"It sounds like a bee," my uncle said when he saw my drone flying across his farm. "Almost! It's a zangão (drone)", I replied. Not much after, I hear far away, "This won't attract lightning, will it?" and "Can it see the tomato crops?" Wait — are my relatives curious about technology? Am I explaining drones to them? How did this happen? Let me give you some context. Growing up on a small farm in Barra do Chapéu/Brazil, technology was far removed from our daily activities. My childhood was rooted in simplicity and acts of service, where hard work and family shaped most of my days. I remember waking up with my grandmother and walking to the cowshed to collect milk. Our farm provided for us – we grew what we ate and worked for what we had. I didn't realize it then, as many things when we were so young, but those walks with my grandmother taught me the values of self-sufficiency and appreciation for nature. My life took a significant turn when my mom moved to the city, and I was at IFSP. This high school offered both traditional academics and occupational courses, and Industrial Automation was the one I took. This has opened my eyes to technology, robotics, and solving problems. One of my earliest projects there was born from an alarming experience. As a child, I often heard my mother's urgent voice after playing outside: "Done playing? Let me check you." At five, I didn't understand her worry. Years later, I came across a story about a girl who had died of Brazilian Spotted Fever caused by a tick bite. Suddenly, my mother's vigilance made sense. At IFSP, a seminar with the Biological Institute of São Paulo (BISP) sparked my curiosity: "If untreated within seven days, the mortality rate can reach 80%," a biologist explained. That evening, I wondered: could we design a device to attract and neutralize ticks without using harmful chemicals? Over the next few months, I led a team of classmates in creating "Papa Tick," a solar-powered tick trap combining dry ice to mimic an animal's breathing with an electrified grid to neutralize ticks. It was a crash course in problem-solving. We sketched prototypes and reverse engineering and learned about 3D modeling, patent submission, and circuit design. Our professors' encouragement and expertise turned our classroom into an innovation lab. The day we presented "Papa Tick" to the community, my mother's pride made all the late nights and failures worthwhile. These experiences propelled me forward, eventually earning me admission to Oberlin College. Leaving Brazil to become the first in my family to attend college and to be the first one living abroad was exciting and overwhelming. Education has changed my life, exposing me to technologies and opportunities I never imagined. However, I want to do more: I discovered that Engineering is the career I want to pursue. For the next few years, I'm committed to doing everything to join one of the best Engineer programs in the USA. I want to design humanized robots — machines that can collaborate seamlessly with humans. The same wonder I felt as a child chasing fireflies is what drives me to explore this field. My vision is to create technology that solves problems and feels intuitive and accessible to everyone, especially to communities that have historically been excluded from its benefits, just like mine. From assistive technologies to tick traps, I want to be recognized as an innovator who helps people. So, here I am, over my family's farm, piloting a drone that sounds just like a bee.

Winter is coming, and as I prepare for the season, I think of my grandmother’s patchwork blanket. My mom found it years ago while organizing the wardrobe—which was quite needed. Each colorful piece tells a story about my family in Barra do Chapeu, a small rural town in Brazil. I see my life as a patchwork quilt stitched together from experiences that continue to shape my path as a first-generation student. One piece of my quilt takes me back to my grandmother’s farm. After playing outside with my cousins, I would sit with my mom, carefully looking for ticks. It wasn’t until I became a young adult that I processed my mother’s fears. Years later, when Brazilian Spotted Fever (BSF) threatened the city where I studied, I couldn’t ignore the problem. Soon after, my school hosted a presentation from the Biological Institute of Sao Paulo (BISP) to explain the science and dangers of ticks. Could we make a trap to attract ticks? How could we neutralize them? The idea seemed impossible. But, I was curious. I realized I didn’t have all the knowledge to address the issue either, but I wanted to learn. Working with biologists and friends, I led the Papa Tick project, creating a solution that can protect hundreds of people. I combined my experiences with electric fly swatters, prototyping, and solar panels to create a single system. That experience showed me how combining community expertise with initiative could yield meaningful results. Another patch reminds me of my aunt Felina. She was building a house and needed help surveying the land. I arrived with a drone I bought with the money I had saved from being a tutor, and its sharp buzz startled the chickens. “It sounds like a bee,” my uncle joked, laughing as he watched it soar. “Almost, uncle—it’s a drone,” I replied, proud of how to use technology to solve real problems. With my knowledge of photogrammetry, I measured the land and captured aerial images for her. That same problem-solving mindset guided me during one project last semester when I did landscape photography—but now in a different country. Moving to the US and studying in college alone was exciting and daunting. I didn’t want to feel reduced to a single “rural” patch from my quilt, yet I wanted to experience new moments. I sought what was familiar, tried to connect with like-minded people, and found a challenge where I could apply my passion for technology to have an impact. That’s when I spearheaded a solar system for a learning center in a secluded area with no electricity. My memories of life in Barra do Chapéu helped me see the bigger picture—thinking about maintenance, accessibility, cost, and the daily realities of people who needed the solution. Today, I see a parallel as I explore the field of robotics. I’m stepping into uncharted territory, much like I did during the tick project. Back then, I leaned on biologists; now, I’m finding a new community of mentors and peers who share my interests. Last year, I took the initiative to found the Robotics Club— a place where I could teach about drones, robots, and new technologies. Through the club, I met people who have combined arts and music with robotics. With them, my biggest hope is to assist in developing technology and robots that can genuinely cooperate with humans in daily activities. Though I’m sometimes exploring these new places alone, I know I can always count on my family for support, just as they’ve supported every stitch of my journey.

“Done playing outside? Let me check you," my mother said, her nervous eyes scanning my bare legs. At age five, I didn’t understand Mom’s worries. It wasn’t until I became a young adult that I processed my mother’s fears. My friend posted a story: “In Salto, a young girl dies of the Brazilian Spotted Fever (BSF) caused by a tick.” As I read, I was alarmed by my ignorance—I had seen many ticks, but now I understood my mom’s mandatory checks. Soon after, my school set up a meeting with the Biological Institute of Sao Paulo (BISP) to explain the science and dangers of ticks. “If you don’t get the treatment within seven days, the mortality rate of BSF can reach 80%! Ticks don’t have eyes or ears, but the three principal sensors they use to determine what they chase are temperature, breathing, and movement," the biologist explained. My mind raced. Could we make a trap to attract ticks? How could we neutralize them? The idea seemed impossible. But I was curious. Within a day, I convinced my friends to help me create such a tool. Our professors contacted Shirley and Paulo, BISP’s biologists, who invited us to observe how they trap ticks with dry ice subliming into CO2 to mimic an animal’s breathing. We tucked our jeans inside our boots, sealed them with tape, and headed to Lake Park. That whole afternoon, I felt excited. I had gone from playing on my farm, blind to a problem, to becoming aware and exploring potential solutions. My first investigation focused on how to neutralize ticks. It couldn't be with pesticides or chemicals since they would harm plants and people. Then it hit me—I remembered running after mosquitoes on the farm with an electric fly swatter. Eureka! Let’s shock the ticks! I then started reverse-engineering an electric fly swatter to discuss if I could increase or decrease the output electricity to neutralize the ticks better. After months of sketching, experimenting, and plenty of trial and error, I designed “Papa Tick,” a stationary solar-powered tick trap that combined dry ice with an electrified grid with different sizes to select unique life stages of ticks. Other professors in our high school were curious about our work, and they helped me and my friends with all sorts of tasks: 3D CAD, circuit design, writing documentation, and filling out a patent application. I was so grateful we had such fantastic support. When I showed Papa Tick to my family, my mom was over the moon. Her pride shone brighter than I’d ever seen, but she also seemed worried – after all, I was working indirectly with ticks. She asked me if that was why I stayed more in school and worked more with random 3D-printed models scattered around my room. She told everyone in the family about my invention, and seeing her joy made all the tinkering feel even more worthwhile because it connected my passion for engineering and helping others. The experience of creating Papa Tick was a transformative one that impacted my technical skills and overall perspective of innovating. Through the process, I learned how to work effectively as part of a team, communicate with experts in a specific field, and apply my coding, tinkering, and design knowledge to solve real-world problems. I am eager to see what new challenges await that I can jump on to and grasp with childlike optimism, enthusiasm, and wonder. I’m never entirely done playing outside.