I once spent an entire afternoon baking challah with my friend, Alex, who is openly part of the LGBTQIA+ community. As we braided the dough, Alex shared stories of growing up in a world that often wasn’t as accepting as it could have been. The rhythm of our hands moving together to fold and twist the dough felt like a quiet meditation on how things could be different—how the world could be more inclusive, compassionate, and kind. In that moment, I understood that activism isn’t always loud or dramatic. Sometimes, it’s in the simple acts of understanding, support, and community. It was an experience that shaped how I see the world and deepened my passion for social justice. Growing up, I always had a sense that fairness and inclusion were important, but Alex’s openness about their struggles and triumphs illuminated a truth I hadn’t fully grasped: activism isn’t just about fighting for your rights—it’s about helping others do the same. I realized then that my passion for connecting with people—whether through baking, business, or simply listening—was my entry point into supporting causes greater than myself. Being part of the LGBTQIA+ community often means facing unique challenges that others might not immediately understand. Alex’s story—of learning to be true to themselves despite external pressures—was a powerful reminder of why representation matters, why support is necessary, and why activism must be consistent. Alex didn’t just share their struggles with me; they also shared the moments of joy and triumph they had experienced, and that hope stuck with me. Through that experience, I learned that small acts—like sharing a meal or listening deeply—can lay the foundation for larger conversations and movements. It made me realize that advocacy is something that can be woven into every part of life, just like the strands of dough we braided that day. My involvement in the LGBTQIA+ community has inspired me to approach activism in a more personal, tangible way. It’s not just about protesting or advocating from a distance—it’s about creating environments where people feel seen and heard. It’s about creating spaces where people can exist as themselves, free from fear or discrimination. My challah business, Cookies Crumbs, while rooted in cultural connection, also became a platform for raising awareness about social justice issues, including LGBTQIA+ rights. Through the connections I’ve made with customers, I’ve realized that business can be a vehicle for activism. Small moments of connection can lead to a greater understanding and, eventually, action. As I move forward with my plans to major in screenwriting and pursue a career in creative fields, I know that activism will remain a guiding principle. Through storytelling, I want to contribute to greater visibility for marginalized communities, using the power of narrative to shift perceptions, evoke empathy, and inspire change. I’ve seen firsthand how storytelling—whether in the form of a meal, a conversation, or a script—can have a ripple effect, moving people toward a better understanding of one another. Alex’s impact on me wasn’t just in the stories they told, but in how those stories reshaped my understanding of advocacy. They taught me that being an ally isn’t just about supporting others from the sidelines—it’s about being actively involved in the fight for equality and creating spaces where people can thrive. I’ve learned that activism is a journey, one that starts with a single step toward connection, empathy, and action. Whether it’s through business, baking, or the stories I tell, I’m committed to contributing to a world where everyone, regardless of their identity, is empowered to live authentically and without fear.

Being a student-athlete has been one of the most transformative experiences of my life, shaping not only my athletic abilities but also my future career goals. Tennis, in particular, has played a crucial role in helping me develop the skills of resilience, discipline, and strategic thinking that will carry me throughout my life, both in my career and personal pursuits. When I first began playing tennis, it was not just a sport; it became an avenue for personal growth. I was drawn to it because it didn’t require the same kind of team communication that sports like soccer did. My hearing loss, which went undiagnosed until my junior year, made team sports a challenge because I often struggled to keep up with fast-paced verbal cues. Tennis, however, allowed me to focus more on my individual performance and develop the skills I needed to be successful. The hours spent on the court were not just physical training; they became a practice in mental resilience. When I encountered setbacks, whether it was a lost match or an off day, I learned how to persevere, refine my technique, and improve. This mindset, shaped by tennis, directly influenced my career aspirations. I’ve learned that success doesn’t come from avoiding challenges, but from confronting them head-on. Tennis taught me the value of patience, consistency, and adjusting my strategy to navigate obstacles. These lessons have translated into my entrepreneurial endeavors as well. I’ve been able to build Cookies Crumbs, my challah business, using the same persistence and adaptability that tennis has instilled in me. Whether it’s refining my product or handling customer feedback, I approach each challenge with the mindset that it’s a chance to improve. Beyond sports, I have a deep interest in writing and screenwriting. My creative pursuits have provided an outlet for me to express myself and reflect on the world around me. Writing allows me to observe the details in life, which I’ve also found to be crucial in my approach to tennis and entrepreneurship. In both my writing and business endeavors, I’ve learned to pay attention to the little things—whether it’s a subtle facial expression in a scene or the quality of ingredients in a loaf of challah. These small details create the foundation for a larger story, just as each practice session and decision builds toward success in the game of tennis or running a business. Both my experiences as a student-athlete and my passion for writing and entrepreneurship have shaped my future career goals. I hope to pursue a career in screenwriting, where I can blend my creativity with the resilience and strategic thinking I’ve developed through sports. Being a student-athlete has taught me how to balance multiple interests, how to set goals, and how to manage my time effectively. The lessons I’ve learned on the court have made me more confident in my ability to navigate the challenges ahead in both my career and personal life. Ultimately, being a student-athlete has helped me develop a well-rounded perspective on life. It’s given me the tools to adapt, persevere, and grow—not just as an athlete, but as an individual with a passion for entrepreneurship and creativity. Tennis has shaped me in ways that will continue to influence my future, whether I’m writing a script, running a business, or navigating the next big challenge in my life.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my arms moving rhythmically, my hands beginning to ache. I’ve got the process down to a science: two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in a 350-degree oven. But I wonder: why does challah need to rise twice? Why endure that initial rise only to be beaten down again for braiding? It doesn’t entirely make sense, but after years of perfecting my challah recipe, I’m starting to understand. Growth isn’t linear; sometimes, you need to fall to rise again. This lesson has guided me not just in baking but in life. When I discovered during junior year that I needed hearing aids, I resisted. The idea of relying on something to navigate the world felt overwhelming. At first, I simply refused to wear them. But over time, it became clear that I was putting myself at a disadvantage. I missed meaningful conversations with friends, struggled in noisy environments, and avoided opportunities. Like challah, my growth required a process. Learning to wear hearing aids was not just about adapting to a new way of hearing but also about rethinking how I approached challenges. I realized that while the world might not always adjust for me, I could find ways to thrive within it. This mindset has shaped who I am and how I approach my future. I’ve always been drawn to independent pursuits—baking, tennis, and writing—where communication isn’t a constant barrier. Starting my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs, was one of the most meaningful ways I turned a personal passion into a way to connect with others. What began as a quiet activity in the kitchen became a platform for building community. Through creative marketing and thoughtful pricing, I shared challah with my neighbors, school clubs, and bake sales, raising funds for causes like hearing aid accessibility and social justice. Adapting to my hearing loss also made me a stronger leader. I learned to be more outgoing, to ask for help when needed, and to advocate for myself and others. As president of my school’s Interact Club, I’ve organized events like a toy drive with my local Rotary Club, fostering connections within my community. These experiences taught me the value of collaboration and the power of small actions to create meaningful change. But my hearing loss has also given me something deeper: a new way of seeing the world. I’ve become more observant, relying on facial expressions and body language to connect with others. This attentiveness has profoundly shaped my storytelling as a screenwriter. I’ve learned that the smallest details—the ones others might overlook—are what bring characters and stories to life. As I plan my career in film, I hope to bring this same sense of empathy and observation to the screen. Movies have the power to challenge perspectives, spark dialogue, and connect people across differences. By telling stories that reflect the complexities of human experience, I aim to amplify underrepresented voices and inspire change. Just as challah depends on its rises and falls to achieve flavor and structure, my setbacks have shaped me into a more resilient and reflective individual. Every challenge I’ve faced has prepared me to create something meaningful—to braid together my passions for storytelling, community, and growth into a career that leaves a lasting impact on the world.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my arms moving rhythmically, my hands beginning to ache. I’ve got the process down to a science: two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in a 350-degree oven. But I wonder: why does challah need to rise twice? Why endure that initial rise only to be beaten down again for braiding? It doesn’t entirely make sense, but after years of perfecting my challah recipe, I’m starting to understand. Growth isn’t linear; sometimes, you need to fall to rise again. This lesson has guided me not just in baking but in life. When I discovered during junior year that I needed hearing aids, I resisted. The idea of relying on something to navigate the world felt overwhelming. At first, I simply refused to wear them. But over time, it became clear that I was putting myself at a disadvantage. I missed meaningful conversations with friends, struggled in noisy environments, and avoided opportunities. Like challah, my growth required a process. Learning to wear hearing aids was not just about adapting to a new way of hearing but also about rethinking how I approached challenges. I realized that while the world might not always adjust for me, I could find ways to thrive within it. This mindset has shaped who I am and how I approach my future. I’ve always been drawn to independent pursuits—baking, tennis, and writing—where communication isn’t a constant barrier. Starting my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs, was one of the most meaningful ways I turned a personal passion into a way to connect with others. What began as a quiet activity in the kitchen became a platform for building community. Through creative marketing and thoughtful pricing, I shared challah with my neighbors, school clubs, and bake sales, raising funds for causes like hearing aid accessibility and social justice. Adapting to my hearing loss also made me a stronger leader. I learned to be more outgoing, to ask for help when needed, and to advocate for myself and others. As president of my school’s Interact Club, I’ve organized events like a toy drive with my local Rotary Club, fostering connections within my community. These experiences taught me the value of collaboration and the power of small actions to create meaningful change. But my hearing loss has also given me something deeper: a new way of seeing the world. I’ve become more observant, relying on facial expressions and body language to connect with others. This attentiveness has profoundly shaped my storytelling as a screenwriter. I’ve learned that the smallest details—the ones others might overlook—are what bring characters and stories to life. As I plan my career in film, I hope to bring this same sense of empathy and observation to the screen. Movies have the power to challenge perspectives, spark dialogue, and connect people across differences. By telling stories that reflect the complexities of human experience, I aim to amplify underrepresented voices and inspire change. Just as challah depends on its rises and falls to achieve flavor and structure, my setbacks have shaped me into a more resilient and reflective individual. Every challenge I’ve faced has prepared me to create something meaningful—to braid together my passions for storytelling, community, and growth into a career that leaves a lasting impact on the world.

Tennis has taught me countless lessons, both on and off the court, that have shaped who I am and how I approach challenges in life. As a sport that demands focus, endurance, and resilience, tennis has become more than just a way to stay active; it has been a key part of my personal growth, especially in navigating the challenges I’ve faced with my hearing loss and my experience as an entrepreneur with Cookies Crumbs, my challah business. When I first started playing tennis, I wasn’t sure how much I would enjoy it. My older brothers played soccer, and I often found myself following them, but tennis was different. It didn’t require the same type of team communication, and in many ways, it allowed me to rely more on my individual strengths. As I played more, I began to see how much tennis mirrored my personal journey, especially when I was diagnosed with hearing loss in junior year. At first, I was reluctant to wear hearing aids, just as I initially resisted embracing tennis as my sport. Both required me to confront something that made me feel different, whether it was my hearing or my shift away from the sports my brothers excelled in. But tennis, much like the process of adapting to hearing loss, taught me how to adjust, overcome frustration, and grow. The hours spent on the court honed my ability to push through setbacks, which became a powerful tool when I faced the challenges of building a business and learning how to communicate in new ways. Tennis also taught me the value of consistency and patience. Every practice, every match, required me to push past my own limits, to train my mind to stay focused and my body to endure. These are the same qualities that have helped me grow my business and manage the complexities of balancing academics, extracurriculars, and entrepreneurship. Just as tennis requires a careful blend of strategy and execution, running Cookies Crumbs has been a process of trial and error, learning what works, and making adjustments along the way. Tennis has shown me the importance of persistence and how to stay focused on my goals, even when the path is unclear. Additionally, tennis taught me how to embrace independence. While I enjoyed playing team sports with my brothers, tennis gave me the opportunity to thrive on my own. In tennis, you are solely responsible for your performance, which requires both confidence and accountability. These qualities became crucial when I began my challah business, which was driven by my desire to create something meaningful and share my culture with others. I learned how to communicate effectively with customers, manage my time, and market my product—all skills I would not have developed without the self-reliance that tennis instilled in me. Through both tennis and my business, I’ve learned the importance of accepting challenges as opportunities for growth. Tennis has shaped my future by teaching me that setbacks are not failures, but rather opportunities to refine skills, adapt, and come out stronger. Whether I’m on the court or in the kitchen, I know that every challenge I face is an opportunity to become better and more resilient. Just as a tennis match is not won by one good shot, building my future will take patience, dedication, and the ability to adjust to whatever comes my way. These lessons, learned from tennis, will continue to guide me as I pursue my goals in entrepreneurship and beyond.

The lyric “It takes strength to forgive but I don’t feel strong” from Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS resonates with me because it encapsulates the emotional struggles of navigating adolescence, particularly the internal conflict between growth and vulnerability. Much like the lyric suggests, there have been times when I felt overwhelmed by my circumstances and questioned my own strength. The challenges I’ve faced with hearing loss, as well as my journey of building my challah business, have both tested my resilience, and in many ways, I’ve felt the same way: that it takes strength to forgive—whether that’s forgiving others, or, most importantly, forgiving myself. When I discovered my hearing loss in junior year, I didn’t immediately embrace it. I refused to wear hearing aids, thinking that admitting my condition would make me weak or somehow different. Much like the lyric, I felt I lacked the strength to accept something that felt out of my control. It was a battle I had to face alone, but over time, I realized that my true strength wasn’t in hiding my struggles but in accepting them and finding a way to move forward. My challah business, Cookies Crumbs, became a symbol of that acceptance and growth. Starting the business was a way for me to prove to myself that I could adapt to my circumstances and succeed despite the challenges I faced. But even as I grew more confident in my abilities as a baker and entrepreneur, I still struggled with the feeling of not being “strong enough.” There were moments when I doubted myself—when I felt exhausted by the work and unsure if I could keep pushing forward. The lyric from The Grudge captured that sense of emotional vulnerability perfectly: wanting to forgive, to move past the pain, but feeling too overwhelmed by it to feel strong. The challenges of adolescence, especially with hearing loss, aren’t just physical—they’re emotional too. They test your ability to find balance between acceptance and self-doubt. Growing up with hearing loss made me more independent, but it also made me question whether I could ever truly be “normal.” Over time, I learned that there’s no single definition of normalcy. The process of learning to live with hearing loss and embrace who I am shaped my personal growth, much like how dough rises through heat and pressure, becoming something new and stronger. But there were still times when I felt like I wasn’t strong enough—when the weight of those challenges felt too heavy. Forgiveness is an ongoing journey. It’s not just about forgiving others but forgiving myself for feeling weak or defeated at times. The process of building Cookies Crumbs showed me that failure doesn’t define me—it’s how I rise from it that matters. The same applies to my hearing loss. I’ve learned to be patient with myself, to forgive myself for not always having the answers, and to embrace each challenge as an opportunity to grow. In many ways, the lyric from Olivia Rodrigo reflects the heart of adolescence—feeling torn between the need to be strong and the vulnerability that comes with growth. It’s a reminder that strength isn’t just about pushing through; it’s about accepting our flaws, embracing our setbacks, and recognizing that healing, whether emotional or physical, takes time. I’ve learned that strength isn’t always visible. Sometimes, it’s simply the ability to rise again, even when we don’t feel strong. Just as I continue to adapt to my hearing loss and build my business, I’m learning that the strength to forgive, especially myself, is the most important part of growing into who I’m meant to be.

One athlete on Team USA who truly resonates with me is Simone Biles. Her journey as a gymnast has been one of incredible resilience and determination, qualities that I deeply relate to. While many people know her for her gold medals and record-breaking achievements, it’s her courage to face adversity and her ability to grow from it that has inspired me the most. Simone’s story, like my own, is filled with challenges that have pushed her to become the person she is today. For me, the challenge came with my hearing loss, which I didn’t fully understand or accept until later in my life. Growing up, I didn’t realize how much my hearing loss influenced my choices, from sports to social situations. Like Simone, I faced the difficult decision to acknowledge the limitations that my condition imposed, and to adapt. While Simone had to battle the pressures of the gymnastics world, including intense mental and physical strain, I had to learn to embrace my hearing loss and adapt to the world around me, which wasn’t always easy. Simone’s decision to step back from the 2021 Tokyo Olympics to prioritize her mental health was a pivotal moment for me. She chose her well-being over competition, an incredibly brave decision that changed the way we view athletes’ mental health. Similarly, I’ve learned to prioritize my health, both physical and emotional, as I’ve navigated the challenges of my hearing loss. My journey also led me to launch my challah business, Cookies Crumbs, which became a source of independence and a way to express myself. Like Simone, I realized that growth comes from embracing our vulnerabilities and recognizing when we need to make changes to thrive. What I admire most about Simone is her ability to constantly redefine what strength means. For me, strength isn’t just about physical ability or success in competitions. It’s about perseverance, resilience, and being able to rise after setbacks, just as she does. Watching Simone continue to break barriers—whether it's by redefining the sport of gymnastics or by having the courage to take care of her mental health—has taught me the importance of resilience. She embodies the idea that challenges don't define us; how we face them does. Simone Biles’ story encourages me to keep pushing forward despite setbacks, reminding me that I too can rise after facing challenges. Whether it's learning to live with my hearing loss or navigating new opportunities, I draw inspiration from her ability to evolve and her unwavering commitment to herself. Just as she has redefined gymnastics, I strive to define my own path, shaped by my experiences and the lessons I’ve learned along the way. Through Simone’s example, I’ve learned that strength comes in many forms, and the most important aspect is the resilience to rise again, stronger than before.

Grid Words: Flour Rise Challah Yeast Script Scene Director Screenwriting Bounce Adaptation Grit Fortitude Echo Whisper Harmony Crescendo Group 1: Baking Flour Rise Challah Yeast These words represent the essentials of bread-making and connect directly to my personal story of baking challah and its symbolic connection to growth and resilience. Group 2: Film Script Scene Director Screenwriting This group highlights the elements of storytelling and filmmaking, reflecting my passion for writing and creativity. Group 3: Synonyms for Resilience (Hard) Bounce Adaptation Grit Fortitude This tricky category explores abstract concepts tied to resilience. These words signify qualities I’ve developed through challenges, including my journey with hearing loss and building my challah business. "Bounce" and "Adaptation" suggest flexibility, while "Grit" and "Fortitude" represent inner strength. Group 4: Sound Words (Creative and Difficult) Echo Whisper Harmony Crescendo These words are connected by their relationship to sound. They evoke a sensory theme tied to my experience with hearing aids. "Echo" and "Crescendo" reflect intensity, while "Whisper" and "Harmony" evoke subtlety and balance. Reasoning Behind the Puzzle The baking and film groups reflect my personal and creative identity. The "Synonyms for Resilience" group challenges players with abstract connections, symbolizing my growth and perseverance. The "Sound Words" group is a creative nod to my hearing loss journey and the nuances of communication. This puzzle is layered, personal, and designed to make players think in unexpected ways!

Music, like baking challah or navigating life with hearing loss, is a layered process of self-discovery and growth. On Charli XCX’s Brat, the song that resonates with me most deeply is Track X (a placeholder for your chosen song—please specify if you have one in mind). Its themes of resilience, individuality, and finding strength in vulnerability mirror my own journey. The song’s lyrics explore a push-and-pull between doubt and confidence, weaving together moments of hesitation and clarity. For me, this reflects the emotional rhythm I experienced after being diagnosed with hearing loss in junior year. At first, I refused to wear hearing aids, unwilling to accept that something fundamental about me needed help. Similarly, Track X carries an undercurrent of self-acceptance, urging listeners to embrace their imperfections. Its rawness reminds me that it’s okay to face setbacks because they’re often the moments that push us to grow. The production of Track X—with its layered vocals and pulsing beats—also parallels the creative process I experienced with my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs. Like perfecting a challah recipe, the song builds and evolves. Each note, each rise and fall, feels deliberate yet organic. Charli’s willingness to experiment mirrors how I approached baking, constantly refining my process to create something uniquely mine. One line from Track X especially stands out: [insert a line from the song]. It speaks to pushing through challenges, something I’ve had to do often. Whether navigating a noisy school cafeteria or asking for clarification in a group project, I’ve learned to advocate for myself in ways that felt impossible before. Listening to Charli’s music feels like finding a kindred spirit who thrives in spaces where vulnerability and creativity intersect. Through Track X, I see reflections of the confidence I’ve built over time. Baking challah taught me the value of patience and resilience, and the song reminds me that personal growth, like the perfect loaf, requires both time and care. Charli’s career itself is an inspiration. She pushes boundaries, unapologetically taking risks to create art that is uniquely hers. In my own life, I’ve leaned into risks too—starting my challah business, stepping out of my comfort zone to meet new people, and even embracing my hearing aids. These decisions have made me more independent and allowed me to connect with my community in ways I never thought possible. Ultimately, Track X reminds me that the beauty of growth lies in its imperfections. Like challah dough that must rise, fall, and rise again, the process of becoming stronger and more self-assured takes time. Through its lyrics and production, the song captures the essence of resilience and creativity—qualities I strive to carry into every aspect of my life. For me, Charli XCX’s Brat isn’t just an album; it’s a reminder to embrace the messy, transformative process of finding strength in our struggles and crafting something beautiful from them.

Introducing The Perfect Rise Challenge, a Love Island game inspired by the art of baking and the metaphor of growth and resilience. This challenge combines teamwork, communication, and a sprinkle of chaos—all wrapped in a wholesome, yet dramatic, competition. Premise: In The Perfect Rise Challenge, couples must work together to bake the best loaf of bread, metaphorically capturing the essence of relationships: patience, understanding, and rising stronger after setbacks. The catch? Each step of the process is fraught with unexpected twists, testing how well the Islanders adapt under pressure. Setup: The villa transforms into a rustic baking haven, complete with individual workstations stocked with ingredients, tools, and an oven. Each couple receives a recipe card, but the instructions are vague, requiring creativity and communication to complete the task. A massive hourglass tracks the time, adding tension. Phases of the Challenge: The Ingredients Dash: Couples must sprint to gather their ingredients from a pantry. However, some items are hidden or mislabeled, requiring teamwork to decipher clues and locate essentials. Communication is key—choose poorly, and you might end up with salt instead of sugar! Knead for Speed: One partner kneads the dough while the other reads out instructions, but midway through, the kneader must switch hands, symbolizing flexibility in relationships. A surprise “timer twist” means couples must pause mid-knead and answer rapid-fire questions about each other. Wrong answers? Penalties like wearing oven mitts while kneading. The Great Rise: The dough must rise, but instead of waiting idly, couples are given relationship scenarios to act out while blindfolded, emphasizing trust. For every correct response judged by fellow Islanders, they earn extra baking time. The Bake-Off: The final phase is the bake, where couples decorate their loaf with themes that represent their bond. Midway, a storm of flour and confetti erupts, mimicking unexpected hurdles in relationships. How they recover and finish their loaf reflects their adaptability. The Judging: A guest celebrity baker—perhaps a former Islander known for their cooking skills—judges the loaves on taste, presentation, and the creativity of their couple-themed designs. Bonus points are awarded for overcoming challenges with humor and grace. Why This Challenge? The Perfect Rise Challenge symbolizes the essence of Love Island: growth through challenges. Just like my personal journey of learning and rising stronger after setbacks, this game emphasizes that relationships require patience, adaptability, and a willingness to work through imperfections. At its core, it’s a lighthearted yet meaningful way for couples to bond, learn about each other, and have fun while highlighting the importance of perseverance. Plus, who wouldn’t love the drama of Islanders covered in flour and arguing over whether their dough is overproofed? It’s reality TV gold!

Billie Eilish’s music has a unique way of unraveling emotions and thoughts I sometimes struggle to put into words. Her songs resonate deeply with me, not just as a fan but as someone who finds comfort and understanding in her artistry. If I had to choose, my top three songs would be “Everything I Wanted,” “When the Party’s Over,” and “My Future.” “Everything I Wanted” holds a mirror to feelings of vulnerability and self-doubt while embracing the solace found in unwavering support. The lyrics remind me of moments when I felt overwhelmed, whether it was navigating my hearing loss or starting my challah business. Like Billie sings about having someone who reassures her, I’ve had family and friends who remind me of my worth when self-doubt takes over. The song feels like a hand on my shoulder, quietly telling me it’s okay to lean on others. “When the Party’s Over” is a poignant exploration of letting go and the bittersweet beauty of endings. It resonates with the quiet moments in my life, like when I’m kneading challah dough in my kitchen. The rise and fall of the dough mirror the emotional process Billie describes—allowing yourself to collapse, to feel, and then to rise again. It’s a song that embraces fragility and strength, much like my journey of self-discovery. Lastly, “My Future” is an anthem of hope and independence. It speaks to me as someone who has grown into their own passions and identity. Starting my challah business was a leap of faith, driven by a desire to create something meaningful and independent. Billie’s lyrics capture the excitement and reflection of looking forward while carrying the lessons of the past. Her line, “I’m in love with my future,” feels like the perfect summation of how I approach life—with curiosity and a readiness to rise to challenges. What makes Billie Eilish’s music so impactful is its authenticity. Her songs don’t shy away from complexity or contradictions, just as my own story doesn’t. She reminds me that growth often comes from vulnerability and that embracing the quiet, introspective parts of life can lead to profound strength.

LeBron James is more than just a basketball player—he’s a symbol of excellence, perseverance, and the power of influence beyond the court. As a fan, what draws me to LeBron isn’t just his athletic ability, but his relentless pursuit of greatness in all aspects of life. Whether it’s his unmatched versatility on the court or his commitment to giving back through initiatives like the I PROMISE School, LeBron exemplifies what it means to use your platform for good. When it comes to whether LeBron James is the greatest basketball player of all time, the argument is compelling. Statistically, his longevity and consistency are unparalleled. Over 20 seasons, LeBron has redefined what it means to be a complete player, excelling in scoring, passing, and defense. His ability to adapt his game as he ages and to elevate his teammates distinguishes him from many others in the GOAT conversation. However, greatness extends beyond numbers. LeBron’s career spans eras, from the physical battles of the early 2000s to today’s faster-paced, analytics-driven game. He’s led teams in vastly different situations, from his championship runs in Miami to bringing a title to Cleveland, a feat that cemented his legacy as a hometown hero. That said, comparisons to legends like Michael Jordan spark endless debate. Jordan’s dominance and flair for the dramatic made him an icon of the 90s, and his six championships remain a gold standard. But where Jordan defined his era, LeBron’s impact transcends basketball, inspiring fans like me to aim higher in whatever path we choose. Whether he’s the GOAT or not, LeBron James has already solidified his place as a transformative figure in sports and culture. That’s why I’m proud to call myself a fan.

The perfect ending to The Bear would honor the chaos, growth, and humanity of its characters while leaving room for hope and ambiguity—just like the show itself. The Beef, now fully transformed into The Bear, achieves critical acclaim and commercial success, but not without its share of growing pains. Carmy finally learns to balance his relentless pursuit of perfection with self-care. After much internal struggle, he realizes that his passion for food doesn’t have to come at the cost of his happiness or relationships. In a tender moment, he reconciles with his estranged mother, perhaps over a meal that reminds them both of simpler times. While Carmy remains at the restaurant, his focus shifts from control to mentorship, allowing others to step into the spotlight. Sydney comes into her own as a visionary chef, pushing boundaries and earning recognition for her creativity. She begins to trust her instincts fully, taking the reins as The Bear’s co-owner and establishing herself as a force in the culinary world. Her partnership with Carmy evolves into one built on mutual respect, their combined talents propelling the restaurant to new heights. Richie, having rediscovered his purpose, thrives in his role as the restaurant’s heart and soul. His growth arc culminates in him becoming the face of The Bear, charming guests with his humor and authenticity. He also rebuilds his relationship with his daughter, who sees him as an example of resilience. Marcus finds his footing as a world-class pastry chef, with his desserts becoming a cornerstone of The Bear’s reputation. His quiet determination and artistic sensibility bring joy to both the kitchen and the customers, and he continues to grow through his global pastry collaborations. Tina and Ebra embrace their roles as pillars of the team, their experience and wisdom ensuring the kitchen runs smoothly. Their journey of adaptation and self-confidence serves as a reminder that growth is possible at any stage in life. As for the broader staff, everyone finds their place. The kitchen transforms into not just a workplace but a family, where disagreements and challenges exist, but love and respect prevail. In the final episode, the restaurant receives a glowing review from a notoriously harsh critic. The entire team gathers in the kitchen to read it aloud, their nervous energy giving way to jubilant celebration. As the camera pans around the bustling kitchen, each character’s journey is reflected in their demeanor—Carmy laughing freely, Sydney leading with quiet confidence, Richie cracking jokes, and Marcus presenting a stunning dessert. The final scene mirrors the show’s opening: chaos in the kitchen. Orders are flying, dishes are being plated, and the team is working in perfect, messy harmony. The screen cuts to black as the sounds of a bustling restaurant crescendo, leaving the audience with a sense of accomplishment and hope, yet knowing the work never truly ends. The Bear has risen, and so have its people.

Sabrina Carpenter’s music and career have profoundly impacted me, serving as both a source of comfort and inspiration. Her ability to convey raw emotions through her lyrics and performances creates a connection that feels deeply personal. Listening to her music, whether it’s the playful confidence of “Sue Me” or the emotional vulnerability in “Skinny Dipping,” has given me a soundtrack for moments of both joy and introspection. Carpenter’s journey as an artist has taught me the importance of resilience and authenticity. Starting as a young actor and evolving into a multifaceted musician, she has consistently pushed boundaries, refusing to be boxed into a single identity. Her transition from acting to music inspired me to embrace my own diverse interests without fear of judgment. Like her, I’ve learned that passion and dedication can help you defy expectations and carve your own path. Her music resonates because it speaks to universal experiences with honesty and heart. Songs like “because i liked a boy” delve into themes of public scrutiny and personal growth, reminding me to stay true to myself even when faced with challenges. As someone who has navigated setbacks and moments of self-doubt, I’ve found strength in Carpenter’s willingness to share her own vulnerabilities. It’s a reminder that struggles can lead to growth and that every experience contributes to who we are. What makes me admire Sabrina Carpenter even more is her connection with her fans. Through social media, live performances, and her candid interviews, she fosters a sense of community that feels genuine. She encourages self-love and individuality, inspiring me to celebrate my own uniqueness and embrace my story. Her career isn’t just about personal success; it’s about uplifting others and creating a safe space for her audience to feel seen and understood. Carpenter’s evolution as an artist has been especially meaningful to me. Watching her step into more mature, introspective themes while maintaining her playful energy has shown me the value of embracing change and growth. It’s a lesson I apply to my own life, especially as I pursue creative passions and strive to make a difference in the world around me. Supporting Sabrina Carpenter means supporting an artist who isn’t afraid to take risks and tell authentic stories. Her music reminds me of the importance of being honest with yourself and others, no matter how difficult it may be. It’s through her vulnerability that she has built a career that transcends entertainment, becoming a beacon of strength and relatability for her fans. Sabrina Carpenter’s career has left an indelible mark on my life. Her music uplifts, her story inspires, and her authenticity reminds me to embrace every part of my journey. As a fan, I’m not just drawn to her talent but also to her courage and heart. In a world where it’s easy to conform, she stands out as a reminder that staying true to yourself is the ultimate form of success.

Chappell Roan's music has been a transformative force in my life, resonating deeply with her honesty, artistry, and courage. Her lyrics feel like conversations, articulating emotions and experiences that are often difficult to put into words. Through her music, she creates a space where vulnerability is celebrated and individuality is embraced, inspiring me to reflect on my own journey of self-discovery and resilience. Roan’s ability to blend haunting melodies with empowering messages has been particularly impactful. Songs like “Pink Pony Club” radiate a sense of liberation, encouraging listeners to shed societal expectations and embrace their true selves. This theme of unapologetic authenticity is something I’ve connected with profoundly, especially as someone who has had to navigate the challenges of hearing loss. Like her, I’ve learned that embracing what makes you different is a source of strength. Her music reminds me to remain steadfast in my own aspirations, even in the face of obstacles. Supporting Chappell Roan’s career feels natural because her artistry stands as a beacon of representation and inclusivity in the music industry. She tackles themes of love, self-acceptance, and identity with a boldness that resonates across diverse audiences. Her unique voice and vision prove that art can challenge norms and foster understanding, which aligns with my own belief in storytelling as a powerful tool for change. Moreover, her journey as an artist is inspiring in itself. Chappell Roan’s evolution from her earlier work to her current identity as an independent pop artist highlights the value of staying true to your vision. By defying expectations and reclaiming her narrative, she has shown me the importance of perseverance and self-belief. These lessons motivate me in my own creative pursuits, reminding me that success comes not from conforming but from carving your own path. Beyond her music, Roan’s connection with her fans is remarkable. Through her online presence and performances, she fosters a community that celebrates individuality and self-expression. I’ve seen how her authenticity uplifts others, creating a ripple effect of kindness and confidence. Her artistry and activism merge seamlessly, making her not just a musician but a role model for anyone striving to make a positive impact in the world. Chappell Roan’s music and career have not only inspired me but have also encouraged me to support and advocate for artists who challenge conventions and inspire change. By championing her work, I feel like I’m contributing to a broader movement that celebrates creativity, authenticity, and inclusivity. Her music is more than entertainment; it’s a call to action to embrace individuality and empower others to do the same. In a world that often values conformity, Chappell Roan reminds us all to dance unapologetically to our own rhythm. Supporting her career means supporting a vision of art that uplifts and transforms. For me, her music isn’t just a soundtrack; it’s a source of strength, a reminder to be brave, and a testament to the power of authenticity.

Growing up, I often felt like I was navigating life without a clear guide. My early years were filled with challenges—finding my interests, learning about who I was, and trying to fit in—but I also had the added complexity of hearing loss, which I didn’t fully understand until my junior year of high school. It’s easy to forget how much communication relies on sound: conversations, listening to music, absorbing information in classrooms, and even being present in social situations. For most of my childhood, I didn’t know how much I was missing. At first, I resisted wearing hearing aids when I was diagnosed with hearing loss, feeling embarrassed and isolated. The adjustment process was gradual, and for a time, it was frustrating to realize that I had been missing out on so many things. But eventually, I recognized that my hearing loss didn’t define me. Instead, it became something that forced me to adapt and grow in ways I hadn’t imagined. In a world where communication often comes with assumptions about what’s “normal,” I learned that embracing who I was meant accepting my limitations while also finding ways to break through them. During this time, I began baking challah, a tradition passed down from my family. What began as a quiet pastime in my kitchen became an outlet for self-expression. Kneading dough became a kind of therapy, a way for me to focus on something positive and creative. Through countless hours of baking, I learned not just about ingredients and timing, but patience and resilience. Much like the dough I kneaded, I too was in a process of rising and reshaping. This connection with baking led to the creation of my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs. What started as a way to bring joy to my family and friends became a platform for me to engage with my community. I sold loaves at local events, donated to fundraisers, and used my business to raise awareness for causes important to me, like hearing aid accessibility. The act of sharing something I had poured my heart into became a form of kindness, one that fostered connections and led to growth. The most significant hurdle I faced was learning to navigate the world with hearing loss, which made me feel out of place or disconnected. While many people my age might have turned to drugs or other negative outlets to cope, I channeled my emotions into something productive, using my struggles as fuel to find strength in myself. I embraced new activities, like tennis and writing, where communication wasn’t as central. Over time, I learned to face adversity not with avoidance, but with a willingness to ask for help and a determination to move forward. These experiences taught me that overcoming personal challenges is never about pretending the struggle doesn’t exist, but finding ways to thrive in spite of them. The resilience I developed has fueled my drive to continue growing, both personally and professionally. As I now look to the future, I’m ready to pursue my passions through education, knowing that my journey has made me more adaptable and determined. My hearing loss has taught me that no obstacle is insurmountable when faced with the right mindset, and growth often requires both vulnerability and courage. It is through overcoming hurdles like these that I have come to understand my true strength. I’m ready to take the next step in my education, knowing that the lessons I’ve learned along the way will help me continue to rise, both in my studies and in life.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my arms moving rhythmically, my hands beginning to ache. I’ve got the process down to a science: two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in a 350-degree oven. But I wonder: why does challah need to rise twice? Why endure that initial rise only to be beaten down again for braiding? It doesn’t entirely make sense, but after years of perfecting my challah recipe, I’m starting to understand. Growth isn’t linear; sometimes, you need to fall to rise again. This lesson has guided me not just in baking but in life. When I discovered during junior year that I needed hearing aids, I resisted. The idea of relying on something to navigate the world felt overwhelming. At first, I simply refused to wear them. But over time, it became clear that I was putting myself at a disadvantage. I missed meaningful conversations with friends, struggled in noisy environments, and avoided opportunities. Like challah, my growth required a process. Learning to wear hearing aids was not just about adapting to a new way of hearing but also about rethinking how I approached challenges. I realized that while the world might not always adjust for me, I could find ways to thrive within it. This mindset has shaped who I am and how I approach my future. I’ve always been drawn to independent pursuits—baking, tennis, and writing—where communication isn’t a constant barrier. Starting my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs, was one of the most meaningful ways I turned a personal passion into a way to connect with others. What began as a quiet activity in the kitchen became a platform for building community. Through creative marketing and thoughtful pricing, I shared challah with my neighbors, school clubs, and bake sales, raising funds for causes like hearing aid accessibility and social justice. Adapting to my hearing loss also made me a stronger leader. I learned to be more outgoing, to ask for help when needed, and to advocate for myself and others. As president of my school’s Interact Club, I’ve organized events like a toy drive with my local Rotary Club, fostering connections within my community. These experiences taught me the value of collaboration and the power of small actions to create meaningful change. But my hearing loss has also given me something deeper: a new way of seeing the world. I’ve become more observant, relying on facial expressions and body language to connect with others. This attentiveness has profoundly shaped my storytelling as a screenwriter. I’ve learned that the smallest details—the ones others might overlook—are what bring characters and stories to life. As I plan my career in film, I hope to bring this same sense of empathy and observation to the screen. Movies have the power to challenge perspectives, spark dialogue, and connect people across differences. By telling stories that reflect the complexities of human experience, I aim to amplify underrepresented voices and inspire change. Just as challah depends on its rises and falls to achieve flavor and structure, my setbacks have shaped me into a more resilient and reflective individual. Every challenge I’ve faced has prepared me to create something meaningful—to braid together my passions for storytelling, community, and growth into a career that leaves a lasting impact on the world.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my arms moving rhythmically, my hands beginning to ache. Baking challah has always been a calming ritual for me—a way to connect with tradition and find peace in the process. After years of practice, I’ve perfected the steps: two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in a 350-degree oven. Yet, I’ve always wondered: why does challah need to rise twice? Why endure that initial rise only to be deflated and braided again? Over time, I’ve come to understand that it’s precisely this process that gives challah its structure and flavor. Growth often requires moments of collapse, followed by renewal, and these lessons of patience and resilience have profoundly shaped the way I approach life and the people around me. This understanding became the foundation of a business I started, Cookie’s Crumbs, which is as much about kindness as it is about baking. What began as a personal hobby evolved into a way to share a piece of my culture and create meaningful connections in my community. My challah became a symbol of generosity, sparking small but powerful acts of kindness that have left a lasting impact. Cookie’s Crumbs started with a simple goal: to make challah accessible to my neighbors while keeping costs low. I set out to create high-quality loaves for just $2 apiece, sourcing the best ingredients and perfecting my technique to keep it sustainable. But as I sold my challah at bake sales, school events, and to local families, I realized this wasn’t just about bread—it was about the connections it fostered. One instance stands out to me. During a school bake sale, a fellow student approached my table, drawn in by the golden loaves I had braided and baked earlier that morning. He told me he had never tried challah before but had heard about its significance in Jewish culture. I explained the symbolism of the braided strands and the blessings often recited over the bread. Watching his curiosity spark into genuine interest, I realized how sharing something as simple as a loaf of bread could open doors to understanding and connection. The kindness extended beyond selling challah. I began donating loaves to fundraisers, clubs, and bake sales, often supporting causes like social justice or hearing aid accessibility—issues close to my heart. One fundraiser for hearing aids struck a particularly deep chord with me. Having been diagnosed with hearing loss in my junior year of high school, I knew firsthand the barriers that come with limited accessibility. Donating to this cause felt like a small way to give back and support others navigating similar challenges. But the impact of kindness isn’t just about giving; it’s also about the relationships it nurtures. Selling challah has allowed me to connect with people I otherwise wouldn’t have met, whether they’re neighbors stopping by to pick up a loaf or classmates intrigued by my business. These connections have taught me the power of small gestures—a warm smile, a conversation about tradition, or the simple act of sharing something homemade. The idea of kindness has always been present in my life, but it took on new meaning when I was diagnosed with hearing loss. At first, I resisted wearing hearing aids, feeling they set me apart in ways I wasn’t ready to embrace. Over time, however, I realized that being vulnerable and asking for help could be acts of kindness, too—not just to myself, but to those around me. It was in those moments of asking for assistance, whether in a noisy cafeteria or during a group project, that I built deeper connections and learned to see kindness as a two-way street. This shift in perspective shaped how I approached leadership roles, like my position as president of my school’s Interact Club. One of our projects was organizing a toy drive with the local Rotary Club. While collecting toys for children in need, I noticed the joy it brought not just to the recipients but to everyone involved in the process. The simple act of giving became a shared experience that strengthened our community. Kindness, I’ve learned, is often about the small, consistent choices we make to support others. Whether it’s taking the time to explain the significance of challah, donating to a cause, or asking someone how their day is going, these moments add up. They create ripples, spreading outward and touching people in ways we can’t always predict. Through Cookie’s Crumbs, I’ve seen firsthand how kindness can bridge gaps and build understanding. Sharing challah has allowed me to connect with people from different backgrounds, foster community, and support causes I care about. It’s also shown me that kindness is cyclical: the more we give, the more we receive in return. Looking ahead, I hope to carry this philosophy into everything I do. Whether through Cookie’s Crumbs or other endeavors, I want to continue using small acts of kindness to make a positive impact. Just as challah relies on its rises and falls to achieve flavor and structure, the kindness we show in moments of difficulty and triumph shapes who we are and the world around us. Ultimately, the pattern of kindness I’ve cultivated through baking, community engagement, and personal growth has not only positively impacted others but also shaped my own sense of purpose. It’s a reminder that no matter how small an action may seem, it has the potential to create something meaningful—just like the quiet kitchen, the transforming dough, and the simple act of breaking bread together.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my arms moving rhythmically, my hands beginning to ache. I’ve perfected my challah-making process: two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in a 350-degree oven. Yet, I’ve always wondered why challah needs to rise twice. Why endure that first rise only to be deflated and braided again? After years of baking, I’ve come to understand: growth often requires setbacks, moments where everything feels undone, before it all comes together in a stronger, more complete form. This lesson mirrors my own journey and is at the heart of my business, Cookie’s Crumbs. Named after a childhood nickname, Cookie’s Crumbs began as a way to share a piece of my culture with my community. Baking challah was something I did to feel grounded, to connect with traditions, and to express myself. But over time, it grew into something much bigger—a vehicle for connection, fundraising, and learning about entrepreneurship. I’m passionate about Cookie’s Crumbs because it represents more than a product; it’s about the experience of sharing something meaningful. Each challah carries the story of my learning process, my family traditions, and my drive to make an impact. I’ve used my business to sponsor bake sales, raise funds for social justice, and increase awareness about hearing aid accessibility—causes that reflect my values and experiences. By bringing people together over something as simple as bread, I’ve seen firsthand how small actions can spark meaningful change. Running Cookie’s Crumbs has taught me invaluable lessons about entrepreneurship. I’ve learned to adapt, whether it’s finding high-quality ingredients that keep costs down to just $2 per challah or using creative marketing strategies to reach new customers. Managing a business means being resourceful and thinking ahead, but it also means being deeply connected to the people you serve. Through selling challah to my neighbors and school communities, I’ve discovered the power of relationships and how a business can become a thread that ties people together. This business also reflects my journey with hearing loss, which was diagnosed during my junior year of high school. At first, I resisted wearing hearing aids, feeling that they set me apart. Over time, I realized that embracing them wasn’t just a technical adjustment but a personal one. Asking for help in noisy environments and relying on others taught me the importance of vulnerability and collaboration—skills that are critical for any entrepreneur. These challenges made me more observant and attuned to the details that others might miss, qualities that have enriched both my storytelling as a screenwriter and my ability to anticipate the needs of my customers. I want to be an entrepreneur because it allows me to bring together creativity, independence, and the opportunity to make a tangible impact on the world. Through Cookie’s Crumbs, I’ve seen how something as simple as challah can foster community, raise awareness, and support causes that matter. I believe entrepreneurship is about more than profits; it’s about solving problems and creating value in ways that improve people’s lives. Looking ahead, I see Cookie’s Crumbs as a blueprint for how I want to approach business in the future. Whether expanding this concept or pursuing new ventures, I’m committed to combining creativity with purpose to make a difference. Just as challah relies on its rises and falls to develop flavor and structure, my experiences with challenges, growth, and entrepreneurship have shaped me into someone ready to take on new opportunities and build something meaningful.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my arms moving rhythmically, my hands beginning to ache. I’ve got the process down to a science: two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in a 350-degree oven. But I wonder: why does challah need to rise twice? Why endure that initial rise only to be beaten down again for braiding? It doesn’t entirely make sense, but after years of perfecting my challah recipe, I’m starting to understand. Growth isn’t linear; sometimes, you need to fall to rise again. This lesson has guided me not just in baking but in life. When I discovered during junior year that I needed hearing aids, I resisted. The idea of relying on something to navigate the world felt overwhelming. At first, I simply refused to wear them. But over time, it became clear that I was putting myself at a disadvantage. I missed meaningful conversations with friends, struggled in noisy environments, and avoided opportunities. Like challah, my growth required a process. Learning to wear hearing aids was not just about adapting to a new way of hearing but also about rethinking how I approached challenges. I realized that while the world might not always adjust for me, I could find ways to thrive within it. This mindset has shaped who I am and how I approach my future. I’ve always been drawn to independent pursuits—baking, tennis, and writing—where communication isn’t a constant barrier. Starting my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs, was one of the most meaningful ways I turned a personal passion into a way to connect with others. What began as a quiet activity in the kitchen became a platform for building community. Through creative marketing and thoughtful pricing, I shared challah with my neighbors, school clubs, and bake sales, raising funds for causes like hearing aid accessibility and social justice. Adapting to my hearing loss also made me a stronger leader. I learned to be more outgoing, to ask for help when needed, and to advocate for myself and others. As president of my school’s Interact Club, I’ve organized events like a toy drive with my local Rotary Club, fostering connections within my community. These experiences taught me the value of collaboration and the power of small actions to create meaningful change. But my hearing loss has also given me something deeper: a new way of seeing the world. I’ve become more observant, relying on facial expressions and body language to connect with others. This attentiveness has profoundly shaped my storytelling as a screenwriter. I’ve learned that the smallest details—the ones others might overlook—are what bring characters and stories to life. As I plan my career in film, I hope to bring this same sense of empathy and observation to the screen. Movies have the power to challenge perspectives, spark dialogue, and connect people across differences. By telling stories that reflect the complexities of human experience, I aim to amplify underrepresented voices and inspire change. Just as challah depends on its rises and falls to achieve flavor and structure, my setbacks have shaped me into a more resilient and reflective individual. Every challenge I’ve faced has prepared me to create something meaningful—to braid together my passions for storytelling, community, and growth into a career that leaves a lasting impact on the world.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my arms moving rhythmically, my hands beginning to ache. I’ve got the process down to a science: two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in a 350-degree oven. But I wonder: why does challah need to rise twice? Why endure that initial rise only to be beaten down again for braiding? It doesn’t entirely make sense, but after years of perfecting my challah recipe, I’m starting to understand. Growth isn’t linear; sometimes, you need to fall to rise again. This lesson has guided me not just in baking but in life. When I discovered during junior year that I needed hearing aids, I resisted. The idea of relying on something to navigate the world felt overwhelming. At first, I simply refused to wear them. But over time, it became clear that I was putting myself at a disadvantage. I missed meaningful conversations with friends, struggled in noisy environments, and avoided opportunities. Like challah, my growth required a process. Learning to wear hearing aids was not just about adapting to a new way of hearing but also about rethinking how I approached challenges. I realized that while the world might not always adjust for me, I could find ways to thrive within it. This mindset has shaped who I am and how I approach my future. I’ve always been drawn to independent pursuits—baking, tennis, and writing—where communication isn’t a constant barrier. Starting my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs, was one of the most meaningful ways I turned a personal passion into a way to connect with others. What began as a quiet activity in the kitchen became a platform for building community. Through creative marketing and thoughtful pricing, I shared challah with my neighbors, school clubs, and bake sales, raising funds for causes like hearing aid accessibility and social justice. Adapting to my hearing loss also made me a stronger leader. I learned to be more outgoing, to ask for help when needed, and to advocate for myself and others. As president of my school’s Interact Club, I’ve organized events like a toy drive with my local Rotary Club, fostering connections within my community. These experiences taught me the value of collaboration and the power of small actions to create meaningful change. But my hearing loss has also given me something deeper: a new way of seeing the world. I’ve become more observant, relying on facial expressions and body language to connect with others. This attentiveness has profoundly shaped my storytelling as a screenwriter. I’ve learned that the smallest details—the ones others might overlook—are what bring characters and stories to life. As I plan my career in film, I hope to bring this same sense of empathy and observation to the screen. Movies have the power to challenge perspectives, spark dialogue, and connect people across differences. By telling stories that reflect the complexities of human experience, I aim to amplify underrepresented voices and inspire change. Just as challah depends on its rises and falls to achieve flavor and structure, my setbacks have shaped me into a more resilient and reflective individual. Every challenge I’ve faced has prepared me to create something meaningful—to braid together my passions for storytelling, community, and growth into a career that leaves a lasting impact on the world.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my arms moving rhythmically, my hands beginning to ache. I’ve got the process down to a science: two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in a 350-degree oven. But I wonder: why does challah need to rise twice? Why endure that initial rise only to be beaten down again for braiding? It doesn’t entirely make sense, but after years of perfecting my challah recipe, I’m starting to understand. Growth isn’t linear; sometimes, you need to fall to rise again. This lesson has guided me not just in baking but in life. When I discovered during junior year that I needed hearing aids, I resisted. The idea of relying on something to navigate the world felt overwhelming. At first, I simply refused to wear them. But over time, it became clear that I was putting myself at a disadvantage. I missed meaningful conversations with friends, struggled in noisy environments, and avoided opportunities. Like challah, my growth required a process. Learning to wear hearing aids was not just about adapting to a new way of hearing but also about rethinking how I approached challenges. I realized that while the world might not always adjust for me, I could find ways to thrive within it. This mindset has shaped who I am and how I approach my future. I’ve always been drawn to independent pursuits—baking, tennis, and writing—where communication isn’t a constant barrier. Starting my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs, was one of the most meaningful ways I turned a personal passion into a way to connect with others. What began as a quiet activity in the kitchen became a platform for building community. Through creative marketing and thoughtful pricing, I shared challah with my neighbors, school clubs, and bake sales, raising funds for causes like hearing aid accessibility and social justice. Adapting to my hearing loss also made me a stronger leader. I learned to be more outgoing, to ask for help when needed, and to advocate for myself and others. As president of my school’s Interact Club, I’ve organized events like a toy drive with my local Rotary Club, fostering connections within my community. These experiences taught me the value of collaboration and the power of small actions to create meaningful change. But my hearing loss has also given me something deeper: a new way of seeing the world. I’ve become more observant, relying on facial expressions and body language to connect with others. This attentiveness has profoundly shaped my storytelling as a screenwriter. I’ve learned that the smallest details—the ones others might overlook—are what bring characters and stories to life. As I plan my career in film, I hope to bring this same sense of empathy and observation to the screen. Movies have the power to challenge perspectives, spark dialogue, and connect people across differences. By telling stories that reflect the complexities of human experience, I aim to amplify underrepresented voices and inspire change. Just as challah depends on its rises and falls to achieve flavor and structure, my setbacks have shaped me into a more resilient and reflective individual. Every challenge I’ve faced has prepared me to create something meaningful—to braid together my passions for storytelling, community, and growth into a career that leaves a lasting impact on the world.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my hands aching with each stretch and fold. Two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in the oven—it’s a process I know well. Yet, I’ve often wondered why challah must rise twice, only to be beaten down before braiding. After four years of perfecting my recipe, I’ve started to understand. Growth isn’t linear; it requires moments of collapse to emerge stronger. This lesson has shaped how I approach challenges in my life, particularly the discovery during junior year that I needed hearing aids. At first, I resisted. The idea of relying on something to hear better felt overwhelming. Yet, avoiding the truth only set me back further. I struggled in conversations, missed out on meaningful moments with friends, and found myself withdrawing from opportunities. It wasn’t easy to accept change, but like challah, my growth required patience and adjustment. Learning to wear hearing aids was not just a technical adaptation; it was a personal one. It meant embracing vulnerability, asking for help, and realizing that while the world wouldn’t always adjust for me, I could find a way to thrive. This resilience has helped me in unexpected ways. Running my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs, taught me to be resourceful and creative. I started it as a way to explore my independence and share a piece of my culture, but it became so much more. Through social media marketing and meticulous cost management, I turned a simple idea into a means of connecting with my community, raising awareness for causes like hearing aid accessibility, and learning the value of persistence. Adapting to hearing loss also helped me grow as a leader. As a tennis instructor and president of my school’s Interact Club, I’ve learned to connect with people of all ages and backgrounds. Whether organizing a toy drive with my local Rotary Club or guiding eight-year-olds on the tennis court, I’ve discovered the importance of clear communication, empathy, and collaboration. But the most significant growth has been internal. My hearing loss has made me more observant, teaching me to notice the details that others might miss. I’ve found beauty in facial expressions, body language, and the little moments that often go unnoticed. These observations have enriched my screenwriting, allowing me to bring characters and stories to life through nuance and depth. Challenges like hearing loss can feel insurmountable at first, much like waiting for dough to rise. But I’ve learned that it’s in those moments of struggle—when we feel beaten down—that we develop the strength to rise again. Every setback I’ve faced has shaped me into a more resilient, reflective, and determined individual. This scholarship would provide the opportunity to continue rising—to build on the lessons I’ve learned and pursue my passion for storytelling through film. Just as challah relies on its rises and falls to become something whole and complete, I know my challenges have prepared me to take on whatever comes next. I’m ready to braid these experiences into something meaningful, and with your support, I can continue to rise.

The kitchen gets quiet as I knead batch after batch of dough, my hands aching with each stretch and fold. Two and a half hours for the first rise, one hour for the second, 21 minutes in the oven—it’s a process I know well. Yet, I’ve often wondered why challah must rise twice, only to be beaten down before braiding. After years of perfecting my recipe, I’ve realized that growth isn’t linear. It requires moments of collapse to emerge stronger, and this idea has come to define my journey toward screenwriting. At first, baking challah was simply a hobby, a way to connect with my culture and feel grounded amidst high school chaos. But over time, it became something more—a reflection of how I approached life’s challenges. When I discovered I needed hearing aids during junior year, it felt like my first rise all over again. Initially, I refused to wear them, worried about standing out or admitting I needed help. But as I missed conversations, struggled in noisy cafeterias, and retreated from social interactions, I began to understand that growth wasn’t about avoiding challenges but embracing them. Adapting to my hearing aids wasn’t just a technical adjustment; it transformed how I viewed communication, connection, and storytelling. Screenwriting became a natural outlet for my observations, a way to translate emotions and nuances I often picked up through body language and facial expressions rather than sound. It wasn’t just the art of writing that captivated me—it was the opportunity to craft meaningful connections, to give voice to emotions that weren’t easy to articulate. Running my challah business, Cookie’s Crumbs, reinforced my love for storytelling. Each week, I baked, braided, and delivered loaves, sharing the history of challah with neighbors and introducing them to my process through social media posts. Marketing became an extension of the narrative: every ingredient had a story, every braid carried tradition, and every sale brought new connections. With time, I realized these interactions—the ones sparked by a loaf of bread—were stories in their own right. This understanding carried into my screenwriting. I became fascinated by the small, human details that brought characters to life. My hearing loss, in many ways, had made me more attuned to subtleties others might overlook. A flicker of hesitation, a forced smile, a pause too long—all these little details added texture to my scripts and helped me write scenes that felt authentic. One summer, while teaching tennis to eight-year-olds, I used storytelling to connect with my students. I created silly narratives about tennis balls that came to life during lessons, turning drills into adventures. It was then I realized storytelling wasn’t confined to the page; it was a tool for connection, a way to build trust and inspire others. Screenwriting, for me, is the perfect blend of all these experiences. It’s rooted in observation, reliant on creativity, and driven by a desire to connect. I’m drawn to characters who, like challah dough, endure setbacks but rise again, braided by their experiences into something stronger. Whether I’m writing about a quiet kitchen, a tennis court, or a world entirely imagined, my goal is the same: to create stories that resonate, that celebrate resilience and humanity. As I move forward in my screenwriting journey, I’m inspired by the lessons challah has taught me. Growth isn’t easy, but it’s worth the effort. Every rise, fall, and rise again is part of the process, and each story is an opportunity to connect, learn, and grow. Screenwriting isn’t just my chosen field of study—it’s my way of making sense of the world, one story at a time.

I remember the shock of my noisy footsteps, my dogs' collars and tags jingling, and leaves rustling in the wind. Whenever I think about the first week of wearing hearing aids, I'm reminded of how crucial they are, especially for children. Yet, missing out on this transformative experience is an all-too-common reality. When I first got my hearing aids, I faced unexpected trouble. My family and I assumed they were something covered by insurance - we didn't even think twice about it. We were shocked to learn that in many states, including my home state of New York, hearing aids for children are not covered despite their critical role in development and education. Hearing aids are expensive, making them unattainable for many families. Yet, if I had lived in New Jersey or Colorado, the cost would've been covered. But in New York? Nothing. I started to research the root of the problem. How could something imperative be so inaccessible for those who need it most? What I found was shocking: most insurance companies view hearing aids as "elective" rather than "medically necessary." But when a child falls behind in school or is lonely and without friends because they are hearing only 40% of what they should, are hearing aids still truly "elective"? I turned this frustration into advocacy and submitted a letter to The New York Times as part of their Open Letter Contest, urging New York State Senators to address this extreme lack of accessibility. I called for the support of a bill mandating insurance coverage for hearing aids, and to my surprise, I won, and my letter was published. But one letter isn't enough. I contacted my representative and the State Senate; however, the responses were brief and devoid of genuine interest. The real change needs to come from a systematic shift, a new law or policy. I propose that all insurance plans be required to cover the cost of hearing aids for children, recognizing them as medically necessary devices. This is not just about hearing health but equality - ensuring that every child, regardless of financial circumstances, has access to education and the ability to communicate effectively and hear noisy footsteps, dogs' collars, and the rustling of leaves. Raising awareness is crucial to making these new policies known and unavoidable by the Senate and government officials. As I was honored as Wavemaker of the Month by The Decibels Foundation, I strive to help their cause bring awareness to this accessibility gap. Foundations like them aim to provide funding and resources to mitigate the developmental issues that could arise when hard-of-hearing children can't afford expensive hearing devices. Through my own challah business, Cookies Crumbs, I've experienced first-hand the power of community in raising awareness and funds for important causes. As various clubs reach out to me to provide challah for their bake sales and events, from supporting pediatric cancer research to fighting antisemitism, I've seen how quickly my community bands together. Though just one letter in The New York Times or an email to my state representatives won't bring about immediate change, the continued backing of larger communities helps plant the seeds to ensure this issue gains the attention it deserves. Success isn't easy to define. I want to say that all these things I've done have been successful but even that would be pushing it. Has there been any change in hearing aid insurance coverage? No. So it's easy to say that every piece of advocacy I've participated in has been unsuccessful. Yet, I like to celebrate short-term success because when all is said and done, I define success as accomplishing something that gives you some sort of fulfillment - that gives your life meaning. This opportunity will incredibly quicken my path to success, to a life of fulfillment, by giving me access to quality education and resources. Talk about meaning - an education to pursue your interests? Well, what can get better than that?

I remember the shock of my noisy footsteps, my dogs’ collars and tags jingling, and leaves rustling in the wind. Every time I think about the first week of wearing hearing aids, I’m reminded of how crucial they are, especially for children. Yet, missing out on this transformative experience is an all-too-common reality. When I first got my hearing aids, I faced unexpected trouble. My family and I assumed they were something covered by insurance - we didn’t even think twice about it. We were shocked to learn that in many states, including my home state of New York, hearing aids for children are not covered despite their critical role in development and education. Hearing aids are expensive, making them unattainable for many families. Yet, if I had lived in New Jersey or Colorado, part or all of the cost would’ve been covered. But in New York? Nothing. I started to research the root of the problem. How could something so imperative be so inaccessible for those who need it most? What I found was shocking: most insurance companies view hearing aids as “elective” rather than “medically necessary.” But when a child falls behind in school or is lonely and without friends because they are hearing only 40% of what they should, are hearing aids still truly “elective”? I turned this frustration into advocacy and submitted a letter to The New York Times as part of their Open Letter Contest, urging New York State Senators to address this extreme lack of accessibility. I called for the support of a bill mandating insurance coverage for hearing aids, and to my surprise, I won, and my letter was published. But one letter isn’t enough. I contacted my representative and the State Senate; however, the responses were brief and devoid of genuine interest. The real change needs to come from a systematic shift, a new law or policy. I propose that all insurance plans be required to cover the cost of hearing aids for children, recognizing them as medically necessary devices. This is not just about hearing health but equality - ensuring that every child, regardless of financial circumstances, has access to education and the ability to communicate effectively and hear noisy footsteps, dogs’ collars, and the rustling of leaves. Raising awareness is crucial to making these new policies known and unavoidable by the Senate and government officials. As I was honored as Wavemaker of the Month by The Decibels Foundation, I strive to help their cause bring awareness to this accessibility gap. Foundations like them aim to provide funding and resources to mitigate the developmental issues that could arise when hard-of-hearing children can’t afford expensive hearing devices. Through my own challah business, Cookies Crumbs, I’ve experienced first-hand the power of community in raising awareness and funds for important causes. As various clubs reach out to me to provide challah for their bake sales and events, from supporting pediatric cancer research to fighting antisemitism, I’ve seen how quickly my community bands together. Though just one letter in The New York Times or an email to my state representatives won’t bring about immediate change, the continued backing of larger communities helps plant the seeds to ensure this issue gains the attention it deserves. As I look ahead, I will study film to express my voice while combining efforts for change. I'll make movies that showcase this extreme inequality and put it on the big screen for everyone to see. Through film, I can take my challenges, my advocacy, and my interests and blast them to a world that is in desperate need of change.

Is knowledge really power? My mother constantly uses the phrase in a variety of word combinations intent on inspiring, but how true is this overused metaphor? What kind of power can it actually give? Sure, there’s the initial understanding that knowledge means education and learning. That the growth of one’s mind through schooling leads to opportunities for success and advancement; high-paying jobs, more school, or whatever adults do once they gain access to the real world. In that case, knowledge is easily measured in the facts or the skills learned, and the power that comes from it can be quantified in future success. However, is that all knowledge can be? As with many things in life, there are more than two sides to this story. To start off, if someone were to view this metaphor with a more cynical eye, they might assume that possessing sufficient knowledge in some field grants them more power. I like to call this an ego. Those people are adamant that knowledge makes them superior, carefully ensuring no one dares to oppose their opinions because, of course, they are always right. From the outside, these individuals can be seen as narrow-minded, inflated by their own sense of superiority. But from within the ego’s mind, knowledge brings them confidence and control. It’s a dead end here on Ego Street. Knowledge is often presented as a force for good, but it clearly can be more complex. Sometimes, knowing too much can seem more like a burden than a benefit. Take Huntington’s Disease, for example, which takes over the body and mind simply if a certain gene is present. If someone was given the knowledge that they had the gene, that knowledge can lead to a variety of things. Power? Maybe, maybe not. That knowledge could easily taint every moment of their life with the inevitable gloom of terminal illness. They may start to question every decision made, second guess, change plans, and live a life of uncertainty and fear. In this case, the hindrance of knowing burdens them with the power to make decisions they wish they didn’t have to face. They might long for a different metaphor, one where ignorance is bliss, where not knowing spares them the weight of difficult choices. Yet through another lens, the same knowledge could inspire them to make the most of every moment, to live each day like it’s their last. They would leave no stone unturned and check off every possible item on the bucket list. With time winding down, they’d grab life by the horns, chase their dreams, and live like there’s no tomorrow! Carpe diem! It’s a cliched, different kind of power - power in living with knowledge by throwing caution to the wind and going out with a bang. Maybe the metaphor is dramatic. Maybe “knowledge is power” is too definitive and not always true. When we use metaphors, we often exaggerate to make a point, but this one glosses over the complex nature of knowledge; in reality, its impact depends on how we define it and, more importantly, how we choose to use it. Whether knowledge leads to success, inflates an ego, or forces us to confront uncomfortable truths, the real strength comes not from the knowledge itself but in the choices we make afterward. Knowledge isn’t power; it’s the power to choose, and ultimately, that responsibility falls in our hands, for better or for worse.