If someone were to ask me if I could go to the future or back in time, which would I choose? I would say back in time in an instant. Not because I regret what I've done, but because I would do anything to talk to my mother for just one more minute. That is how much impact my mother has had on my life. My mother was a teacher, a hard-working, single woman who worked two jobs to support her three kids. She sheltered us from our drug-addict, neglectful father and relied only on herself. I thought it was normal to be poor, and have a dysfunctional house. I thought that are family was doing great and striving. Until, my mother got stage 4 cancer. Throughout my elementary to the end of middle school, I watched my mom become a fraction of what she once was. I couldn't hug my mother because it pained her, and her beautiful smile became a facade. So I try to relive that past for her. I decided to sign up for Teaching and Training at Southeast Career and Technical Academy. It was the best school in the valley, and my mom was willing, as her daughter was now finishing her goal she set years ago. This 40-minute drive was worth it if it meant I was going to be happy. My mother drove me every day to and from school. She wanted the best for me and worked her hardest to be there for me, never letting us see her pain. Until she got cancer in the lungs again, and then the bones. That year I visited her my entire summer at the ICU. One vivid memory was she once was eating and almost passed out from the lack of oxygen. While everyone rushed to get the doctor, she looked me in my eyes just staring in silence. She didn’t smile, but it was a look so powerful words cannot express it, and that's when I knew it wasn't okay anymore. She died on July 27th, 2022, a moment in my life forever etched in my brain. Even though school was to begin in two weeks, I decided I wasn’t going to give up. I still kept that determination for teaching and going to college. Along the way, I surrounded myself with school and found even more love for education. Getting good grades while coping and planning a memorial service my sophomore year. The grief felt in these years was immense, but I trucked on. Grief to me has always felt like tree rings. The event of my mother's death was just a ring in my tree. Grief never went away, but other rings grew around it. Passion for school, hanging out with friends, and extracurriculars were all rings that were built around it. Before I realized it, my tree rings were filled with success, and I felt better. It finally hit me when my counselor told me I was on track to be valedictorian. My mother taught me to never give up on my goals, dreams, and the little things. To fake it till I made it. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, “WE MADE IT MOM, EVERYTHING WE DREAMED ABOUT, WE DID IT.” I wish I could go back in time and tell her everything that happened, tell her her baby girl is all grown up and she has nothing to worry about. I wish I could see all the amazing things I have accomplished.

The most powerful people in this world are not those who control money but those who control our hearts. Speeches are the gateway to our hearts. They seep into our soul pulling out old memories telling us to keep going. Speeches are so powerful that we still analyze them to this day. Martin Luther King I Have a Dream, Abraham Lincoln the Gettysburg Address, and my favorite Maya Angelou Still I Rise. Somehow words on a piece of paper can be turned into the most magnificent speech. The words feel like butter coming out of another person's mouth and the confidence exhumes their ability. It's a euphoric feeling when a person speaks to the soul. Whispering ideas that carry throughout the day makes a person ponder their life choices. Maybe I'm narcissistic in saying that I want people to listen to what I have to say and be inspired. I want to reach into someone's spirit and tell them everything's going to be okay. I've sat through at least a thousand speeches throughout my high school career. I aim to hear a million more. To any speaker, the number one thing an audience can do is give their fullest attention. Often students are comforted by the little laugh, loving eyes, and slight nod given. My body lightens when a speaker looks at me and their voice starts cracking less, they take a deep breath as if I'm reminding them it's just a speech without saying a single word. My favorite teacher Mrs.Shealy taught me those tricks. She also taught me how to stand in front of a crowd and put my entire self into a speech. One of my biggest fears was once a 30-second speech. Freshman year I walked in the door of my speech and debate class anxious for my first ever speech. I don't remember what it was but when I got up there I sped through it so quickly I don't think anyone heard it. I got back to my seat with my hands uncontrollably shaking and my heart pounding as if there was something to be afraid of. Maya Angelou once said, "do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." I so desperately wanted to become a better speaker so I practiced every day. In my closet reading unrequited love poems, in my bedroom recreating movie scenes, and in the classroom teaching 30-minute concepts. Till eventually the idea of speaking in front of a crowd wasn't so scary. I knew better so I did better. My hands wouldn't shake as much and my heart stopped pounding. I no longer need to speed through speeches, instead I make eye contact with the audience and write impromptu speeches in my head. Whenever I get sad, angry, or happy I pull up my instagram feed full of motivational videos. I watch video after video to find the best one to read out to empower myself. When I feel the need to learn more I look at Maya Angelou, Mrs.Shealy, and myself. Practicing is the key to learning more. Speeches are the gateway to our hearts. So I must speak with purpose and love.

If someone were to ask me if I could go to the future or back in time, which would I choose? I would say back in time in an instant. Not because I regret what I've done, but because I would do anything to talk to my mother for just one more minute. That is how much impact my mother has had on my life. My mother was a teacher, a hard-working, single woman who worked two jobs to support her three kids. She sheltered us from our drug-addict, neglectful father and relied only on herself. I thought it was normal to be poor, and have a dysfunctional house. I thought that are family was doing great and striving. Until, my mother got stage 4 cancer. Throughout my elementary to the end of middle school, I watched my mom become a fraction of what she once was. I couldn't hug my mother because it pained her, and her beautiful smile became a facade. So I try to relive that past for her. I decided to sign up for Teaching and Training at Southeast Career and Technical Academy. It was the best school in the valley, and my mom was willing, as her daughter was now finishing her goal she set years ago. This 40-minute drive was worth it if it meant I was going to be happy. My mother drove me every day to and from school. She wanted the best for me and worked her hardest to be there for me, never letting us see her pain. Until she got cancer in the lungs again, and then the bones. That year I visited her my entire summer at the ICU. One vivid memory was she once was eating and almost passed out from the lack of oxygen. While everyone rushed to get the doctor, she looked me in my eyes just staring in silence. She didn’t smile, but it was a look so powerful words cannot express it, and that's when I knew it wasn't okay anymore. She died on July 27th, 2022, a moment in my life forever etched in my brain. Even though school was to begin in two weeks, I decided I wasn’t going to give up. I still kept that determination for teaching and going to college. Along the way, I surrounded myself with school and found even more love for education. Getting good grades while coping and planning a memorial service my sophomore year. The grief felt in these years was immense, but I trucked on. Grief to me has always felt like tree rings. The event of my mother's death was just a ring in my tree. Grief never went away, but other rings grew around it. Passion for school, hanging out with friends, and extracurriculars were all rings that were built around it. Before I realized it, my tree rings were filled with success, and I felt better. It finally hit me when my counselor told me I was on track to be valedictorian. My mother taught me to never give up on my goals, dreams, and the little things. To fake it till I made it. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, “WE MADE IT MOM, EVERYTHING WE DREAMED ABOUT, WE DID IT.” I wish I could go back in time and tell her everything that happened, tell her her baby girl is all grown up and she has nothing to worry about. I wish I could see all the amazing things I have accomplished.

My involvement in leadership, voluntary work, and providing care for others has taught me that connection and empathy are the foundations of the most meaningful work. My mother instilled these principles in me, and she passed away from cancer after a protracted struggle. Her tenacity, fortitude, and undying love for others have influenced and will continue to affect me as I pursue my career as an educator. I enjoyed planning and cleaning up for families at volunteer events like Southeast Career and Technical Academy's Boo Bash because I knew that even tiny efforts like mine could make people happy. Whether setting up the haunted house or helping out with family care on Family Engagement Nights, I felt like I was doing something to make the lives of those around me easier and more fun. It brought to mind how my mother always put the needs of others above her own, even during the most trying times of her sickness, and how this taught me the value of kindness and selflessness. Serving as a volunteer at Harmon Elementary was like putting myself in the position of the teacher I want to be—I helped organize activities, served meals, and supported instructors. Working with educators allowed me to witness their unwavering dedication to their students' development, which is a dedication I want to emulate. My mother served as my first instructor, demonstrating to me that real power comes from lifting people up. Her perseverance in the face of unbearable suffering has motivated me to encourage and assist pupils in the same way that she did for me. I've discovered from my community service that even the tiniest actions can have a profound impact. I've witnessed how small deeds of kindness can make someone's day, whether it was by creating bracelets for my friends, writing letters to elderly and young patients in hospitals, or making placards to cheer at sporting events. My mom has always thought that no matter what, happiness should be shared. She would always remind me that, despite life's challenges, we have the ability to meaningfully impact the lives of others. Engaging in "We Helped Two," a project where my peers and I donated money to send a child in Uganda to a private school, was one of the most life-changing experiences I've had. This endeavor demonstrated to me the power of education as a tool to alter someone's destiny. My mother has always valued education and had high hopes for me, focusing on my development and capacity to change the world. My desire to become a history teacher stems from her. My goal is to equip my pupils with the knowledge gained from historical events so they can effect positive change in their communities. I live by my mother's teachings every day while I pursue my career ambition of teaching speech and debate in secondary history classes. She instilled in me the values of speaking truthfully, sticking to my convictions, and never being afraid to raise others up. Giving students the self-assurance to find their voices and tell their experiences is what I believe teaching is all about, above and beyond academics. I want to become a teacher in four years after receiving my bachelor's degree in secondary history education. Although my community has molded me, my mother's spirit still directs me. In order to pay tribute to her memory, I want to inspire the following generation to pursue a brighter future with courage, compassion, and fearlessness.

My involvement in leadership, voluntary work, and providing care for others has taught me that connection and empathy are the foundations of the most meaningful work. My mother instilled these principles in me, and she passed away from cancer after a protracted struggle. Her tenacity, fortitude, and undying love for others have influenced and will continue to affect me as I pursue my career as an educator. I enjoyed planning and cleaning up for families at volunteer events like Southeast Career and Technical Academy's Boo Bash because I knew that even tiny efforts like mine could make people happy. Whether setting up the haunted house or helping out with family care on Family Engagement Nights, I felt like I was doing something to make the lives of those around me easier and more fun. It brought to mind how my mother always put the needs of others above her own, even during the most trying times of her sickness, and how this taught me the value of kindness and selflessness. Serving as a volunteer at Harmon Elementary was like putting myself in the position of the teacher I want to be—I helped organize activities, served meals, and supported instructors. Working with educators allowed me to witness their unwavering dedication to their students' development, which is a dedication I want to emulate. I've discovered from my community service that even the tiniest actions can have a profound impact. I've witnessed how small deeds of kindness can make someone's day, whether it was by creating bracelets for my friends, writing letters to elderly and young patients in hospitals, or making placards to cheer at sporting events. My mom has always thought that no matter what, happiness should be shared. She would always remind me that, despite life's challenges, we have the ability to meaningfully impact the lives of others. My mother has always valued education and had high hopes for me, focusing on my development and capacity to change the world. My desire to become a history teacher stems from her. My goal is to equip my pupils with the knowledge gained from historical events so they can effect positive change in their communities. I live by my mother's teachings every day while I pursue my career ambition of teaching speech and debate in secondary history classes. She instilled in me the values of speaking truthfully, sticking to my convictions, and never being afraid to raise others up. Giving students the self-assurance to find their voices and tell their experiences is what I believe teaching is all about, above and beyond academics. I want to become a teacher in four years after receiving my bachelor's degree in secondary history education. Although my community has molded me, my mother's spirit still directs me. In order to pay tribute to her memory, I want to inspire the following generation to pursue a brighter future with courage, compassion, and fearlessness.

The most powerful people in this world are not those who control money but those who control our hearts. Speeches are the gateway to our hearts. They seep into our soul pulling out old memories telling us to keep going. Speeches are so powerful that we still analyze them to this day. Martin Luther King I Have a Dream, Abraham Lincoln the Gettysburg Address, and my favorite Maya Angelou Still I Rise. Somehow words on a piece of paper can be turned into the most magnificent speech. The words feel like butter coming out of another person's mouth and the confidence exhumes their ability. It's a euphoric feeling when a person speaks to the soul. Whispering ideas that carry throughout the day makes a person ponder their life choices. Maybe I'm narcissistic in saying that I want people to listen to what I have to say and be inspired. I want to reach into someone's spirit and tell them everything's going to be okay. I've sat through at least a thousand speeches throughout my high school career. I aim to hear a million more. To any speaker, the number one thing an audience can do is give their fullest attention. Often students are comforted by the little laugh, loving eyes, and slight nod given. My body lightens when a speaker looks at me and their voice starts cracking less, they take a deep breath as if I'm reminding them it's just a speech without saying a single word. My favorite teacher Mrs.Shealy taught me those tricks. She also taught me how to stand in front of a crowd and put my entire self into a speech. One of my biggest fears was once a 30-second speech. Freshman year I walked in the door of my speech and debate class anxious for my first ever speech. I don't remember what it was but when I got up there I sped through it so quickly I don't think anyone heard it. I got back to my seat with my hands uncontrollably shaking and my heart pounding as if there was something to be afraid of. Maya Angelou once said, "do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." I so desperately wanted to become a better speaker so I practiced every day. In my closet reading unrequited love poems, in my bedroom recreating movie scenes, and in the classroom teaching 30-minute concepts. Till eventually the idea of speaking in front of a crowd wasn't so scary. I knew better so I did better. My hands wouldn't shake as much and my heart stopped pounding. I no longer need to speed through speeches, instead I make eye contact with the audience and write impromptu speeches in my head. Whenever I get sad, angry, or happy I pull up my instagram feed full of motivational videos. I watch video after video to find the best one to read out to empower myself. When I feel the need to learn more I look at Maya Angelou, Mrs.Shealy, and myself. Practicing is the key to learning more. Speeches are the gateway to our hearts. So I must speak with purpose and love.

The most powerful people in this world are not those who control money but those who control our hearts. Speeches are the gateway to our hearts. They seep into our soul pulling out old memories telling us to keep going. Speeches are so powerful that we still analyze them to this day. Martin Luther King I Have a Dream, Abraham Lincoln the Gettysburg Address, and my favorite Maya Angelou Still I Rise. Somehow words on a piece of paper can be turned into the most magnificent speech. The words feel like butter coming out of another person's mouth and the confidence exhumes their ability. It's a euphoric feeling when a person speaks to the soul. Whispering ideas that carry throughout the day makes a person ponder their life choices. Maybe I'm narcissistic in saying that I want people to listen to what I have to say and be inspired. I want to reach into someone's spirit and tell them everything's going to be okay. I've sat through at least a thousand speeches throughout my high school career. I aim to hear a million more. To any speaker, the number one thing an audience can do is give their fullest attention. Often students are comforted by the little laugh, loving eyes, and slight nod given. My body lightens when a speaker looks at me and their voice starts cracking less, they take a deep breath as if I'm reminding them it's just a speech without saying a single word. My favorite teacher Mrs.Shealy taught me those tricks. She also taught me how to stand in front of a crowd and put my entire self into a speech. One of my biggest fears was once a 30-second speech. Freshman year I walked in the door of my speech and debate class anxious for my first ever speech. I don't remember what it was but when I got up there I sped through it so quickly I don't think anyone heard it. I got back to my seat with my hands uncontrollably shaking and my heart pounding as if there was something to be afraid of. Maya Angelou once said, "do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." I so desperately wanted to become a better speaker so I practiced every day. In my closet reading unrequited love poems, in my bedroom recreating movie scenes, and in the classroom teaching 30-minute concepts. Till eventually the idea of speaking in front of a crowd wasn't so scary. I knew better so I did better. My hands wouldn't shake as much and my heart stopped pounding. I no longer need to speed through speeches, instead I make eye contact with the audience and write impromptu speeches in my head. Whenever I get sad, angry, or happy I pull up my instagram feed full of motivational videos. I watch video after video to find the best one to read out to empower myself. When I feel the need to learn more I look at Maya Angelou, Mrs.Shealy, and myself. Practicing is the key to learning more. Speeches are the gateway to our hearts. So I must speak with purpose and love.

Giving back to my community has assisted me in realizing my greatest love, which is teaching. My involvement in leadership, voluntary work, and providing care for others has taught me that connection and empathy are the foundations of the most meaningful work. My mother instilled these principles in me, and she passed away from cancer after a protracted struggle. Her tenacity, fortitude, and undying love for others have influenced and will continue to affect me as I pursue my career as an educator. I enjoyed planning and cleaning up for families at volunteer events like Southeast Career and Technical Academy's Boo Bash because I knew that even tiny efforts like mine could make people happy. Whether setting up the haunted house or helping out with family care on Family Engagement Nights, I felt like I was doing something to make the lives of those around me easier and more fun. It brought to mind how my mother always put the needs of others above her own, even during the most trying times of her sickness, and how this taught me the value of kindness and selflessness. Serving as a volunteer at Harmon Elementary was like putting myself in the position of the teacher I want to be—I helped organize activities, served meals, and supported instructors. Working with educators allowed me to witness their unwavering dedication to their students' development, which is a dedication I want to emulate. My mother served as my first instructor, demonstrating to me that real power comes from lifting people up. Her perseverance in the face of unbearable suffering has motivated me to encourage and assist pupils in the same way that she did for me. I've discovered from my community service that even the tiniest actions can have a profound impact. I've witnessed how small deeds of kindness can make someone's day, whether it was by creating bracelets for my friends, writing letters to elderly and young patients in hospitals, or making placards to cheer at sporting events. My mom has always thought that no matter what, happiness should be shared. She would always remind me that, despite life's challenges, we have the ability to meaningfully impact the lives of others. Engaging in "We Helped Two," a project where my peers and I donated money to send a child in Uganda to a private school, was one of the most life-changing experiences I've had. This endeavor demonstrated to me the power of education as a tool to alter someone's destiny. My mother has always valued education and had high hopes for me, focusing on my development and capacity to change the world. My desire to become a history teacher stems from her. My goal is to equip my pupils with the knowledge gained from historical events so they can effect positive change in their communities. I live by my mother's teachings every day while I pursue my career ambition of teaching speech and debate in secondary history classes. She instilled in me the values of speaking truthfully, sticking to my convictions, and never being afraid to raise others up. Giving students the self-assurance to find their voices and tell their experiences is what I believe teaching is all about, above and beyond academics. I want to become a teacher in four years after receiving my bachelor's degree in secondary history education. Although my community has molded me, my mother's spirit still directs me. In order to pay tribute to her memory, I want to inspire the following generation to pursue a brighter future with courage, compassion, and fearlessness.

I'm Madison. My mother died from cancer, and I have an absent father, and society uses that as an excuse. People always make excuses for me, “Oh Madison, it’s okay because your mom just died,” or “Don’t do that, you have enough on your plate.” But they never ask what I want. I want to compare myself to the best, not the worst. The value of taking life by the horns and never letting go. Waking up and not wanting to go to school, I remind myself of an educator, my mother. She would have wanted me to persevere in dark times. As a future educator, I cannot sit and wallow in pity; I must learn to lead the next generation. I want to have the motivation to prosper amidst adversity. To be an educator, I have to be stable, level-headed, and not take things to heart. At age 13, I got a therapist. She told me, “Don’t ever make excuses to prevent you from what you want to achieve, ever.” If I needed to become a better public speaker, I practiced every night. When I needed better grades, I taught myself for hours. I took action in my own life, refusing to let depression and anxiety ruin everything for me. For some, they might have every advantage. For me, I had to build it. To take each brick and stack them just right. If they fell like in a game of Jenga, I restarted and learned from it. By senior year, I hadn’t realized my bricks were all in place. One day during senior check, my counselor told me I was close to being valedictorian. I shrugged him off, saying, “I don’t want to take 2-3 extra classes.” My teacher Mr. Stein suggested checking how close I was to the grade cap, which is 4.95. When I did the math, my GPA was 4.90. I rushed back to my counselor and said, “Tell me I’m wrong, but do I only need one more class?” He asked, “What’s the one class you want?” I laughed at the disbelief of it all. But by the time I got home, I cried—because I didn’t make excuses, and I achieved more than I ever dreamed of. Without this value, I have no clue where I would be. I am Madison, a future college graduate, and a future educator, and I make no excuses.

Grief to me has always felt like tree rings. The event of my mother's death was just a ring in my tree. Grief never went away, but other rings grew around it. Passion for school, hanging out with friends, and extracurriculars were all rings that were built around it. Before I realized it, my tree rings were filled with success, and I felt better. It finally hit me when my counselor told me I was on track to be valedictorian. My mother taught me to never give up on my goals, dreams, and the little things. To fake it till I made it. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “WE MADE IT MOM, EVERYTHING WE DREAMED ABOUT, WE DID IT, IM VALEDICTORIAN” By the time I got home that day it had set in. She wouldn't be there to see me graduate, to see me grow up and become everything she hoped for. When I was little I used to pray every night and morning. My mother fell into god when things went from bad to worse. So a little 8 year old me started to do the same. I prayed for the same thing every night. It went like this: “Dear god, I love you, I thank you for everything that I have, thank you, thank you, thank you. (talk about my day)... I only want one thing God, please wait till I turn 18. Don’t take her away from me until then. Her job will be done and I just want her to see me graduate. Please, please, please, take her pain away, give it to me if you must. That’s all I ask. Amen. Praise The Lord. Hallelujah. I did that every night just so I could go to bed. When she passed I was so angry at God. I told myself that a man like that wouldn’t do that to a person so he must not be real. The real kicker is the date of my 18th birthday. On May 11th, 2025, the day of my birthday, it is also Mother’s Day. It’s a slap in the face, what a sick joke life is. I wish I could go back in time and tell her everything that happened, tell her her baby girl is all grown up and she has nothing to worry about. I wish I could see all the amazing things I have accomplished.

I'm Madison. My mother died from cancer, and I have an absent father, and society uses that as an excuse. People always make excuses for me, “Oh Madison, it’s okay because your mom just died,” or “Don’t do that, you have enough on your plate.” But they never ask what I want. I want to compare myself to the best, not the worst. The value of taking life by the horns and never letting go. Waking up and not wanting to go to school, I remind myself of an educator, my mother. She would have wanted me to persevere in dark times. As a future educator, I cannot sit and wallow in pity; I must learn to lead the next generation. I want to have the motivation to prosper amidst adversity. To be an educator, I have to be stable, level-headed, and not take things to heart. At age 13, I got a therapist. She told me, “Don’t ever make excuses to prevent you from what you want to achieve, ever.” If I needed to become a better public speaker, I practiced every night. When I needed better grades, I taught myself for hours. I took action in my own life, refusing to let depression and anxiety ruin everything for me. For some, they might have every advantage. For me, I had to build it. To take each brick and stack them just right. If they fell like in a game of Jenga, I restarted and learned from it. By senior year, I hadn’t realized my bricks were all in place. One day during senior check, my counselor told me I was close to being valedictorian. I shrugged him off, saying, “I don’t want to take 2-3 extra classes.” My teacher Mr. Stein suggested checking how close I was to the grade cap, which is 4.95. When I did the math, my GPA was 4.90. I rushed back to my counselor and said, “Tell me I’m wrong, but do I only need one more class?” He asked, “What’s the one class you want?” I laughed at the disbelief of it all. But by the time I got home, I cried—because I didn’t make excuses, and I achieved more than I ever dreamed of. Without this value, I have no clue where I would be. I am Madison, a future college graduate, and a future educator, and I make no excuses.

Candle Wicks I am a candle, that burns a bright flame. But only when the wind stops blowing, the rain stops showering. You see, I will never be a bright flame, when the possibility of burning out, and never being re-lit, is controlling me. I am a candle, that burns a bright flame, but only when the person I love, I know loves me, loves me. So I remain a dud, in a factory with wax fresh and new. At least then, my perceived life will never be ruined, reputation still intact, like a wick that still hasn't been lit.

Maya Angelou’s quote, “History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again,” validates my love for history and teaching. It reinforces my belief that history, as painful as it may be, is necessary to build a brighter future. Without understanding history, our world would not change. History cannot be undone. I have grown through grief, from the death of my favorite dog to my mother passing away two years ago. Memories of pain I would rather not live through again. But those memories build my own history and make me the person I am today. For instance, after my mother’s death, I threw myself into my studies, finding solace and purpose in academic challenges. This period of my life not only strengthened my resolve but also deepened my understanding of what it means to persevere and support others. Wishing to never have lived through pain would be wishing for something I am not. For me, history is more than just a study of the past; it’s a guide for the future. History tells the present what is right and what is wrong. But history can be deemed wrong by those who embody hope for the future I hope to impart to future generations the importance of history and how it creates milestones of change. Without those who stand up against the morals of our history, the world would never have changed. History is muddled and opinionated but important to correct to understand our wrongdoings. My own history guides my desire to become a secondary educator in history. My mother, a special needs teacher, showed me the importance of a career such as teaching. Schools and teachers shape the youth into becoming who they want to be as adults. This means teachers can change future generations to come. We can guide the next Martin Luther King Jr. or César Chávez to change the world. History plays such an important role in our world today. It grants people the hope for change, as we are living our ancestors' dreams. Our great-grandchildren will be living our dreams. And as Maya Angelou wrote in ‘Still I Rise,’ “You may write me down in history. With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise.”

It may sound unambitious to some but to me I want to be a high school history teacher to make a difference. Maya Angelou’s quote, “History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again,” validates my love for history and teaching. It reinforces my belief that history, as painful as it may be, is necessary to build a brighter future. Without understanding history, our world would not change. History cannot be undone. I have grown through grief, from the death of my favorite dog to my mother passing away two years ago. Memories of pain I would rather not live through again. But those memories build my own history and make me the person I am today. For instance, after my mother’s death, I threw myself into my studies, finding solace and purpose in academic challenges. This period of my life not only strengthened my resolve but also deepened my understanding of what it means to persevere and support others. Wishing to never have lived through pain would be wishing for something I am not. For me, history is more than just a study of the past; it’s a guide for the future. History tells the present what is right and what is wrong. But history can be deemed wrong by those who embody hope for the future. Examples include women gaining the rights to work, to vote, and desegregation. Similarly, I hope to impart to future generations the importance of history and how it creates milestones of change. Without those who stand up against the morals of our history, the world would never have changed. History is muddled and opinionated but important to correct to understand our wrongdoings. My own history guides my desire to become a secondary educator in history. My mother, a special needs teacher, showed me the importance of a career such as teaching. Schools and teachers shape the youth into becoming who they want to be as adults. This means teachers can change future generations to come. It is a rewarding career, not about money or benefits, but about the future guided by the past. We can guide the next Martin Luther King Jr. or César Chávez to change the world. If I can help students recognize the importance of what came before them, then that would be a job well done. History plays such an important role in our world today. It grants people the hope for change, as we are living our ancestors' dreams. Our great-grandchildren will be living our dreams. And as Maya Angelou wrote in ‘Still I Rise,’ “You may write me down in history. With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise.” I’ll rise to become someone my past would be proud of. I’ll rise so that my future is just as important as the past.

Bored: This track perfectly captures feelings of restlessness and longing. As someone who strives to inspire and connect with others, I relate to the desire for something more meaningful in life. The themes of feeling unfulfilled and searching for purpose resonate deeply with me, especially as I pursue my passion for teaching and making a difference in students' lives. Halley's Comet: I find this song incredibly reflective and introspective. It talks about fleeting moments and the uncertainty of life, which resonates with my aspirations and the pressures I feel while preparing for the future. As I work towards my goals in teaching and public speaking, it reminds me to appreciate the journey and the moments that shape who I am, even when they feel transient or uncertain. i love you: This song beautifully captures the complexities of love and the pain that can come with it. The vulnerability in Billie’s voice makes me reflect on my own relationships and how love can be both uplifting and heartbreaking. It reminds me of the deep connections I’ve formed and the importance of expressing my feelings, especially as I navigate my journey of personal growth and healing after losing my mom. She takes me to a special place with her songs.

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away The other night, dear As I lay sleeping I dreamed I held you In my arms When I awoke, dear I was mistaken So I hung my head and cried You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away Lebron James has to be the greatest basketball player of all time. He is the all time champion and he genuinely a great human being. I would rather speak kindly and worship someone like him than a god that could never care less about the evilness in the world. At least Lebron revolutionizes the thing is good at. Creating standards to achieve greatness. Reach the highest mountains and turn around just because he can. That is why he is the greatest person of all time let alone the greatest basketball player of all time. "I'm going to use all my tools, my God-given ability, and make the best life I can with it"- Lebron James

I've never felt comfortable in my skin. I wasn't an outsider, I was an imposter. It took me a long time to accept that I belonged and deserved to be loved. I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety ever since my mother got diagnosed with cancer. Depression has plagued me with immense suicidal thoughts and self-confidence issues. For a long time I believed there was no reason I should be alive. There was so much pain I witnessed and I couldn’t shake the thoughts away. This led to imposter syndrome and anxiety as well. I bundled up all my sadness because compartmentalizing was the only way I was taught to deal with my emotions. One memory was most notable. I broke down once in third grade, upset that I hadn't finished my homework because I was visiting my mother in the hospital late the previous night. The counselor had intervened in my crying and brought me into her office. She showed me an Easter egg and told me to put all of my worries into that egg and once I was ready I could open it back up. The way I had perceived this interaction was that in order to deal with my emotions I had to put them away indefinitely. I did that for years and I never came back. This idea of shoving away my emotions led me to never express my feelings to other people creating a lack of self-confidence. I became an expert in not having my own opinion on things and being "switzerland." Whether or not this is a bad trait it certainly becomes harmful when i'm allowing people to walk all over me. I had to learn to stand up for myself. I first went to a therapist at the age of 13. This wonderful lady named Kofo helped me with dealing with depression, anxiety, and to start expressing myself more. I became more vulnerable with people around me and heatedly shared my opinion on topics. I no longer felt worthless or shoved my emotions down my throat. In this idea of self-confidence, I also struggled with self-image. Coming back from covid we had to wear masks so no one knew what we looked like. Freshman year I didn't really dress the best and hygiene wasn't great either. I've always had an unnaturally deep voice for a girl. Where people who didn't know me would just say " oh that's the girl with the deep voice" or "the one who sounds like a man." So especially during Covid people would ask "Are you a girl or a boy?" It crushed my self body image completely. I began to wonder whether I will ever be perceived as women enough. If I wasn't woman enough then will I ever get a boyfriend or a girlfriend? I still struggle with this idea every day. No man other than my guardian has ever called me pretty. It’s hard to believe otherwise when no one has ever called me so. The only way I have been dealing with this issue is by not caring about what other people think. Hoping that one day someone will come around loving me for who I am and nothing else. This rabbit hole led me down a path of self-love. I remember one phrase that really spoke to me, “I hope when you wake up everyday someone loves you, and I hope that person is yourself, I hope you wake up and you love yourself.” Even though I might not love myself right now I am learning everyday to do so. That I belong in this world just as much as everyone else. Even though I make mistakes and bad things happen, it's just a rollercoaster of life. I would rather be a part of it rather than not be here at all.

My life comes down to three words: dreams, becoming, and growth. Dreams are what I want to achieve, becoming is who I strive to be, and growth is the result of every experience, shaping who I am today. Every bit of growth begins with roots. My mother was a hardworking single mom who juggled two jobs to support her three kids. She protected us from our neglectful father and ensured we had the basics: food on the table, a bed to sleep in. As a child, I didn’t realize the magnitude of her sacrifices. It wasn’t until I was bullied for my worn-out Skechers that I began to notice. That day, I ran home crying for new shoes, but my mom simply said, “I can’t, we can’t afford it; ignore those kids.” Suddenly, all the little nuances clicked, and I started to see her struggle. In the third grade, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. My whole world shifted. From elementary school through middle school, I watched her become a fraction of who she once was. During that time, I began to dream. I dreamed of a life where my mom was healthy, where anxiety and depression didn’t shadow every moment. I dreamed of a life without hardship. These dreams pushed my growth further. During COVID, my mom and I went through her old teaching materials—decorative name tags, coursework, and photos. It sparked my interest in teaching, and I decided to apply for the Teaching and Training program at Southeast Career and Technical Academy. Becoming a teacher felt like a way to avoid the struggles my mom faced. Despite everything, my mother made sure I was driven to and from school, a 40-minute commute that was worth it if it meant I would succeed. No matter how hard it was watching her deteriorate, I stayed focused on my grades because of her sacrifices. Even during freshman year, when her cancer spread to her lungs and bones, I pushed through my pain to honor hers. By summer, my mom was in the ICU. Even though she was in unbelievable pain she laughed, she smiled, and never once cried. She passed away on July 27, 2022, a moment forever etched in my mind. I remember her hand, so cold and frail,I just couldn’t believe my reality. Like it was all some soap opera. After I said my goodbyes and left the room, they told me she had passed, “so peacefully, so, so peaceful.” Despite school beginning in two weeks, I decided that day I wouldn’t give up. I would continue to grow, just as she would have wanted. I embraced an even greater love for teaching, threw myself into clubs, made new friends, and lived life to the fullest. I also found a love for community service, like helping kids in Ghana get a private education and supporting the local elementary school by working events. I wouldn’t let my grief define me. Even when bad days came, I didn’t let them ruin my progress. But the grief was heavy, and there were days I struggled. I couldn't get out bed my depression and anxiety controlled me. The farther I moved from July, the more I longed to hear her voice, to see her smile. I had to remind myself that grief was part of my growth, just like my passion for school and teaching. I learned that it’s okay to be happy while grieving. Eventually, I was led to bigger and better things, and I realized this when my counselor told me I was on track to be valedictorian. I immediately started to cry. My growth had deepened, connecting me to the person I’ve had since day one. I wanted to scream, “I MADE IT, MOM! Everything I dreamed of, I will finally BECOME!” My mother’s legacy is her children, and I have finally grown up. Grown up from the little girl who begged her mother for a new pair of shoes. From a grieving teen who had to fight to wake up in the morning. To be a beautiful and proud woman of where she came from. Growth, dreams, and becoming—these are the words that define me. Although my mother won’t be here to witness it, I know I’ll be okay. Okay walking on that stage accepting my diploma because she is forever within me. I love you, mom, watch me grow.

My life comes down to three words: dreams, becoming, and growth. Dreams are what I want to achieve, becoming is who I strive to be, and growth is the result of every experience, shaping who I am today. Every bit of growth begins with roots. My mother was a hardworking single mom who juggled two jobs to support her three kids. She protected us from our neglectful father and ensured we had the basics. As a child, I didn’t realize the magnitude of her sacrifices until I was bullied for my worn-out Skechers. I ran home crying for new shoes, but my mom simply said, “I can’t, we can’t afford it; ignore those kids.” Suddenly, all the little nuances clicked, and I started to see her struggle. In the third grade, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. My whole world shifted. I watched her become a fraction of who she once was. During that time, I began to dream. I dreamed of a life where my mom was healthy, where anxiety and depression didn’t shadow every moment. I dreamed of a life without hardship. These dreams pushed my growth further. During COVID, my mom and I went through her old teaching materials. It sparked my interest in teaching, and I applied for the Teaching and Training program at Southeast Career and Technical Academy. Becoming a teacher felt like a way to avoid the struggles my mom faced. Despite everything, she made sure I got to school. Even during freshman year, when her cancer spread, I pushed through my pain to honor hers. By summer, my mom was in the ICU. She laughed, smiled, and never cried, even though she was in unbelievable pain. She passed away on July 27, 2022, a moment forever etched in my mind. After I said my goodbyes and left the room, they told me she had passed. Despite school beginning in two weeks, I decided that day I wouldn’t give up. I would continue to grow, just as she would have wanted. I embraced an even greater love for teaching, threw myself into clubs, and found a love for community service, like helping kids in Ghana get an education and supporting the local elementary school. I wouldn’t let my grief define me. But the grief was heavy, and there were days I struggled. The farther I moved from July, the more I longed to hear her voice, to see her smile. I had to remind myself that grief was part of my growth, just like my passion for teaching. I learned that it’s okay to be happy while grieving. Eventually, I realized my growth when my counselor told me I was on track to be valedictorian. I immediately started to cry. My growth had deepened, connecting me to the person I’ve had since day one. I wanted to scream, “I MADE IT, MOM! Everything I dreamed of, I will finally BECOME!” My mother’s legacy is her children, and I have grown up. From the little girl who begged for new shoes to a proud woman of where she came from. Growth, dreams, and becoming—these are the words that define me. Although my mother won’t be here to witness it, I know I’ll be okay walking on that stage, accepting my diploma. She is forever within me. I love you, mom, watch me grow.

Community: A Route to Meaning In addition to shaping my path, giving back to my community has assisted me in realizing my greatest love, which is teaching. My involvement in leadership, voluntary work, and providing care for others has taught me that connection and empathy are the foundations of the most meaningful work. My mother instilled these principles in me, and she passed away from cancer after a protracted struggle. Her tenacity, fortitude, and undying love for others have influenced and will continue to affect me as I pursue my career as an educator. I enjoyed planning and cleaning up for families at volunteer events like Southeast Career and Technical Academy's Boo Bash because I knew that even tiny efforts like mine could make people happy. Whether setting up the haunted house or helping out with family care on Family Engagement Nights, I felt like I was doing something to make the lives of those around me easier and more fun. It brought to mind how my mother always put the needs of others above her own, even during the most trying times of her sickness, and how this taught me the value of kindness and selflessness. Serving as a volunteer at Harmon Elementary was like putting myself in the position of the teacher I want to be—I helped organize activities, served meals, and supported instructors. Working with educators allowed me to witness their unwavering dedication to their students' development, which is a dedication I want to emulate. My mother served as my first instructor, demonstrating to me that real power comes from lifting people up. Her perseverance in the face of unbearable suffering has motivated me to encourage and assist pupils in the same way that she did for me. I've discovered from my community service that even the tiniest actions can have a profound impact. I've witnessed how small deeds of kindness can make someone's day, whether it was by creating bracelets for my friends, writing letters to elderly and young patients in hospitals, or making placards to cheer at sporting events. My mom has always thought that no matter what, happiness should be shared. She would always remind me that, despite life's challenges, we have the ability to meaningfully impact the lives of others. Engaging in "We Helped Two," a project where my peers and I donated money to send a child in Uganda to a private school, was one of the most life-changing experiences I've had. This endeavor demonstrated to me the power of education as a tool to alter someone's destiny. My mother has always valued education and had high hopes for me, focusing on my development and capacity to change the world. My desire to become a history teacher stems from her. My goal is to equip my pupils with the knowledge gained from historical events so they can effect positive change in their communities. I live by my mother's teachings every day while I pursue my career ambition of teaching speech and debate in secondary history classes. She instilled in me the values of speaking truthfully, sticking to my convictions, and never being afraid to raise others up. Giving students the self-assurance to find their voices and tell their experiences is what I believe teaching is all about, above and beyond academics. I want to become a teacher in four years after receiving my bachelor's degree in secondary history education. In order to pay tribute to her memory I need money to get a degree. I want to inspire the following generation to pursue a brighter future with courage, compassion, and fearlessness.

Community: A Route to Meaning In addition to shaping my path, giving back to my community has assisted me in realizing my greatest love, which is teaching. My involvement in leadership, voluntary work, and providing care for others has taught me that connection and empathy are the foundations of the most meaningful work. My mother instilled these principles in me, and she passed away from cancer after a protracted struggle. Her tenacity, fortitude, and undying love for others have influenced and will continue to affect me as I pursue my career as an educator. I enjoyed planning and cleaning up for families at volunteer events like Southeast Career and Technical Academy's Boo Bash because I knew that even tiny efforts like mine could make people happy. Whether setting up the haunted house or helping out with family care on Family Engagement Nights, I felt like I was doing something to make the lives of those around me easier and more fun. It brought to mind how my mother always put the needs of others above her own, even during the most trying times of her sickness, and how this taught me the value of kindness and selflessness. Serving as a volunteer at Harmon Elementary was like putting myself in the position of the teacher I want to be—I helped organize activities, served meals, and supported instructors. Working with educators allowed me to witness their unwavering dedication to their students' development, which is a dedication I want to emulate. My mother served as my first instructor, demonstrating to me that real power comes from lifting people up. Her perseverance in the face of unbearable suffering has motivated me to encourage and assist pupils in the same way that she did for me. I've discovered from my community service that even the tiniest actions can have a profound impact. I've witnessed how small deeds of kindness can make someone's day, whether it was by creating bracelets for my friends, writing letters to elderly and young patients in hospitals, or making placards to cheer at sporting events. My mom has always thought that no matter what, happiness should be shared. She would always remind me that, despite life's challenges, we have the ability to meaningfully impact the lives of others. Engaging in "We Helped Two," a project where my peers and I donated money to send a child in Uganda to a private school, was one of the most life-changing experiences I've had. This endeavor demonstrated to me the power of education as a tool to alter someone's destiny. My mother has always valued education and had high hopes for me, focusing on my development and capacity to change the world. My desire to become a history teacher stems from her. My goal is to equip my pupils with the knowledge gained from historical events so they can effect positive change in their communities. I live by my mother's teachings every day while I pursue my career ambition of teaching speech and debate in secondary history classes. She instilled in me the values of speaking truthfully, sticking to my convictions, and never being afraid to raise others up. Giving students the self-assurance to find their voices and tell their experiences is what I believe teaching is all about, above and beyond academics. I want to become a teacher in four years after receiving my bachelor's degree in secondary history education. Although my community has molded me, my mother's spirit still directs me. In order to pay tribute to her memory, I want to inspire the following generation to pursue a brighter future with courage, compassion, and fearlessness.

diagnosis. Taught special education, having to deal with all the hardships that came with the profession. She still tried her best in everything she did for her students. When the cancer got worse, and she was given 7 months to live, she never gave up. She kept going for her children, for me. She never cried in front of us, she never was sad about the circumstances in front of her. Instead, she stayed strong, and when 7 months turned into 7 years, we knew never to give up. Last year, when she passed away, I knew that the only way to remember her was to keep living and keep going. All she ever wanted for her children was happiness. Because of her, I want to become a teacher and rise. I want to keep going to make a difference in everything I do, for her. It's a different feeling when you walk into your home and can no longer say, "Mom, I love you," and have her reply back, "I love you too." Or experience her eagerness to drive me to a high school 30 minutes away because of the opportunities it has for me. The love and strength she showed after every hospital visit and every scary moment were empowering. Those are things I can never forget about my mother—how she was always smiling through the pain, for us. My worst fear was her dying, and when it did happen on July 27th, 2022, I felt an immense break in my soul, but also a sense of relief. That she was no longer in pain, hiding it away from us. That she no longer had to fake a smile or carry an oxygen tank around. I no longer had to worry about her while at school, hoping she wasn't in the hospital or getting more bad news. Instead, the pain turned into love and appreciation. The kindness she showed me and my siblings outweigh the grief I feel to this day. This scholarship not only reminds me of her but also reminds me that we must keep going to honor those who are no longer here. I want to be an educator, a story teller, and preserver, for my mom and myself. My mother is my beacon of hope, my love, my kindness, and I will keep going for her. It's one of the only things that has kept be going all these years. Thank you.

My mom was a teacher before her cancer diagnosis. Taught special education, having to deal with all the hardships that came with the profession. She still tried her best in everything she did for her students. When the cancer got worse, and she was given 7 months to live, she never gave up. She kept going for her children, for me. She never cried in front of us, she never was sad about the circumstances in front of her. Instead, she stayed strong, and when 7 months turned into 7 years, we knew never to give up. Last year, when she passed away, I knew that the only way to remember her was to keep living and keep going. All she ever wanted for her children was happiness. Because of her, I want to become a teacher and rise. I want to keep going to make a difference in everything I do, for her. It's a different feeling when you walk into your home and can no longer say, "Mom, I love you," and have her reply back, "I love you too." Or experience her eagerness to drive me to a high school 30 minutes away because of the opportunities it has for me. The love and strength she showed after every hospital visit and every scary moment were empowering. Those are things I can never forget about my mother—how she was always smiling through the pain, for us. My worst fear was her dying, and when it did happen on July 27th, 2022, I felt an immense break in my soul, but also a sense of relief. That she was no longer in pain, hiding it away from us. That she no longer had to fake a smile or carry an oxygen tank around. I no longer had to worry about her while at school, hoping she wasn't in the hospital or getting more bad news. Instead, the pain turned into love and appreciation. The kindness she showed me and my siblings outweigh the grief I feel to this day. This scholarship not only reminds me of her but also reminds me that we must keep going to honor those who are no longer here. I want to be an educator, a story teller, and preserver, for my mom and myself. My mother is my beacon of hope, my love, my kindness, and I will keep going for her. Thank you.

"Ironic" is how I'd describe the journey my family and I have been through. Mom a hard working lady being all alone, certainly put things into an interesting perspective. She always said I was a gift from God, born on Mother's Day. She did everything she could for me and my two other siblings. Many jobs she picked up to afford the life we had, from banking, nursing, to teaching. The one thing I remembered is she was always willing to go back to her education and fight for it. Though all the effort was clashed by the wretch that is stage 4 Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, she still kept going. My mom, the only person I've had my entire life, died when I was 15. Everyone assumed I would give up school. They were surprised by my successes, as if I was incapable of moving forward. My mother taught me to fight, always. Certainly, irony wouldn't follow me more than it had. But it just kept hitting me in the face. My mother was a very Christian religious person, always praying and going to church. When her diagnosis hit, I followed suit, praying for her health every day. Praying that all she had to do was make it to my 18th birthday, to my graduation of high school. Because then her job of being a single mother of kids would be "over." So please explain how my 18th birthday is on Mother's day yet again. How ironic could it possibly get. That the one person I wanted to see me grow into a intelligent adult wouldn't be there for not only my birthday but to celebrate Mother's day with. I used my grief to power through school. Even though I had no parents and my world changed, I still had one thing, school. It got me through a year, and then another year. Soon the breakdowns at home became less and less. My 4.5 gpa reflected the hard work and I sit here today giving all the credit to my mom. The teacher who taught me to keep going always. I want to become that educator that makes my students want to keep going. That it's not because of what has happened to us, but to what we do after something has happened to us. The worst thing a person could do is give up. Something a single mother could never do. I live with a guardian who supports me and my 2 other siblings. Although he is too prideful to announce the little amount of money we have, I have no money to go to college with. I'm 17 and I can not get my drivers license because the insurance is to expensive. Although, I am extremely grateful, I have food, wifi, a house, and a life I can be proud of living. It's just some of the little pleasures that can not be afforded to me. My goal is to be able to go to college debt and loan-free. So that I am able to get my license and get a car at some point. You mention how Joseph A. Monachino battled with cancer as well. I can only say how deeply sorry I am for your loss. Let's keep going for them, it's what I know we can do.

"Ironic" is how I'd describe the journey my family and I have been through. Mom a hard working lady being all alone, certainly put things into an interesting perspective. She always said I was a gift from God, born on Mother's Day. She did everything she could for me and my two other siblings. Many jobs she picked up to afford the life we had, from banking, nursing, to teaching. The one thing I remembered is she was always willing to go back to her education and fight for it. Though all the effort was clashed by the wretch that is stage 4 Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, she still kept going. My mom, the only person I've had my entire life, died when I was 15. Everyone assumed I would give up school. They were surprised by my successes, as if I was incapable of moving forward. My mother taught me to fight, always. Certainly, irony wouldn't follow me more than it had. But it just kept hitting me in the face. My mother was a very Christian religious person, always praying and going to church. When her diagnosis hit, I followed suit, praying for her health every day. Praying that all she had to do was make it to my 18th birthday, to my graduation of high school. Because then her job of being a single mother of kids would be "over." So please explain how my 18th birthday is on Mother's day yet again. How ironic could it possibly get. That the one person I wanted to see me grow into a intelligent adult wouldn't be there for not only my birthday but to celebrate Mother's day with. I used my grief to power through school. Even though I had no parents and my world changed, I still had one thing, school. It got me through a year, and then another year. Soon the breakdowns at home became less and less. My 4.5 gpa reflected the hard work and I sit here today giving all the credit to my mom. The teacher who taught me to keep going always. I want to become that educator that makes my students want to keep going. That it's not because of what has happened to us, but to what we do after something has happened to us. The worst thing a person could do is give up. Something a single mother could never do.

Just like Ms. Sobaski, my mother had cancer. Since the age of 7, I remember my mother having stage 4 Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. She too was a teacher before her diagnosis, in special education, having to deal with all the hardships that came with the profession. She still tried her best in everything she did for her students. When the cancer got worse, and she was given 7 months to live, she never gave up. She kept going for her children, for me. She never cried in front of us, she never was sad about the circumstances in front of her. Instead, she stayed strong, and when 7 months turned into 7 years, we knew never to give up. Last year, when she passed away, I knew that the only way to remember her was to keep living and keep going. All she ever wanted for her children was happiness. Because of her, I want to become a teacher and rise above the unfortunate system that is CCSD. I want to keep going to make a difference in everything I do, for her. It's a different feeling when you walk into your home and can no longer say, "Mom, I love you," and have her reply back, "I love you too." Or experience her eagerness to drive me to a high school 30 minutes away because of the opportunities it has for me. The love and strength she showed after every hospital visit and every scary moment were empowering. Those are things I can never forget about my mother—how she was always smiling through the pain, for us. My worst fear was her dying, and when it did happen on July 27th, 2022, I felt an immense break in my soul, but also a sense of relief. That she was no longer in pain, hiding it away from us. That she no longer had to fake a smile or carry an oxygen tank around. I no longer had to worry about her while at school, hoping she wasn't in the hospital or getting more bad news. Instead, the pain turned into love and appreciation. The kindness she showed me and my siblings outweigh the grief I feel to this day. This scholarship not only reminds me of her but also reminds me that we must keep going to honor those who are no longer here. My mother is my beacon of hope, my love, my kindness, and I will keep going for her. Thank you.