hope.
Their sacrifices formed my earliest understanding of why education matters. I vividly remember watching my mother struggle to read a notice from my elementary school, her eyes scanning the English words in frustration. In those moments, I learned that education is not simply about degrees—it is a tool for elevating families, empowering communities, and breaking cycles of hardship. By age ten, I had become my parents’ unofficial translator, accompanying them to parent-teacher conferences, doctor’s appointments, and bill payment offices.
Throughout my schooling, education helped me discover who I wanted to become. Growing up between two cultures, I often felt caught in between—speaking Mandarin at home while navigating a school environment that valued self-expression and individuality. Balancing my parents’ traditional expectations with my own developing identity sometimes felt like walking a tightrope.
One of the most transformative parts of my educational journey began during my sophomore year, when I started volunteering with Green Futures, a nonprofit focused on neighborhood clean-up and environmental conservation in underserved areas. What started as a simple weekend activity quickly became something deeper. Green Futures focused on immigrant neighborhoods like mine, where overgrown lots, abandoned spaces, and illegal dumping were long-standing issues.
Volunteering showed me that leadership is built through action and responsibility. As I continued showing up, the program coordinator entrusted me with greater responsibilities. By junior year, I was managing supplies, coordinating teams of volunteers, and ensuring our events were safe and effective. I learned to delegate tasks, resolve conflicts, and communicate our mission to residents who were hesitant after seeing too many abandoned improvement projects.
One project stands out: transforming an abandoned lot on Maple Street into a community garden. I helped survey families about what they wanted to grow, researched permit requirements, and organized fundraising efforts that raised $3,200 for supplies. When we broke ground, more than 50 community members joined. Watching elderly Chinese immigrants planting bok choy and bitter melon in a space once filled with garbage showed me the power of combining education, organization, and community engagement. It was a tangible reminder that learning—when applied—can spark meaningful change.
Another defining experience has been my role as an English language instructor at Monterey Park Chinese Alliance Church, where I have taught for the past two years. Many of my students face the same obstacles my parents once did: difficulty navigating professional settings, communicating in emergencies, or understanding essential documents. My students, ranging from their thirties to their seventies, meet with me twice weekly to practice real-life English skills—from medical vocabulary to citizenship interview preparation.
Teaching has strengthened my patience, empathy, and understanding of the transformative power of accessible education. One student, Mr. Chen, a 58-year-old restaurant worker, had lived in the United States for 15 years yet still struggled with basic English. After six months in our program, he proudly showed me the first email he had ever written—an English message to his daughter in college. His hands trembled as he held the printed paper, eyes filled with tears. “Now I can talk to her myself,” he said. That moment crystallized for me how language, confidence, and education shape a person’s independence and dignity.
Despite these meaningful experiences, my journey has not been without challenges. Financial hardship has always been part of my life. During my freshman year, my father lost his job when his factory closed, leaving our family uncertain about whether we could remain in our apartment. I took a part-time job at a local boba shop, working 15–20 hours weekly while keeping up with school and community commitments. My parents’ limited formal education—my mother completing only middle school, my father high school—restricted them to manual labor and service jobs regardless of their intelligence, dedication, or potential.
Balancing academics, work, and responsibilities at home taught me resilience and time management. I often completed assignments on bus rides, studied during slow shifts, and learned to ask for help when I needed it. These challenges strengthened my determination to pursue higher education and shaped my academic interests.
Over time, I grew particularly drawn to business, finance, and economic development—fields that directly influence the opportunities available to families like mine. Through school, volunteering, and personal experiences, I recognized a clear pattern: a lack of financial knowledge, limited access to resources, and confusion surrounding complex systems often prevent immigrant and low-income families from achieving stability. My AP Economics course introduced me to concepts like credit building, investing, and asset management—topics that remain mysteries for many hardworking families in my community.
My long-term goal is to pursue a career in financial analysis or economic development and eventually establish a nonprofit focused on financial literacy, small-business support, and economic empowerment for immigrant communities. Education has given me the foundation to see how this vision can become reality. My business coursework provides technical skills in budgeting and financial planning; community service teaches me how to support and uplift others; and my upbringing gives me the empathy needed to serve underserved communities with understanding and respect.
I want to use my education not just to build a better future for myself, but to create opportunities for families facing the same challenges my own did. My hope is to design accessible programs that simplify financial information, support immigrant entrepreneurs, and empower individuals to make informed decisions about their futures. Many families do not lack motivation—they lack guidance, resources, and someone who understands their struggles.
For me, education is not the destination. It is the bridge—from my family’s past to a future where I can help others build stability, opportunity, and hope.