If I could have everyone in the world read just one book, I'd make everyone read Under The Oak Tree, by Suji Kim. I think that everyone, regardless who they are, will be able to take something away from this book. Whether its the struggle that is battling depression, that is surviving abuse or escaping oppression--our main character faces it all. Not with grace or levity, not with kindness or bravery. She faces it because it's her only option, she faces her struggles in a way I think many people can identify with, or at the very least should come to understand. Head bent, teeth grit, hands clenched, our main character fights tooth and nail for the peace and levity of a happy ending. It's as inspiring as it is relatable to watch her struggle, to watch her heal in a non-linear way. Aside from the actual plot of the book, the world building itself is something many would enjoy picking apart. The Celtic and Welsh influences, the folklore that makes its way into the story in fantastical and even religious ways is fascinating. Wyrms and ghosts and kelpies, goblins and nights and trolls, headless horsemen, oak trees, and fae have all found their niche in this book. Lastly, I think a wonderful discussion as to what constitutes a book could be sparked by Under The Oak Tree. Seeing as it's a web novel, and doesn't actually exist in a physical form, discourse as to whether it even counts as a book would be both interesting and of great import to the reading community. Are webcomics books? Are comics? Does one have to be published through a publishing company, have an editor? How many pages before a work is considered a book? I'd love to see the world's answers to these questions, almost as much as I'd love living in a world where the name Maximillian Calypse means something to everyone.

As someone who grew up an athlete--started with picking dandelions on the soccer field at 4, and continuing to this day--I can say I've been a part of my fair share of families. It's something people who don't play team sports wouldn't understand. The bond created when you struggle, physically and emotionally, with a group of other girls' you'd otherwise never talk to is unparalleled. I struggled to find a team, or rather a family, that would truly accept me before I entered college. Because of that, I switched sports constantly. Soccer, lacrosse, flag football, swimming, sailing, tennis, basketball, volleyball, cross country--all of them with their own comforts, but none that would really accept me as I was. I wasn't a product of my town like the rest of my teammates. I was black and gay and raised in a single parent household. To my teammates, no matter where I went, there was always something off about me. I wasn't white enough or rich enough--they couldn't relate to me, and so I was outcasted. I grew to resent the sports I'd played, and by the time I graduated high school, I'd decided that I wouldn't join any sports in college, for fear that I'd end up being the third-wheel on my own team. I'm embarrassed to say my resolve crumbled rather quickly. I was approached by the captains--MY captains--of the women's club rugby team at my college, and I was intimidated enough to accept the invitation into their team-chat (they asked if I knew what rugby was, and if I knew how to play: I did not). 3 weeks later, I found myself getting tackled, run over, and stepped on in my first ever rugby game; it was the most fun I'd had in months. What really made me decide to stay after getting rocked was my teammates, who I'd barely known at that point. There was such an intense sense of community I witnessed that day. Screaming out our teammates names, cheering them on when they made a good play, losing their minds when we scored a try, passing out water and answering the many (MANY) questions us rookies asked. It didn't end when the game was over though, afterwards I attended my first rugby social, and that was when I realized that most of my fellow teammates were fully committed to fostering relationships with ALL of their teammates, not just the ones who looked like them. Over the course of the semester, those 22 strangers ended up becoming my best friends. Rugby family to me is a place of unparalleled acceptance and laughter. It's driving to a random frat house at 1 in the morning to go fireman carry your drunk friends out. It's watching lego batman and having sleepovers. It's running faster than you thought possible, dog tired after 45 minutes of straight running and tackling, and scoring a try. It's having your teammates circle you after a try, singing the Try-song, and then doubling down. My rugby family is as solid and important to me as my blood family, and there is little I wouldn't do for those girls.

Growing up in a predominantly white, middle-class neighborhood, one of the first lessons I ever learned as a child was that "dreaming big" was something I'd never be allowed to do. I was too feminine, too neurodivergent, too black, too queer, too poor. Dreams were for normal people. People with two parents, people who could afford to buy lunch or go on vacations over the summer. People who were straight and white, who ate normal food and had normal hair. People who aren't me. Every day of my life, I have had to prove myself. That, even though I looked and acted different, I could keep up with my classmates. That I wasn't dumb or lazy or uncooperative. That I could be a team-player, that I could put in the work required of me, that I could even surpass their expectations. That I deserved the same treatment as everyone else, because I was just as human. Now I'm an adult--at least, in the eyes of the law--and I see the path that mentality will lead me down. I'll either end up in prison or in a minimum wage, dead-end job for the rest of my life. Unfortunately for the students, parents, teachers, and neighbors of my childhood, that lesson I learned early on didn't stick. I know what those people expect of me, and I don't care. Because I'm not a dreamer, I'm a doer. I don't have a dream; I have a goal. Language, alongside social welfare, has been a passion of mine that hasn't died out, despite growing up in a very monocultural area, where languages other than English were pretty much non-existent. So far, I've achieved fluency in French and Spanish, and I've started mastering mandarin as well. My passion for language happens to align with my future career goals as well. I want my career to matter, I want to help make the positive changes I think the world needs, and working for the United Nations is the way in which I intend to do so. Unfortunately for me, I've encountered a wall too big to clear on my own. Too big to clear, even with the help of my mother and brother. A financial wall. Even after applying to more than 40 scholarships, obtaining state and federal aid, and accepting the few loans banks are willing to lend me, there's remains a $30,000 wall preventing me from obtaining my degree. Preventing me from getting that entry level job translating for a large corporation, from moving up the ladder and gaining experience, from reaching my goal. This scholarship would almost completely erase that wall. College is the trial I need to gain access to everything the world has to offer me, even the things it thinks I can't obtain. Should I be granted this scholarship, I would not only be achieving a goal, pursuing a passion and breaking down stereotypes, I'd be showing everyone in my school, my town, my state--including the newest generation of children who aren't "normal"--that Dreaming Big is for everyone.

Growing up in a predominantly white, middle-class neighborhood, one of the first lessons I ever learned as a child was that "dreaming big" was something I'd never be allowed to do. I was too feminine, too neurodivergent, too black, too queer, too poor. Dreams were for normal people. People with two parents, people who could afford to buy lunch or go on vacations over the summer. People who were straight and white, who ate normal food and had normal hair. People who aren't me. Every day of my life, I have had to prove myself. That, even though I looked and acted different, I could keep up with my classmates. That I wasn't dumb or lazy or uncooperative. That I could be a team-player, that I could put in the work required of me, that I could even surpass their expectations. That I deserved the same treatment as everyone else, because I was just as human. Now I'm an adult--at least, in the eyes of the law--and I see the path that mentality will lead me down. I'll either end up in prison or in a minimum wage, dead-end job for the rest of my life. Unfortunately for the students, parents, teachers, and neighbors of my childhood, that lesson I learned early on didn't stick. I know what those people expect of me, and I don't care. Because I'm not a dreamer, I'm a doer. I don't have a dream; I have a goal. Language, alongside social welfare, has been a passion of mine that hasn't died out, despite growing up in a very monocultural area, where languages other than English were pretty much non-existent. So far, I've achieved fluency in French and Spanish, and I've started mastering mandarin as well. My passion for language happens to align with my future career goals as well. I want my career to matter, I want to help make the positive changes I think the world needs, and working for the United Nations is the way in which I intend to do so. Unfortunately for me, I've encountered a wall too big to clear on my own. Too big to clear, even with the help of my mother and brother. A financial wall. Even after applying to more than 40 scholarships, obtaining state and federal aid, and accepting the few loans banks are willing to lend me, there's remains a $30,000 wall preventing me from obtaining my degree. Preventing me from getting that entry level job translating for a large corporation, from moving up the ladder and gaining experience, from reaching my goal. This scholarship would almost completely erase that wall. College is the trial I need to gain access to everything the world has to offer me, even the things it thinks I can't obtain. Should I be granted this scholarship, I would not only be achieving a goal, pursuing a passion and breaking down stereotypes, I'd be showing everyone in my school, my town, my state--including the newest generation of children who aren't "normal"--that Dreaming Big is for everyone.

Growing up in a predominantly white, middle-class neighborhood, one of the first lessons I ever learned as a child was that "dreaming big" was something I'd never be allowed to do. I was too feminine, too neurodivergent, too black, too queer, too poor. Dreams were for normal people. People with two parents, people who could afford to buy lunch or go on vacations over the summer. People who were straight and white, who ate normal food and had normal hair. People who aren't me. Every day of my life, I have had to prove myself. That, even though I looked and acted different, I could keep up with my classmates. That I wasn't dumb or lazy or uncooperative. That I could be a team-player, that I could put in the work required of me, that I could even surpass their expectations. That I deserved the same treatment as everyone else, because I was just as human. Now I'm an adult--at least, in the eyes of the law--and I see the path that mentality will lead me down. I'll either end up in prison or in a minimum wage, dead-end job for the rest of my life. Unfortunately for the students, parents, teachers, and neighbors of my childhood, that lesson I learned early on didn't stick. I know what those people expect of me, and I don't care. Because I'm not a dreamer, I'm a doer. I don't have a dream; I have a goal. Language, alongside social welfare, has been a passion of mine that hasn't died out, despite growing up in a very monocultural area, where languages other than English were pretty much non-existent. So far, I've achieved fluency in French and Spanish, and I've started mastering mandarin as well. My passion for language happens to align with my future career goals as well. I want my career to matter, I want to help make the positive changes I think the world needs, and working for the United Nations is the way in which I intend to do so. Unfortunately for me, I've encountered a wall too big to clear on my own. Too big to clear, even with the help of my mother and brother. A financial wall. Even after applying to more than 40 scholarships, obtaining state and federal aid, and accepting the few loans banks are willing to lend me, there's remains a $30,000 wall preventing me from obtaining my degree. Preventing me from getting that entry level job translating for a large corporation, from moving up the ladder and gaining experience, from reaching my goal. This scholarship would almost completely erase that wall. College is the trial I need to gain access to everything the world has to offer me, even the things it thinks I can't obtain. Should I be granted this scholarship, I would not only be achieving a goal, pursuing a passion and breaking down stereotypes, I'd be showing everyone in my school, my town, my state--including the newest generation of children who aren't "normal"--that Dreaming Big is for everyone.

Growing up in a predominantly white, middle-class neighborhood, one of the first lessons I ever learned as a child was that "dreaming big" was something I'd never be allowed to do. I was too feminine, too neurodivergent, too black, too queer, too poor. Dreams were for normal people. People with two parents, people who could afford to buy lunch or go on vacations over the summer. People who were straight and white, who ate normal food and had normal hair. People who aren't me. Every day of my life, I have had to prove myself. That, even though I looked and acted different, I could keep up with my classmates. That I wasn't dumb or lazy or uncooperative. That I could be a team-player, that I could put in the work required of me, that I could even surpass their expectations. That I deserved the same treatment as everyone else, because I was just as human. Now I'm an adult--at least, in the eyes of the law--and I see the path that mentality will lead me down. I'll either end up in prison or in a minimum wage, dead-end job for the rest of my life. Unfortunately for the students, parents, teachers, and neighbors of my childhood, that lesson I learned early on didn't stick. I know what those people expect of me, and I don't care. Because I'm not a dreamer, I'm a doer. I don't have a dream; I have a goal. Language, alongside social welfare, has been a passion of mine that hasn't died out, despite growing up in a very monocultural area, where languages other than English were pretty much non-existent. So far, I've achieved fluency in French and Spanish, and I've started mastering mandarin as well. My passion for language happens to align with my future career goals as well. I want my career to matter, I want to help make the positive changes I think the world needs, and working for the United Nations is the way in which I intend to do so. Unfortunately for me, I've encountered a wall too big to clear on my own. Too big to clear, even with the help of my mother and brother. A financial wall. Even after applying to more than 40 scholarships, obtaining state and federal aid, and accepting the few loans banks are willing to lend me, there's remains a $30,000 wall preventing me from obtaining my degree. Preventing me from getting that entry level job translating for a large corporation, from moving up the ladder and gaining experience, from reaching my goal. This scholarship would almost completely erase that wall. College is the trial I need to gain access to everything the world has to offer me, even the things it thinks I can't obtain. Should I be granted this scholarship, I would not only be achieving a goal, pursuing a passion and breaking down stereotypes, I'd be showing everyone in my school, my town, my state--including the newest generation of children who aren't "normal"--that Dreaming Big is for everyone.

@a_na___b

I'd been hoping to start this off by confidently stating that there are not many people who've had to deal with wallet-stealing seagulls, tazer fights in wave pools, or serious life-threatening medical emergencies on their very first day of the first job they ever held, but unfortunately for my ego, it also happened to be my co-worker Olivia's first day of work as well. My first job was as a lifeguard at Seabreeze Amusement Park (I'd like to include the jingle for the full effect, but I don't want this essay to be disqualified over copyright issues). I'd also love to include the full story behind that harrowing first day, but it'd take a lot more words than is proper for a scholarship application. The reason I mention the first day of my first job is that this day--and the 199 days' worth of summer vacations after that both taught me what it truly means to be a leader, as well as gave me the leadership skills that got me promoted at my next (admittedly volunteer) job as a swim instructor through a collaboration between my highschool varsity swim team and my local community center. Being a lifeguard taught me that being a leader is not about giving orders and commanding a crowd or team, it's principally about listening and patience. You need to listen to what your team needs and wants, what a guest is requesting or why they're breaking a rule, before you apply corporate policy and strict language to a situation. Being a leader is about giving back and putting in just as much--if not more--than you ask of those working under you. Being a leader doesn't always mean wearing the manager's badge or being in a position of power either--sometimes, it's as simple as demonstrating how something is used, or helping someone find the right path to follow. It's not all fun and games either--the ability to say no, to not cave when peer-pressured give in just because it would make someone happy are hard lessons to learn, but some of the most vital when being a leader, or even just being a good citizen. Patience, honesty, humility, confidence, and a willingness to admit not only when you're wrong, but to make changes are all skills that I gained as a lifeguard, and that I use every day -- especially when interacting with my co-workers, my students, and even my family (bless my little sister's heart, because, at 5, she requires most of my patience). I'm now taking the skills and attributes that I gained, the leadership do's and don'ts I learned at my very first job, and continuing to apply them to my studies, my new jobs, and eventually to the career I'm working so hard for. I want to be a translator/interpreter for the UN, I want to use my knowledge of language and the skills that I've acquired to help bring powerful people--leaders of the highest order--together, to help save people and fix the damage we're doing to our planet. This scholarship would be a huge step in the right direction.