Wiingy Future STEM Leaders Scholarship

Gianna Beltramo

The Athenian School | CA, USA

My relationship with math is one of both love and hatred. It fills me with rage the likes of which I seldom experience in non-math settings; yet during my summer breaks, I find myself longing for the mental burn until I begrudgingly open Khan Academy to indulge again. Each problem is a hurdle, yes, but one I love to jump. By nature, I am not an especially assertive person. This, combined with my reluctance to admit my struggles, means that I often found it difficult to go to office hours for help; better to suffer, it seemed to me, than to confess my shortcomings. However, when I got a B in calculus—a class I loved, despite the aggravation it caused me nightly—I knew that my strategy wasn’t sustainable. Though I did my best to help myself, poring over the textbook and online resources, my sole perspective wasn’t enough. As someone who had so long taken pride in being an academic lone wolf, an independent A-getter who nailed every English essay without so much as asking my teacher to proofread, I scarcely recognized the ailing math student I’d become. Yet now, I had to make a choice: to swallow my dissatisfaction at my grade and retain my (perhaps erroneous) sense of pride, or to seek the help I needed and preserve my love for learning—something that was rapidly being sapped by my silent struggles. The prospect of talking to my teacher about my weaknesses terrified me until the minute the words “so, I had some questions…” emerged from my mouth, but his reassuring smile evaporated my anxieties. My grades improved with similar rapidity: I finished the year with an A and got a 5 on the AP Calculus exam. For the price of a few minutes of vulnerability per week, I no longer spend hours angsting over a single problem. As a bonus, I have infinitely more energy with which to savor the “love” side of math instead of the “hatred” aspect. By acknowledging my imperfections, I’ve connected more deeply with both my math teachers and those in other fields, having applied what I’ve learned about the value of office hours to even my strongest subjects. Deep down, I know that I am capable of, and find great joy in, difficult things. However, unlocking my abilities often requires throwing myself into the deep end to prove it: I needed to learn self-advocacy, and I did. Today, I continue to reap the benefits of that first moment of need, openly asking for help and becoming more confident—and mathematically savvy—each time.

Kyle Zimkin

Grossmont High School | CA, USA

Water rushes beneath me forming a beautiful wave that trails behind. Under my feet, a glossy flat board glides on top of the water. My hands firmly grip a rope connected to the roaring boat ahead. I find my perfect balance, let go of the rope and am set free from the boat’s pull. Adrenaline rushes through me as the rope hits the water. Using the perfect mix of finesse and balance, I carve the endless wave. In wake surfing and in my life, balance is vital. Balancing school, work, hobbies, and time with loved ones has been key to maintaining a high GPA and my optimal mental state. In school, I’m involved in multiple advanced classes and leadership programs. This sometimes results in an imbalanced focus causing me to neglect other aspects of life. This imbalance can lead to exhaustion and even simple errors. For instance, during a recent engineering project, I wrote the code to guide our team's car along a specific path. I was excited about the assignment because of my prior coding experience. However, when testing the car, it only partially responded to my code. I was stumped and got to work to find my mistake. For two days, I tried to pinpoint the error with no major breakthrough. The next day, I gave myself time to play football with friends. While resting afterward, it clicked. I realized I had flipped my signs on the code which caused the sensors not to move the car in the direction of the tape. All my brain needed was time to rest. I had focused so hard on finding a big problem that I missed the smaller one. The following day I fixed the sign error and placed the car on the ground. It followed the tape path perfectly. My team and I celebrated our success with smiles and high-fives. I felt proud of the finished product and of my ability to adjust, take a break, and regain balance. Helping others is another way I find balance and focus. Teaching kids lacrosse combines my passion for the sport and mentoring. When I began providing lessons to 9-year-old Mikey, he had no lacrosse experience. However, with each lesson, he improved and began to develop a passion for the sport. I saw a glimpse of myself in Mikey as he gave everything his all. I devoted extra time to creating lessons that met Mikey’s needs. I arrived early to set up equipment and planned drills to help him grow. Whenever he struggled, I encouraged him, acknowledging that struggle builds growth. My positive critique helped him adjust and improve. Mikey could tell how much I cared about him and it motivated him. I mixed in games to ensure he was having fun. With every goal, his face lit up. Coaching Mikey made me proud and helped me adjust my balance. The time I spent focused on Mikey took my mind off other commitments and again gave my brain time to rest. Watching him fall in love with the sport helped me appreciate my passion for lacrosse and how far I’ve come. Balance is vital in my life as it is in wake surfing. Finding balance allows me to drop the rope, find success in my school work, and freely carve the wave of life.