We were leaving for my cousin's birthday party when we got the call. Halfway up the driveway, my mom jumped out of the car and raced towards the house; returning with my two-year-old chicken Stoptoad. Wrapped in a towel, she lay calmly in my mother's lap. Her breathing was heavy, her eyes weary and her feathers puffed outwards. It had been this way for days, and I had become increasingly worried about her. At eight years old, I was doing everything I could to help her, but extra snacks and snuggles didn’t seem to work. Only one veterinary office saw chickens, and though we had called almost a week ago, they just had an opening. I was thrilled. My chicken may hardly be strong enough to lift her head, but I knew they would make her feel better. When we arrived, my mother handed her to me, and I walked inside, cradling her against my chest. The vet led us into a small room while I explained what was wrong. She diligently watched Stoptoad, and after a thorough examination determined the condition was terminal. Even after a short procedure, she was only given a month to live. I was devastated, I thought we had many more years together; her death had not been something I had even considered. Still, I took it upon myself to ensure her last month would be the best I could make it. Every day, I would diligently administer her pills, and when needed would repeat the vet’s procedure; carefully prodding her with needles under the supervision of my mom. One month passed, and Stoptoad was still with us, thriving as if nothing was wrong. This continued for months; until one faithful day when the needles and medication could no longer keep up. As her soul peacefully left her body, I reflected upon our time together. Thinking about our visit to the vet, I was so grateful for the care they were able to provide. They helped ease her pain and suffering and gave us more time together. The extra few months had strengthened our bond significantly, and it was hard to accept it was ending. The journey and joy of caring for her was over, yet as tears streamed down my face I realized it wasn’t the end, it was just the beginning. Other animals suffered from sickness and pain, and I could help them just as the vet helped me. “I'm going to be a veterinarian,” I told her as we said our final goodbyes. 9 years later, the statement still stands. I now have experience with intubation, IVs, microchipping, syringe feeding, and other basic veterinary procedures. The more I learn, the more passionate I become. I want to be a veterinarian to ease animals' pain and sickness, giving people and pets more time together. I am so excited to begin making a difference in the lives of people and pets, and this scholarship will help make my dream a reality!

When I read Divergent for the first time, I was captivated. It was the most mature book I had ever read, full of romance, violence, and science fiction ideas I had never thought about. I read the entire book in one day, and when I finished I read it again. I became obsessed with the characters, creating endless fanfiction and drawings of them. When I discovered there was a movie, I begged my parents to let me watch it, but they deemed 11-year-old me too young for the PG-13 film. Disappointed, I continued to engage in Tris and Tobias’s world through the remaining books in the series, figuring the movie couldn’t possibly be as good. However, when I finally got to watch it, I was proven wrong. It was the best movie I had ever seen. For the first time, I watched the characters I had grown so fond of somewhere other than my imagination. When rereading the book shortly after finishing the movie, I was able to picture the scenes more vividly than before which made the book even better! The casting selections were impeccable, each character looked exactly as I had imagined, and although some characteristics deviated from the book's description, they further added to the story. For example, in the book Tris is described as not being particularly pretty, yet in the movie, she is gorgeous with immaculate hair. Referenced throughout the book, hair remains a symbol of home for Tris. Having her hair be more apparent than described in the book enhances the meaning behind the symbolism by making the changes appear more drastic. After binge-watching the entire 3 movie series in one night, I was further impressed. With such detailed sets and amazing special effects, I was thoroughly entertained. Although the last two strayed significantly from the original plot, it was fun to watch the characters act out a new storyline. I also greatly appreciated how the directors kept Tris alive, as I hated her death in the books, and was so happy to see her achieve the happy ending she deserved with Tobias. Divergent will always remain a special story in my heart, not only did it introduce me to the dystopian genre which I have fallen in love with, but it helped me find my love for writing and inspired me to start writing dystopian stories of my own. It is truly incredible to be able to enjoy Divergent both in film and literature.

If I had to pick one place to be for the rest of my life, it would be between the pages of a fresh notebook. Snuggled under a blanket with a warm cup of tea, pen in hand, the possibilities would be endless. Stories of dragons, fairies, dystopian lands, and unforgettable romances would cover the pages as I let my mind wander. The drama and stress of everyday life would cease to exist, as it always does when I write. It would be magical. I first discovered my love for writing during the Covid-19 pandemic. With so much free time, I had the chance to explore many new hobbies, yet always came back to writing. I wrote for hours each day, creating endless stories, letters, and poems. Not only did it give me something to do and help me separate from all the crazy uncertainties at the time, but it also helped me stay connected with family and friends. I remember reading my stories to my Grandma, both masked and 6 feet apart. She would laugh and cry at my plotlines and always looked forward to hearing the next chapter when it was completed. Writing letters to extended family allowed me to keep in touch with relatives I couldn’t see. Reading the stories of their lives brought me so much joy each week and made me realize how powerful writing can be. The sense of connection and belongingness spoken in written words is incredible. When I write, I’m not just writing for me, I’m writing for people across the world. I want people to identify with the characters, be intrigued by the plot, and inspired by the message so they can apply it to their lives. I published my first book in 2023, a children's book about pursuing your dreams. It was a story I first wrote during Covid 19 as a 7th grader. Putting something I’d cherished for so long into the world for others to enjoy felt incredible, and I can’t wait to publish more! Right now, I’m working on an exciting dystopian novel I love and have notebooks filled with ideas and completed stories needing editing! I’m so excited to continue writing in college and be able to take my new experiences and weave them into my stories. The more I learn and grow, the more my stories will. I can’t wait to find a cozy spot somewhere on campus to put my imagination on paper. Writing is not just a hobby; it is a form of communication. As someone who continually struggles with anxiety, I find it extremely difficult to voice my needs and emotions through spoken words and have learned to rely on written ones instead. When I have particularly anxious days, I take pen to paper and let my feelings translate on the page. Sharing this dialogue with those closest to me allows me to feel seen, heard, and validated while allowing them to understand how to support me. The absence of such interaction would leave us in constant miscommunication. The road ahead is filled with many uncertainties and challenges. I will live alone for the first time, be in charge of my own finances, and be in a new area. But no matter how hard it gets, I know writing will always be there for me, and I can’t wait to see where it takes me!

We were leaving for my cousin's birthday party when we got the call. Halfway up the driveway, my mom jumped out of the car and raced towards the house; returning with my two-year-old chicken Stoptoad. Wrapped in a towel, she lay calmly in my mother's lap. Her breathing was heavy, her eyes weary and her feathers puffed outwards. It had been this way for days, and I had become increasingly worried about her. At eight years old, I was doing everything I could to help her, but extra snacks and snuggles didn’t seem to work. Only one veterinary office saw chickens, and though we had called almost a week ago, they just had an opening. I was thrilled. My chicken may hardly be strong enough to lift her head, but I knew they would make her feel better. When we arrived, my mother handed her to me, and I walked inside, cradling her against my chest. The vet led us into a small room while I explained what was wrong. She diligently watched Stoptoad, and after a thorough examination determined the condition was terminal. Even after a short procedure, she was only given a month to live. I was devastated, I thought we had many more years together; her death had not been something I had even considered. Still, I took it upon myself to ensure her last month would be the best I could make it. Every day, I would diligently administer her pills, and when needed would repeat the vet’s procedure; carefully prodding her with needles under the supervision of my mom. One month passed, and Stoptoad was still with us, thriving as if nothing was wrong. This continued for months; until one faithful day when the needles and medication could no longer keep up. As her soul peacefully left her body, I reflected upon our time together. Thinking about our visit to the vet, I was so grateful for the care they were able to provide. They helped ease her pain and suffering and gave us more time together. The extra few months had strengthened our bond significantly, and it was hard to accept it was ending. The journey and joy of caring for her was over, yet as tears streamed down my face I realized it wasn’t the end, it was just the beginning. Other animals suffered from sickness and pain, and I could help them just as the vet helped me. “I'm going to be a veterinarian,” I told her as we said our final goodbyes. 9 years later, the statement still stands. I now have experience with intubation, IVs, microchipping, syringe feeding, and other basic veterinary procedures. The more I learn, the more passionate I become. I want to be a veterinarian to ease animals' pain and sickness, giving people and pets more time together. I am so excited to begin making a difference in the lives of people and pets, and this scholarship will help make my dream a reality!

The consequence of mixing potions in the bathroom was a large cut running deep along the palm of my hand. I had been in there for at least an hour, mixing various ingredients, and seeing what fizzed, bubbled, and separated. As I shook it for the final time, the jar slipped from my hands, shattering on the counter below and grazing my hand in the process. Blood pooled and I cried as my parents raced to find the source of my screaming, debating whether or not stitches were needed. When I was bandaged up, my hand suffocated by layers of ace bandages, my parents asked what had caused such a significant injury. Feebishly, I lead them upstairs to the blue concoction spilled over the tile floor, expecting to be scolded for staying up past my bedtime. Instead, however, they asked what I was making, and relived I eagerly told them.  From a young age, my parents always encouraged my love for STEM. It was something they could tell I loved, and something they decided to nurture. I remember as a child when people would ask my mom what I wanted to do when I grew up, she would proudly exclaim. “She’s going into STEM!” I would beam beside her, not knowing why this made her so happy. However, as I got older, I realized it was because I was a girl curious about a field historically dominated and available to men. The first time I became aware of this gender divide was at a local STEM convention with my mom. It was an event the two of us attended annually and was always great fun. The best part was that it was for girls only. Taught by girls for girls. We learned what makes airplanes fly, how to make a potato battery, and the art of 3d printing among other fascinating topics, but one year, they let boys join. Suddenly, us girls were overlooked. The boys were the only ones called on to answer questions, they got more help from the teachers and cut in line. It was an entirely different experience, and since then I have experienced this divide on multiple other occasions. I have been in many classes, such as drones and architecture where I am the only female. The feeling of constantly being overlooked in these classes was frustrating. No one would partner with me, and people would always explain things like I was stupid. I had to work harder than everyone else to prove I was just as capable, and I know it will be this way for the rest of my life. I will have to prove myself over, and over, and over again to my male counterparts because they don’t see me as a doctor, a mathematician, or a computer programmer. They just see me as a woman. I will have to work twice as hard, but it will be worth it because I love STEM. I love how it is a never-ending subject. There will always be something new and exciting to learn that will fascinate me. I want to inspire others to be curious about the world around them while breaking down the gender barrier so the next generation of girls are not seen as just women but as smart, tenacious, and capable people of society.

Animals are friends, not food, has been a motto in my household before I was alive, and remains a strict value I live by. Being born a vegetarian, I have always wanted to know the truth about where my food comes from. However, through children's books, online photos, and videos, I was taught that dairy cows frolicked in pastures, eating green grass and dandelions, so that's what I believed. I knew what the egg industry was like; I had seen the trucks of "spent" hens being shipped off to slaughter. Having chickens of my own, I couldn't imagine them being stuck in tiny cages with no room to move, so long before I went vegan I only ate eggs from my hens. However, it never occurred to me that the milk I put in my cereal or the butter I spread on my toast came from animals in the same situation. Until I came across a video of a cow escaping a dairy farm. She looked like she was running for her life. As I rewatched her jump over fences into traffic, I was startled. What would make a cow risk her life like that? I immediately opened Google and discovered the life of a dairy cow is not a happy ever after. They live in horrible conditions, are constantly overmilked, suffer from infections, and are forcibly impregnated. This was shocking to me. I thought my diet was helping limit the number of animals being slaughtered for consumption, but now I was learning the cows that gave me milk were the same ones that were being killed. How could I possibly be helping these animals with my diet when the dairy I consumed helped contribute to the cause I was trying to protest? That night at dinner, I looked at my slice of cheese pizza and pushed it away. All I could see were the cows, standing in a swamp of feces, stuck behind bars without a blade of grass. I heard the mother cows crying out as their babies were taken away from them. And what for? So I could enjoy a slice of pizza for a few minutes? Was that pizza worth all the pain and suffering it brought the cow? No. It was not. I didn’t eat the Tillamook ice cream for dessert that night, or put milk in my cereal in the morning. Dairy just didn’t look good anymore, in fact, it disgusted me, simply because treating animals with such disrespect is wrong. Shortly after I became vegan, we watched a documentary in class about veganism relating to athletics. I found it fascinating. As a varsity distance runner, nutrition is a direct reflection of performance, and when I explained I was going vegan to those closest to me, I was told my new diet wouldn’t support my activity level and I would suffer as an athlete. Yet, the documentary demonstrated that going vegan is great for athletes! From lower cholesterol and fat levels to faster recovery and increased energy, the vegan diet can help prevent and lower the chances of injury, as well as increase overall performance. As someone who plans to go into athletic training, I plan on sharing this with future patients not only to help them improve athletically but also to spread awareness and educate people about the truth behind the dairy industry. With this scholarship, my dream of changing the lives of people and animals can become a reality!