High school has been a rollercoaster of self-discovery, life lessons, and more drama than I ever expected. I met teachers who helped shape my path. The theater teacher bullied me relentlessly. I won’t give him credit for anything except my tears, but ironically, he sparked my desire to become a teacher. Another teacher helped put me back together and gave me so many opportunities to perform that I realized I didn’t want a career in it. That led me to focus on education. Then there was the tough-love teacher whose motto was always “no quitting.” If I had a dollar for every time she said it, I wouldn’t need a scholarship. But I also learned that choosing mental health is strength. My passion for teaching is rooted not only in those experiences but in the way I have lived my life throughout high school. I believe in giving back, and I have completed over 1,000 community service hours. I have performed in nursing homes, at 9/11 remembrance events, and at school board meetings. I also regularly sing at community dedication ceremonies and events that uplift and serve others. Since seventh grade, I have volunteered with JetBlue for Good, helping to clean up parks and beaches while supporting local initiatives across Broward County. I am most proud of the work I have done mentoring young girls. When I had to step down from being co-captain of the majorettes due to a medical condition, I refused to walk away completely. Instead, I created a new role called Peer Mentor to the junior varsity team. I tutored the girls to help them keep their grades up because I knew that academics come first. I led mini sessions focused on self-esteem, beauty, and character. I worked hard to create a safe space where they could grow into confident, strong young ladies. I also made time to enjoy high school. One of my favorite memories was organizing and running a winning campaign to become Miss Homecoming. My main campaign team? The same JV girls I had mentored all year. We turned hard work into fun and formed a sisterhood built on loyalty, laughter, and love. That moment reminded me that joy and leadership can go hand in hand. I have held leadership roles that helped shape me into the person I am today. I served as Junior Class President and currently serve as Treasurer of the National Honor Society. I am also Step Team Manager and a proud member of the Delta Gems, an organization that empowers young women through service and sisterhood. Instead of sleeping in Sundays (needed desperately) I practice to perform with a local community theater group because performing has always been my passion. That passion led to a scholarship to attend a summer college intensive program where I sharpened my skills and gained even more confidence. While my love for the arts has shaped much of my journey, my dream now is to become an elementary school teacher. I want to create classrooms where every student feels seen, valued, and loved. I am committed to fairness in education and believe strongly in equal opportunities for all students, no matter their background. This fall, I will be attending North Carolina A&T as a member of the Honors College, majoring in elementary education. I am especially excited about their outreach and study abroad programs because I want to learn beyond the classroom so I can teach beyond it. My journey is just beginning, but I am ready to be the kind of teacher who inspires and creates change because every student deserves that.

High school has been a rollercoaster of self-discovery, life lessons, and more drama than I ever expected. I met teachers who helped shape my path. The theater teacher bullied me relentlessly. I won’t give him credit for anything except my tears, but ironically, he sparked my desire to become a teacher. Another teacher helped put me back together and gave me so many opportunities to perform that I realized I didn’t want a career in it. That led me to focus on education. Then there was the tough-love teacher whose motto was always “no quitting.” If I had a dollar for every time she said it, I wouldn’t need a scholarship. But I also learned that choosing mental health is strength. My passion for teaching is rooted not only in those experiences but in the way I have lived my life throughout high school. I believe in giving back, and I have completed over 1,000 community service hours. I have performed in nursing homes, at 9/11 remembrance events, and at school board meetings. I also regularly sing at community dedication ceremonies and events that uplift and serve others. Since seventh grade, I have volunteered with JetBlue for Good, helping to clean up parks and beaches while supporting local initiatives across Broward County. I am most proud of the work I have done mentoring young girls. When I had to step down from being co-captain of the majorettes due to a medical condition, I refused to walk away completely. Instead, I created a new role called Peer Mentor to the junior varsity team. I tutored the girls to help them keep their grades up because I knew that academics come first. I led mini sessions focused on self-esteem, beauty, and character. I worked hard to create a safe space where they could grow into confident, strong young ladies. I also made time to enjoy high school. One of my favorite memories was organizing and running a winning campaign to become Miss Homecoming. My main campaign team? The same JV girls I had mentored all year. We turned hard work into fun and formed a sisterhood built on loyalty, laughter, and love. That moment reminded me that joy and leadership can go hand in hand. I have held leadership roles that helped shape me into the person I am today. I served as Junior Class President and currently serve as Treasurer of the National Honor Society. I am also Step Team Manager and a proud member of the Delta Gems, an organization that empowers young women through service and sisterhood. Instead of sleeping in Sundays (needed desperately) I practice to perform with a local community theater group because performing has always been my passion. That passion led to a scholarship to attend a summer college intensive program where I sharpened my skills and gained even more confidence. While my love for the arts has shaped much of my journey, my dream now is to become an elementary school teacher. I want to create classrooms where every student feels seen, valued, and loved. I am committed to fairness in education and believe strongly in equal opportunities for all students, no matter their background. This fall, I will be attending North Carolina A&T as a member of the Honors College, majoring in elementary education. I am especially excited about their outreach and study abroad programs because I want to learn beyond the classroom so I can teach beyond it. My journey is just beginning, but I am ready to be the kind of teacher who inspires and creates change because every student deserves that.

Is she yawning thru that smile Some mornings, when my alarm goes off, I just stare at the ceiling, wishing I could stay in bed. Especially now, with only a few weeks left of school. I feel exhausted and unmotivated, but then I remember why I go. I think about my friends and how I would not want them to feel alone. And I think about the promise I made to myself after my freshman year. The year that changed everything. Back then, I was so excited to grow in my passion for performing. But the teacher who was supposed to support me became my biggest bully. His words made me doubt myself and turned something I loved into something painful. It took time, but I found my way back. And when I did, I made a promise. No one would ever feel invisible around me. I would smile. I would speak. Because I know what it feels like to struggle in silence, and sometimes, a simple hello or a small act of kindness can make all the difference. Giving back has always been part of my life. I have over 942 hours of community service, but it is not about the number. It is about the moments that have stuck with me. I started volunteering with my mom at park cleanups, toy drives, and holiday parties for families who had so little but still smiled so big. As I got older, I found my own ways to help. I performed at 9/11 memorials, school board meetings, dedication ceremonies and even opened for the mayor. But one moment stands out the most. At a holiday gift drive, I watched a little boy carefully pick out a present. But instead of choosing something for himself, he picked a gift for his mom. He was just a kid, but he already understood what it meant to give. That moment made me realize why I love helping people. Even the smallest acts of kindness can have a huge impact. This past summer, I mentored 14 junior varsity girls, teaching them how to twirl a baton. At first, I thought I was just there to help them, but by the end, I realized they had taught me just as much. They looked up to me, but I looked right back at them with the same admiration. I had gained 14 little sisters. They have been able to come to me with smiles and tears. High school is hard and I have been around for their good times and bad this school year. That is why I show up, even when I do not feel like it. Even on the hardest mornings, I remind myself that excellence is not just about being the best. It is about being the kind of person who lifts others up, no matter how small the gesture.

Leading Through Service I’ll never forget that moment when the whistle blew to start practice, but instead of being at the front as co-captain, I was standing on the sidelines. My baton felt so weird in my hand. A few months earlier, I had been diagnosed with severe anemia, which forced me to step down from my leadership role on the auxiliary team. I wasn’t going to be performing under the lights anymore, and I was completely crushed. But instead of walking away, I decided to find a new way to lead. That summer, I became a peer mentor for the Junior Varsity auxiliary team, teaching 14 younger girls how to twirl a baton. Most of them were nervous, shaky, and unsure of themselves, and honestly, I totally got it. I remembered when I was their age, feeling like I’d mess up at any moment. Instead of just teaching them the moves, I focused on helping them feel more confident. Every time they messed up, I reminded them that I’d dropped my baton a million times before I finally got the hang of it. I celebrated their small wins, even the little stuff, and encouraged them when they felt like giving up. Slowly, they started to believe in themselves more. By the time the football season started, it was crazy to see how much they had grown. The same girls who were once terrified to perform were now out there twirling confidently under the stadium lights. Watching them step onto that field, I realized something—I had lost my chance to perform, but what I gained was way more important. I built a group of girls who trusted me and looked up to me, and honestly, they helped me grow as much as I helped them. This experience taught me a lot about what leadership really is. Over the years, I’ve also clocked over 1,000 service hours, whether it’s performing for seniors, mentoring younger students, or helping with community events. I’ve learned that leadership isn’t about being in charge or getting recognition. It’s about showing up for people, lending a hand when needed, and making sure no one feels alone. At North Carolina A&T, I plan to keep leading in that way. I want to get involved in student organizations that focus on mentorship, help freshmen adjust to college, and dive into community service projects that actually make a difference. But that’s just the start. My goal is to become an elementary teacher, focusing on special education and musical theater. I want my classroom to be a place where every student feels seen, heard, and encouraged to follow their dreams. I also want to push for more diversity in education, better mental health support in schools, and practical life skills like financial literacy. For me, leadership isn’t about standing in front of everyone. It’s about helping others rise, believing in people when they don’t believe in themselves, and making sure no one gets left behind. Four years ago, I thought leadership was about being the best at something. Now, I know it’s about service. It’s about showing up, lifting people up, and helping them succeed. And as I take this next step, I’m ready to keep leading, serving, and inspiring others to do the same.

I remember sitting outside the classroom, the door slammed shut in my face during a Code Red. Panic surged through me as my mind raced. I had never felt so small, so invisible. The hallway was empty, eerily silent except for the distant hum of the school intercom. My fists pounded against the door, but no one opened it. The teacher stood near the door, arms crossed, I was not getting in. I turned and ran. My breath came fast and uneven as I pushed open the bathroom door and collapsed into a stall, hugging my knees to my chest. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure someone could hear it. The lockdown alarm blared through the speakers, but all I could focus on was the sinking feeling in my stomach. I already dreaded this class, but now I felt completely shut out. It’s been four years filled with self-discovery, lessons I never asked for, and more drama than I thought possible. As I prepare to leave, I can honestly say I am done with drama. Literally! But high school was also where I met the three teachers who shaped my future. The bullying teacher was my ninth-grade nemesis. He was relentless, cruel, and definitely not a fan of my choices. Band and theater. Cheer and vocal. Not in HIS program. I shed more tears because of him than I would like to admit. But ironically, he is the reason I want to become a teacher. I never want another student to feel the way he made me feel. The caring teacher was the one who picked up the pieces of my broken spirit and glued them back together. She reminded me that talent alone is not enough. It takes discipline, direction, and resilience. She gave me the reality check I needed, which is part of the reason I decided to go into teaching instead of chasing the Broadway dream I once had. The tough love teacher has been a constant in my life since freshman year. Her mantra. No quitting. Ever. She pushed me to keep going even when things felt impossible. But through her, I also learned another valuable lesson. Strength does not mean sacrificing your mental health. Sometimes, walking away is the bravest thing you can do. This fall, I will be attending North Carolina A&T as part of the Honors College program, majoring in elementary education. My journey has led me to a passion for teaching, not just as a career but as a way to create change. I want to be the kind of teacher who uplifts, encourages, and makes every student feel seen. My goal is to teach in the United States, shaping young minds in the classroom while also using my summers to teach overseas. I want to experience different cultures, learn from diverse communities, and bring those lessons back to my students. Education should be a bridge that connects people, and I plan to use mine to make a difference both at home and around the world. Four years ago, I sat in that bathroom, wondering how I was going to survive. Now, I stand on the other side, not just surviving but thriving. I have learned resilience, the power of kindness, and the importance of standing up for myself and others. I have learned that no single experience defines me, but every challenge has shaped me. I am stronger, wiser, and ready to be the kind of teacher who sees the student left outside the door—the student I once was. Success, to me, is picking up the pieces of my life and pushing through to achieve everything I have in high school. It is not just about the accolades or the titles. It is about the resilience it took to get here. Success is stepping onto the stage in my upcoming role in Six, proving that even though I am choosing a different career path, I am still following my dreams. It is knowing that the passion that once fueled my Broadway dreams has not faded but evolved. Success was not letting that bully win. It was standing tall in the face of adversity and refusing to let someone else dictate my worth. Receiving this scholarship will allow me to continue building on what I will learn in college and further develop the skills I need to become an impactful educator. It will help me stay focused on my education by providing access to essential resources that will enhance my learning experience. With these tools in my educational toolbox, I will be better equipped to grow academically, refine my teaching methods, and ultimately make a meaningful difference in the lives of my future students.

I remember sitting outside the classroom, the door slammed shut in my face during a Code Red. Panic surged through me as my mind raced. I already dreaded coming to this class, but being locked out during a school lockdown added a whole new layer of fear. As I crouched in the bathroom, heart pounding, I wondered how I was going to survive the next four years. It wasn’t just the lockdown. It was the feeling of being shut out, not knowing where I belonged.   Theater had always been my safe place. I fell in love with it when I saw The Lion King at age 7. At the age of 10 I was told “new kids never get the lead” but I defied the odds and was cast in a lead role my first year at theater camp. I continued attending year after year, my heart was full when I landed my dream role as Rafiki the summer before COVID. That’s when I knew the stage was where I belonged.   When COVID shut everything down, I kept training at a local conservatory. When high school reopened, I was excited to learn that my conservatory instructor had joined the school’s theater staff. High school started off as I’d always dreamed, I was able to join the cheer team, and even earning a nomination for “Best Female Vocalist” at the Cappies awards. I felt like I had found my place.   But everything changed when my theater mentor, the person I looked up to most, turned on me. When I joined the cheer team, he saw it as a betrayal. Suddenly, the person who once encouraged me was belittling me in front of my peers, shouting and tearing me down for exploring something new. I was 14, and I didn’t know how to stand up to him. My love for theater was still there, but the environment had become toxic. To protect my mental health, I had no choice but to leave the theater program.   Leaving theater wasn’t about losing my passion, it was about surviving. I switched to vocal training, where I could still express myself creatively without the constant pressure and bullying. But stepping away from the stage I loved was one of the hardest decisions I had ever made. I wasn’t sure if I would ever return.   The summer before my junior year, I received a scholarship for a pre-college theater conservatory. When I arrived, one of the instructors, Danny, noticed something was off. He sat me down, and I opened up about the bullying and how it had pushed me out of the theater program. Danny didn’t let me quit. He encouraged me to confront the pain and to rediscover my voice, reminding me that my love for theater was still strong, even if I had to step away to heal.   While I found my way back to performing, I also discovered a new passion: teaching. I now mentor the JV cheer team, helping younger students build their confidence, just as I had once struggled. Seeing them succeed and feel proud of themselves has become one of the most rewarding parts of my high school experience.   Looking back, I realize that leaving the theater program was a turning point, not an end. It showed me that sometimes protecting yourself means stepping away from something you love. I’m stronger now, more resilient, and I no longer want to perform. Being a teacher is now what I want to be. My dream was destroyed but I found a way to create change in children’s lives.

I remember sitting outside the classroom, the door slammed shut in my face during a Code Red. Panic surged through me as my mind raced. I had never felt so small, so invisible. The hallway was empty, eerily silent except for the distant hum of the school intercom. My fists pounded against the door, but no one opened it. The teacher stood near the door, arms crossed, I was not getting in. I turned and ran. My breath came fast and uneven as I pushed open the bathroom door and collapsed into a stall, hugging my knees to my chest. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure someone could hear it. The lockdown alarm blared through the speakers, but all I could focus on was the sinking feeling in my stomach. I already dreaded this class, but now I felt completely shut out. It’s been four years filled with self-discovery, lessons I never asked for, and more drama than I thought possible. As I prepare to leave, I can honestly say I am done with drama. Literally! But high school was also where I met the three teachers who shaped my future. The bullying teacher was my ninth-grade nemesis. He was relentless, cruel, and definitely not a fan of my choices. Band and theater. Cheer and vocal. Not in HIS program. I shed more tears because of him than I would like to admit. But ironically, he is the reason I want to become a teacher. I never want another student to feel the way he made me feel. The caring teacher was the one who picked up the pieces of my broken spirit and glued them back together. She reminded me that talent alone is not enough. It takes discipline, direction, and resilience. She gave me the reality check I needed, which is part of the reason I decided to go into teaching instead of chasing the Broadway dream I once had. The tough love teacher has been a constant in my life since freshman year. Her mantra. No quitting. Ever. She pushed me to keep going even when things felt impossible. But through her, I also learned another valuable lesson. Strength does not mean sacrificing your mental health. Sometimes, walking away is the bravest thing you can do. This fall, I will be attending North Carolina A&T as part of the Honors College program, majoring in elementary education. My journey has led me to a passion for teaching, not just as a career but as a way to create change. I want to be the kind of teacher who uplifts, encourages, and makes every student feel seen. My goal is to teach in the United States, shaping young minds in the classroom while also using my summers to teach overseas. I want to experience different cultures, learn from diverse communities, and bring those lessons back to my students. Education should be a bridge that connects people, and I plan to use mine to make a difference both at home and around the world. Four years ago, I sat in that bathroom, wondering how I was going to survive. Now, I stand on the other side, not just surviving but thriving. I have learned resilience, the power of kindness, and the importance of standing up for myself and others. I have learned that no single experience defines me, but every challenge has shaped me. I am stronger, wiser, and ready to be the kind of teacher who sees the student left outside the door, the student I once was.

“Stop the noise”—that was my dad’s favorite phrase whenever I started singing as a child. To him, my singing was pure foolishness. To me, it was everything. The first time I sang in front of a crowd, my heart pounded so hard I thought I might pass out. But I sang my heart out anyway. When the last note faded, the audience erupted into applause. Either I had done well, or they were just relieved it was over. Sometimes my songs led the congregation into deep moments of praise and worship. The only kind of performance my dad actually approved. Sundays were long church days. After service, I helped Auntie Chiny with Sunday dinner, quickly learning that in Caribbean households, “just a little more” means another full plate. Growing up Caribbean is a story of survival, determination, resilience, and perseverance. It’s about making something out of nothing, pushing forward despite the odds, and holding onto the rich culture and traditions that shape who we are. Years ago, my great-grandmother stowed away on a ship to America. She arrived as an undocumented immigrant from Jamaica. That was the beginning of our journey. She filed for her children, my grandma filed for my dad. Their struggles motivate me to work hard, keep good grades, and become the first in my family to go to college. My dad has had a huge influence on my career choices. He didn’t struggle in America for me to study theatre. Becoming a teacher? That didn’t impress him either. He would rather see me become a nurse. I respect that, but I don’t do blood. I’ll pass out before I can pass a test. High school has been a rollercoaster of self-discovery, life lessons, and more drama than I ever wanted. I am done with drama. Literally. I met teachers who shaped my experience for better or worse. The bullying I faced from my theatre teacher was relentless. I won’t give him credit for much, except maybe my tears. Ironically, he’s the one who sparked my desire to become a teacher. One teacher saw my broken spirit and glued me back together. She had me perform so much that I realized…it wasn’t for me. That helped me shift my focus to teaching. There was the tough love teacher, whose motto no quitting. Ever! If I had a dollar for every time she said that, I wouldn’t even need a scholarship. This fall, I will be attending North Carolina A&T as part of the Honors College program, majoring in elementary education. I’m excited about NCAT’s outreach programs, especially study abroad opportunities. I want to learn beyond the classroom so I can teach beyond it. After graduation, I plan to teach in Africa, the Caribbean, and Korea, helping underserved communities gain access to quality education. My goal is to create a world where everyone feels valued, no matter how they look, act, or dress. I am committed to making a difference, one small act of kindness at a time.

Law enforcement agencies need to realize that the relationship between them and the African American community in the U.S. is complicated and honestly, a little broken. For so many African Americans, it feels like their voices are ignored, their concerns dismissed, and they’re often seen through the lens of suspicion or fear because of their skin color. It’s not about just changing policies or saying the right words. It’s about actually doing things that show you care and that you want to build real trust. One of the ways is to start holding community events. But not just the usual meet-and-greets where officers say a few words about how much they care. I’m talking about real events where we can come together and share experiences. Think cookouts, block parties, or open forums where we can actually talk to each other. Law enforcement shouldn’t just be people who show up to make arrests; they should be part of the community. They should want to connect with people, listen to their problems, and actually build real relationships. Another thing that needs to change is how officers see African Americans. They can’t just see us as a color or a statistic. Officers need to treat every person like an individual, with their own story. They need to stop looking at us through the lens of their own biases or assumptions. It’s so important for them to recognize that we’re people with hopes, dreams, struggles, and lives, just like anyone else. It starts with empathy—really seeing and understanding us for who we are. And one of the biggest things that would help is for law enforcement to walk in our shoes. I mean, really experience what it’s like to be us. What would it be like if they lived a week in an African American community? To walk through a neighborhood where you’re constantly wondering how people, especially the cops, are going to see you? How would it feel to live under a microscope, just because of the way you look, even when you’re just going about your normal day? If officers actually took the time to experience this, they’d understand the culture, the challenges, and the everyday joys of being an African American. But it’s not about just visiting for a day or two. It’s about being a part of the community. They should live with us, eat with us, volunteer with us, go to school events, and just be around. Building real connections beyond just showing up in a uniform. This would give officers a real chance to understand what it’s like to be African American, and in turn, they’d build some real empathy and trust. But this isn’t about just talking about change or making empty gestures. If we really want to create a bridge between law enforcement and the community, officers have to be ready to go deeper. They need to step out of their comfort zones and actually engage with us, not just professionally, but personally. This will open the door for real conversations and, hopefully, help heal some of the tension that’s been building for years. It’s not about officers pretending to understand everything or living a perfect life. It’s about taking the time to listen, learn, and genuinely care. We need a shift from simple interactions to real, authentic relationships. Relationships that respect our differences, acknowledge the pain of the past, and work together to create something better.

Temporarily Knocked Out I remember sitting outside the classroom, the door slammed shut in my face during a Code Red. Panic surged through me as my mind raced. I had never felt so small, so invisible. The hallway was empty, eerily silent except for the distant hum of the school intercom. My fists pounded against the door, but no one opened it. Inside, I could see the faint outline of my classmates, crouched low beneath their desks. The teacher stood near the door, arms crossed, eyes avoiding mine. I was not getting in. I turned and ran, my footsteps echoing through the abandoned halls. My breath came fast and uneven as I pushed open the bathroom door and collapsed into a stall, hugging my knees to my chest. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure someone could hear it. The lockdown alarm blared through the speakers, but all I could focus on was the sinking feeling in my stomach. I already dreaded this class, but now I felt completely shut out. Not just from that room but from everything. Let me take you down this journey called high school. Four years of self-discovery, hard lessons, and more drama than I thought possible. It is where I found myself and lost myself, where I met the people who tore me down and the ones who built me back up. And it is where I met three teachers who, in their own ways, changed everything. On a regular day, when I was not locked out, class was still horrible. Every day felt like a battlefield. The first was the one who made me question everything about myself. He was my ninth-grade theater teacher, a man who could silence a room with just one glare. At first, I wanted his approval. I wanted him to see me, to recognize my talent, to push me the way he pushed his favorites. But the moment I chose to explore other passions outside of theater, his encouragement turned to resentment. He made it his mission to remind me that I was no longer welcome in his space. The snide comments, the moments he singled me out, the way he slowly chipped away at the confidence I had spent years building—it all added up. He made me feel small. For months, I carried the weight of his words, replaying them in my head, wondering if I had lost something I could never get back. But here is the twist. In tearing me down, he showed me exactly the kind of teacher I never want to be. Life did improve when I escaped my torture. That was when I met the caring teacher—the one who noticed the days when I barely spoke, when my usual spark had dimmed. She did not ignore the shift in me or dismiss it as just another moody teenager going through a phase. Instead, she paid attention. She asked questions. She listened. She saw the cracks in my confidence and worked to fill them, not with empty compliments, but with truth and guidance. She did not just encourage me. She prepared me. She did not sugarcoat the realities of the world I loved. She explained that passion alone was not enough, that talent without resilience could only take me so far. She helped me understand that my love for the arts did not have to be my only path—it could be a part of something even greater, something that had been calling me all along. She saw the teacher in me before I even recognized it in myself. And because of her, I started to believe in a future beyond the one I had originally imagined. And then there was the tough love teacher. She did not do hand-holding. She did not do sugar-coating. But she did show up, day after day, pushing me to be better, stronger, tougher. She told me that quitting was not an option. She challenged me, held me accountable, and made sure I did not walk away from things just because they got hard. But in the end, she also gave me permission to know when to walk away—not out of weakness, but out of self-preservation. Four years ago, I was a scared freshman, locked out of a room, locked out of belonging, crouched in a bathroom stall wondering if I would make it through. Now, I stand on the other side. Stronger. Wiser. Ready. I know what it feels like to be the student left outside the door, and that is why I am going to be the kind of teacher who holds it open.

Most people think anemia just makes you a little tired. What they don’t know is that it can turn your life upside down. For me, anemia was more than just feeling exhausted. It was passing out on my bathroom floor, waking up too weak to move. It was chronic migraines that lasted for days, making it impossible to focus in class. I missed so much of my junior year that catching up felt impossible. I had to give up being co-captain of the majorettes team, something I loved, because my body couldn’t keep up. When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, my GERD made eating a challenge, making it even harder to keep my strength up. I went from being an active, high-achieving student to someone who was constantly sick, in and out of the hospital, and struggling to keep up with my grades. I remember staring at assignments, willing my brain to focus through the migraines and exhaustion. But through all of this, I refused to give up. I had to rethink how I stayed involved and keep my activities up. When I could no longer perform, I became a mentor to 13 younger JV girls. I taught them, helped them build their confidence, and stayed involved in a way that didn’t require physical energy. I learned to adapt and found new ways to push myself. Even though I’m still learning how to manage my health, I’m determined to go to college. I have a dream school, and I’ve worked so hard to get everything together. I’ve pushed and refused to let my struggles define me, and kept going. It’s been tough, but I’ve made it this far. I understand what it means to struggle, to feel like the odds are against you. That’s why I want to become a teacher in underserved communities and overseas in African and Caribbean countries, ensuring that every student gets the support they need to succeed. I want to be the kind of teacher who sees potential in every student, even when they’re struggling, because I know what it’s like to fight for your education when life gets in the way. My challenges have shaped me, but they don’t define me. They’ve made me stronger, more determined, and more committed to helping others, and I’m ready to take on whatever comes next. I would love to say being sick is a state of mind but it is not. It is real when you are unable to do everyday life things. I am grateful that i am handling my health better.

High school has been a whirlwind of performances, lessons, and self-discovery, but if there is one thing that has remained constant, it is my love for music and the arts. Ever since I played Little Red in Into the Woods in fourth grade, I knew that performing was more than just a hobby. It was a passion that lit a fire in me. Whether singing in front of a packed auditorium, twirling a baton under stadium lights, or bringing a character to life on stage, I have always found my greatest joy in the art of storytelling and expression. Throughout the years, I have had the privilege of performing in a variety of settings, from school concerts to city events. I have sung for 9/11 remembrance ceremonies, opened for the mayor of Fort Lauderdale, and performed at school board meetings and dedication ceremonies. One of my most meaningful experiences was singing at a nursing home, where I saw firsthand how music could lift spirits and bring light to those who needed it most. It was in these moments that I truly understood the power of music, not just as entertainment but as a universal language that connects people. Theater has also played a huge role in shaping who I am. I have taken on lead and ensemble roles in multiple productions, embracing the challenge of stepping into different characters and telling their stories. Being cast as Rafiki in The Lion King was a defining moment, allowing me to merge my love for performance with a deep cultural connection to the story. But my love for the arts does not stop at singing and acting. As a majorette and co-captain of my school’s auxiliary team, I led routines, taught baton twirling, and mentored younger students. Even when I had to step back from performing due to unexpected challenges, I found fulfillment in coaching and passing down what I had learned to the next generation. Through all of these experiences, I have realized that my passion for music and performance is not just about being on stage. It is about using my talents to uplift others. That is why I plan to attend North Carolina A&T, where I will major in elementary education and minor in music therapy. My goal is to become a teacher who integrates the arts into the classroom, giving students the same creative outlet that shaped me. I also dream of teaching abroad, possibly in Africa or the Caribbean, sharing my love for learning and the arts on a global scale. Beyond teaching, I hope to start a nonprofit that brings children from different learning backgrounds together through music and the arts. I want to create a space where students feel valued, inspired, and encouraged to express themselves in ways that words sometimes cannot. At the end of the day, my purpose is clear. To inspire, to mentor, and to make a difference through the arts. Whether through teaching, performing, or community work, I will continue to use my voice both literally and figuratively to leave a lasting impact on the world.

Scholarship Essay Some obstacles knock you down, and others push you forward. Mine did both. In ninth grade, I faced an unexpected challenge, not from a difficult subject or a demanding workload, but from my own teacher. My theater instructor made it clear that my decision to join band and do the school play was unacceptable. He belittled me, excluded me, and made me feel like I no longer belonged in the program I once loved. At first, I questioned myself. Had I made a mistake? Did I not deserve to be part of the theater world anymore? But rather than let that experience define me, I used it as motivation. That year forced me to rethink what I wanted. I left the theater program and focused on vocal performance, where I found a supportive environment that reminded me why I loved the arts in the first place. But more importantly, it planted a seed in me, a desire to become the kind of teacher I once needed. No student should ever feel like they do not belong because of a teacher. I want to create a classroom where students are encouraged, not torn down. My journey was not just shaped by one difficult teacher. Living with anemia has also challenged me in ways I never expected. I had to step back from being a majorette co-captain because my body simply could not keep up with the demands. At first, I saw this as another loss. But instead of walking away entirely, I found a new way to stay involved, mentoring younger girls. I created and led routines, helped them navigate personal struggles, and became the person they could turn to for guidance. What seemed like a setback turned into one of the most rewarding experiences of my high school career. These challenges have shaped my outlook on education in a powerful way. I now understand that education is not just about academics, it is about the environment, the mentors, and the opportunities that shape a student’s confidence and future. That is why I plan to teach overseas and in schools with inequities, ensuring that every student, regardless of background, has access to the encouragement and support they deserve. This scholarship would help me take the next step toward that goal. It would ease the financial burden on my family and provide me with the tools I need, like a laptop, to succeed in my studies. More importantly, it would be an investment in my future students, the ones who, like me, just need someone to believe in them. I refuse to let obstacles define me. Instead, I use them as fuel. And one day, I hope to help my students do the same.

Christine Brooklynn Fraser aka Chrissy was named after our grandmother and me. I always wanted a sister, and I thought it would be so cool if we had the same name. She let us share a middle name, which made me feel like we had this unbreakable bond. Before she even knew she was pregnant, I was telling people a baby was on the way. I don’t know how, but I just knew. My mom has both type 1 and type 2 diabetes, which made pregnancy really dangerous for her. She had me at six months, and it was a whole traumatic experience, so she swore she’d never go through that again. But then, somehow, we ended up with Chrissy. I helped pick out tiny clothes, tiny socks, tiny everything. I imagined us playing together, having sister secrets, matching outfits and the whole thing. Then she was finally here. But it wasn’t like I imagined. Chrissy was born with a severe heart condition because of mom’s diabetes. She was so, so small, and she had tubes and wires everywhere. She lives in the hospital. I visited her every day, I would just sit there, watching and waiting. She finally came home on Christmas Day. I’d fall asleep with her in my arms. But she cried a lot. I didn’t understand why at the time, but looking back, I know now, it was the pain. Her tiny heart was hurting, and there was nothing I could do about it. Her life was hospital visits, therapy sessions, doctors poking and prodding her. I went with my mom to almost every appointment. I’ll admit it…..I’d take her out of her car seat sometimes when we were driving, even though I definitely wasn’t supposed to. I just wanted to hold her as much as I could. And honestly? I’m glad I did. And then one day, she got really sick. She had to go back to the hospital. I told myself she’d be okay. She always pulled through. But she didn’t. She had multiple heart attacks. She never made it back home. I didn’t get to say goodbye. But that night, she came to me in what felt like a dream, except it wasn’t. It was real. She smiled at me and told me she wasn’t in pain anymore. And then she was gone. I sang at her funeral. I barely remember anything else from that day. Just the feeling of something inside me breaking. For a long time, I felt empty. Like I was missing this huge piece of myself, and nothing could fill it. But then, little by little, I found a way to keep her with me. Now, I have about fifteen younger girls who look up to me. I became a junior coach, and honestly, I think it’s the closest thing I’ll ever get to being a big sister again. It can be a lot sometimes, but I love it. No one will ever replace my Chrissy Bear. But every time I help one of my girls, every time I give them advice or cheer them on, I feel like I’m sharing the love I never got to fully give her. Losing her left a hole in my heart, but being a big sister to others has helped me fill some of the empty space. She may not be here, but she’s still with me. And as long as I keep sharing her love, she always will be. I am going to school to be a teacher. Her death made me want to teach children from all walks of life.

High school has been a wild ride, four years of self-discovery, life lessons, and too much drama. I am done with drama. Literally! It is also where I met the bullying teacher, the caring teacher, and the tough love teacher, to name a few. The bullying teacher, my ninth-grade nemesis. He was relentless, cruel, and definitely not a fan of my choices (band and theater? How dare I?). I will not give him credit for much, except maybe my tears. But ironically, he is the one who sparked my desire to become a teacher. The caring teacher is the one who picked up the pieces of my broken spirit and glued them back together. She gave me a realistic look at life as a performer, which is part of the reason I changed to teaching. The tough love teacher has been a constant in my life since freshman year. Her mantra? No quitting. Ever. My desire to become a teacher is partly due to them all, but it is not the only reason. My passion for equality in education, combined with kindness, is the driving force behind this decision. Each of these teachers, in their own way, led me to where I am now, ready to become the kind of educator students deserve. But my dream of teaching is not just about my experiences, it is about the change I want to create. Choosing to teach is a way to ensure that we do not lose our history and that children continue to be taught. Teachers are the foundation of the future. Every time I turn on the news, I am reminded of how education is being stolen from underserved communities. The current administration is trying to get rid of the Department of Education, take away important grants that benefit historically underrepresented communities, and remove pathways for us to get a higher education. It is a very scary, unsettling time. Goals and Ambitions This fall, I will be attending North Carolina A&T as part of the Honors College program, majoring in elementary education. One of the things that excites me most about NCAT is its outreach programs, especially study abroad opportunities. I want to learn beyond the classroom so that I can teach beyond it! After graduation, my goal is to teach abroad in Africa, helping underserved communities gain access to quality education. I want to bridge gaps, advocate for resources, and ensure every child, regardless of where they are from, gets the education they deserve. I love to travel! I do not want to stop with Africa. Japan, Korea, and the Caribbean islands are on my list of places to teach. My goal at home is to start a program that teaches more than what is in school books. Education should empower students to embrace who they are, no matter how they look, act, or dress. Middle schoolers especially need a safe space to survive their fashion choices. I want to create programs that build confidence and leadership skills while fostering a culture of acceptance. I believe that kindness, hard work, and mentorship can change lives. My goal is to create a world where everyone feels valued, no matter how they look, act, or dress. Through education and service, I want to help others build confidence and find their place in the world. Whether it is mentoring younger students, using music to inspire, or one day teaching overseas, I am committed to making a difference, one small act of kindness at a time.

Let me introduce you to my memory of Chrissy. Christine Brooklynn Fraser aka Chrissy was named after our grandmother and me. I always wanted a sister, and I thought it would be so cool if we had the same name. My mom was on board, she let us share a middle name, which made me feel like we had this unbreakable bond. Before she even knew she was pregnant, I was telling people a baby was on the way. I don’t know how, but I just knew. My mom has both type 1 and type 2 diabetes, which made pregnancy really dangerous for her. She had me at six months, and it was a whole traumatic experience, so she swore she’d never go through that again. But then, somehow, we ended up with Chrissy. I helped pick out tiny clothes, tiny socks, tiny everything. I imagined us playing together, having sister secrets, matching outfits and the whole thing. Then she was finally here. But it wasn’t like I imagined. Chrissy was born with a severe heart condition. She was so, so small, and she had tubes and wires everywhere. She had to stay in the hospital for months. I visited her every day, I would just sit there, watching and waiting. She finally came home on Christmas Day. Best Christmas gift ever. I’d fall asleep with her in my arms. But she cried a lot. More than other babies. I didn’t understand why at the time, but looking back, I know now, it was the pain. Her tiny heart was hurting, and there was nothing I could do about it. Her life was hospital visits, therapy sessions, doctors poking and prodding her. I went with my mom to almost every appointment. I’ll admit it…..I’d take her out of her car seat sometimes when we were driving, even though I definitely wasn’t supposed to. I just wanted to hold her as much as I could. And honestly? I’m glad I did. And then one day, she got really sick. She had to go back to the hospital. I told myself she’d be okay. She always pulled through. But she didn’t. She had multiple heart attacks. She never made it back home. I didn’t get to say goodbye. But that night, she came to me in what felt like a dream, except it wasn’t. It was real. She smiled at me and told me she wasn’t in pain anymore. And then she was gone. I sang at her funeral. I barely remember anything else from that day. Just the feeling of something inside me breaking. For a long time, I felt empty. Like I was missing this huge piece of myself, and nothing could fill it. But then, little by little, I found a way to keep her with me. Now, I have about fifteen younger girls who look up to me. I became a junior coach, and honestly, I think it’s the closest thing I’ll ever get to being a big sister again. It can be a lot sometimes, but I love it. No one will ever replace my Chrissy Bear. But every time I help one of my girls, every time I give them advice or cheer them on, I feel like I’m sharing the love I never got to fully give her. Losing her left a hole in my heart, but being a big sister to others has helped me fill some of the empty space. She may not be here, but she’s still with me. And as long as I keep sharing her love, she always will be.

Life so far has been a roadmap of hills and valleys—some steep climbs, a few detours, and the occasional flat tire. When I was younger, no one could’ve convinced me that I wasn’t going to be on Broadway, singing my heart out to a theater full of people every night. That was the plan, the dream, the future. But life has a funny way of editing your script. High school has been a wild ride—four years of self-discovery, life lessons, and enough drama to rival any soap opera. It’s also been where I’ve encountered every type of teacher imaginable: the bullying teacher, the caring teacher, the tough-love teacher, and, of course, the heartless coach. Let’s start with the bullying teacher—my ninth-grade nemesis. He was relentless, cruel, and definitely not a fan of my choices (cheer over theater? How dare I?). I won’t give him credit for much, except maybe my tears. But ironically, he’s the one who sparked my desire to become a teacher. Not because he inspired me—far from it—but because he made me realize I want to protect students from teachers like him. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, he’s no longer teaching. As it should be. The caring teacher—the one who picked up the pieces of my broken spirit and glued them back together. She didn’t baby me—she challenged me. She gave me a realistic look at life as a performer. Hence the change. The tough-love teacher has been a constant in my life since freshman year. Her mantra? No quitting. Ever. Thanks to her, I’ve learned that life isn’t always easy, but you’ve got to keep moving forward. The heartless coach is, well, one for the record books. From her, I learned to value my peace of mind and walk away from unhealthy situations—even if it meant giving up something I loved. Sometimes, you have to create your own opportunities when life doesn’t go as planned. And while tough situations can teach you a lot, nothing is worth sacrificing your mental health. Looking back, the bullying teacher in ninth grade set me on a path of self-discovery. Now, as a senior, I can see how every experience—every challenge, every victory—has led me here. Teaching is my future, and it’s a future built on a mix of experiences, countless volunteer hours, and a desire to be the kind of teacher who empowers, uplifts, and inspires. Oh, and makes sure no kid ever has to cry over a teacher like I did. I anticipate many challenges in college. I will miss my family and the protection they provide. I also suspect being on my own will be a new experience. I have been accepted into the Honors College at North Carolina A&T. I am grateful that I will be living in the honors dorm, which has the perk of providing a more enhanced learning environment. The tools that are being offered will be of great assistance in helping me overcome some of these new hurdles. My dream of becoming a teacher is really just the beginning. I plan to create something I call “Theatre in the Park” for my special education students and other children. While the kids are in class learning and performing, their parents will get a chance to participate too—with a “Broadway easy-to-follow workout.” Creating a space where all kids can learn from and celebrate one another’s differences is so important. It’s the key to building an inclusive world where everyone feels valued and appreciated. Together, we can grow stronger as a community, and this is my way of being part of that change.

The arts are so important in schools, but they always seem to get overlooked when budgets are tight in my community. That really bothers me because programs like theater, music, and dance can change lives—I’m proof of that. Before I started performing, I was honestly doing pretty bad in school. I couldn’t stay focused, and I didn’t feel motivated. But once I got involved in the arts, everything changed. Performing gave me something to be passionate about, helped me build confidence, and even made me do better in my classes. It showed me what I was capable of, and I don’t know where I’d be without it. That’s why I want to be a special education and performing arts teacher. I’ve seen how the arts can make a difference, and I want to help break the stereotypes about special education students. I think if we talked about differences at a younger age, people would grow up being more understanding. That’s why I want to create a club where students can come together, express themselves through art, and inspire change. It would be a space where no one feels judged, and everyone feels like they belong. It really hurts to see kids getting teased at school. If we made more of an effort to teach kindness and acceptance, schools could be so much better for everyone. I also believe the arts should be available to all students, no matter where they live or how much money they have. Free or low-cost programs can give kids the opportunities they deserve. The arts have completely shaped my life. They gave me confidence, helped me find my voice, and showed me how to connect with others. My dream is to pass that on to the next generation. My ultimate goal is to use the arts to create a more inclusive world where every student feels accepted, valued, and inspired to reach their full potential. My dream of becoming a teacher is really just the beginning. I plan to create something I call “Theatre in the Park” for my special education students and other children. While the kids are in class learning and performing, their parents will get a chance to participate too—with a “Broadway easy-to-follow workout.” Think workouts to show tunes, the same ones we use in class, so parents can bond with their kids by singing along in the car, at home, or anywhere. It’s about creating the kind of passion for theater and the arts that I grew up with—while getting in a good sweat! Creating a space where all kids can learn from and celebrate one another’s differences is so important. It’s the key to building an inclusive world where everyone feels valued and appreciated. Together, we can grow stronger as a community, and this is my way of being part of that change.

The arts are so important in schools, but they always seem to get overlooked when budgets are tight in my community. That really bothers me because programs like theater, music, and dance can change lives—I’m proof of that. Before I started performing, I was honestly doing pretty bad in school. I couldn’t stay focused, and I didn’t feel motivated. But once I got involved in the arts, everything changed. Performing gave me something to be passionate about, helped me build confidence, and even made me do better in my classes. It showed me what I was capable of, and I don’t know where I’d be without it. That’s why I want to be a special education and performing arts teacher. I’ve seen how the arts can make a difference, and I want to help break the stereotypes about special education students. I think if we talked about differences at a younger age, people would grow up being more understanding. That’s why I want to create a club where students can come together, express themselves through art, and inspire change. It would be a space where no one feels judged, and everyone feels like they belong. It really hurts to see kids getting teased at school. If we made more of an effort to teach kindness and acceptance, schools could be so much better for everyone. I also believe the arts should be available to all students, no matter where they live or how much money they have. Free or low-cost programs can give kids the opportunities they deserve. The arts have completely shaped my life. They gave me confidence, helped me find my voice, and showed me how to connect with others. My dream is to pass that on to the next generation. My ultimate goal is to use the arts to create a more inclusive world where every student feels accepted, valued, and inspired to reach their full potential. My dream of becoming a teacher is really just the beginning. I plan to create something I call “Theatre in the Park” for my special education students and other children. While the kids are in class learning and performing, their parents will get a chance to participate too—with a “Broadway easy-to-follow workout.” Think workouts to show tunes, the same ones we use in class, so parents can bond with their kids by singing along in the car, at home, or anywhere. It’s about creating the kind of passion for theater and the arts that I grew up with—while getting in a good sweat! Creating a space where all kids can learn from and celebrate one another’s differences is so important. It’s the key to building an inclusive world where everyone feels valued and appreciated. Together, we can grow stronger as a community, and this is my way of being part of that change.

The arts are always one of the first things people cut when school budgets get tight, but I don’t think they realize how much they actually change lives. Theater especially has the power to completely transform people. It’s helped so many students build confidence, express themselves, and even improve their grades. I know because it’s done all of that for me. Before middle school, I felt stuck. I was going to a charter school, and honestly, I didn’t feel like I belonged. I struggled with my grades and didn’t have a lot of confidence. Then one summer, my mom signed me up for a theater camp. I didn’t know it at the time, but that camp would completely change my life. For the first time, I felt like I was part of something special—like I had found a piece of myself I didn’t even know was missing. That one summer led my mom to enroll me in a performing arts magnet school, and everything started to fall into place. I went from barely making it in school to making the honor roll. I found my confidence, and I discovered my passion. I had to work hard to stay in the program since we needed to keep a high GPA, but for me, it wasn’t a choice—I had to be there. The arts gave me structure, discipline, and a reason to push myself. I’ll never forget auditioning for my first big role when I was 10. I was so nervous, and I remember some of the other kids saying, “New kids never get lead roles.” I didn’t think I’d get it, but when the cast list went up, there was my name next to a lead part. I was shocked! From the moment I stepped on stage, I knew this was where I belonged. After that, theater became my whole world. I spent every summer in theater camp, playing amazing roles like Little Red in Into the Woods. But my favorite role by far was Rafiki in The Lion King. I’d dreamed of playing that part for so long, and it finally happened right before COVID shut everything down. Even during the pandemic, I didn’t stop. I trained at a local conservatory and kept working on my craft because I couldn’t imagine my life without theater. Theater has taught me so much more than acting. It’s taught me how to be disciplined, how to work as part of a team, and how to communicate with others. There’s nothing like being on stage—it’s unpredictable and raw, and every performance feels like magic. I want other kids to have the same opportunities I’ve had. Arts programs, especially free or low-cost ones, are so important for students who might not think they belong on a stage. Theater doesn’t just teach performance skills—it gives kids a place where they feel seen, valued, and capable of doing incredible things. That’s why my dream is to become a drama teacher. Or is my vocal teacher who has inspired me to keep pushing in the arts. I want to help students find their voice, their confidence, and their place in the world through theater. It’s not just about putting on a good show; it’s about changing lives. Theater has given me so much, and I can’t wait to pass that gift on to the next generation.

Last year, I faced a significant challenge that changed the course of my high school experience. I was diagnosed with severe anemia, which drastically affected my energy levels and made it difficult for me to fully participate in school and extracurricular activities. As a result, I began missing school and practices, and my performance suffered. Being co-captain of the auxiliary team was a dream come true, but my health issues began to strain my relationships with my teammates and coaches. They didn’t fully understand how debilitating anemia could be, and to be honest, neither did I or my parents. As I struggled to keep up, I was gradually pushed out of my role as co-captain. This was devastating—I was losing the sisterhood I had built with my team and missing out on the performances I loved. My grades began to slip, and the high school experience I had once cherished was slipping away. When it came time to try out for the team again, I knew I had to make a difficult decision. I chose to step back, focusing on my health and preparing for a better senior year. My grades had suffered slightly, and that was unacceptable to me. At my school, we have a Junior Varsity team. Although I still wanted to be part of the auxiliary, I knew I couldn't participate in the capacity that was required. I took a chance and asked if I could be a peer mentor to the team of younger girls.This position has never existed but I knew if I did not ask for it I would be in the sidelines. I had already proven to be a good leader and had the knowledge and skills to teach and mentor the young ladies. Thankfully, I was allowed to do so. This summer, I volunteered my mornings teaching them, and I currently volunteer after school. Being with them and giving back has been an amazing journey. I now have 13 little sisters. I’ve always wanted to be a big sister, but after losing my own sister, I never had the chance to create the bonds that I now have. These girls have someone close to their age that they can talk to about schoolwork, teachers, the coach, makeup, and even their relationships. I am trying to teach them how to be young ladies who stand up for themselves and know they have the power to do whatever they want in life. I want them to know as young black girls they will grow into powerful black women. I’ve given them my time, and they’ve given me their love. I’ve volunteered with many organizations and have accumulated about 600 hours, not including this experience. Each opportunity has been rewarding, but nothing compares to being a big sister. I believe giving back is essential for community growth. My time with them is flying by quickly, and I’ve decided that they’ll have me next summer as well. Hopefully, I’ll be back to continue this bond with during summer breaks away from school. If life permits I’ll even return for new members or volunteer as a coach.

Life so far has been a roadmap of hills and valleys—some steep climbs, a few detours, and the occasional flat tire. When I was younger, no one could’ve convinced me that I wasn’t going to be on Broadway, singing my heart out to a theater full of people every night. That was the plan, the dream, the future. But life has a funny way of editing your script. While Broadway isn’t the goal anymore, performing will always be a part of me. They’re my home. High school has been a wild ride—four years of self-discovery, life lessons, and enough drama to rival any soap opera. It’s also been where I’ve encountered every type of teacher imaginable: the bullying teacher, the caring teacher, the tough-love teacher, the loving coach, and, of course, the heartless coach. Each of them, in their own way, has shaped who I am today and what I want to do with my future. Let’s start with the bullying teacher—my ninth-grade nemesis. He was relentless, cruel, and definitely not a fan of my choices (cheer over theater? How dare I?). I won’t give him credit for much, except maybe my tears. But ironically, he’s the one who sparked my desire to become a teacher. Not because he inspired me—far from it—but because he made me realize I want to protect students from teachers like him. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, he’s no longer teaching. As it should be. Then there’s my caring teacher, the one who picked up the pieces of my broken spirit and glued them back together. She didn’t baby me—she challenged me. She pushed me into advanced settings I didn’t think I was ready for, and guess what? I crushed it. She also gave me a realistic look at life as a performer, which is why I’ve decided to keep performing as a part-time passion and focus on teaching. Now, the tough-love teacher? She’s something else. I never even had her for a class, but she’s been a constant in my life since freshman year. Her mantra? No quitting. Ever. If I started something, I had to finish it, no matter how hard it got. Thanks to her, I’ve learned that life isn’t always easy, people won’t always be nice, but you’ve got to keep moving forward. Running away isn’t an option, and quitting? That’s for somebody else, not me. The heartless coach is, well, one for the record books. From her, I learned to value my peace of mind and walk away from unhealthy situations—even if it meant giving up something I loved. Sometimes, you have to create your own opportunities when life doesn’t go as planned. And while tough situations can teach you a lot, nothing is worth sacrificing your mental health. And finally, my loving coach, my mentor. She’s part crazy aunt, part strict mom, and 100% the reason I’ve been able to fly while staying grounded. Her support has been unwavering, her lessons unrelenting, and her belief in me unshakable. Looking back, my first encounter with that bullying teacher in ninth grade set me on a path of self-discovery. Now, as a senior, I can see how every experience—every challenge, every victory—has led me here. Teaching is my future, and it’s a future built on a mix of experiences, countless volunteer hours, and a desire to be the kind of teacher who empowers, uplifts, and inspires. Oh, and makes sure no kid ever has to cry over a teacher like I did. The scholarship will help me on my journey to uplift children’s lives like what was done for me.

I chose theater because it’s where I feel most alive. Honestly, I can’t imagine my life without it. Ever since I was five, standing in front of my church with my knees shaking and my voice cracking, I’ve loved performing. My mom used to tease me about my “tiny voice,” so I was determined to prove her wrong. That first time, the notes weren’t perfect, but when I finished, people clapped like I’d just delivered the performance of a lifetime. It wasn’t just about the applause—it was the connection. Even as a kid, I knew I wanted to make people feel something. By the time I was seven, I was completely obsessed with performing. That year, my grandma took me to see The Lion King on Broadway, and it changed my life. The costumes, the music, the way the actors told the story. I was hooked. I leaned over to my grandma during the show and whispered, “That’s going to be me one day.” She smiled, but my dad just shook his head and asked, “Does Broadway have benefits?” Typical. Since then, I’ve spent every free moment performing. Summer theater camp became my second home. I learned that acting isn’t just about memorizing lines or hitting the high notes; it’s about storytelling. It’s about making people laugh, cry, or see the world differently, even if only for a few hours. One of my proudest moments was playing Rafiki in The Lion King during a summer production. It felt like everything came full circle, standing in the same role that inspired me as a kid. That night, I wasn’t just acting; I was connecting with the audience, and it felt amazing. But theater is more than just my passion; it’s also my way of giving back. Arts education is often the first thing cut from schools, and that’s heartbreaking. Theater taught me confidence, teamwork, and how to express myself, and I want other kids to have the same chance. My goal isn’t just to perform on Broadway someday (though I will); I also want to make theater more accessible to everyone, especially students who might never get the chance otherwise. I know this path won’t be easy. There’ll be tough auditions and a lot of rejections but I’m ready. From my first shaky performance in church to the applause after my Rafiki debut, every step has prepared me for this. Theater isn’t just what I do; it’s who I am.

The importance of arts in schools is often overlooked, especially when budgets are tight. But research shows that drama programs can be life-changing, especially for students who are at-risk or have learning challenges. They improve communication, boost confidence, and even build academic skills. For me, the arts have been nothing short of transformative. Before middle school, I was struggling at a charter school, feeling lost and unsure of myself. Then one summer, I joined a theater program. Everything changed. For the first time, I felt like I belonged, like I had found a piece of myself that I didn’t even know was missing. That experience inspired my mom to enroll me in a magnet school for performing arts, and it turned my life around. I went from barely getting by to making the honor roll and discovering confidence I never thought I’d have. The arts gave me purpose and structure. At my magnet school, I had to keep up a strong GPA to stay in the program. That wasn’t optional for me—I was determined to stay. I threw myself into my studies and my love for performing, and in return, theater taught me discipline, resilience, and how to connect with people on a deeper level. My journey as a performer has been incredible. At 10, I auditioned for my first real theater role. I still remember the other kids telling me, “New kids never get lead roles.” When the cast list went up, I couldn’t believe it—there was my name in a lead spot. That first performance was unforgettable. The stage became my safe space, where everything felt electric and alive. There’s no rewind button in theater—no second chances or do-overs—which makes every show special. It’s unpredictable, raw, and full of magic, and I was hooked. After that, I spent every summer in theater camp. I played characters like Little Red in Into the Woods and eventually landed my dream role as Rafiki in The Lion King just before COVID. Even when the world shut down, I found ways to keep going, training at a local conservatory and staying connected to the art form I loved. The arts have given me so much, and I want to make sure others get the same opportunities. For students in underserved communities, arts programs can be a game-changer. Free or low-cost initiatives like theater in the park can open doors for kids who might otherwise never step foot on a stage. These programs don’t just teach performance skills; they give kids a sense of belonging, purpose, and hope. My ultimate dream is to perform on Broadway and, one day, to teach theater. I want to give back by helping others find their voice and their place in the world. Theater has taught me that creativity, confidence, and connection can change lives—and I’m determined to pass those lessons on to the next generation.

Music is a powerful tool for healing and self-expression, and I believe it can be used to make mental health awareness more accessible and affordable. As someone who has witnessed the transformative power of music, I aim to create initiatives that merge my passion for the arts with a commitment to supporting mental health. One way I can contribute is by organizing free or low-cost music therapy workshops on campus and in the community. These sessions would focus on using music to alleviate stress, boost mood, and foster a sense of connection among participants. From guided listening sessions to songwriting activities, these workshops can provide a creative outlet for people to process emotions and find support. Additionally, I could collaborate with student organizations and local mental health professionals to create events that highlight the therapeutic benefits of music. Hosting open mic nights or community jam sessions with themes centered around mental health awareness can help reduce stigma while offering a safe space for self-expression. Through these initiatives, I hope to bring the healing power of music to those who need it most, fostering a culture where mental health is prioritized and supported in a creative, affordable way.

“99 Credits and a Degree of None” is my mom’s favorite made-up song. It’s a tune about her five-college journey, filled with half-finished degrees and student loans she jokes will follow her into the afterlife. My mom’s a true jack-of-all-trades, but I know that deep down, she wants a degree. My dad, who immigrated from Jamaica in high school, never got to finish. He earned his diploma and trade certification later, and together, they’ve sacrificed to build a life for me—hoping I’ll be the first in our family to graduate. Being a first-generation college student is so much more than just a title. I’m carrying the weight of their dreams and my own. My parents gave up parts of their own ambitions so that I could have a shot at mine. They worked hard to give me chances they never had, and as much as they want me to go to college, it’s just as important to me to prove that their sacrifices mean something. I want to walk across that stage not only for myself but for them. My personal dream was set in fourth grade, the moment I took the stage as Little Red in Into the Woods. Under those bright stage lights, I found my place. My mom saw it too, and from then on, she fully invested in me. She enrolled me in a performing arts magnet school, signed me up for vocal lessons, even paid for dance classes. She’d say, “You’ve got to train like an athlete,” and I did, fully committed to the journey. When high school began, I was thrilled to join our performing arts program and auditioned for the fall show. I landed a lead role and was even nominated for Best Female Vocalist in high school musical theater. I thought I was on track, but I wanted to explore other high school activities, try new things. My theater teacher didn’t see it that way. Stepping outside of his expectations for me made me a target, and the personal attacks and bullying that followed made me lose my love for theater. I started to withdraw, and my mom says her “songbird stopped singing.” I went from being outgoing to staying in bed, crying through the days. Eventually, my mom stepped in. She transferred me out of the theater program, and I auditioned for the vocal program instead. I didn’t realize just how much I still had to learn—like reading music and advanced vocal techniques. My new vocal teacher encouraged me to tackle these challenges, and I came out of it stronger. Now, I’m regularly asked to sing at school events and community performances. I’ve even gone to therapy to help work through the tough time I experienced, and it was music that became my therapy in a very real way. Being a first-generation student shapes me in so many ways. I have their story of sacrifice and resilience guiding me, and it’s my drive to use everything they’ve given me to build a future they can be proud of. That’s why my college plans feel like such an honor—and a responsibility. I want to attend North Carolina A&T, major in musical theater, and start my path toward Broadway. After that, I’d love to perform on Disney cruises, combining my passion for theater and my dream of traveling the world. I’ve also realized that music can heal, and it’s a gift I want to give others. I plan to minor in music therapy to understand how to use my passion to help others find healing the way I did. So yes, I’ll be the first in my family to graduate, but I’ll also be carrying with me everything my parents have sacrificed and every dream they’ve had for me. When I walk across that stage, it won’t just be my achievement—it will be theirs, too.

“99 Credits and a Degree of None” is my mom’s favorite made-up song. It’s a catchy tune about her journey through five colleges, with half-finished degrees, and a pile of student loans that she jokes she’ll “pay off in the afterlife.” But I know behind her laughs, there’s a longing to hold a degree in her hands. My dad, an immigrant from Jamaica, didn’t get to finish high school here but later earned a diploma through a trade program. Together, they’ve sacrificed a lot for me, hoping I’ll be the first in our family to walk across that graduation stage. But my reason for going to college is a little different. I’ve known my dream since fourth grade, when I played Little Red in Into the Woods. That moment on stage, under the lights, I felt like I’d found my place. My family saw it too, and my mom started investing in that dream. She enrolled me in a performing arts magnet school, signed me up for vocal lessons, and even covered dance classes. She’d say, “You’ve got to train like an athlete,” and I did, fully committed. By the time I got to high school, I was thrilled to join the performing arts program and auditioned for the fall show. I landed a lead role and was even nominated for Best Female Vocalist in high school musical theater. It felt like everything was falling into place. But high school is high school, and I wanted to try other activities, explore more of myself. My theater teacher, however, didn’t see it that way. He had a vision for me, and stepping out of that vision made me a target. The bullying wasn’t just occasional remarks—it was personal, and I wasn’t the only one. I felt like I’d lost myself. My mom says her “songbird stopped singing.” I’d always been loud and outgoing, but suddenly, I was staying in bed, barely talking, and crying a lot. Eventually, my mom decided enough was enough. She transferred me out of the theater program, and I auditioned for the vocal program instead. It was the best decision we could have made. I didn’t realize just how much I didn’t know—things like reading music and advanced vocal techniques. My new vocal teacher encouraged me to jump into the deep end, and though it was a challenge, it’s made me so much stronger. Now, I’m often asked to sing at events and volunteer performances. I’ve even gone to therapy to help me work through that dark time, and music became my therapy. I realized that, beyond performing, I could use music to help others heal, too. That’s why I’m considering a minor in music therapy when I head to college. My dream school is North Carolina A&T, where I’ll major in musical theater and start my journey toward Broadway. After that, I’d love to perform on Disney cruises and travel the world while doing what I love. My parents’ sacrifices, their hopes, and even my mom’s “99 Credits” song remind me daily why I’m pursuing this path. They gave up their dreams so that I could have mine, and if I can reach the stage, I’ll know it’s all been worth it—for them and for me.

I remember sitting outside the classroom, the door slammed shut in my face during a Code Red. Panic surged through me as my mind raced. I already dreaded coming to this class, but being locked out during a school lockdown was a whole new fear. I wanted to be inside, safe, but instead, I hid in a bathroom, heart pounding, wondering what might happen next. How was I going to survive the next four years? My love for theater began when I was 7 years old. I saw my first show, The Lion King. At 10, I auditioned for my first real theater role. The other kids said, “New kids never get lead roles,” but when the cast list went up, my name was right there in a lead spot. I spent every summer at camp after that. Just before COVID, I landed my dream role as Rafiki. That’s when I knew Broadway was where I belonged. At first, high school was everything I imagined. I joined the cheer team, got a lead in the fall play, and was even nominated for a Cappies award for “Best Female Vocalist.” But then, everything came crashing down. My theater mentor, the person who once encouraged me, turned against me when I joined the cheer team. Choosing to explore new things seemed to betray him. He humiliated me, shouting and belittling me in front of everyone. I was 14, and I didn’t know how to stand up to an adult who was tearing me down. My confidence crumbled, and my love for theater was slipping away. By the end of freshman year, I transferred from theater to vocal for my mental well-being. I wasn’t sure I’d ever return to theater. After soul-searching, I realized that my true passion lay not just in performing but in teaching, in making a change in lives around me. The summer before my junior year was my turning point. I received a scholarship for a pre-college theater conservatory, honestly, I didn’t want to go. When I showed up, the staff didn’t recognize me. I was broken as a performer, and it showed. Danny, one of the instructors, took me aside. He talked to me about the bullying, the self-doubt, and the moment when I’d given up on my own dreams. I tried to keep it together, but I couldn’t. I broke down in front of him. I had let go of the person I once believed I could be. Danny wouldn’t let me quit. He pushed me to sing, even through my pain and tears. I confronted the hurt, reached deep inside, and found my voice again. Each note brought me closer to the Madison I used to be, the one who wasn’t afraid to dream. Despite rediscovering my love for performing, my heart still pulls me toward teaching. I mentor the JV team, teach them skills, and build their confidence. They mean so much to me because, like me, they know what it’s like to be overlooked, to feel like they’re not enough. Seeing those girls perform at every varsity event (a first in our school’s history) fills my heart in ways I never expected. I wonder how different my high school journey might have been if I wasn’t bullied. I wouldn’t go back to theater. My vocal training has opened new doors for me, and that tough chapter taught me that my real passion is in helping others find their strength. I’m not the same girl who sat outside that locked door—I’m stronger now. I’ll never let anyone shake my belief in who I am again.

“Wicked” is a powerful musical that tells the untold story of the witches of Oz, focusing on the complex relationship between Elphaba, the misunderstood green-skinned girl, and Glinda, the popular and seemingly perfect one. The themes of adversity, acceptance, and the struggle for self-identity are central to the musical, and they resonate deeply with my own journey. In many ways, I see myself in Elphaba. She is misunderstood, judged by her appearance, and often faces rejection simply because she doesn’t fit into the mold of what society expects. Like Elphaba, I have faced my own challenges and moments of feeling like an outsider. During my 9th-grade year, I was bullied by my theater teacher for joining the cheer team . The situation made me question my worth and passion for performing, but, like Elphaba, I didn’t let someone else’s opinion define who I was. I chose to channel my hurt into a positive direction, finding my voice in the vocal program and becoming even more determined to follow my dreams. Elphaba’s struggle to stay true to herself despite the pressure to conform mirrors my own desire to pursue a career on Broadway, even when others like my dad think it’s unrealistic. Like her, I know that staying true to who I am and believing in my talent and determination will eventually pay off. My love for performing began when I was just in fourth grade, playing Little Red in “Into the Woods,” and has only grown stronger since then. Despite the setbacks, I’ve continued to push forward. In the song “Defying Gravity,” Elphaba sings about breaking free from the limitations others put on her, declaring that she won’t be held down anymore. That song resonates with me because, like Elphaba, I’ve faced obstacles, doubts, and challenges that tried to hold me back. Whether it was dealing with my health issues, navigating the pressures of school and extracurriculars, or finding my place in the arts, I’ve learned to rise above them all. I’ve come to understand that sometimes adversity is the force that pushes us to new heights, helping us discover strengths we never knew we had. My dream is to be on Broadway, to use my voice to tell stories that touch people’s hearts, and to inspire others the way “Wicked” has inspired me. I know the road ahead won’t be easy, but like Elphaba, I’m ready to defy gravity and soar. No matter what others think, I believe in the power of perseverance, and I know that I have the strength and dedication to turn my dreams into reality. And if I can help others along the way, through music therapy or mentoring, then I will truly be living the legacy that “Wicked” has taught me, to embrace who you are, no matter how different or difficult the journey may be.

My love for theater began when I was seven years old when I saw my first show, The Lion King. At ten, I auditioned for my first real theater role. The other kids said, “New kids never get lead roles,” but when the cast list went up, my name was right there in a lead spot. Just before COVID, I landed my dream role as Rafiki. That’s when I knew Broadway was where I belonged. Before middle school, I attended a charter school where I struggled academically. Everything changed when I joined a summer theater program. My performance there led my mom to enroll me in a magnet performing arts school, where I became an honor roll student. The importance of arts in schools is often undervalued, especially when it comes to funding. Research shows that drama courses significantly benefit at-risk youth and students with learning disabilities, enhancing social and communication skills, self-esteem, and confidence in their academic abilities. I can personally attest to this. My confidence and communication skills improved, and focusing on subjects I was passionate about made all the difference. Having to maintain a certain GPA in core classes kept me on track. Getting kicked out of the program was not an option—I couldn’t afford to lose my lifeline. My dream is to perform on Broadway and eventually teach theater. I am a JV peer mentor for the school band. This summer, I volunteered my mornings teaching them, and I currently volunteer after school. Being with them and giving back has been an amazing journey. I now have 13 little sisters. I’ve always wanted to be a big sister, but after losing my own sister, I never had the chance to create the bonds that I now have. These girls have someone close to their age they can talk to about schoolwork, teachers, the coach, makeup, and even their relationships. I’m trying to teach them how to be young ladies who stand up for themselves and know they have the power to do whatever they want in life. I’ve given them my time, and they’ve given me their love. I am proud to say the JV team has performed at every varsity event, which has never happened in the history of my school. Watching them grow and accomplish this has made my heart feel so full. I believe performing arts should be accessible to all, especially in underfunded communities. Free or low-cost programs can provide the support and opportunities that students need to thrive. I’m committed to making these resources available through initiatives like theater in the park, which costs nothing but time. I plan to make an impact in the world and my community by helping with community projects and making arts education accessible to everyone. The arts shaped my path, and I’m determined to ensure others have the same opportunity. Empowering students through accessible arts education can ignite creativity, build confidence, and inspire brighter futures.

I remember sitting outside the classroom, the door closed in my face during a code red. Panic set in and my mind raced. I hated coming to this class every day felt like a battle but sitting there, shut out during a lockdown, was a whole new kind of fear. I would have preferred to be inside, safe, but instead, I hid in the bathroom wondering what was going on. How was I going to survive the next for years? I couldn’t believe I was being bullied by the person I looked up to, the one who should’ve been shaping my future. I was 10 years old when I auditioned for my first theater performance. The other campers said “New kids never get lead roles.” But I remember that moment when the cast list went up, and there it was! My name in one of the leas spots. Every summer after, I landed lead roles. When I got the role Rafiki from The Lion King before covid, I knew without a doubt I wanted be on Broadway. Halfway through middle school COVID shut everything down. I attended a local conservatory to keep training. School reopened in my freshman year, and to my surprise, my conservatory instructor started working at my high school. High school was everything I hoped it would be. I joined the cheer team and got a leading role in the fall theater show. I was nominated for a Kappies award “Best Female Vocalist”for that show. Things were going well but that changed quickly. My theater mentor, who had once supported me, was furious when I joined the cheer team. I didn’t do the next show, choosing to focus on cheer, and from that moment, things changed. I was picked on, yelled at, humiliated in front of my peers. He even went as far as calling my mother and telling her I was gay. I wasn’t prepared for that. It was my choice and he made it more ammunition against me. At 14, I wasn’t prepared to stand up to an adult bully. My confidence shattered. My love for theater dimmed. By the end of my freshman year, I switched from theater to vocal for my mental well being. After much soul searching i set my heart on teaching. Making a positive impact on lives was what I wanted to do. It wasn’t until the summer before my junior year that my feelings changed. A theatre conservatory awarded me a summer intensive pre-college scholarship. I didn’t want to go. I was pushed out of my comfort zone. The theatre geek in me was alive again. I love to perform, I still want to teach. These experiences good and bad helped me to follow thru with my desires. I am a JV peer mentor. I teach the girls a variety of skills. These girls are very special to me. In a sense they are bullied, often teased about not making varsity and not being good enough. I am proud to say that with my help the JV team has performed at every varsity event which has never happened in the history of my school. Watching them grow and accomplish this has made my heart feel so full. Looking back, I wonder how different high school might have been if my experience had gone another way. That tough period helped me discover my passion for teaching and mentoring. I wouldn’t allow anyone to shake my confidence in my skills again. I’m not the same person who sat outside that door - I’ve grown, fought through adversity, and come out stronger.

He crushed my dreams! But don't worry, it wasn't my soulmate. In my freshman year of high school, I became the target of a bully. Shockingly, this bully was my theatre teacher. He targeted me simply because I wanted to explore other activities. I wasn’t giving up on my dreams; I just wanted to try new things and broaden my horizons. At 14, I was ill-equipped to handle an adult bully. My confidence plummeted, and my passion for theatre dimmed under his relentless criticism. Eventually, my mother stepped in and removed me from his class, but by then, seven months of damage had already taken its toll on me. But enough of the gloom! I am a happy teenager now, filled with hope and enthusiasm. Can I sing you a song or two? Have you ever noticed that the happiest places usually have music playing in the background? Music has an incredible power to make people smile and relax. I want to be part of that magical world! One day, you’ll see me on Broadway, performing in front of packed audiences. I also dream of becoming a music therapist, using the healing power of music to help others. With the support of therapy, dedicated educators, and caring theatre professionals, I found my way back. A prestigious theatre conservatory offered me a summer intensive program. Although I was nervous, stepping back onto the stage reignited the spark within me. That summer, a seed was planted, and now I am blooming once again. I’ve embraced my identity as a triple threat—singing, acting, and dancing. I pushed through the concrete barriers of doubt and fear to become the rose you see today. I love to perform, but I also have a deep desire to make a positive impact on people’s lives, much like the impact others had on mine. Helping people through their tough times is my passion. Through music therapy, I aim to use my musical skills and education to support people as they strive to improve their health, functioning, and overall well-being. Every note I sing and every role I play brings me closer to my dreams. But more importantly, I want to be a beacon of hope and inspiration for others, showing them that with resilience and support, they too can overcome their struggles and find their own path to happiness.

"99 Credits and a Degree of None" is my mother’s favorite made-up song. She attended five different colleges, exploring numerous majors, often joking about her "jack-of-all-trades" degree. Deep down, I know she wishes she had a formal one. My dad took a different path, completing a program that helped him earn a high school diploma and a trade certification. Becoming a first-generation college graduate would mean a lot to them, and their desire for me to pursue higher education is strong. However, this isn’t my sole motivation for wanting to go to college. My journey with theatre began in fourth grade when I played Little Red in "Into the Woods." This early experience ignited my passion for the stage. Recognizing my interest, I attended a magnet school for performing arts, where I immersed myself in vocal training and dance lessons, dedicating myself as rigorously as any athlete. When I entered high school, I auditioned for the fall show and secured a leading role. Later, I was honored with a nomination for Best Female Vocalist in Musical Theatre for high school actresses, an acknowledgment that affirmed my dedication and talent. However, after this nomination, my life took an unexpected turn. As a curious teenager, I wanted to explore other after-school programs. My theatre teacher disapproved, interpreting my interest in other activities as a lack of commitment to theatre. He bullied and belittled me, transforming me from a star pupil into a shadow of my former self. Theatre had been an integral part of my identity, and without it, I felt lost. My passion for theatre waned as I began associating it with the negative experiences inflicted by my teacher. My mother often said that her songbird had stopped singing. I withdrew into myself, spending days in bed, overwhelmed by sadness and tears. The constant targeting and insults from my teacher echoed in my mind, drowning out any joy I once found in performing. Needing to escape, I auditioned for the vocal program, which became a turning point in my life. My strong voice earned me a place in advanced classes, where I learned techniques that enhanced my diction, strengthened my singing, and taught me to read music. This new training rekindled my sense of purpose, and I was often invited to volunteer at events to sing. Therapy helped me navigate this difficult period, but it was music that truly healed me. I realized that I could not only pursue my passion but also use it to help others through music therapy. This revelation led me to dream of attending North Carolina A&T State University to major in musical theatre. I envision a future where I travel and perform on Disney cruises and later return to graduate school to earn a master's in music therapy. My ultimate goal is to go to college, bring my dreams to life, and help others achieve theirs by creating a safe and nurturing space through music therapy. I want to give more than I take, and through this journey, I’ve gained a profound perspective on my life's goals. My parents' hopes for me and my passion for music drive me to aspire to create positive change in the world, both on stage and in the hearts of those who need healing.

**Meet Madison Brooke Fraser!** That’s me! I’m an energetic, kind, and friendly person—beautiful inside and out, or so I’ve been told! I’m a performer through and through. I sing, dance, and act—what they call a triple threat. My dream? To be on Broadway. My dad thinks it’s unrealistic, but I’m determined to make it happen. I understand that it’s a tough and competitive road, but I’m in it for the long haul. Performing is my passion, and I’m truly dedicated to my craft. But performing isn’t my only passion. Have you ever noticed how music can change your mood, lift your spirits, or calm you down? That’s why I want to minor in music therapy. With all that’s happening in the world today, I believe we all need a little help sometimes, and I think music can be that help. Music connects us, brings comfort, and can heal in ways words alone cannot. I want to combine my love for music with the desire to help others, offering them the support they need. When I reflect on my journey, it all began in fourth grade. I played Little Red in *Into the Woods*, and that early experience ignited my love for the stage. My parents recognized my enthusiasm and encouraged me to pursue performing arts more seriously. That’s how I ended up at a magnet school for the performing arts. There, I immersed myself in vocal training and dance lessons, dedicating myself with the same intensity as any serious athlete. My ultimate goal is to attend college, bring my dreams to life, and help others achieve theirs. Through music therapy, I aspire to create a safe and nurturing space where people can heal and grow. My hope is to give more than I take, and I’ve come to realize that my purpose extends far beyond my personal ambitions. My parents’ support and my passion for music motivate me to make a positive impact on the world, both on stage and in the hearts of those who need healing. Funny story: When I was a kid, I used to think my name was “Madison Broke Fraser.” My mom quickly corrected me, and I’m determined not to live up to that version of my name when I graduate college! Thank you for taking the time to get to know me, and for considering me for any scholarships. I'm excited for the future and all the opportunities ahead!

First and foremost, I would like to extend my deepest condolences for B.A.B.Y L.O.V.E. I am truly honored to apply for her scholarship. I believe I embody her spirit through my dedication to volunteering and my compassionate heart. I am deeply committed to supporting and uplifting young Black girls, helping them grow as I have. Last year, I faced a significant challenge that changed the course of my high school experience. I was diagnosed with severe anemia, which drastically affected my energy levels and made it difficult for me to fully participate in school and extracurricular activities. As a result, I began missing school and practices, and my performance suffered. Being co-captain of the auxiliary team was a dream come true, but my health issues began to strain my relationships with my teammates and coaches. They didn’t fully understand how debilitating anemia could be, and to be honest, neither did I or my parents. As I struggled to keep up, I was gradually pushed out of my role as co-captain. This was devastating—I was losing the sisterhood I had built with my team and missing out on the performances I loved. My grades began to slip, and the high school experience I had once cherished was slipping away. When it came time to try out for the team again, I knew I had to make a difficult decision. I chose to step back, focusing on my health and preparing for a better senior year. My grades had suffered slightly, and that was unacceptable to me. At my school, we have a Junior Varsity team. Although I still wanted to be part of the auxiliary, I knew I couldn't participate in the capacity that was required. I took a chance and asked if I could be a peer mentor to the team of younger girls.This position has never existed but I knew if I did not ask for it I would be in the sidelines. I had already proven to be a good leader and had the knowledge and skills to teach and mentor the young ladies. Thankfully, I was allowed to do so. This summer, I volunteered my mornings teaching them, and I currently volunteer after school. Being with them and giving back has been an amazing journey. I now have 13 little sisters. I’ve always wanted to be a big sister, but after losing my own sister, I never had the chance to create the bonds that I now have. These girls have someone close to their age that they can talk to about schoolwork, teachers, the coach, makeup, and even their relationships. I am trying to teach them how to be young ladies who stand up for themselves and know they have the power to do whatever they want in life. I want them to know as young black girls they will grow into powerful black women. I’ve given them my time, and they’ve given me their love. I’ve volunteered with many organizations and have accumulated about 600 hours, not including this experience. Each opportunity has been rewarding, but nothing compares to being a big sister. I believe giving back is essential for community growth. My time with them is flying by quickly, and I’ve decided that they’ll have me next summer as well. Hopefully, I’ll be back to continue this bond with during summer breaks away from school. If life permits I’ll even return for new members or volunteer as a coach.

**Meet Madison Brooke Fraser!** That’s me! I’m an energetic, kind, and friendly person—beautiful inside and out, or so I’ve been told! I’m a performer through and through. I sing, dance, and act—what they call a triple threat. My dream? To be on Broadway. My dad thinks it’s unrealistic, but I’m determined to make it happen. I understand that it’s a tough and competitive road, but I’m in it for the long haul. Performing is my passion, and I’m truly dedicated to my craft. But performing isn’t my only passion. Have you ever noticed how music can change your mood, lift your spirits, or calm you down? That’s why I want to minor in music therapy. With all that’s happening in the world today, I believe we all need a little help sometimes, and I think music can be that help. Music connects us, brings comfort, and can heal in ways words alone cannot. I want to combine my love for music with the desire to help others, offering them the support they need. When I reflect on my journey, it all began in fourth grade. I played Little Red in *Into the Woods*, and that early experience ignited my love for the stage. My parents recognized my enthusiasm and encouraged me to pursue performing arts more seriously. That’s how I ended up at a magnet school for the performing arts. There, I immersed myself in vocal training and dance lessons, dedicating myself with the same intensity as any serious athlete. My ultimate goal is to attend college, bring my dreams to life, and help others achieve theirs. Through music therapy, I aspire to create a safe and nurturing space where people can heal and grow. My hope is to give more than I take, and I’ve come to realize that my purpose extends far beyond my personal ambitions. My parents’ support and my passion for music motivate me to make a positive impact on the world, both on stage and in the hearts of those who need healing. Funny story: When I was a kid, I used to think my name was “Madison Broke Fraser.” My mom quickly corrected me, and I’m determined not to live up to that version of my name when I graduate college! Thank you for taking the time to get to know me, and for considering me for any scholarships. I'm excited for the future and all the opportunities ahead!

“Obstacles don’t have to stop you. If you run into a wall, don’t turn around and give up. Figure out how to climb it, go through it, or work around it.” — Michael Jordan After I read that quote while doing research for an assignment, it changed my view on how I would navigate my situation. I knew my path would be what I made it. Last year, I faced a significant challenge that changed the course of my high school experience. I was diagnosed with severe anemia, which drastically affected my energy levels and made it difficult for me to fully participate in school and extracurricular activities. As a result, I began missing school and practices, and my performance suffered. Being co-captain of the Magnificent Majorette team was a dream come true, but my health issues began to strain my relationships with my teammates and coaches. They didn’t fully understand how debilitating anemia could be, and to be honest, neither did I or my parents. As I struggled to keep up, I was gradually pushed out of my role as co-captain. This was devastating—I was losing the sisterhood I had built with my team and missing out on the performances I loved. My grades began to drop , and the high school experience wasn’t fun anymore. When it came time to try out for the team again, I knew I had to make a difficult decision. I chose to step back, focusing on my health and preparing for a better senior year. My grades had suffered slightly, and that was unacceptable to me. Although I still wanted to be part of the auxiliary, I knew I couldn't participate in the capacity that was required. At my school, we have a Junior Varsity team. I took a chance and asked if I could be a peer mentor to the team of younger girls. This position had never existed, but I knew if I didn’t ask for it, I would end up on the sidelines. I had already proven to be a good leader and had the knowledge and skills to teach and mentor the young ladies. Thankfully, I was allowed to do so. This summer, I volunteered my mornings teaching them, and I currently volunteer after school. Being with them and giving back has been an amazing journey. I now have 13 little sisters. I’ve always wanted to be a big sister, but after losing my own sister, I never had the chance to create the bonds that I now have. These girls have someone close to their age that they can talk to about schoolwork, teachers, the coach, makeup, and even their relationships. I’m trying to teach them how to be young ladies who stand up for themselves and know they have the power to do whatever they want in life. I want them to know that as young Black girls, they will grow into powerful Black women. I’ve given them my time, and they’ve given me their love. I’ve volunteered with many organizations and have accumulated about 600 hours, not including this experience. Each opportunity has been rewarding, but nothing compares to being a big sister. I believe giving back is essential for community growth. My time with them is flying by quickly, and I’ve decided that they’ll have me next summer as well. Hopefully, I’ll be back to continue this bond during summer breaks away from school. If life permits, I’ll even return for new members or volunteer as a coach.

He crushed my dreams! But don't worry, it wasn't my soulmate. In my freshman year of high school, I became the target of a bully. Shockingly, this bully was my theatre teacher. He targeted me simply because I wanted to explore other activities. I wasn’t giving up on my dreams; I just wanted to try new things and broaden my horizons. At 14, I was ill-equipped to handle an adult bully. My confidence plummeted, and my passion for theatre dimmed under his relentless criticism. Eventually, my mother stepped in and removed me from his class, but by then, seven months of damage had already taken its toll on me. But enough of the gloom! I am a happy teenager now, filled with hope and enthusiasm. Can I sing you a song or two? Have you ever noticed that the happiest places usually have music playing in the background? Music has an incredible power to make people smile and relax. I want to be part of that magical world! One day, you’ll see me on Broadway, performing in front of packed audiences. I also dream of becoming a music therapist, using the healing power of music to help others. With the support of therapy, dedicated educators, and caring theatre professionals, I found my way back. A prestigious theatre conservatory offered me a summer intensive program. Although I was nervous, stepping back onto the stage reignited the spark within me. That summer, a seed was planted, and now I am blooming once again. I’ve embraced my identity as a triple threat—singing, acting, and dancing. I pushed through the concrete barriers of doubt and fear to become the rose you see today. I love to perform, but I also have a deep desire to make a positive impact on people’s lives, much like the impact others had on mine. Helping people through their tough times is my passion. Through music therapy, I aim to use my musical skills and education to support people as they strive to improve their health, functioning, and overall well-being. Every note I sing and every role I play brings me closer to my dreams. But more importantly, I want to be a beacon of hope and inspiration for others, showing them that with resilience and support, they too can overcome their struggles and find their own path to happiness. Theatre tells a story of resilience, love, laughter, courage and endearment. The stories tell of the good, bad and the ugly. I want to be a part of it forever. Thank you for your consideration.

He crushed my dreams! But don't worry, it wasn't my soulmate. In my freshman year of high school, I became the target of a bully. Shockingly, this bully was my theatre teacher. He targeted me simply because I wanted to explore other activities. I wasn’t giving up on my dreams; I just wanted to try new things and broaden my horizons. At 14, I was ill-equipped to handle an adult bully. My confidence plummeted, and my passion for theatre dimmed under his relentless criticism. Eventually, my mother stepped in and removed me from his class, but by then, seven months of damage had already taken its toll on me. But enough of the gloom! I am a happy teenager now, filled with hope and enthusiasm. Can I sing you a song or two? Have you ever noticed that the happiest places usually have music playing in the background? Music has an incredible power to make people smile and relax. I want to be part of that magical world! One day, you’ll see me on Broadway, performing in front of packed audiences. I also dream of becoming a music therapist, using the healing power of music to help others. With the support of therapy, dedicated educators, and caring theatre professionals, I found my way back. A prestigious theatre conservatory offered me a summer intensive program. Although I was nervous, stepping back onto the stage reignited the spark within me. That summer, a seed was planted, and now I am blooming once again. I’ve embraced my identity as a triple threat—singing, acting, and dancing. I pushed through the concrete barriers of doubt and fear to become the rose you see today. I love to perform, but I also have a deep desire to make a positive impact on people’s lives, much like the impact others had on mine. Helping people through their tough times is my passion. Through music therapy, I aim to use my musical skills and education to support people as they strive to improve their health, functioning, and overall well-being. Every note I sing and every role I play brings me closer to my dreams. But more importantly, I want to be a beacon of hope and inspiration for others, showing them that with resilience and support, they too can overcome their struggles and find their own path to happiness. Theatre tells a story of resilience, love, laughter, courage and endearment. The stories tell of the good, bad and the ugly. I just want to be a part of it forever. Thank you for your consideration.

I can only introduce you to what memory I have of Chrissy. Christine Brooklynn Fraser, affectionately known as Chrissy, was named after our grandmother and me. I had always wanted a sister, and I dreamed of us sharing the same name. Though my mother insisted we only share the middle name, the connection further bonded us. Before my mother even knew she was pregnant, I had been telling people that she was going to have a baby. They would come to her with congratulations. Somehow, I manifested the arrival of my little sister. My mother has both type 1 and type 2 diabetes, a rare and challenging combination that made pregnancy difficult. I was born prematurely at six months, and after such a scary experience, my mother wasn't keen on going through another risky pregnancy. I was over the moon. My mother's belly grew, we shopped for baby items together. Chrissy finally arrived, but she was born with a severe heart condition. I visited her in the hospital every day. I wasn't allowed to hold her due to her condition, but I don't think I fully grasped how sick she was. Chrissy stayed in the hospital from October to December. All I wanted for Christmas was to have my baby sister home. She came home Christmas Day. I often fell asleep with her in my arms. She cried a lot because of the pain from her heart condition. Her life, though filled with love, was not easy. She had numerous medical appointments and therapy sessions. I often accompanied my mom and Chrissy on these trips. Despite knowing it was against the rules, I would sometimes take her out of her car seat while driving. Looking back, I'm glad I did, cherishing those precious moments now that she's gone. One day, Chrissy got sick. She suffered multiple heart attacks and she never made it back home. I vividly remember the night she passed away. She came to me in what felt like a dream, but it was as real as any waking moment. She said goodbye and asked me to tell our mom that she was no longer in pain. I sang at her funeral, and the memory of Chrissy remains a significant part of me. Over the years, I have sought sisterly bonds to fill the void left by Chrissy's passing. Although the pain of losing her never fades, I have found joy in mentoring others. As a junior coach, I have about fifteen girls who look up to me for advice on relationships, makeup, and school. While it can be overwhelming at times, I cherish the role of being a big sister to them. It is my way of channeling the love I had for Chrissy and ensuring her spirit lives on. No one can ever replace my Chrissy Bear. My life has felt incomplete, Chrissy’s memory helps me to be the best mentor I can be, sharing the love and support that she brought into my life.

I can only introduce you to what memory I have of Chrissy. Christine Brooklynn Fraser, affectionately known as Chrissy, was named after our grandmother and me. I had always wanted a sister, and I dreamed of us sharing the same name. Though my mother insisted we only share the middle name, the connection further bonded us. Before my mother even knew she was pregnant, I had been telling people that she was going to have a baby. They would come to her with congratulations, and she was bewildered by my certainty. Somehow, I manifested the arrival of my little sister. My mother has both type 1 and type 2 diabetes, a rare and challenging combination that made pregnancy difficult. I was born prematurely at six months, and after such a scary experience, my mother wasn't keen on going through another risky pregnancy. Yet, here we were, with her pregnant again, and I was over the moon. As my mother's belly grew, we shopped for baby items together, and I watched in anticipation. Chrissy finally arrived, but she was born with a severe heart condition. Despite her fragility and the tubes and oxygen keeping her alive, I visited her in the hospital every day. I wasn't allowed to hold her due to her condition, but I don't think I fully grasped how sick she was. Chrissy stayed in the hospital from October to December. All I wanted for Christmas was to have my baby sister home. Miraculously, that wish came true when Chrissy was discharged on Christmas Day. Holding her for the first time was a dream come true, and I often fell asleep with her in my arms. She cried a lot, and I later understood it was because of the pain from her heart condition. Her life, though filled with love, was not easy. She had numerous medical appointments and therapy sessions. I often accompanied my mom and Chrissy on these trips. Despite knowing it was against the rules, I would sometimes take her out of her car seat while driving. Looking back, I'm glad I did, cherishing those precious moments now that she's gone. One day, Chrissy became gravely ill and had to return to the hospital. She suffered multiple heart attacks and she never made it back home. I vividly remember the night she passed away. She came to me in what felt like a dream, but it was as real as any waking moment. She said goodbye and asked me to tell our mom that she was no longer in pain. I sang at her funeral, and the memory of Chrissy remains a significant part of me. Over the years, I have sought sisterly bonds to fill the void left by Chrissy's passing. Although the pain of losing her never fades, I have found joy in mentoring others. As a junior coach, I have about fifteen girls who look up to me for advice on relationships, makeup, and school. While it can be overwhelming at times, I cherish the role of being a big sister to them. It is my way of channeling the love I had for Chrissy and ensuring her spirit lives on. No one can ever replace my Chrissy Bear, but I strive to give my team the love and guidance she deserved. My life has felt incomplete without the joys of having my sister, but I have made the best of it by being a big sister to others. Chrissy’s memory helps me to be the best mentor I can be, sharing the love and support that she brought into my life.

Was COVID over? No one knew. It did not matter; school reopened. Musical theatre was my major freshman year. My journey with theatre began in fourth grade when I played Little Red in "Into the Woods." This early experience ignited my passion for the stage. Recognizing my interest, I attended a magnet school for performing arts, where I immersed myself in vocal training and dance lessons, dedicating myself as rigorously as any athlete. When I entered high school, I auditioned for the fall show and secured a leading role. Later, I was honored with a nomination for Best Female Vocalist in Musical Theatre for high school actresses, an acknowledgment that affirmed my dedication and talent. However, after this nomination, my life took an unexpected turn. As a curious teenager, I wanted to explore other after-school programs. My theatre teacher disapproved, interpreting my interest in other activities as a lack of commitment to theatre. He bullied and belittled me, transforming me from a star pupil into a shadow of my former self. Theatre had been an integral part of my identity, and without it, I felt lost. My passion for theatre waned as I began associating it with the negative experiences inflicted by my teacher. My mother often said that her songbird had stopped singing. I withdrew into myself, spending days in bed, overwhelmed by sadness and tears. The constant targeting and insults from my teacher echoed in my mind, drowning out any joy I once found in performing. Needing to escape, I auditioned for the vocal program, which became a turning point in my life. My strong voice earned me a place in advanced classes, where I learned techniques that enhanced my diction, strengthened my singing, and taught me to read music. Therapy helped me navigate this difficult period, but it was music that truly healed me. I realized that I could not only pursue my passion but also use it to help others through music therapy. I envision a future where I travel and perform on Disney cruises and later return to graduate school to earn a master's in music therapy. Reflecting on my journey, I realize how each experience has shaped my resolve and broadened my vision for the future. Despite the setbacks and the bullying, these experiences taught me resilience and the importance of staying true to oneself. It was through this adversity that I discovered the power of music to heal and inspire. At North Carolina A&T State University, I aim to immerse myself in the rich traditions of musical theatre while developing my skills to become a versatile performer and compassionate therapist. My goal is to use my talents to bring joy and healing to diverse audiences, from enchanted Disney cruise audiences to individuals in therapeutic settings. Ultimately, my dream is to create a nurturing space through music therapy where individuals can find solace and strength. I want to give more than I take, and through this journey, I’ve gained a profound perspective on my life's goals. My parents' hopes for me and my passion for music drive me to aspire to create positive change in the world, both on stage and in the hearts of those who need healing. As I look ahead, I am filled with optimism and determination. The challenges I faced have only deepened my commitment to my dreams. I am excited to continue my journey, bringing my visions to life and helping others achieve theirs, all while staying true to the music that has always been my refuge and my joy.

Was COVID over? No one knew. It did not matter; school reopened. Musical theatre was my major freshman year. My journey with theatre began in fourth grade when I played Little Red in "Into the Woods." This early experience ignited my passion for the stage. Recognizing my interest, I attended a magnet school for performing arts, where I immersed myself in vocal training and dance lessons, dedicating myself as rigorously as any athlete. When I entered high school, I auditioned for the fall show and secured a leading role. Later, I was honored with a nomination for Best Female Vocalist in Musical Theatre for high school actresses, an acknowledgment that affirmed my dedication and talent. However, after this nomination, my life took an unexpected turn. As a curious teenager, I wanted to explore other after-school programs. My theatre teacher disapproved, interpreting my interest in other activities as a lack of commitment to theatre. He bullied and belittled me, transforming me from a star pupil into a shadow of my former self. Theatre had been an integral part of my identity, and without it, I felt lost. My passion for theatre waned as I began associating it with the negative experiences inflicted by my teacher. My mother often said that her songbird had stopped singing. I withdrew into myself, spending days in bed, overwhelmed by sadness and tears. The constant targeting and insults from my teacher echoed in my mind, drowning out any joy I once found in performing. Needing to escape, I auditioned for the vocal program, which became a turning point in my life. My strong voice earned me a place in advanced classes, where I learned techniques that enhanced my diction, strengthened my singing, and taught me to read music. Therapy helped me navigate this difficult period, but it was music that truly healed me. I realized that I could not only pursue my passion but also use it to help others through music therapy. I envision a future where I travel and perform on Disney cruises and later return to graduate school to earn a master's in music therapy. Reflecting on my journey, I realize how each experience has shaped my resolve and broadened my vision for the future. Despite the setbacks and the bullying, these experiences taught me resilience and the importance of staying true to oneself. It was through this adversity that I discovered the power of music to heal and inspire. At North Carolina A&T State University, I aim to immerse myself in the rich traditions of musical theatre while developing my skills to become a versatile performer and compassionate therapist. My goal is to use my talents to bring joy and healing to diverse audiences, from enchanted Disney cruise audiences to individuals in therapeutic settings. Ultimately, my dream is to create a nurturing space through music therapy where individuals can find solace and strength. I want to give more than I take, and through this journey, I’ve gained a profound perspective on my life's goals. My parents' hopes for me and my passion for music drive me to aspire to create positive change in the world, both on stage and in the hearts of those who need healing. As I look ahead, I am filled with optimism and determination. The challenges I faced have only deepened my commitment to my dreams. I am excited to continue my journey, bringing my visions to life and helping others achieve theirs, all while staying true to the music that has always been my refuge and my joy.

Was COVID over? No one knew. It did not matter; school reopened. Musical theatre was my major. My journey with theatre began in fourth grade when I played Little Red in "Into the Woods." This early experience ignited my passion for the stage. Recognizing my interest, I attended a magnet school for performing arts, where I immersed myself in vocal training and dance lessons, dedicating myself as rigorously as any athlete. When I entered high school, I auditioned for the fall show and secured a leading role. Later, I was honored with a nomination for Best Female Vocalist in Musical Theatre for high school actresses, an acknowledgment that affirmed my dedication and talent. However, after this nomination, my life took an unexpected turn. As a curious teenager, I wanted to explore other after-school programs. My theatre teacher disapproved, interpreting my interest in other activities as a lack of commitment to theatre. He bullied and belittled me, transforming me from a star pupil into a shadow of my former self. Theatre had been an integral part of my identity, and without it, I felt lost. My passion for theatre waned as I began associating it with the negative experiences inflicted by my teacher. My mother often said that her songbird had stopped singing. I withdrew into myself, spending days in bed, overwhelmed by sadness and tears. The constant targeting and insults from my teacher echoed in my mind, drowning out any joy I once found in performing. I mentally checked out. I could not perform normal day-to-day activities. Needing to escape, I auditioned for the vocal program, which became a turning point in my life. My strong voice earned me a place in advanced classes, where I learned techniques that enhanced my diction, strengthened my singing, and taught me to read music. This new training rekindled my sense of purpose. Therapy helped me navigate this difficult period, but it was music that truly healed me. I realized that I could not only pursue my passion but also use it to help others through music therapy. I envision a future where I travel and perform on Disney cruises and later return to graduate school to earn a master's in music therapy. Reflecting on my journey, I realize how each experience has shaped my resolve and broadened my vision for the future. Despite the setbacks and the bullying, these experiences taught me resilience and the importance of staying true to oneself. It was through this that I discovered the power of music to heal and inspire. At North Carolina A&T State University, I will study musical theatre while developing my skills to become a versatile performer and compassionate therapist. My goal is to use my talents to bring joy and healing to diverse audiences, from enchanted Disney cruise audiences to individuals in therapeutic settings. Ultimately, my dream is to create a nurturing space through music therapy where individuals can find solace and strength. I want to give more than I take, and through this journey, I’ve gained a profound perspective on my life's goals. My passion for music drives me to aspire to create positive change in the world, both on stage and in the hearts of those who need healing. I am filled with optimism and determination. The challenges I faced have only deepened my commitment to my dreams. I am excited to continue my journey, bringing my visions to life and helping others achieve theirs, all while staying true to the music that has always been my refuge and my joy.

No one knew if COVID-19 was truly over, but it didn’t matter. Schools had reopened, and life began to inch towards normalcy. Musical theatre was my major, and I was balancing my time between performing and cheerleading. It was a hard balance, one that I cherished deeply. Then, my theatre teacher gave me an ultimatum: focus solely on theatre or be excluded. I wanted to be well-rounded and refused to give up cheerleading. As a result, he stopped casting me and instead, resorted to bullying. My transition from a star pupil to a shadow cast a seed of insecurity within me. I dreaded school, getting out of bed, even eating. I hated life. I needed therapy to deal with situation. Determined not to let one person's negativity define me, I transferred to the vocal department. It was a challenging decision, but I found peace in my new environment. I joined auxiliary, cheerleading, and student government, eventually becoming an Auxiliary Junior Coach. My sophomore year was better—I learned voice techniques, sight reading, and other essential skills for a career in theatre. Each day, I worked hard to rebuild my confidence and rekindle my passion. Last summer, a significant opportunity arose. I was awarded a scholarship to attend an intensive theatre program at a conservatory, based on my freshmen -year audition. This experience was nothing short of magical. Surrounded by talented peers and inspiring mentors, I felt the spark of my dream reignite. For a time, I thought that dream had withered away under the weight of my teacher's harsh words and actions. However, the conservatory replanted the seed of hope and ambition in my heart. This year, that seed has bloomed spectacularly. I have decided to again pursue musical theatre in college. The stolen dream is no longer part of my story. Stepping on stage as a junior, I rediscovered my love for performance. The thrill of the spotlight, the rush of emotion, and the sense of belonging were all-encompassing. I realized that musical theatre is not just a career choice; it is my calling. My journey is far from easy. My father is disappointed. He believes that pursuing a career in singing is foolish and refuses to support my dream. This lack of support is a heavy burden. Growing up, my father was my hero, and his disapproval cuts deep. I have learned that true courage is about pushing forward, even when the path is full with obstacles and uncertainty. Having the courage to step out and grow without his support is daunting, but necessary. I am applying for this scholarship because I cannot afford for my dreams to diminish again due to lack of belief or financial support. Winning this scholarship would enable me to show my father that I am serious about financing my education and following my passion. It would provide the financial stability I need to focus on my studies and performances, rather than being consumed by the worry of how to pay for my education. This scholarship would be a testament to my resilience and dedication. It would validate my hard work and perseverance in the face of adversity. You never know when seeds are planted, with the right nourishment, they can be fruitful. The conservatory showed me that, and now I seek to continue growing and thriving in a supportive college environment. Courage to grow is a seed that grows forever. My journey has taught me that setbacks and challenges can be the very soil from which our strongest dreams grow. I am ready to embrace my future, confident in my abilities and determined to succeed. This scholarship is not just financial aid; it is a beacon of hope and a stepping stone towards my dream of a career in musical theatre. With support, I can turn my aspirations into reality and prove that with courage, anything is possible. Thank you for your consideration.

I sat in my bed with tears running down my face. Nonstop voices in my head. I couldn't see the future, obsessed with the past. I couldn't find a way to make the sadness stop. If I could use one word to describe that feeling, the word would be maddening. My teacher had been bullying me for months. My mother went to the school and nothing was done. We had to wait until the new school year for me to get away from him. That time in my life was not only hard for me but also for my mom. She could not sleep at night. Checking on me constantly to make sure I did not do anything to harm myself. It was bad. She could not enjoy life. She was sick with worry over me. Eventually, it became too much for her. She went to therapy. She thought she had gotten past it on her own but the fear of me being sad like that again would not go away. Her therapist helped our relationship get stronger. She helped my mom heal and learn to express what she feels. We were never in a bad relationship but therapy helped us bond more. As hard as that time was for me, I have to say I came out with a new understanding of life and healing. The experience opened my eyes to what I could do to be a more productive person in society. This teacher was my theatre teacher. He was someone I looked up to. I stopped dreaming my dream. I stopped singing. I allowed him to steal my dreams. But I took them back! I will be going to college for musical theatre and music therapy. I want to make a difference. I do believe that music is joyous. But music can also be healing. I went to therapy during this dark period. The techniques the therapist wanted me to incorporate into my life did not work for me. It wasn't the therapy I needed. I started reading up on different methods and I discovered music therapy. My healing came from this technique. We are all different in what we need as individuals. The same goes for therapy. It is not a one-size-fits-all method. It needs to be tailored to individuals. It is only because I experienced this, that I changed my goals to integrate music therapy. I still get sad at times. Sad that the world we live in is filled with hate. That there are many disappointing days. Sad that our expectations of how our life should be are often not. I have learned from an early age that people will project their hurt. My mother often says “Hurt people hurt people”. Because of this, I promise to always choose to heal myself and others around me. I don't want to be a person that hurts people with my words, my actions or hurt by my absence because I couldn't heal from the hurt. I am an artist ” The show must go on”. Therefore I must keep myself mentally healthy to keep performing on and off the stage.

When I see beauty, I see more than a face. Zendaya is a beauty! Zendaya is an icon! Zendaya is a legend for my generation. She is a feminist. She is an activist! Her beauty radiates from the inside out and vice versa. Zendaya’s beauty is more than skin deep. Her beauty is defined by her many talents and her passions. Her willingness to be vulnerable and honest about her life and struggles. The thing I admire is her activism on topics that are shaping our society in real-time. Racial justice, body positivity, and diversity are a few of her passions. Her successes on these issues are constantly displayed. Racial inclusivity is a topic that she is not shy about discussing. During the Black Lives Matter protest, she allowed Patrisse Cullors (co-founder of the Black Lives Matter movement) to use her Instagram to share anti-racism resources. Zendaya has used her social media platform to advocate for inclusive representation. In one of her interviews, she discusses that she is part of the movement that advocates for underrepresented individuals. She uses her platform to create content and amplify the voices of marginalized communities. A few years ago, when she created her collaborated fashion line with Tommy Hilfiger, she made it a point to say that she was making a collection that would appeal to an array of body types that she sees in her family. She also shared that the clothes would be a tribute to working women. We live in a generation where women are taking over different career fields and should have options to represent them properly and fashionably. In an article in Teen Vogue, she talked about Beverly Johnson, the first black woman to be on the cover of Vogue. She attributed her success for her Vogue cover to her. Zendaya expressed it was her duty to say thank you and do the same by continually opening doors. She stated “That’s the only way doors are going to continue to be open - If we keep inviting people who look like us, and other people who don’t look like us, to come through the door”. This is another example of how she advocates for diversity. I am a musical theatre student and seeing someone like myself being represented on a huge platform is encouraging. It keeps hope alive for me. In an industry that doesn’t have a lot of representation for people like myself, I can see my future possibilities through her successes. She has proven that her skills are not limited because of her background. She is not ashamed of who she culturally represents. She has continuously created opportunities for young people like myself while paying homage to those before her.