Hobbies and interests
Writing
Speech and Debate
Community Service And Volunteering
Reading
Academic
Classics
Economics
Criticism
Education
Literary Fiction
Sociology
Speculative Fiction
Philosophy
Short Stories
Social Science
True Story
Science Fiction
Reference
Travel
Psychology
Plays
Politics
I read books daily
Adam Simmons
2,415
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FinalistAdam Simmons
2,415
Bold Points3x
Nominee1x
FinalistBio
Despite growing up below the poverty line and living with Major Depressive Disorder and Autism Spectrum Disorder, I am still devoted to pursuing a career that will aid my community and my nation as a whole. Though these disorders are chronic and often pose difficulties with which the majority of the population does not have to contend, I am devoted to showing through hands-on research and personal experience that even the most seemingly debilitating disorders can be managed effectively and that those suffering from these disorders can still become contributing members of society.
All money will be used toward the funding of my graduate education. I am pursuing a Master's in Clinical Psychology with the goal of becoming a counselor, and, eventually, starting a practice that offers affordable mental health care for an ever-growing population suffering from an ever-prevalent array of disabilities.
My passions are as varied as they are endless: Classics, Philosophy, Poetry, Physics, Plays, Aphorisms, Political Theory, Reference, Linguistics, Art, Medicine, Psychology, Sociology, Mythology, History - all things under, in, and around the sun.
Education
Pepperdine University
Master's degree programMajors:
- Clinical, Counseling and Applied Psychology
The University of Tennessee-Knoxville
Bachelor's degree programMajors:
- English Language and Literature, General
Hillsboro High
High SchoolMiscellaneous
Desired degree level:
Doctoral degree program (PhD, MD, JD, etc.)
Graduate schools of interest:
Transfer schools of interest:
Majors of interest:
Career
Dream career field:
Psychology
Dream career goals:
Director and Founder
Behavioral Support Specialist
Merakey2021 – 20221 year
Sports
Cross-Country Running
Intramural2009 – 20112 years
Climbing
Club2018 – Present6 years
Research
Sociology
University of Tennessee, Knoxville — Co-author & Editor2019 – 2020
Arts
Club
Art CriticismPresent
Public services
Volunteering
Americorps — Front line clean-up2021 – 2022
Future Interests
Advocacy
Politics
Volunteering
Philanthropy
Entrepreneurship
Share Your Poetry Scholarship
To Mother From Son
Past the dunes and powdered shrub
Along the pale-blue northern shore
The breeze hums through the rustling scrub
And stirs the sand now as before
A hush lolls o’er the narrow isle
As gulls refrain their plaintive call
The billows break in rhythmic style
Brought forward by the ocean squall
One settled gaze up at the sky
Where clouds sail round in gentle flow
Could warrant only in reply
A moving solace there below
Now lonely on a beach she roams
With hanging head and fragile gait
Nearby the house where she had grown
And where she has returned of late
She looks back on departed days
Her years of motherhood now gone
And from this sets out to appraise
The worth of all that she had done
Sweet memories of fondness pass
Of hours by her children’s side
Them playing in the velvet grass
And how they filled her heart with pride
Of times when she was out of line
Of all she wished she hadn’t said
How if she’d only seen a sign
The less their tears would have been shed
The thought alone brings her to weep
And tears fall slowly down her face
Into the sand they fade and seep
Where drops of rain now take their place
So back inside, her body worn
She climbs into her bed to rest
No longer well enough to mourn
She falls asleep with aching chest
She wakes in bed, but not her own
The room is white and smells of clove
She finds that she is not alone
As faces congregate above
Her sons surround the little room
Each sobbing at what is to come
And even in her bitter gloom
She asks them all how she had done
At this they all draw near her cot
And thank her for her endless care
They each embrace her – deep in thought
And stand by waiting in despair
She smiles and tells her kids goodbye
Requesting that they dry their tears
And letting out one final sigh
Relieves the worry of her years
Past the dunes and powdered shrub
Along the pale-blue northern shore
A son recalls his mother’s love
And sand stirs gently as before
Forever Sisters - Olivia Jansen Memorial Scholarship
Violence is not a spice for my palate. Until recently, in fact, violence of any kind made me nauseous. The aversion developed in childhood. I grew up in a lower-class, Baptist home where my parents disregarded my autism diagnosis and took the proverb, “spare the rod, spoil the child,” much to heart. In the car, in my bedroom, dangling on a sconce back of the house, one of my father’s many work belts was stored within reach in case one of his children needed to be shown “the love in discipline.” To my parents, having been raised and seemingly trapped in poverty, life was a struggle, and we had to learn our place quickly if we were to survive. Incentives didn’t leave a clear impression like a belt or - on the off chance one wasn’t available - a power cord did. It wasn’t until I turned sixteen, after a condemning CPS investigation, that my mother and father moved on to a verbal approach. Still, those years of welts and bruises stayed with me long after the skin had healed.
I understand now that the experience was trauma, but, back then, lasting into my first college term, I was too bound up with fear and confusion to give it a name. The emotions had become a way of being. They seemed to me a character flaw, a sign of weakness. They were also inconvenient. Though I spent the entirety of my undergraduate at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, I was never able to sit through a football game. I was reclusive. Even something so small as the sneers or knitted brows of my classmates while I gave a presentation brought on a stab of panic. I came to dread the most meager social interactions. That winter recess, alone in my room for the fourth day straight, I decided something had to be done.
Following several years of therapy, my experiences have led me to pursue reform on a societal level. Educational programs and federal policy, I've discovered, are necessary yet underutilized methods in mental health. Take prevention for example. Students are encouraged to spend hundreds of hours every year learning about algebraic formulas and self-marketing skills for employment, yet no time is devoted to the advancement of healthy interpersonal skills, communication, coping techniques, or self-regulation. Children are taught neither what to look for in a supportive relationship with parents and authority figures nor how to seek help when boundaries have been crossed or abuse has become normalized. If we wish to see a decline in the frequency of child and adolescent mental illness, lessons drawing on therapeutic techniques should become part and parcel of our common curriculum. After all, if we can mandate physical fitness programs from as early as pre-K, why should we disregard mental health until it becomes a crisis?
On a policy level, prospective parents and guardians would benefit greatly from parental and instructional education. The implementation of healthy parenting styles, effective discipline without cruelty, and encouraging communication methods are but a few areas in which a child's mental health outcomes show a marked advantage relative to her less fortunate peers. Just as premarital counseling is incentivized, we could easily incentivize pre-parental counseling. Positive outcomes might even be enhanced if tax-breaks were given to parents and guardians who participated in continuing family education programs and/or family wellness check-ups.
Upon finishing my degree in Clinical Psychology, I hope to play a leading role in shifting our nation's focus from profits to personal health and prevent another generation of children thrown into a world of preventable abuse.