Tell us about a topic or idea that excites you and is related to one or more academic areas you selected above. Why are you drawn to it? 

 

In middle school, I thought of math as abstract puzzles—fun but detached from real life. That changed when I stumbled on articles about how algorithms could predict weather, detect fraud, and even identify disease. Suddenly, linear algebra and statistics weren’t just homework—they were the foundation for tools that could save lives.

 

Curious, I began exploring how data science could be applied to social good. I joined a community project that tracked air quality in neighborhoods near factories, collecting sensor readings and mapping pollution patterns. Later, I interned at a university lab that used neural networks to study protein folding. My contribution—training models to recognize misfolded proteins—felt small but thrilling. It was the first time I saw my code connect directly to biomedical research.

 

This year, I’ve been developing my own project: using natural language processing to analyze large sets of patient notes, hoping to detect overlooked symptoms earlier. It’s far from perfect, but it shows me what’s possible.

What excites me most is not just the math or the programming, but the idea that data science can be a bridge—linking science, engineering, and human well-being. At Yale, I hope to keep exploring those connections.

What is it about Yale that has led you to apply? 

I’m drawn to Yale because it thrives at intersections. Where does computation meet biology? How can ethics shape engineering? At Yale, the answer is always “both.”

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I envision myself on Science Hill, taking courses like Engineering and Biophysical Approaches to Cancer while applying that knowledge in the Vascular Biology and Therapeutics Lab. I’m especially inspired by Professor W. Mark Saltzman’s work on drug

delivery, which blends biology and engineering to improve care.

 

At the same time, Yale’s liberal arts curriculum ensures that my research won’t happen in a vacuum. Through Dwight Hall’s service opportunities and the Yale Entrepreneurial Society, I’d learn how to translate lab discoveries into real-world impact. For me, Yale embodies the “and”—rigor and empathy, research and service, science and humanity.

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What inspires you? 

Watching younger students’ faces light up when a science experiment clicks inspires me. Their raw curiosity reminds me why discovery matters—not just for knowledge, but for the joy of learning itself.

If you could teach any college course, write a book, or create an original piece of art of any kind, what would it be?
“Algorithms of Empathy”: a course blending psychology, computer science, and literature to explore how technology can—and should—be designed with human emotions, cultural context, and ethical awareness in mind.

Other than a family member, who is someone who has had a significant influence on you? What has been the impact of their influence?
My debate coach taught me that asking the right question matters more than having the perfect answer. That lesson reshaped how I approach research: with curiosity first, certainty second.
 

What is something about you that is not included anywhere else in your application? 

I moonlight as the unofficial DJ at school pep rallies. Curating playlists that get everyone—from freshmen to teachers—on their feet has taught me more about building community than any leadership workshop.

Reflect on an element of your personal experience that you feel will enrich your college. How has it shaped you? 

During my first year of high school, I noticed how divided our cafeteria felt. Athletes sat at one table, international students at another, art kids off in a corner. Everyone coexisted, but few truly connected.

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Wanting to bridge the gap, I ran for class representative. At first, I thought simply recruiting a diverse group into student council would fix everything. We organized spirit weeks and food drives, but attendance stayed low, especially from groups that rarely felt represented. By sophomore year, I realized diversity without inclusion doesn’t change much.

 

So I shifted my approach. Instead of planning events alone, I began inviting cultural clubs and affinity groups to design them with us. We created heritage showcases, partnered with the music department to host bilingual concerts, and ran service projects shaped by student input. Slowly, participation grew.

 

Our biggest challenge was homecoming. In the past, half the school skipped the dance. That year, though, planning was collaborative from the start. The playlist mixed languages and genres, the decorations reflected different traditions, and the crowd stayed together. For the first time, I saw our student body not as sections, but as one community.

 

This experience taught me that leadership isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room, but about creating space for others to be heard. At Yale, I hope to bring that same perspective to classrooms, clubs, and everyday conversations—ensuring that the community thrives not despite our differences, but because of them.