We have all had a teacher who was as influential as a parent or guardian. That teacher in my life was my high school ceramics teacher, Mr. Emery. He taught me lessons about clay, yes, but more importantly, he taught me lessons about life and the way our minds shape the reality we live in. His extravagant and, for lack of a better description, off-the-wall teaching methods impacted me just as much as discovering my passion for creativity. Whether it was walking into his classroom one day to find him wearing a suit covered in square pieces of a mirror with a white spiral painted on his hands and face, or listening to him lecture about 'what we actually know' or how to be in awe by the simple beauty of everyday life, Mr. Emery stretched the minds of his students. It was in his classroom I began learning that it is not about what happens to us in life that defines us, it is about how we react to it that does. I was in his class when my dad was in a near-fatal car crash, putting him in a hospital for months. Mr. Emery provided a safe space for me to freely express myself and make sense of tragedy. The clay soaked up the combination of disbelief, grief, and sorrow, and wheel-throwing brought mental peace from the worry and stress. I signed up to be his student aid the same semester I was taking ceramics with him, so every other day, I spent my entire school day with him. At the end of the year when I faced the first, and most traumatizing life event I have yet to experience, his class was the only place I wanted to be. I remember Mr. Emery speaking about heartache and trauma, and I remember noticing his own suffering. He never told us what was going on but something was plaguing him. I watched as he consumed himself with his own creative practice like he was pushing the sorrow out of himself and into the clay. Whether he realized it or not, he taught me the power of healing through creative expression. Without his mentorship, I might have become an angry, resentful person. I might have missed the reasons to still be grateful. I moved forward with a more open mind for life. The entire course of my family's lives changed from my dad's crash. Three years later, the childhood home my parents built with their own hands was foreclosed on. As a result, I had to financially support myself at the age of 17. Once I graduated high school, I began traveling and moving a lot, trying to find my place and purpose. All the while, I carried with me the lessons I had learned from Mr. Emery; be in awe, question everything, and passionately express yourself. In College, I experienced depression for the first time. My responsibility as a soccer coach was the only thing I felt any excitement for. The mentorship gave me purpose and meaning when I couldn't find any in life. Years later, when a dear friend suddenly died three days after a partner ended our relationship, I poured myself into charcoal, facing loss and death. These obstacles are pieces of my story, but they do not define who I am. I am still in awe because I find gratitude every single day. I am not afraid of heartache because I know how to express it through the creative arts. And I know my purpose because it is what gets me out of bed every day with excitement; to be like Mr. Emery, to be a teacher who inspires awe, passion, and a positive mindset. I decided to become an art teacher in the summer of 2020. The Covid-19 pandemic altered life as the entire world knew it, and in my eyes, younger generations suffered the worst of it. Everything positive and healthy was taken away from them, and their mental health paid the price. Reading news stories about the skyrocketing suicide, anxiety, and depression rates in teenagers struck a personal chord in my heart. I found my purpose. The creative arts have always been a part of me; my mom raised her children with craft, drawing, painting, and dancing days. Meanwhile, life experience taught me that expressing myself through creative practice will guide me through the toughest times and guide necessary healing. I hope to pass these lessons on to the generations after me.

When my dad was in a near-fatal car crash during my senior year of high school, ceramics and dance allowed me to express and work through difficult emotions. Three years later, when we lost my childhood home my father had built with his own two hands to foreclosure, writing was my sacred space to let go and heal. When I faced depression in College, coaching soccer was the only responsibility that got me out of bed. And when a dear friend and business partner suddenly died, charcoal was my way of processing death and making something beautiful from those dark feelings. The music I danced to, the charcoal horse and goat I drew and the journals I wrote are the most important pieces of art to me. They tell the story of human suffering and perseverance through it. The creative arts have always been a part of me; my mom raised her children with craft, drawing, painting, and dancing days. Meanwhile, life experience taught me that expressing myself through creative practice will guide me through the toughest times and guide necessary healing. Ultimately, through dancing, drawing, writing, and being a mentor, I found immense gratitude and a life purpose. I am passionate about the arts because they helped form most of what I believe is important in life: gratitude, love, health, and expression. Now, it is my turn to share this powerful relationship with others. I decided to become an art teacher in the summer of 2020. The Covid-19 pandemic altered life as the entire world knew it, and in my eyes, younger generations suffered the worst of it. Everything positive and healthy was taken away from them, and their mental health paid the price. Reading news stories about the skyrocketing suicide, anxiety, and depression rates in teenagers struck a personal chord in my heart. Recognizing that creative arts had gotten me through the worst and toughest moments of my life, I knew I needed to become an art teacher. We have all had a teacher who was as influential as a parent or guardian. That teacher in my life was my high school ceramics teacher, Mr. Emery. He taught me lessons about clay, yes, but more importantly, he taught me lessons about life and the way our minds shape the reality we live in. His extravagant and, for lack of a better description, off-the-wall teaching methods impacted me just as much as discovering yet another creative art to express myself through. Whether it was walking into his classroom one day to find him wearing a suit covered in square pieces of a mirror with a white spiral painted on his hands and face, or listening to him lecture about 'what we actually know', Mr. Emery stretched the little minds of his students. It was in his classroom I began learning that it is not about what happens to us that defines us, it is about how we react to it that does. I was in his class when my dad crashed his truck. The clay soaked up the combination of disbelief, grief, and sorrow, and wheel-throwing brought mental peace from the worry and stress. Mr. Emery provided a safe space for me to freely express myself and make sense of tragedy. Without clay and his mentorship, I might have become an angry, resentful person. Today, 13 years later, my dad walks through life grateful and happier than he has ever been; and so do I. Thanks to the creative arts.

When I decided to go back to school in 2021, I didn't expect that a year later, I would have transferred 4 times and be set to graduate one full year ahead of schedule. I did expect myself to do well in school because I appreciate education exponentially more now than I did growing up; and I was mostly a straight A student through grade school. In the past year, my external environment has changed in many significant ways, while my character evolved at a different pace. Nonetheless, I am proud of my personal growth and achievement. I am proud to be on a path fulfilling my purpose. For the first time this year, I recognized myself as an adult woman, taking on great responsibility while pursuing a far off end goal. I first felt it this past summer when my partner and I moved from California to Washington state. A combination of circumstances brought us to this decision, most of which was the affordability of California. As teachers, we could never live a financially comfortable life there. At the time, I was in the middle of completing a bachelors degree and teaching credential. Not wanting to be in a long distance relationship, I decided to transfer colleges. But, I also refused to put my school on hold; most Universities' application deadlines had already passed by the time we knew we were moving. Before I was aware of it, I became remarkably determined. After hours spent searching through Colleges, making phone calls about late applications, and scouting out every possible option, I found Goddard College. Located in Vermont and Seattle, Goddard is a low residency format college. The structure of classes allows students to create their own curriculum while fulfilling all Education degree and teaching licensure requirements. It demands a diligent, self-motivated work ethic. Students must be highly self-accountable and determined. I am no exception. This schooling experience is the most disciplined I have ever needed to be, while taking on a host of other life responsibilities and adjusting to all the newness that comes with moving states. Driven by alignment with my purpose, I am on schedule to complete my studies a year faster than expected. Recognizing my ability to motivate myself and balance a plate-full of life has been empowering. I know I can succeed when I put my energy towards a goal, even when there are difficulties and setbacks. I feel confident in my ability to take care of myself and go after what I want. Maintaining a job, full-time school, volunteering in classrooms, and taking time for family and personal health is not easy. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I know why I am doing it and I know I can. I embrace and welcome change, because I know I will persevere through it.