Scientific negligence isn’t something lost on me. Over the past two years, my mother’s health has been continuously disregarded due to a shocking modern ignorance in women's health. Despite several visits to healthcare professionals, symptoms were ignored or labelled as allergies. My mother’s state worsened, and as a family, we struggle as the medical system fails her. She continues to fall deeper into a cycle of misdiagnoses, inadequate treatments, and mounting medical debt. The emotional and financial strain caused my family has been devastating, and this experience has forever altered my perspective on medicine. And while the bulk of my family views medicine in a cynical light, I've discovered a sense of urgency to push back. Watching my mom suffer, often ignored or even belittled by medical professionals who failed to take her symptoms seriously, has left me disheartened to the disparity in how different groups, particularly women, are treated by the medical community. The lack of awareness and research on how women’s bodies respond to diseases and medications, the way healthcare providers can brush off symptoms due to biases, and the general reluctance to listen—these issues have shaped the way I view the medical field. While some might choose to distance themselves from a system that has caused so much pain, I am motivated to be part of the solution. I am pursuing a degree in biochemistry because I want to understand the mechanisms of ALL human bodies at a molecular level. I believe that scientific research holds the key to unlocking new medical possibilities. Through biochemistry, I will gain the knowledge and skills to explore the biochemical pathways that underlie health and disease. My goal is to engage in laboratory research that contributes to the broader medical community’s understanding of diseases, particularly those that disproportionately affect women. By doing so, I hope to provide new insights that will help bridge the gap in medical knowledge and create more effective, inclusive treatments for all. Ultimately, my aim is to attend medical school to study either neuroscience or pharmaceuticals. I have seen firsthand how important it is for doctors to approach their patients with both empathy and scientific rigor, and I want to be part of that future. Neuroscience is an exciting and rapidly evolving field, and understanding how the brain works—how diseases of the brain develop and how they can be treated—has the potential to improve countless lives. On the other hand, pharmaceutical research offers the opportunity to develop new treatments that could directly address the healthcare shortcomings I’ve witnessed in my own family. This scholarship would provide the financial support I need to pursue my academic goals without the burden of financial stress. It would allow me to focus on my studies and research, empowering me to contribute to the medical community in meaningful ways. As I move forward, I am not just driven by personal ambition but by a desire to make a real difference in the lives of those who have been failed by the system, like my mother, and to contribute to a future where no one’s health is overlooked or neglected. I believe that my experiences, while painful, have provided me with a unique perspective—one that will guide my work in both research and medicine. This scholarship would allow me to take the next step toward turning that vision into reality, and to work toward a world where healthcare is equitable, accessible, and effective for everyone.

Scientific negligence isn’t something lost on me. Over the past two years, my mother’s health has been continuously disregarded due to a shocking modern ignorance in women's health. Despite several visits to healthcare professionals, symptoms were ignored or labelled as allergies. My mother’s state worsened, and as a family, we struggle as the medical system fails her. She continues to fall deeper into a cycle of misdiagnoses, inadequate treatments, and mounting medical debt. The emotional and financial strain caused my family has been devastating, and this experience has forever altered my perspective on medicine. And while the bulk of my family views medicine in a cynical light, I've discovered a sense of urgency to push back. Watching my mom suffer, often ignored or even belittled by medical professionals who failed to take her symptoms seriously, has left me disheartened to the disparity in how different groups, particularly women, are treated by the medical community. The lack of awareness and research on how women’s bodies respond to diseases and medications, the way healthcare providers can brush off symptoms due to biases, and the general reluctance to listen—these issues have shaped the way I view the medical field. While some might choose to distance themselves from a system that has caused so much pain, I am motivated to be part of the solution. I am pursuing a degree in biochemistry because I want to understand the mechanisms of ALL human bodies at a molecular level. I believe that scientific research holds the key to unlocking new medical possibilities. Through biochemistry, I will gain the knowledge and skills to explore the biochemical pathways that underlie health and disease. My goal is to engage in laboratory research that contributes to the broader medical community’s understanding of diseases, particularly those that disproportionately affect women. By doing so, I hope to provide new insights that will help bridge the gap in medical knowledge and create more effective, inclusive treatments for all. Ultimately, my aim is to attend medical school to study either neuroscience or pharmaceuticals. I have seen firsthand how important it is for doctors to approach their patients with both empathy and scientific rigor, and I want to be part of that future. Neuroscience is an exciting and rapidly evolving field, and understanding how the brain works—how diseases of the brain develop and how they can be treated—has the potential to improve countless lives. On the other hand, pharmaceutical research offers the opportunity to develop new treatments that could directly address the healthcare shortcomings I’ve witnessed in my own family. This scholarship would provide the financial support I need to pursue my academic goals without the burden of financial stress. It would allow me to focus on my studies and research, empowering me to contribute to the medical community in meaningful ways. As I move forward, I am not just driven by personal ambition but by a desire to make a real difference in the lives of those who have been failed by the system, like my mother, and to contribute to a future where no one’s health is overlooked or neglected. I believe that my experiences, while painful, have provided me with a unique perspective—one that will guide my work in both research and medicine. This scholarship would allow me to take the next step toward turning that vision into reality, and to work toward a world where healthcare is equitable, accessible, and effective for everyone.

I’ve yet to meet Superman, a person invincible to life’s foes, with only a radioactive crystal stopping them. The instability that comes with being human has crumbled everyone down at least once—and likely twice. However, I’ve been blessed to learn and embody grit many times, standing back up stronger each time. Life can be incredibly challenging, but the growth and strength that come from cleaning up the mess always outweigh the pity and self-loathing that many find themselves trapped in. When I first experienced deep struggles, the will to give up was overwhelming. I remember days when the weight of anxiety felt like a physical burden, making it hard to get out of bed, and I can’t deny there were points when I let things around me crash and burn. At the end of my sophomore year, the stress I faced, compounded by poor self-worth, led me to a dark place. I underwent some of my most haunting experiences, including complete family detachment and a mental hospitalization. The sterile walls of the hospital felt suffocating, and while I would never say I appreciated these moments, they forced me to confront the weight of reality. Everyone has a rock bottom, and often an even steeper one lies ahead. My junior year proved to be even more challenging as my mom began a long journey of medical issues, including frequent hospital visits and misunderstandings about her condition. At the same time, the power fuse in my room became permanently burnt, leaving me in darkness—both literally and figuratively, it seemed. As I struggled to figure out my mental health, the stability of my home crumbled around me. The dread of going home grew overwhelming. Each time I returned to an empty house, anxiety would set in, causing my stomach to drop and my heart to race. I not only had to convince myself that things would be fine, but I also had two little brothers to reassure me. They looked to me for guidance, their innocent smiles juxtaposed against the chaos. Yet, through warm hugs, video game nights, and the simple joy of sharing snacks, we created a glimmer of light amid the dark lows. Grit is something you must build during your weakest moments; without tears, there are no appreciative smiles. Through months of isolation, self-discovery, and plenty of mistakes, I found strength in the struggle. By the end of junior year, despite everything, I came out with a 4.2 GPA, six awards for my debate and poetry achievements, and a charity club I founded to support healthy hobbies in my school and give back to the community. Hardship never truly ends; overcoming one obstacle often leads to facing the next. But that doesn’t mean you have to view life through a pessimistic lens. Life isn’t meant to be composed solely of joy or pain. We are blessed to experience both, and it is through this blend that we grow. So, through this erratic gift of life, I’ve learned that my time is now. I’ve come to recognize my mistakes, my falls, my growth, and my grit. I'm excited to see how much further it will take me as I pursue a career in the medical field, and make a historical scratch into research.

Leadership is like a well-formulated medication; it requires precise ingredients, careful calibration, and the ability to bring out the best in others. Throughout my high school journey, I have made countless efforts to discover my full potential. In founding a crochet club, serving as Vice President of Women in STEM, and leading my robotics team, I've established a table of diverse experiences that will serve as the elements of my career in biochemistry and research. In my junior year, I established a crochet club with the mission of creating handmade items for local hospitals because of the psychological comfort associated with handmade toys. This project began with a simple idea: to combine creativity with compassion. I organized meetings that brought students together to learn crochet techniques while contributing to projects such as blankets for homeless shelters and hats for premature infants. This experience not only allowed me to lead a group but also fostered a sense of community and responsibility. Witnessing the joy our creations brought to those in need solidified my commitment to dedicating my life to helping others, a principle I will carry into the rest of my life. As the Vice President of Women in STEM, I am dedicated to empowering young students to pursue their interests in science and technology. I plan to organize a science fair and tutoring program, showing students the effort toward their future is worth it. Through these projects, I aim to inspire passion and understanding in science. In my rural 'Bible Belt' area, it has been challenging to garner support. These experiences have profoundly influenced my decision to pursue a degree in biochemistry with a focus on pharmacy work. Personal challenges, particularly my mother’s ongoing medical issues, have instilled in me a deep motivation to study pharmaceuticals. I am passionate about developing solutions that improve healthcare access for underserved populations, such as those in rural areas like my own or women such as my mother, ensuring that others don’t have to go through those same things. In college, I plan to engage in research that explores these issues, contributing to advancements that can alleviate suffering and enhance quality of life. Receiving this scholarship would be transformative. It would ease the financial burden of pursuing higher education, allowing me to focus on my studies and community initiatives without the overwhelming pressure of student debt. With this support, I would be empowered to engage in research and projects that align with my goal of making a meaningful impact in the pharmaceutical field. In summary, my high school experiences in leadership and community service have shaped my aspirations and prepared me to contribute positively to society. I am committed to being a woman in STEM who advocates for equitable healthcare access. This scholarship represents not just financial relief, but also an opportunity to further my education and continue making a difference in the lives of others. I am excited to embrace the future and the opportunities it holds, ensuring that no one has to endure the hardships my family has faced.

Selflessness was a trait that I was blessed to learn. Growing up, I felt a strong empathy for those around me, which motivated me to help others whenever possible. Often I would daydream about ways I could help people, but it wasn't until I created a local crochet club at my school that I realized what I could do thanks to this gift of sensitivity. The goal of the project I put together called "Crochet4Care" was not only to freely teach students how to crochet and develop healthy hobbies for troubled kids but also to donate projects to local charities with a minimal goal of 50 by January. The journey to establish the crochet club was not without its challenges. When I first envisioned the idea, I barely knew how to crochet -- all I knew was that I wanted to help people. I could barely complete a simple double stitch, let alone teach others. However, my desire to make a difference drove me to learn. I spent countless hours watching online tutorials, practicing, and perfecting my skills. I discovered that learning to crochet was time-consuming, requiring patience and dedication. Yet, every stitch I mastered felt like a small victory, empowering my commitment. As I tried to discover how on earth I was supposed to crochet, it was time to start teaching students. Teaching others to crochet was a rewarding experience ultimately. I watched as students transformed from novices into crocheters more skilled than myself, each person finding joy in creating something meaningful. We spent hours together, laughing and sharing stories, all while making items that would bring warmth and comfort to those less fortunate. The community that developed within our group was inspiring; it became evident that our efforts extended beyond the tangible creations we produced. It dawned on me that by putting forth this effort to do something new, I opened a window for so many people. These students around me had been given a new opportunity to change their lives. However, the new hobby and journey reminded me that selflessness is more than a warm feeling. It requires sacrifices. Each blanket or hat took many hours to complete, often leading to sore hands and late nights that had to be juggled with AP courses and other clubs I led. Yet, the thought of the hospital patients, senior citizens, and homeless people who would receive our creations fueled a motivation to continue. I found that selflessness isn’t just about thoughtless giving; it’s also about the commitment and time you invest to create ripples of difference in someone else’s life. In conclusion, through every selfless endeavor I have pursued or aspired to in my life, the crochet movement I initiated has undeniably transformed the lives of others, as well as my own. By acquiring a new skill and imparting it to others, I have successfully cultivated selflessness within myself and among those around me. Through our collective efforts, we are not just creating items; we are nurturing a community dedicated to helping those in need.

A week before I turned 16, I tried to kill myself. While not your typical addiction or downfall, the grueling aspect of suicide sticks. I can't take certain pills anymore because I feel a rush of adrenaline telling me I'm going to die. I can't think too much about the age 16 or I remember when my step dad told me it should have worked. The lasting aspects of this attempt are not things that I can simply brush off, while the mental health struggles weren't intentional, the refusal for help was. So now, as I write this, I can truthfully say that I've been making a change. I've put in the effort to look at the clouds on a long day. I've decided what I want to study, and applied to schools all across the nation, raising my GPA by .3 in a semester--which in my school's terms, is hard to pull off. I've learned to take care of myself the same way I do those around me, gone to therapy, and cut my bangs when I felt the need for a big change quick. It all seems small, this event happening just over a year ago. But as I face my future, that in itself is the biggest change. I have a future. So as I heal my relationship with my mind and body, these things I abused and let others abuse for so long, I recognize who I am. My name is Autumn Goffar. I'm a passionate leader, the type to cry at a kids movie, hold a crying child for a second longer, and crochet projects to donate to the sick; all things I have done, by the way (Toy Story 4 is sad). I want to lead the medical field into a better place - a more educated and thoughtful place. I want to see the smile and hope of a person who never thought they'd make it through the other side of the rain cloud. There's so much in this world I want to change and appreciate, big and small, loud and tall. So as I continue to fight through the uncomfortable battle of mental health and attempt guilt, I hold my own efforts with those who are also trying. With my parents who are trying to be better to me, with my brothers who are learning how to read and write, with my friends who are learning how to understand the complexities of my anxiety. If they can try, I can. And if I can try, you can.

The American healthcare system often feels like a Battleship game: you set your course, hope for the best, and wait for your fate. And of course, many people end up suffering due to factors like their location, identity, or the lack of understanding of their medical issues, as if their "ships" are destined to be sunk. The current healthcare system has developed into a competitive "me vs. you" mentality, focusing more on finding solutions for some rather than improving the system as a whole. But it hasn't always been like this, so it doesn't have to stay like this! If I had the power to change the United States medical system all in a heartbeat, I would shift the perspective that we compete, and magnify that the medical system is made for us to learn together as a society. My mother has been misdiagnosed several times, and been put in and out of the emergency room for the most recent years of my life. As her battle for a diagnosis, and treatment, continues I’ve noticed a general frustration with the medical system all around me. Even within myself. But, how can someone passionate about medicine and biochemistry feel this way? The only explanation I have to give is that I know we can do better, so it's truly just disappointment for what could be. The medical system has the potential to advance its understanding, improve treatments, and conduct more research into less well-known health issues. With the growing resistance to medications that we've firsthand seen through opioids and their growing intensity, it's clear we are reaching the limits of what we already understand. Yet, it's so common for us to continue to roll with punches of what we don't get as we are inherently 'going to figure it out at some point.' But thanks to that idealism, we've only found resentment towards the cause, and greed built in those who are supposed to care for us. As a society and community in science, we have to collectively admit that we need to reapproach what we're doing. Because of an insistence to stick with outdated research, we're costing people their lives either through death or through a lifelong torture of misunderstanding what's going on within their bodies. The healthcare system needs to modernize, acknowledge the impacts of misdiagnosis, and move away from outdated and competitive thinking. The reality of whether or not you can live in peace should not be determined by the luck of a game of Battleship.

Hello! My name is Autumn Goffar, and I am a proud first-generation woman in STEM. I dedicate most of my time to cooking with my little brothers, crocheting, donating to local shelters and hospitals, and organizing programs for my school’s Women in STEM club. Admittedly, it can be difficult to juggle the different things I've had going on throughout the past two years, from project management to documentation on my Robotics team. But with a persistent passion for STEM and a genuine sense of perseverance, I have accomplished it all without fail. STEM means a lot of things to me. It represents hope for my future, a shared interest in learning, and a new answer to an old question. Thus, because of all of these reasons, I have found myself deeply passionate about it. I can try to ignore the admiration I hold towards all of its capabilities, and its strong power to create a new future, but even past that STEM is just a part of who I truly am. I am always curious, hoping to learn more about the possibilities of the earth, why our hearts may skip a beat when we're around someone we like, or why we can hear the fallen leaves crunch under our feet. Curiosity has been placed in me since I was young, and all of the experiences and hardships I've gone through are what led me to where I am today. From my dad's misdiagnosis of his early-stage cancer to my mom's misdiagnosed lupus, it seems I've always seen the firsthand perspective of medical negligence. Thus, it is extremely personal to me to be able to fight against this stigmatization and bring awareness to those who are ignored or looked over in medicine. It's a highly accepted factor in the medical field, and thus I refuse to accept it as it is. Through getting my education in STEM, I hope to combine morality and empathy with science - it's an easily close-knit mutualism that's so often overseen. If I'm allowed to advance my education and accomplish what I'm aiming for, I will be able to take the sense of being a human being and combine that with the logic of medicine and the understanding that things are difficult. I truly hope that through my passion for STEM, I can root out to others and show them that life is worth not just living but loving. STEM can do many things, but with a relentlessly gentle heart, these opportunities become infinite.

Growing up 'without a dad' was hard. The kids around me didn't understand how my dad died or why it was such a sensitive subject, but the problem was I barely understood it myself. I lost my dad to cancer the day before my third birthday--I don't have fun pictures to remember that day by. Since I never had the chance to create memories with him, I faced a unique struggle: I was told I couldn’t be sad, yet I seemed to feel like I was--why was that wrong? The fact of the matter is, that the memories you hold of a person after they pass are the only gift you're promised without a will determining the fate of materialism. This is something that has helped me cope with death and loss as I've grown and felt the impacts differently from how I did with my dad. It's never easy, no matter what the circumstance is, that depression and realization will always be one of the most real feelings in the world. Everything feels and fears death, and what I've had to do as I've guided myself through the death of my dad is be understanding. Feel empathy and compassion, not just for others coping but for yourself. One way that I've learned to be intentional and keep track of my healing processes is by writing things down. Documentation of where I was and where I will be is essential for the days I can't seem to shake the idea that I'm 'behind' in my healing process. The days where I feel like I'm no longer allowed to cope because it's been a month now and I still burst into tears at a simple reminder that I don't get to have a relationship with my dad. It's helped me greatly through life in general to be honest, but especially through every mourning process I've had to overcome. It was permission for me to realize I cannot control how I feel. Empathy is a big factor that guides my influence in the world and has allowed me to recognize my passion for helping. I want to study biochemistry in university, and then advance my education somewhere in the medical field. Instead of just hoping to cure sickness, though, I aspire to be the face of kindness, not just because I gave a child medicine and a lollipop, but because I allowed them to be comfortable in an otherwise uncomfortable circumstance. I want to be a warm, thoughtful presence, especially when I may be forced to tell someone the worst news of their life. Coping is complex. It is messy, and it is what reminds us we are all creatures of emotion and thought. But by allowing yourself to breathe, feel, and pray, it doesn't become easier, but rather you become stronger.

Growing up "without a dad" was hard. The kids around me didn't understand how my dad died or why it was such a sensitive subject, but the problem was I barely understood it myself. I lost my dad to cancer the day before my third birthday--I don't have any photos to remember that birthday. Because I never had the chance to create memories with him, I faced a unique struggle: I was told I couldn’t be sad, yet I seemed to feel like I was--why was that wrong? The fact of the matter is, that the memories you hold of a person after they pass are the only gifts you're promised. This is something that has helped me cope with death and loss as I've grown and felt the impacts differently from how I did with my dad. It's never easy, no matter what the circumstance is, that depression and realization will always be one of the most real feelings in the world. Everything feels and fears death, and what I've had to do as I've guided myself through the death of my dad is be understanding. Feel empathy and compassion, not just for others coping but for myself. One way that I've learned to be intentional and keep track of my healing processes is through journaling. Documentation of where I was and where I will be is essential for the days I can't seem to shake the idea that I'm 'behind' in my healing process. The days where I feel like I'm no longer allowed to cope because it's been a month now and I still burst into tears at a simple reminder of them. It's helped me greatly through life in general to be honest, but especially through every mourning process I've had to overcome. It was permission for me to realize I cannot control how I feel. Empathy is a big factor that guides my influence in the world and has allowed me to recognize my passion for helping. I want to study biochemistry in university, and then advance my education somewhere in the medical field. Instead of just hoping to cure sickness, though, I aspire to be the face of kindness, not just because I gave a child medicine and a lollipop, but because I allowed them to be comfortable in an otherwise uncomfortable circumstance. I want to be a warm, thoughtful presence, especially when I may be forced to tell someone the worst news of their life. Through all of this though, healing and learning how to be okay, my biggest influence is Jesus Christ. I have many people to thank for their thoughtful perspectives, to the same extent I could argue that many people should've never been so thoughtless about how I felt. But above everything, Christ has given me new chances, new days, and new opportunities. Often, he feels like the only window I can talk to to get some idea of where my dad is, though I may not understand why things had to be the way they were. Coping is complex. It is messy, and it is what reminds us we are all creatures of emotion and thought. But by allowing yourself to breathe, feel, and pray, it doesn't become easier, but rather you become stronger.

I founded a service and art club in my junior year of high school, from the ground up. But it takes more than spreadsheets, professional emails, and a stubborn attitude to be a leader--even if they're all helpful traits. Leadership has to be approached with attention to detail, humility, and empathy. But most importantly, confidence. Confidence that things will happen the way they need to when hard work is applied, that you are capable of achieving what you want to, and that Jesus Christ will lead you through the things that your heart desires most. Through these traits, I can say I am a leader, as I stay aware of the things I can and cannot accomplish, with a hardheaded confidence that Christ will bring me to a proper finish line--whether it's the one I plan or not. I had the gall to start a crochet club with no former crochet experience--simply a daydream that I refused to let be just another thought. And to be honest, it was one of the best ideas I've ever been confident enough to start. I've had the chance to learn how to crochet, teach people who are too scared to start and dedicate myself to donating to charities such as children's hospitals, animal shelters, and retirement homes. It's taken full dedication to truly compose the club, having to find teacher sponsors, get approval from the school board, and contact centers to know what donations are accepted. And at no point has it ever been arguably easy, having to overcome a major aspect of my anxiety to get anything done essentially every time I have to start a new element of the foundation. But it was through leadership I carried with myself that I managed to start what I have started. I have had to get over my distaste for people for the sake of a professional and kind environment, learning how to empathize and also understand that as someone who has the chance to hold authority, it is my basic responsibility to ensure that my feelings of people never get in the way of their opportunities. I have even had to fight to get respect as a student forming a new program, repeatedly emailing higher-ups until I could receive approval from someone. Many gave the assumption I wouldn't be able to find a teacher sponsor, but turns out--I have two! And a lot of my growth and gratitude is also dedicated to them, and all those who have helped me achieve what I have achieved. But through all of the qualities I have managed to develop and show, whether or not a person believes those are 'leadership qualifications', I believe what has truly defined me as a leader is my ability to transform challenges into opportunities for growth and connection. Being a leader is not about finding your voice, but about guiding others to theirs and giving them a safe space to do that. As I continue to develop as a leader, I am proud to say that I know with my intention and hard work, I will make a great change.

Throughout my everyday life, I have dedicated a lot of my time to uplifting my peers and giving back to my community. I have been gifted with deep empathy and passion for strangers that not many are given. From cooking quesadillas for my brothers every other day to teaching students how to crochet and donate projects, I put a lot of energy into helping people. Therefore, many people were not surprised to find out I wanted to go into medicine and major in biochemistry with a big goal surrounding it—helping people. Several of my distant family members have lost their lives to medical complications and illnesses, and my mother has faced constant neglect with ongoing severe medical problems that have been misdiagnosed. Her medical problems have always been an enigma to me, but seeing how often she is truly ignored by the medical system has fueled my passion to help those who hit closest to home. I've had to see the woman who raised, fed, and bathed me slowly break down to the extent of needing help for all the things she once did for both of us. Therefore, it is so personal and important to me to be able to support others throughout my career. I don't know if I'll be able to help her in time, but I know many people around the world are also forgotten by the medical system, and I strive to help them in any way I can. Admittedly, I don’t know which specific field of medicine I want to pursue, but with so much anticipated to grow and change throughout college, I already anticipate the experimentation I'll take to know for certain what I want. Realistically as a high school senior, I have no idea what my future will hold, but I do know one thing for certain, and that is my ability to help people. I believe that if I were assigned any purpose for the world, it would be to support and uplift people, and I will do everything in my power to accomplish just that.

I've been a fan of Sabrina Carpenter since her song "Fall Apart", released in 2011. Most aren't familiar. And while it's easy to say that because I've been a fan of her music since the beginning of her career, I must be a true super fan, there's much more depth to it. Watching Carpenter's career grow throughout the years has made an incredible impact on what I feel capable of doing. While most remembered her as the girl from Girl Meets World that seemed 'irrelevant' until a scandal with Joshua Basset, I held her dear to my heart as an artist who I could follow. I enjoyed her ethics, her content, and her genuine personality, and to this day I still do even as she's grown and adapted since she was 14. I had the privilege of meeting her twice during her Eyes Wide Open tour and her EVOlution tour at a water park called Magic Springs. To be able to meet a celebrity, especially as a preteen, kind of helped to tear down a border. She was a real person, in front of me, who had real smiles and real thoughts, and she was real. While it's indisputable that I was in awe both times, she wasn't this almighty entity of perfection. She was real. Thus, establishing that she was real made a massive impact on just my perspective to see opportunity opened to anyone--opened to me. So to see her career begin to explode, her style becoming trademark, and her energy globally loved made such a massive change to me. This can happen to me. I can fight and actually achieve the life I desire, as opposed to feeling like my fights are an endless battle. While I know she'll never perform again at Magic Springs, nor remember my name after the hundreds of thousands of people she's had the opportunity to meet, she will forever be one of the most pivotal artists for me--and not in a pedestal way as many view her, but rather in a perspective, opportunist way.

I have had to watch the most powerful woman I know drastically slow down because of negligence in her medical care. My mother has had undiagnosed severe medical problems essentially my entire life, but especially this past year. It left her in and out of the hospital, and I had to watch her physically decline and crumble. This was a terrible thing to witness, but it fueled a passion and a grit to overcome it. I have always had an interest in the medical field, but the passion roots deeply to be able to help people like my mom. There are so many people in the medical field who are misrepresented and misunderstood and I am determined to shrink those numbers in my career. I am passionate about pursuing a degree in STEM because I believe science has such a genuine depth and I've honestly loved it since I was little. I think the aspects of understanding how life works, chemical reactions through the periodic table, and how you can program a mirrored version of life are all absolutely incredible, and I think it's such an important thing to pursue when you're blessed with that passion; STEM is hard. It's so difficult to understand every aspect, including the undiscovered, but I think that's what makes it so much more beautiful. Those who pursue STEM are gifted with not only a passion and curiosity for life, but a work ethic that is hard to match. I have had to fight for the things that I want, sometimes feeling a bit lonely because it appeared my peers never had the same issues I did. I couldn't join extracurriculars and clubs as a kid, my junior year I had to spend everyday wondering if I'd have power in my room yet, and I've never really had the plans at my place. As we've begun to reach a more stable place as a family, it's glaringly obvious I will have to pay for the entirety of my own education. As I've spent the past year and a half applying to over a hundred scholarships before my senior year begins, it's easy to feel as though the fighting for my education is an endless battle. Despite that idea though, I know that I am capable and I can and will do amazing things for the world, thus I cannot just give up my fight because a few obstacles were thrown in my path. This scholarship could offer as a beacon of hope, evidence that the fight is worth it, and could quickly push me closer to my medical dreams.

I had always felt a weird sense of pressure and tension whenever it came to picking a career. What if I was left unfulfilled, bored, and peaked in my career early on? I think whenever it comes to working in the medical field though, it's the only place I've ever felt certain. As I am about to begin my final year of studies as a high school student, I now know for certain that I want to major in bio medicine. Where I plan to go to medical school isn't necessarily set in stone yet, but that's simply because I desire to do it all. Medicine is this beautifully complex, constantly alive field that allows me to always learn and understand the diversity and importance of people. I adore the concept of helping people, and I cannot wait for the moment that I will know how I'll do that. I know it's a cliche remark, but I want to help people--I desire to create an impact through change. I grew up with a mother who was constantly sick, often in and out of the ER with no medical diagnosis and thrown from doctor to doctor. I'd watched as she slowly became less in control of her own body at 40 years old, and as medical professionals seemed to throw her off to the next person to deal with it. She deserves better, and so many others do too. That is why, whenever I say I want to help the underrepresented in the medical system, it's so much more personal than it sounds. I know what it's like to have that struggle of being a 'bother' to those who are supposed to strive to help you and your family, and for that reason I refuse to become like that in the medical field. I'm not positive if I'll become a clinical doctor specifically, but I do know that I am hellbent to make a positive impact on everyone I encounter on my medical journey.

Look! It's a bird...it's a plane...or my mom? My mom is undoubtedly the biggest supporter I have had in my life. She has managed to be an unwavering pillar of support, shaping my path with her encouragement and guidance. From my childhood when she celebrated my smallest achievements like saying "better" instead of "gooder," to the countless hours we've spent discussing college plans, her presence has been incredibly influential. The loss of my father to cancer just before my third birthday left an indescribable mark on my life. Growing up, I've struggled to really understand his absence and often wondered what he would think of the person I am becoming. His memory merely lives on through stories and photographs, but my mother has been the consistent anchor that has helped me navigate the complexities of life without him. She never allowed me to doubt myself, always reminding me of my strength that sometimes only she could see. Unlike my father, whose aspirations for me are something I'll simply never know, my mother's have been known and unwavering. She has never imposed her own ambitions on me but instead nurtured my passions and encouraged me to pursue my dreams, no matter how ambitious or seemingly unrealistic they may have been at the time. One of the most supportive memories of her was when I walked her through my goals of medicine and my awareness of the turmoil that may come with it, and anticipated her usual line of questioning: "Do you have a reason?" To my surprise, she didn't question my choice but instead aimed to understand the motivations behind it. She recognized that my desire to help others was deeply rooted in my early awareness of my father's illness and its profound impact on our family. As I wrapped my junior year of high school into an end, my ambitions and career aspirations evolved. Despite the uncertainty that accompanies choosing a path, my mother's unwavering support has been my constant source of strength. Her belief in me transcends any doubts I have about the future. She has taught me resilience, perseverance, and the importance of pursuing my passions with dedication and purpose. Looking ahead, I am still committed to making a positive impact on the world, fueled by lessons and values instilled in me by my mother. Whether I ultimately choose to become an oncologist, a clinical doctor, a pharmacist, or a veterinarian, I know that her support will continue to guide me through the challenges and triumphs that lie ahead.

My name is Autumn Goffar, and I am many things; passionate, empathetic, hopeful, but most of all I am curious. Curious about new recipes I can bake with my little brothers, German dishes I can indulge in to feel closer to my Oma, and different ways science intertwines into my day to day life. As an upcoming first generation college student, I feel a lot of intense pressure on my shoulders. Eyes watching, waiting to insist they always knew I was incapable from the start. However, I am determined to prove that I know what I am capable of, and the dreams put in my heart were placed there for a reason. In these dreams, I have found that the most powerful way to reach them is through education. When we truly take the time to step back and think, education is the body of life. While I have struggled to know what one thing I want to study, it is simply because I crave knowledge. I want the opportunity to not only understand what neurological symptoms require a medication such as amitriptyline, but also the chemical components used to synthesize it. I am aware that being a woman in STEAM will be an incredibly hard journey, but I want to take the gift of education and use it as a shield rather than a weapon for generations to come. I yearn to bring hope to those who feel overlooked in medicine, and to ultimately contribute to a world where healthcare is more inclusive, treatments are more accessible, and every individual—regardless of background or identity—can receive the care and attention they deserve. What fascinates me about STEAM is its potential to revolutionize healthcare and improve lives worldwide . I have such a genuine passion for understanding the advancements in biomedical chemistry, like for instance, how it can create advanced medical devices that completely change surgical procedures. That is an incredible concept to me that I strive to not only understand but to build on. How can we quickly respond to misunderstood aspects of medicine? How can we assure someone is given the life they deserve, pain-free? These questions, and just STEAM itself is this massive window of opportunity; I feel STEAM is only left undiscovered by those who are afraid of new. This fear is what sparks the true creativity to make change or settle for staying exactly the same.

Reflecting on my accomplishments, a particular achievement stands out: establishing a Crochet Club at my high school. I know this didn't involve 200,000 dollars or a 7 foot trophy, but before my accomplishment is oversimplified, please understand this was much deeper than just starting a service and art club; it represented overcoming significant challenges and realizing my potential to make a difference. Coming from a first-generation, low-income background, I faced challenges that were often misunderstood. Unlike many of my peers, I couldn’t participate in sports or easily access extracurricular activities, which developed social isolation and discomfort. I’d somehow convinced myself throughout almost my entire school career that I was incapable. It wasn’t until my junior year that I finally seized an opportunity to create something meaningful. The process of founding the Crochet Club was a daunting, though incredible experience. It required meticulous planning, countless meetings with administrators, and the mental capacity to learn how to socialize in a professional context constantly. When I received the confirmation email that the Crochet Club was approved and operational, I swelled with a sense of pride and accomplishment, much further than I’d ever expected to be about such a simple thing. But I realized rapidly that this was beyond just the planning hurdles, this journey taught me essential lessons in perseverance, organization, and the power of community engagement. It demonstrated my capability and passion for change, to the extent that I was not willing to let it remain just another fleeting daydream, and I am grateful to have had and gained the support I did throughout the process of starting. Moving forward with this club into my last year of high school, I will extend its community outreach efforts. By December 2024, our goal is to contribute over 100 crocheted projects to local hospitals under the initiative 'Crochet4Care'. The creation of this club may be my greatest achievement so far, but it’s just the beginning. My future aspirations involve expanding far past just the means of my small town and throughout the entire state of Arkansas, through newspaper articles, media establishment, and an official website for the cause. The lessons I've learned from this simple process will be the essential stepping stones to developing something of a state-wide charity with the right support. However, the heavy financial limitations that still follow me, coming from my low-income background, present a significant mountain to climb toward these goals. This scholarship would not only allow financial relief towards my college education, but allow me to grow closer to this cause, and hopefully someday expand to a thriving charity far past my graduation date. Overall, founding the Crochet Club wasn’t just about starting a club—it was about proving to myself and others that with determination and resilience, even the most ambitious goals can be achieved. It reinforced my belief in the power of initiative and community involvement, shaping my future goals. I have managed to realize my own potential, as much more than just a girl who can graduate with high honors, but as a girl who can leave a lasting print on my home despite my own burdens I've had to overcome. Winning this opportunity would affirm my efforts and dedication, and launch my future endeavors.

In a world of complexities, what is left but to read through the emotion we cannot understand? Picture a girl with inconsistent emotion, 'sensitive' and 'crybaby' her earliest nicknames. The only outlet she'd ever found true comfort in was artistic expression. This is the fate of so many, yet we are often shamed for finding these ways to understand ourselves. In the world, I want to prove many things, but especially that women are allowed to be reckless, messy, and imperfect. We are not born to be perfect, yet societal standards have grown to control what we believe we can do. I strive to prove to young and older women alike that we can be who we desire to be. We can mess up, we can mourn, we can hope. We are so much more than a cookie cutter standard, and we are capable of incredible things, so through my poetry I want to share this. I want to prove to the world that being a woman in society today is a beautiful, incredible thing. And through my work, and my community efforts, I know I will be able to make some sort of change in the world and perception of what we are 'allowed' to do.

For most, a house becomes a home when it provides stability and security. Biologically speaking, we're predisposed to trust where we spend time and allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Looking back on my junior year of high school though, I wasn't really lucky enough to feel that comfort at all. During this time my mother was constantly sick and hospitalized, necessitating months of unpaid leave from work, while our home frequently experienced power outages for days at a time. However, despite these constant adversities, I remained committed to fulfilling my responsibilities. No aspect was easy. Honestly, I think the concept of ease is often misguided. Balancing schoolwork, clubs, college preparation, and providing emotional support to my family felt like an uphill battle every day. However, I refused to succumb to despair. Instead, I relied on my resilience and determination to persevere. One of the most vital lessons I learned during this is how to become adaptable. When I was younger, flexibility wasn't typically a requirement for survival, but it rapidly became such. I was pressured to realize I couldn't control the things happening around me, and I had to accept whatever harsh reality I may or may not wake up to, but I could control how I reacted to them. Understanding this was vital in beginning necessary change and building enough courage to become versatile. Throughout the year, I also had to rely heavily on support systems. Losing my sense of security at home, I was blindsided by a loss of direction, and I wouldn't have been able to succeed without those who stood by me. Teachers, coaches, and friends alike provided consistent patience and unwavering encouragement, offering a sense of support I could always lean on. In my most challenging moments, my closest friend was a constant source of support. She would take me out, offer me rides, and invite me for dinner at her place when I was too overcome by the fear of returning home to something else going wrong. I was fortunate to have multiple sources of support, with many people believing in me and aiding in my recovery. I am immensely grateful for her and all the others who stood by me. Additionally, my own mother's struggles were such a strong factor in what I was capable of learning and accomplishing. It was undoubtedly difficult to see my main support system for the past 16 years taken down by consistent and unresolved issues. But to that same extent, despite her struggles, she remained determined to provide for our family and ensure that we never lost hope. Her constant courage and ability to push through some of the most misunderstood things taught me the importance of perseverance and instilled in me a passionate belief that no obstacle is insurmountable. In retrospect, I wouldn't say that I would've chosen the challenges I faced over some sort of easier alternative, but I am truly grateful for what I experienced and the strength it helped me discover within myself. I was pushed far beyond my comfort zone, encountered deeper limitations, and made it through to the other side with a new sense of passion and growth. Today, I have the confidence that I can overcome any obstacle that comes in my direction.

I hate the way I adore movies from the 1990s. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate them. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. Many quote the 90s as a peak for the film industry in terms of 'chick flicks' and teen films, and whether it's a bad thing or not, I fully agree. But of every movie I've had the privilege to watch, '10 things I Hate About You' has without a doubt left the biggest change in my life. '10 Things I Hate About You' follows a vibrant and popular high schooler named Bianca, with an abrasive older sister Kat, who's viewed as loud and lonely. While Bianca is interested in dating, her parents don't allow her to date until Kat gets a boyfriend which leads to an elaborate plan. Of course, some cliche elements of the movie don't exactly mirror my own life, but the beginning alone resonates so deeply with how I've felt throughout almost the entirety of my school career. The constant ridicule and misled judgement seems to be a common factor in and out of movies that generally most teenagers can agree on, if they're not blessed enough to be a part of the cliques. Judgement was something that really controlled what I allowed myself to do for an extremely long time, often influencing my actions, and how I let myself feel and interact with people around me. Seeing this character who was loud, rude, incredibly smart, thought out and so unashamed of it genuinely made me feel so discovered and understood and gave me the confidence to begin being myself. Another element throughout is of course romance. Patrick, the character that's hired to "date Kat", begins to develop a connection with her and actually puts forth this effort to understand who she is, and as any good 90s movie does, of course develops a proper romance between the two. Akin to any person who grows up on 90s movies and feels misunderstood, the idealism of finding love is romanticized, literally. But above just the simple heartache that any viewer feels, having related to the main character makes the concept of feeling like you're allowed to be loved possible. For the young girl who couldn't be understood, didn't receive attention from boys, always felt somewhat of a disappointment, to see a true form of effort and love towards a girl who was proudly embracing herself, it felt freeing. In fact, it felt like some promise was given to me that some day I would find somebody who was willing to understand the side of me that I would be reluctant to show. All in all, 10 Things I Hate About You was genuinely such an impacting movie not just for me, but for every Kat Stratford out there.

My relationship with Christ, on the surface, is newly discovered. I wasn't raised in devout environments, with a quietly Christian mother and agnostic step father. But, a relationship with Christ, in the simplest metaphor, is something akin to musical chairs. A moment of anticipation, knowing soon the music will stop but not quite knowing when, and the decision of whether or not you sit down or leave is presented. Suffering from severe anxiety my entire life, I have always known that eventually the music would stop again. But the decision I had to learn to make was to step out and reach out to Christ just as he'd reached out to me, and it was in Matthew 6:34 that I had felt so much validation that I was being led to my faith with Christ because I'd been introduced to a new feeling of peace I'd never been granted before. "Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." It takes so much courage to put out your faith for Jesus, in a world of hate and fear. But through every round of musical chairs, no matter how many times I fought to get a seat knowing I'd be eventually stuck in a circle of fear of what I'll lose again, he waited for me. Because of that, I can truthfully say his patience and love for me has grown my faith so deeply. It's allowed me to appreciate and understand a life where he is present even if I'm not, and because of that I have promised myself I will hold a presence that can lead them to him. Whenever I am working through my higher educational journey, I fear eventually I may stray back to a chair, waiting for the music to stop, but I know through the truest faith that he will not forget me. He will not abandon me, and he will continue to allow me to grow and continue to give me opportunities to share the word. And with that in mind, I truly hope that I am given as many opportunities as possible to guide people to him as others have for me, because I understand better than anybody that whatever hypothetical game you may be trapped in, whether it be chess in a constant battle of wrong or right or monopoly with a constant forward march, it can be suffocating. But taking a chance on your faith and your relationship with Christ will always serve as the oxygen.

I'm a committed and diligent 17 year old girl within the STEM community, fueled by a devotion for assisting others through medicine and activism. Being an engaged member of my school's Women in STEM Club and Robotics, I've had the opportunity to see how awful my peers, including myself, are treated because they're women. I've been harassed, dehumanized, and even referred to as 'just pretty enough to give up'. Though, at some point, through all of this disgusting mistreatment, I came to a realization: Women are still fighting for a seat at the table. While we do have blessed opportunities that many generations did not have, in many states such as Arkansas, women still spend their lifetimes fighting to prove they're enough. I, however, am not buying into the narrative that this battle is just obligatory for women. In retaliation, I’ve encouraged my female peers to use their voices, created environments where people are valued as equal, and fueled enthusiasm for STEM in everyday scenarios. Though honestly, when it comes to the idealism of deciding 'one thing' I must do for the rest of my life, that seems inadequate. I have several different aspirations, varying from a veterinarian who pursues her passion to help animals, to a chemist designing drugs that allow change, or even a patent lawyer protecting the rights to the pharmaceutical industry. Regardless of what specific career I decide to pursue, I want to help people, rebuild the world with a scientific perspective, and prove that we do not need to hold power over one another to grow. I yearn for a world that can remember the women before us who were only given permission to one destiny, because now we are blessed to have several. Moving forward, STEM is an infinite pool of opportunity. In every aspect, it captures my excitement because there is so much within the field that is constantly growing, nothing forced to stone. As a high school senior, I have to consider ACT scores in order to know what I’ll have access to in my future, and with an exceptionally high score, I have a wide variety of opportunity. Except my lowest score, in math. While others advised me to concentrate on the other subjects to meet their maximum potential and settle for ‘an above average score’, I chose to collect books, practice exams, and study sessions with a pure dedication toward repairing my knowledge of math. Mathematics is, admittedly, one of my worst subjects, but allows me to constantly push myself in new ways. Technology, however, is not my worst category. While I don’t plan on majoring in Informational Technology, I can say through my understanding of computer science, and a plan to assist in tech throughout my final year of Robotics, I understand the dedication and software involved in order to help the world through technology. I think through tech, it truly emphasizes in real time how big of an impact STEM leaves on society, and how much depth STEM holds as a general subject. If I were to pursue IT, I would use my knowledge to address problems, and solve them through practical software. In terms of my greatest battle, I pose a question: How many times have you left for school, curious if you’d have a safe place and family to return to? Significantly throughout my junior year, my mother became riddled with numerous unidentified illnesses, and was in and out of the hospital for months while my step father continuously threatened to leave us. All at the same time, our trailer-home was degrading underneath our feet, and we couldn’t afford to do anything about it. I had to approach some of the most unideal situations, trapped even when I was free. I was under the impression that I was destined to have a negative heart. Life would only ever spit on me, take away the spirit I had, abuse me until a peaceful rest. Thanks to my experiences, though, I’ve pushed to overcome this idea. Yes, I’ve had to deal with financial issues, yes I’ve had to fear for the wellbeing of my mother, and yes I’ve been mistreated in STEM environments. But just as well, yes, I’ve persevered through it all. I’ve grown dramatically in academics, excelling more than ever in the past, dedicated time to understand robotics, an organization I’ve had no prior education in, and have proven capable of watering the growth of my family and I's well being. My past was not always what I’d consider to be a first choice, but it holds no power over where I’ll end up, and I would not dream of giving away what has allowed me to appreciate STEM in its truest depth: the heart of innovation and lungs of hope.

Losing my father, especially at such a young age, wasn't easy. Any essay being read today will say the same. The loss of a parent or significant guardian is one of the most draining and complex losses. It's the one thing, I believe, that any person can collapse onto the ground in tears over, and pick themselves up right after. Whether you're too young to remember them, never getting the chance to build a bond with someone who adored you over the moon, or whether you lose them at any older age and remorse over the memories. There's no initial softening to the blow of that loss. Personally, I was in the former situation. Sometimes I feel entirely discredited at the fact I lost my father because he died the day before my third birthday. I feel as though I'm not even really allowed to mourn him. I've been bullied in school for it, gotten into arguments with my mom over it. No aspect of it is easy, but overtime, I've grown to believe I should be allowed to mourn. Even if it's not directly mourning a memory, it's the lack of. It's the fact he was only 23, with a bright future ahead of him abruptly taken away. It's the fact that I'll never quite feel that connection with a fatherly figure. It's the fact that any story with us together is being told by another, and not held within my own heart or memory. And, truthfully, that kills me to think about. It's so beyond unfair, you don't tend to think you'll abruptly lose someone, especially at such a youthful age. Throughout my life, though, I've often seen this loss reflect on my relationships with people. I've recognized the fact that conversation about parents always makes me subconsciously uncomfortable. I've realized that I tend to have complex relationships with boys in my life, not because of personality aspects but because of this subconscious fear. I often have to avoid the thought of death or cancer altogether because it all scares me to the extent that I spiral into anxiety, and it makes me feel sick. There's so many aspects and sensitive topics, and I hate to think people have to watch their words around me, but there's so many different parts of my life that have shaped me and how I feel and think about things. I know that for a long time my mom and I's relationship suffered due to it, but as we've grown has led to us being significantly closer over this bond. I know that for a long time I dreaded seeing my grandma because I knew she'd talk about how much I looked and sounded like my dad, but as I've grown I realize it's just the fact that I'm the last picture she has of him. Losing my father, especially at such a young age, wasn't easy.

I am not a stranger to the battles with the demons of poor mental health, like most people. In fact, to some extent, I believe that at everyone's lowest moments, these voices mask themselves as your only friend. And for a very long time, I listened to that voice whispering that I wasn't worth anything. Sometimes, even today, I allow myself to be deceived. But, I believe that I can confidently type in this essay that I do have a worth and these whispers that flood my mind fear me more than I have feared them because they know I have an indomitable soul without them. All of these things aside, the influence of my mental health has drastically changed my life at a strong and constant rate. I will never live a day where I do not feel the weight of my mental 'issues', but I will also never live a day where I don't have reminders of how far I've grown as a person. Overall, when I was younger I was a person without religious beliefs, inconsistent morals, poor relationships with friends and family, and plans to end my life after high school graduation. Now, at sixteen, having only completed a small fraction of my lifetime so far, I have a lot to show for my growth. I have an inconsistent but growing relationship with god which I can often find comfort in, knowing that there is a plan above my own. I will no longer be the type of person to judge another for their religion, as I did when I was an atheist. This was influenced the most by my mental health when I was screaming and crying, begging for something higher than me to save me, and I was met by the comforting voice of religion, which would later be one of the factors that saved my life. I also hold stronger morals and boundaries that I have grown over time whenever being more self-aware of what leads me to my lowest points. Continuing, one of the biggest factors that I will preach saved my life forever is my family. Losing friends, especially in mass situations out of your control, is beyond draining but also inevitable at times. I would gladly take the opportunity to grow, but nobody, no matter how healthy, appreciates the feeling of being utterly alone. And that's when I started to appreciate family far more. I recognized the fact that they didn't have to be present in my life but chose to and that while there were rough patches, everyone experienced that. I recognized the fact that these people had forgiven me countless times before for the biggest mistakes, that even if they could have issues of their own, I could find it in my heart to forgive them just as they had to me. Finally, the last point I want to make is my career aspirations and how this scholarship can continue to help me grow into a stronger person. As I stated, I believed I would end my life at the age of 18 after my high school graduation. I couldn't explain to you what the mindset was specifically, but I know it's something I was set on. But after a lot of time and patience, I've got plans and goals for myself that are far past just making good money. I want to help people. I don't know specifically how yet, and I'm sure it's a cliche thing to say, but all I know is what truly makes me the happiest is helping people.

I have had a strong, first-hand experience of loss throughout my life. From being nearly three(3) years old and losing my dad, to shortly after losing my papa at five(5), there was never a point in my life that loss wasn't a familiarity. However, at age fourteen(14), in the year 2021, I felt the impact of a loss to a truly deep extent for the first time. And that loss was my 'nana', also known as my mom's mom. Most often, the loss of a grandparent isn't seen as strongly as a guardian or sibling would be, which is something I find to be indisputable. I can't argue that the loss of my dad has been a lifelong hard-to-swallow concept, however simply put, I never had the honor or dishonor to know him, and while I feel the weight of the lack of my father, up until my nana passed in 2021, I had only ever felt the weight of the label and role they played in my life, rather than who they truly were. And whenever I had lost her I finally recognized death in the perspective of who she truly was. It was far deeper than 'I don't have a grandma' because I do technically have grandmas. But no grandmas, or people in general, in my lifetime will ever be as great and crazy as she. My nana would defend me when my mom would be stubborn or close-minded about concepts, even if she did not agree with what I had to say myself. She would make the world's best homemade chicken soup and sauerkraut (not together though), and while her smoker voice may not have been as soft and lulling as it was pre-addiction, it was a voice I allowed myself to find comfort in time after time. She would sew countless trinkets for me, and even made me one of my favorite blankets to this day, with my favorite cartoon character Spongebob, and my favorite shade of blue. The feeling of losing her is something that I often try to avoid, because maybe if I forget that she's gone, she'll still be here. But I know within my heart that what she wants the most for me is to excel in life. She wanted, more than anything, for me to be successful and never find myself reliant on a man or relationship. She never wanted me to financially struggle in the ways she had to. That being said, while it's hard for me to imagine the truth in the fact that she's gone, I know for a fact that she watches over me, and I know she would be nothing less than amazed by the work I can dedicate myself to as I've grown as a person throughout the past two years. I have grown to be more perseverant, and I have grown to be a more goal-oriented person as opposed to the person I was years ago, demotivated and drained. I strive to fight for what I want out of myself and my life for me and my grandma because I know she'd be beyond proud of me if I were to succeed in life in all the ways I strive to.

I intend to be a first-generation college student. My mother had the opportunity to go to college and even had an acceptance letter coming in from Cornell, however, could not afford to reach that point. I often remember her telling me this story whenever the question of college arises. What opportunities will I be given that she wasn't? Will I suffer the same fate of a missed opportunity that's right in my grasp? This all leads back to the simple question of what I plan to do with a college degree anyway. Truthfully, I have a variety of passions I'm debating between at the moment. I adore science, animals, and the concept of helping people which has me leaning myself into the medical field. Just as equally though, I adore writing cases and giving argumentative speeches which has me leaning myself into law. But even more so, I also find myself excelling in English and public speaking which makes me consider working as a News Anchor or writer. All of these considerations are widely different, and truthfully I don't think they'd be capable of being grouped into one specific category of interest. However, with still well over a year and a half left of my high school experience, I know eventually I will discover what pulls me the most, and I will manage to live my life happily, considering all things. So all of that information in mind, how could this scholarship truly help me? Keeping in mind the fact that my mom is more than likely one of the hardest-working people I have known, nothing about her not going to college stems from the fact that she was 'too lazy'. She had goals and passions, and even almost went to a community college, but conflicting factors such as abusive relationships, home life, and most of all financial compensation stole all of that work she'd put in. Today, she finds herself to be a well-off store manager at a pharmacy, but I can't help but consider the fact that our lives would be so different if she had an opportunity like this. Would she have become the successful psychiatrist of her dreams? Would she be more fulfilled in her life? Would we ever have to worry about money in the same way we do now? I believe she finds a passion in leading her team, and at what she does, but she would feel more passion elsewhere I'll never know. Whilst she is not as restless of a soul, and at a point of contentness in her life, I know that I am not. I have always found myself asking what-ifs, even over simple questions. So my what if, to present to anybody reading this essay today, is, what if you allowed a first-generation student to reach the goals her mother never could, and cannot give to her? What if you allow a first-generation student the capability of reaching goals and contentedness in life, not in greed but in passion?

In June of 2021, I lost my nana. I had 'experienced' plentiful family deaths leading to that point, however often did not have a strong enough bond established, like losing my dad at the age of three before having the opportunity to create any memories with him. That being said, the loss of my nana was probably one of the heaviest deaths I have experienced to this day. Whenever I'd initially been told that she had cancer, I truthfully wasn't worried. Up until that point she had had several near-death experiences and the idea that she was truly sick this time was hard to believe. Regardless, my mom took this seriously and we went on a sixteen-hour road trip to see her in Michigan. On the way to this lurking doom, my mom got a phone call that within just the ten hours we had been on the road, Nana had taken a turn for the worst. I remember hiding in a bedroom crying, even if the idea sounds odd that I'd be avoiding her during her limited time left. My mom came to me and convinced me to spend the valuable time I had with her, and the day she died will forever live in my mind as a vivid memory. She was sent to homebound hospice, and the memory of hesitantly grabbing her hands sometimes replays. She asked me why I was scared of her, in her typical humorous mannerisms, and I told her that I loved her. She told me, "I love you too. Always have, always will." And the next day she was gone. The simple retelling of such a personal story is enough to make my hands shake and my eyes water all over again just as it had been all those many months ago. This entire experience reshaped the way I viewed life and death to such a drastic level, and I often forget that what I experienced permanently changed my line of thought. This experience helped me realize the harsh reality that life does eventually come to an end and reminded me of the morality all things alike face. It helps as a reminder in my day to day to appreciate the small things in life that most wouldn't initially think to appreciate. Every sunset and sunrise will be worthy of a moment of silence, every pretty scene I see is worth the gasp of life, the small moments that I'm alone to talk to Jesus, and the chance to practice patience and let go of anger. I am given these opportunities and reminded of the fact that while my nana may no longer be with me, she will forever be with me in spirit and I feel terribly sorry for anyone who didn't get the chance to meet such a crazy and caring woman.

Success, to me, is to be honored enough to spend my days surrounded by the rewards of my hard work and the things I feel the most passionate about. At the risk of sounding pretentious, my ideology of success is far more than the simplicity of a hefty salary. Of course, everyone appreciates money, and I imagine that having a stable income that gives me freedom would undoubtedly make me feel more successful. However, money does not buy love, happiness, or sentiment. Money is the equivalent of wealth, but not always achievement. At ten years old, I was convinced that being successful meant being a famous pop star working alongside Taylor Swift. And, while I would still consider that to be success, my standards have changed a bit. Now, at sixteen I am torn between my different passions and morals. I adore writing and being a member of my high school's debate and forensics team, but I just as well adore science and helping those who need it. I hate to be a part of the 'cookie cutter' expectation of a career, but truthfully I feel the most gravitation towards either law or medicine. However, only time will truly determine if this is what my soul needs. And in my outlook, if I am to discover and pursue whatever that may be, I will have success. Because success is deeper than a summer home in Colorado, or a future Harvard-bound daughter, success is the ability to say that you feel passion and joy in your life, even with the inevitable ups and downs. This opportunity that's offered by bold.org, as well as Chris and Mary Carnduff has the capability of helping me reach this success ideology. To earn a scholarship of this sort, I would be allowed to get some of the monetary requirements of my goals toward success met. I find that the biggest factor that holds so many back in life is financial, and if I were granted this opportunity to overcome this burden, I would more clearly discover what it is that my spirit desires. At the moment, I may be running in the dark. I would even go so far as to say that there may be plenty of more deserving people if they have a stronger outlook on their lives. But I find myself to be deserving because I crave to find this passion that others may have been blessed to discover sooner and I know I contain the perseverance and adaptive skills that are required to have success in life. At this stage, being a junior in high school, I feel as though I am expected to be one of those people who has a level head at what I want, and if I don't yet, I might never. But, I am certain of at least one thing. I want to find joy, both for myself and others, and as the strong, persistent person that I am, I know eventually I will figure out how to reach the success that I deserve.

My biggest overall support system has always been my mother. From giving me a cookie for learning to say better instead of 'gooder', to spending hours talking about college, my mother has always been an aid in my education. My dad died on May 16th, 2010, the day before my third birthday, after a battle with stage 4 brain, liver, lung, and kidney cancer. It was a concept I couldn't understand for a long time. The only 'memories' I get to have are through the pictures and stories of others, no experiences or credibility. I've lived to hear the phrase over and over "He'd be so proud of you", and the question often arises of if he would be. Would he be proud of where I'm at? Did he ever have the chance to think that far away? He never got to imagine me with long hair, how could he ever imagine me with a degree? That being said, my mom has never let me live a day where I lowballed. I will never know how much my dad aspired for me, but I will never be capable of forgetting how much my mom aspires for me. She's never been the type to implement her dreams or goals unto me, seeing as we are vastly different people in terms of passions and mental capacity. But she has also never been the type to belittle things I aspired to do, even when my main goal in life was to become Taylor Swift's backup dancer. All she needed was to know why. She had to know that I had a reason, a passion, and a goal, and she would proceed to support me to the ends of the earth. It's hard to forget the moment when I came to her saying I wanted to be in the medical field. Considering the amount of financial support necessary, I knew that would raise the question she'd always ask. "Do you have a reason?" I told her it was because I wanted to help people or animals. I aspired to make a difference in the world overall. She didn't bother asking about my passions, because she knew what it stemmed from. She knew that the eventual awareness of my dad's situation was something I struggled to stop thinking about. It shouldn't have been a surprise I had this want. Still, she asked me "How are you [going to] do this?" and I was at a stopping point. How would I help? Even as I write this, I question how I'm going to benefit the world. Will I be an oncologist who constantly works to fight cancer? Will I be a clinical doctor, will I be a pharmacist, will I be a veterinarian? I'm a quarter through my junior year, somehow more lost on what I want to do with my life than I was freshman year. I aspire to make a positive change even if I do not know what that change is yet, and with the push of my mom, I know one day I will.

In May 2023, about a week before my sixteenth birthday, I attempted suicide with various medications. I was struggling to feel like I was worth anything at the time, something I'd often dealt with in the past but it felt especially suffocating at this time. I felt like all my 'friends' had hated me. I felt like god was mad at me. I felt like I'd let ultimately everyone in my life down. Like a waste of space. That night, my mom and I got into a severely heated argument. I remember it as the first time she'd ever threatened me, which was something she'd always been against. My mother suffers from similar mental issues to mine and has always acted as a support system, even if our emotional health is based on different shortcomings. She has been capable of being a lighthouse while I've struggled to properly cope with the death of my dad, and the poor relationship with her new husband. So, when we struggle to see eye to eye, I feel more alone than anything. That night, she'd said things to me that I could retell vividly if it didn't make me feel sick to my spine. I, of course, said terrible things too, which just as equally haunt me. But I remember it felt like everything had come crashing down at once, a mixture of panic, anger, confusion, but most of all fear. Just like that, I knew I wanted out. I'd attempted various times before, but it was no longer a cry for help, it was an escape; I didn't just want out, I needed out. Then, by the next morning, when I should've been indulging in school breakfast and laughing about something I could not care less about, I was instead being admitted to a mental hospital. That forever changed the relationship I had with my mom. One could argue it weakened us, but I think to some extent it left a sense of silent strength that we are both still breathing today for a reason. I think it is something we share pain in and I think it is something that will stick with both of us until the end of our times. It was just a few words; I often tell myself it was just a few words. Just a few swift actions of a pill bottle and everything was different. I was one of the lucky ones, and I often try to remember that when I bitterly go back to the reminder that on my sweet sixteen, I was surrounded by nothing more than strangers. After that moment, everything changed in my mind ultimately. After understanding empathy and sympathy to a new level I'd never been capable of before, feeling things I should have never had to feel, I developed a new curiosity about life. A new passion for life and new beginnings. A newborn goal to help those around me more than I'd ever wanted or been capable of before. But what I felt the strongest was hope. That said, just because I developed hope towards life, doesn't mean I left the institute 'cured'. Because something I've learned is that being mentally unwell is not something that can be 'cured'. You cannot wake up one day immune to the common cold, just as you cannot wake up one day immune to a depressive episode. I have found, even as I type this essay out today, that these thoughts that I run from or face will remain with me in this millennium and the next. There's no reason to insist that this writing is going to inspire those struggling. That 'the battle will be over and everything will work out.' All that I can properly convey in this essay is what I have learned over time. And what I have learned is that mental health is a battle. One with peace, war, and "has it already been an hour?" therapy sessions. A battle where sometimes you're overprotected, draped in steel with swords taller than yourself. But, just as easily a battle where you're left in the hallowed ground with nothing but a tank top and leggings. Mental health is not something, however, that should be feared. These battles are never fun. They are not easy or entertaining. But these battles will never suddenly cease to continue, and truly all we can do is build ourselves up. On some days, that seems impossible. Some days it truly is. Some days there is nothing more we can do than sit in a corner and cry. And eventually, we have to find it in ourselves to allow that. Just because we lose a battle does not mean we will lose the war. A simple analogy but one that I've found to be powerful as I've grown. Because I have lost several battles so far and will continue to lose more. But I have not lost the war, and just as well, I will never convert my regard for those who have. The injurious feelings that have been felt since my attempt often coexist in my mind with everyday thoughts. Nothing about what happened is normal. Yet nothing about what happened is abnormal either. And personally, that's something that disconcerts me. The fact that socially we have convinced ourselves suicide is not an issue when so many people suffer yearly and it continues to be proven over and over again. I have shared my perspectives on relationships and how my attempt essentially changed the way I view life. However, my overall understanding of the world and mental health is still something I manage to learn more about every day. It is the fluid motion of life that will not soon cease to flow, and I will continue to conquer these relentless concepts day to day.

Lost. A feeling I, amongst many, have felt. In the slim amount of time I have managed to live so far on this earth, I have learned many things. But none of those things will ever compete with the discovery of my lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I was never raised on religion, not because my parents were against it, but rather because they, too, have often been lost. When life steals everything from you, you don't have much room to feel anything but lost. Though, without a doubt in my heart, when I truly began to accept Jesus, I felt nothing short of found. I have always suffered from severe anxiety, though it's masked itself in different ways as I've grown. However, it's immeasurable to recall the first time I went to church, not just to smile and fit in, but to belong. To feel, and to want. For the first time in sixteen years of living, I didn't feel scared, paranoid, or fragile. I felt like I had found a place of peace. I felt as though I'd finally escaped the never-ending black hole of my mind. I often reminisce about the fact that small experiences and items have changed the way my life has moved, but the first time I'd ever felt in the eyes of Jesus Christ is above all. I was in the middle of a church, surrounded by all of my peers, all these people who I wanted to fit in with. But as the service continued, and I gave my full mind and time to the moment, I broke down into tears. Oftentimes, I don't prefer to break down, let alone in front of my peers whom, a matter of five minutes ago, I wanted more than anything to impress. But suddenly, 'worldly things' felt like just that. Worldly things. I felt a sense of protection and a shield away from these pains that never seemed to yield. The ability to feel this freedom from socially based situations and pressures was the most freeing moment I've ever felt. Accepting Jesus Christ into my heart is something I still pursue and learn day by day. I crave to learn how I can be better for him and my future and my family, things he is all-knowing of. I no longer feel these suffocating pressures and I allow him to guide me through my journey. To bring me through what I am meant to go through. I've found not only peace with the loss of my dad but comfort in the fact that he's in the hands of our savior now. This only leads me to a question I play through my mind consistently. How do I help lead people to this feeling of safety? How do I save people from these asphyxiating thoughts that I have been through and still struggle with? I will never pretend that accepting Jesus into my heart erased the mental battles I have. But something I often actively try to stress to those who are struggling just as I was, is that it will not get better sitting and waiting for change. I will continue to advise them to pray, read the bible, and spend time talking about Jesus. I will continue to pray for my loved ones, or the ambulance trucks passing by. I will continue to convince my peers that painting and reading the bible in the park is more fun than drinking or partying. I will continue to do what I can for Jesus Christ, just as he has done for me.

Look back at the feeling of being out of state for the first time. An unfamiliar place, sixteen hours away from your comfortable bed, which you just know is covered in soft blankets yelling out your name. Instead, you're so far away from familiarity, that you somehow find yourself underdressed for the weather. Well, that's how I felt, as a southern girl confused as to why someone would ever need such layered clothing during October. The only thing capable of healing the ignominy I'd felt, and the rawness of a Michigan fall was none other than a hot pumpkin spice latte. I've found that this simple and sweet taste of fall has impacted every autumn I've experienced since that point. It may seem over the top or dramatic, but being in such an unfamiliar destination, the mix of pumpkin and cinnamon somehow made everything feel still. Calm, even. Even to this day, the tang of ginger and nutmeg always finds a way to leave the same thought imprinted in my mind: home. Overall, the iconic drink has found a way into every fall I've experienced at one point or another. Whether it be during a warm study session, a deep talk with friends about where college will lead us, or even a quick coffee run to congratulate my friend on her acceptance letter to the University of Arkansas, the pumpkin spice latte will always hold a depth in my life. Through any event in the fall, if I can label it as a milestone, I have to go celebrate with a bubbly pumpkin drink in hand. And without a doubt in my soul, I would be proud to spend every harvest celebrating with the drink. It has helped comfort me through times when I couldn't find comfort in the bittersweet words of my peers. It has helped comfort me through times when I felt I was not capable of feeling comfort. This liquid, while just a sugary mixture of milk and coffee beans, will forever be something I find peace in. Admittedly, I don't often avow to that fact, as no one understands the depth of a cup of sweetened java, but I have managed to learn over time that the comfort I find is not made for my peers, but rather for myself. The comfort in small things like a hot pumpkin spice latte is something I am allowed to feel. The sweet reminder that this simple drink can bring so much joy into my life is just another refresher that no matter what happens, I will find home and comfort. I will forever be thankful for the character that this warm pick-me-up has played. Something as insignificant as a drink gives me the power to feel safe even when the best advice or warmest hug cannot. This drink, albeit a heavy penny, will forever remind me that I can and will be okay.