Outside it was 106 degrees, however, inside the building where I spent the summer of 2022, it remained at a brisk 65 degrees with the constant sound of airplanes flying over. The 41 degree temperature difference when taking a lunchtime stroll was always a shock to the system. This frigid 300,000 square-foot building was the Sanford Research facility in my hometown of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Sanford Research offered a summer research internship for four rising high school seniors. I was chosen to be a part of that program. During my internship, I worked in a lab hat focuses on structural changes, primarily at a subcellular level, that cause rare diseases. Some procedures they used included cell culture, iPSC, western blots, and immunocytochemistry. All of those words, and when people were talked in meetings, went high enough over my head that it became a threat to the incoming aircraft. Even with a lack of understanding, I continued to learn and strive to understand. I have always had an interest in science. In the Francis lab, a neurological disease called Smith-Lemli-Opitz Syndrome (SLOS). I closely worked on this disease that affects 1 in 20,000 to 1 in 60,000 children. Working on this syndrome allowed me to further see what I wanted to do in the future, pediatric oncology. As the airspace that was once clouded by the words above my head cleared, I loved the collaboration of the science community. I was able to consult people in other labs and learn about what they were working on by watching them. This experience only furthered my desire to work in clinical science but showed me the research side of medicine as well. I spent the rest of the summer with my mentor, Sonali Sengupta, PhD, looking for ways to see how the cholesterol moves around in the cells. She piloted me through the turbulence of research. I would ask her any question, whether I thought before I spoke or not, and she would gladly answer, even the not thought through ones. She guided me through learning new procedures and how lab equipment works. Dr. Sengupta did not have to do what she did, she volunteered to. I will forever be grateful for what she did during the summer. She showed me that achieving a doctorate is something that is tangible. I am going to go to graduate school for a PhD or to pursue a MD/PhD because of the inspiration Dr. Sengupta instilled in me. She went out of her way to create a relationship and bring science to me and build up my laboratory foundation. She asked me about my weekend plans and questioned about my future plans. When I told her my far-fetching plans that felt like I was reaching for stars, she supported me and told me that I could do it. I owe her a majority of my science and all of my research knowledge. My high school summer of 2022 was out of the norm. I traded tan lines for goggle lines, long sleeves, and jeans. The research basis that I gained will not only help me in my senior year of high school, but beyond. Due to Dr. Sengputa and others in the Francis Lab, I learned techniques that are not available in a typical high school classroom. Now, the incoming aircraft do not have to worry about the words over my head. They are able to land smoothly on the runway while the conversation flies. This experience allowed me to interact in my new found passion of science.

The saying, “People pour their blood, sweat, and tears,” is something that is popular in the sports world. I have participated in many different sports since I was young, and have heard it many different times. However, one sport stands out in my mind as the hardest and most taxing. I literally gave blood, sweat, and many tears just in practice: wrestling. When I was a sophomore in high school, the South Dakota High School Activity Association officially sanctioned girls wrestling in the state. My high school did not field a team that year. That changed my junior year when I and two other girls decided to go out. It was daunting being in the stinky, wrestling room with boys who have done it their whole life. I had no idea what I was doing. I had never wrestled a single day in my entire life. The first week was tortuous. We would mix up partners so some of the girls had to wrestle with the guys. They threw me around like it was nothing. They enjoyed the feeling that they were better than us and constantly taunted us. After practice, I was left stunned. I had never experienced anything like that in my life. Less than two weeks in, it was time for my first match. The girl that I was up against had wrestled the previous year as well. She was ranked 7th in the preseason rankings for my division. My coach overheard me say that and he got furious. He told me, "Wrestling doesn't care about who is ranked what. It cares who puts in the effort and wrestles better."I went out there and pinned her in 45 seconds. The video my mom captured from the stands shows the pure joy on my face. I rolled to get up with a huge smile. The next weekend was the biggest tournament of the year and I had still only wrestled one match ever. I coasted through the first two rounds with easy wins. The third match, however, went the full six minutes. I had never felt my lungs and muscles like that. My coach kept yelling at me but I was so tired I couldn’t even process it. I ended up winning that match. After I got off the mat, my coach told me, “See you did that. Now you can do anything for six minutes.” This phrase is burned into my mind, “just six minutes.” Whenever I’m faced with something daunting I take it six minutes at a time. Because I can do anything, for six minutes.

8 years old and working out up to 36 hours a week. I tolerated grueling workouts for years upon years with no rest. From 4 pm to 8 pm, I was in the gymnastics gym. I was chasing a dream. The dream of being good at gymnastics. I wanted to be the best. However, as I aged my abilities began to taper. I now wasn’t this star athlete who was an 8-year-old phenom. I was average. It was a hard pill for me to swallow and eventually led to me quitting the sport. Yet, my schedule had become something of second nature. I always came home from school and I went to the gym. But then I didn't have the gym. I was lost. I had to figure out how to fill the now gaping 36 hours of the week that were spent in the gym. It took me a great while to do so. I gained weight because I wasn’t working out. Being a middle schooler it was hard for me to be confident anyways and that just added fuel to the fire that was my self-conscious tendencies. I had to relearn who I was and retrain my body to be as strong as it once was. I learned that when one thing changed it wasn’t just a few pebbles that fell to create something new but rather a whole rock slide. The rock slide of reinvention and retraining. The rock slide of the unknown that was facing me. I searched and searched for something that I could find to do. I’d played volleyball my whole life but it wasn’t enough. I eventually landed on CrossFit and American Ninja Warrior. Beginning with CrossFit, I was the only kid in the entire gym. I was terrified to go without my dad. I was scared of what all the adults would think of me. Yet, I came to learn that they were some of the nicest people I’d ever met. I would come to learn about their occupations and how they got to where they were. I not only regained my physical strength, but also trained my mind. I learned the mindsets that they held and adapted them as my own. However, American Ninja Warrior was the exact opposite. I found myself ostracized. I wasn’t the only kid, I was the only person older than 12. My talent was natural and after a couple of months, it grew to levels that no one at my local gym had seen. I was continually stifled and put down as the “older kid.” I couldn’t be myself. I had to be the 12- year old version of myself. This took a mental drain on me. Yet, when I confronted the owners about it I was met with resistance and denial that something like that would be happening in their gym. My fame in the sport grew and people began to notice what I was doing. The mental toll was too much. After 3 years, I had to leave the gym. My fitness journey has had numerous ups and downs. Toxic and abusive coaches along with toxic internal thoughts that I held made it hard for me to perform my best. As I’ve aged, I’ve learned to deal with this and I can proudly say that I am at the near fittest I have ever been.

The saying, “people pour their blood, sweat, and tears,” is something that is popular in the sports world. I have participated in many different sports since I was young, and have heard it many different times. However, one sport stands out in my mind as the hardest and most taxing. I literally gave blood, sweat, and many tears just in practice: wrestling. When I was a sophomore in high school, the South Dakota High School Activity Association officially sanctioned girls wrestling in the state. My high school did not field a team that year. That changed my junior year when I and two other girls decided to go out. It was daunting being in the stinky, wrestling room with boys who have done it their whole life. I had no idea what I was doing. The first week was torturous. We would mix up partners so some of the girls had to wrestle with the guys. They threw me around like it was nothing. After practice, I was left stunned. I had never experienced anything like that in my life. Less than two weeks in, it was time for my first match. The girl that I was up against had wrestled the previous year as well. I went out there and pinned her in 45 seconds. The video my mom captured from the stands shows the pure joy on my face. I rolled to get up with a huge smile. The next weekend was the biggest tournament of the year and I had still only wrestled one match ever. I coasted through the first two rounds with easy wins. The third match, however, went the full six minutes. I had never felt my lungs and muscles like that. My coach kept yelling at me but I was so tired I couldn’t even process it. I ended up winning that match. After I got off the mat, my coach told me, “See you did that. Now you can do anything for six minutes.” This phrase is burned into my mind, “just six minutes.” Whenever I’m faced with something daunting I take it six minutes at a time. Because I can do anything, for six minutes. As my junior year progressed, I was able to be a part of a state championship track team and also a part of research projects regarding rare pediatric neurodegenerative disorders caused by genetic mutations. I carried my “six-minute mentality” into the lab as well. The jump from wrestling to a lab scientist is part of what makes me unique. I am able to throw people around but also throw scientific jargon around in conversations with people who hold doctoral degrees. My versatility will also help me give back to my community. My career aspiration is to become a pediatric oncologist with an MD and Ph.D. I will bring a unique attitude and perspective to every child I am able to treat. Each child has unique interests and as someone who is versatile, I am able to relate to a lot of different interests. This will make me a great doctor but my dreams do not stop at clinical practice. I dream of curing cancer- which I know is far-fetched and when I tell people they have a stunned look on their faces, but for me, that would be the ultimate way I could give back to my community. Overall, my uniqueness could help children and millions of others when I accomplish my dreams.

The first time people look at me often times, once they get to know me, they reply with “I thought you were really mean and scary the first time I saw you.” I have grown to understand that most times people see me in sports such as wrestling where I am throwing other people around or at a debate tournament passionately speaking to win the round. I strive to be versatile, with activities such as American Ninja Warrior, pole vaulting, and CrossFit, but I am also highly competitive. However, I still encapture the phrase “Love is Kind.” To me “Love is Kind” means striving to make a difference with grace. To elaborate on that further, making a difference can come in an interpersonal situation or on a large scale. One can hold the door or find a cure for a deadly disease. Either way, as long as it is done with grace and humility, it is done kindly in my eyes. My summer as a rising senior was spent working in a research lab. There I worked towards a cure for a rare pediatric neurodegenerative disorder. I worked forty or more hours a week with only a small scholarship at the end of the summer. I did it because I wanted to help the children in the world that struggle with this disease. I got no recognition. The only people that even knew I was working there over the summer were my immediate family. In my undergraduate experience, I plan to continue working in research labs. My ultimate goal is to become a pediatric oncologist with an MD and a Ph.D. I want to be the one to “cure cancer” as that will help millions upon millions of people that struggle with this disease every year. Yet, I do not want to make it a big deal. In my practice, I want to focus on one kid at a time. I will strive to make that one kid feel special and cared for, even if I can not cure them of their disease. On a smaller scale, I am able to help kids in sports and at Church. I am always at all of the youth wrestling practices ready to lend a hand. I have had parents tell me that I have inspired their kids to read more or work harder in school after they noticed me reading at a wrestling tournament or a volleyball game. I don’t get paid to help at practice. I do it because I enjoy being around the kids and helping them do things they did not think they could. Achurch I am a staple downstairs every Sunday. I “report for duty” and gladly go where help is needed. Some Sundays this may be the infant room and others fourth and fifth graders. Overall, following my definition of “Love is Kind” being striving to make a difference with grace, I will continue to coach kids in all sports, cure cancer, and continue helping in Sunday Schools no matter where I end up in college.

Checking in at the referee table, my heart was pounding, and nerves firing throughout my body while walking out to the middle circle. Velcroing my band to my right ankle, I take two steps back and stretch my hamstrings with two, rehearsed bounces. The referee calls me back. My foot lines up on the small white line. I reach out to shake hands with my opponent. The whistle blows. Suddenly, I am entangled. Each of us fighting each other's pressure. I go for a leg and she steps back. We begin a scramble. The movements are chaotic. No amount of practice could prepare me for this. My coach was yelling, “Keep your head up! Keep your head up!” My coach in the corner was out of his seat. I heard all the parents from my school yelling. When I compete I try to block out all the distractions but this time, I could not. They were yelling “short time” at me. Being new to the sport of wrestling I did not know the meaning of the phrase. The ref blew his whistle. The match was over. We took the bands off our ankles and the ref raised my exhausted hand. After six grueling minutes, I had come out on top. I stumbled over in pure, muscular exhaustion to shake the other coach's hand. I walked off the mat more tired than I had ever been in my life. My coach came up to me, patted me on the back, and said the words, “ You just did that for six minutes. Now, you can do anything.” Wrestling was my new love. Female wrestling was a new experience for me and the state of South Dakota during my junior year. It was daunting being in the stinky, wrestling room with boys who have done it their whole life. I had no idea what I was doing. The first week was torturous. We would mix up partners so some of the girls had to wrestle with the guys. They threw me around like it was nothing. After practice, I was left stunned. I had experienced nothing like that in my life. Before this sport, I had done everything from gymnastics to soccer but I didn’t feel as though I found a sport that allowed me to show my pure athleticism. Once I found wrestling, I knew that I had found that sport—the perfect blend of strength, grit, endurance, and teamwork. The responsibility I learned from wrestling was mental, physical, and time management. Extracurricular activities have created a trademark place in my personality and day-to-day routine. I have learned to be self-aware mentally and physically but I have also learned the ability to take everything six minutes at a time. Because I can do anything for six minutes.

Everyone sat in a multi-million dollar building, in a conference room filled to the brim with people, while one stood at a podium and lectured. After an exciting statement, hands would fly up as if they were trying to reach the heavens. I was in this room. However, I wasn’t reaching up as everyone else was. I sat silently and observed the microphone being passed around as the lector eloquently answered every question. The lector was Carl H. June, MD. Dr. June was presenting his latest cancer research as the keynote speaker at a research symposium. I sat in awe as he described how he used a little girl's cells from her body to put her into cancer remission. Since I was little, I knew that I wanted to be a doctor, but I came across a hurdle: I couldn’t decide what kind. My brain bounced around like a pinball machine from neurosurgery, to pediatrics, to nephrology. Some of the specialties I didn’t even understand- I was dead set on medicine. After the nearly 90-minute lecture concluded, I timidly walked up to Dr. June. I was a rising high school senior who was only there because of my research internship program. He found out that I was only in high school and sat down with me to explain his research, stopping to make sure I understood it. Lights went off in my head as the pinball machine hit the jackpot— this is what I want to do— I want to use every new technology possible to re-engineer people’s cells as he has. Pediatric oncology is the prize that I now reaching for. I burst into my house that night and exclaimed to my mother, “I am going to cure cancer!” She blankly stared at me. I proceeded to explain to her that at my internship I got to listen to a leading cancer researcher. She stood there nodding her head and smiling slightly. I knew she didn’t fully understand the science, but she understood the excitement I had. After this symposium, I scoured the research databases for newly published papers on the re-engineering of cells and immunotherapy. I found it enlightening that a person would have the cure to their deadly disease within them. Personalized immunotherapies, such as CAR-T cells, have made me look at problems from an interior angle rather than an exterior. Dr. June took cells from a little girl with acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL) and retrained the cell to fight against cancer in her body. Prior to this, researchers have been taking an external approach by creating medicinal therapies. In my own research lab, that external approach was exactly what we were working on. I had a conversation with my principal investigator to brainstorm if that could work for the disease we were studying. Unfortunately, it would not work for our lab but the total shift that Dr. June pioneered has helped cure the most common pediatric cancer and instilled a new way of problem-solving in me.

Everyone sat in a multi-million dollar building, in a conference room filled to the brim with people, while one stood at a podium and lectured. After an exciting statement, hands would fly up as if they were trying to reach the heavens. I was in this room. However, I wasn’t reaching up as everyone else was. I sat silently and observed the microphone being passed around as the lector eloquently answered every question. The lector was Carl H. June, MD. Dr. June was presenting his latest cancer research as the keynote speaker at a research symposium. I sat in awe as he described how he used a little girl's cells from her body to put her into cancer remission. Since I was little, I knew that I wanted to be a doctor, but I came across a hurdle: I couldn’t decide what kind. My brain bounced around like a pinball machine from neurosurgery, to pediatrics, to nephrology. Some of the specialties I didn’t even understand- I was dead set on medicine. After the nearly 90-minute lecture concluded, I timidly walked up to Dr. June. I was a rising high school senior who was only there because of my research internship program. He found out that I was only in high school and sat down with me to explain his research, stopping to make sure I understood it. Lights went off in my head as the pinball machine hit the jackpot— this is what I want to do— I want to use every new technology possible to re-engineer people’s cells as he has. Pediatric oncology is the prize that I now reaching for. I burst into my house that night and exclaimed to my mother, “I am going to cure cancer!” She blankly stared at me. I proceeded to explain to her that at my internship I got to listen to a leading cancer researcher. She stood there nodding her head and smiling slightly. I knew she didn’t fully understand the science, but she understood the excitement I had. After this symposium, I scoured the research databases for newly published papers on the re-engineering of cells and immunotherapy. I found it enlightening that a person would have the cure to their deadly disease within them. Personalized immunotherapies, such as CAR-T cells, have made me look at problems from an interior angle rather than an exterior. Dr. June took cells from a little girl with acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL) and retrained the cell to fight against cancer in her body. Prior to this, researchers have been taking an external approach by creating medicinal therapies. In my research lab, that external approach was exactly what we were working on. I had a conversation with my principal investigator to brainstorm if that could work for the disease we were studying. Unfortunately, it would not work for our lab but the total shift that Dr. June pioneered has helped cure the most common pediatric cancer and instilled a new way of problem-solving in me.

Outside it was 106 degrees, however, inside the building where I spent the summer of 2022, it remained at a brisk 65 degrees with the constant sound of airplanes flying over. The 41-degree temperature difference when taking a lunchtime stroll was always a shock to the system. This frigid 300,000-square-foot building was the Sanford Research facility in my hometown of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Sanford Research offered a summer research internship for four rising high school seniors. I was chosen to be a part of that program. During my internship, I worked in the Francis lab. The lab focuses on structural changes, primarily at a subcellular level, that cause rare diseases. Some procedures they used included cell culture, iPSC, western blots, and immunocytochemistry. All of those words, and when people were talking about them in meetings, went high enough over my head that it was a threat to the incoming aircraft. Even with a lack of understanding, I continued to learn and strive to understand, and I ended up doing just that. I have always had an interest in science. In elementary school, we had to fill out a worksheet about what we wanted to be. I proudly wrote down a neurosurgeon. In the Francis lab, a neurological disease called Smith-Lemli-Opitz Syndrome (SLOS). I closely worked on this disease that affects 1 in 20,000 to 1 in 60,000 children. Working on this syndrome allowed me to further see what I wanted to do in the future, pediatric oncology. As the airspace that was once clouded by the words above my head cleared, I loved the collaboration of the science community. I was able to consult people in other labs and learn about what they were working on by watching them. This experience only furthered my desire to work in clinical science and showed me the research side of medicine as well. I am going to go to graduate school for a Ph.D. or to pursue an MD/Ph.D. because of the inspiration this experience instilled in me. I will pursue a career as a pediatric oncologist with close ties to the cancer research side as well. This is important to me because I enjoy the puzzle that each tumor provides. Each is slightly different and each has its mind. I want to be the person the kids and parents can trust with their future. My research experience will only help me in my future career. My high school summer of 2022 was out of the norm. I traded tan lines for goggles lines, long sleeves, and jeans. The research basis that I gained will not only help me in my senior year of high school but beyond. Due to the Francis Lab, I learned techniques that are not available in a typical high school classroom. Now, the incoming aircraft do not have to worry about the words over my head. They can land smoothly on the runway while the conversation flies. This experience allowed me to interact with my new found passion for science.