"Yes, I 'know' her!" by Tigui

"Yes, I 'know' her!" by Tigui - December 2025 Scholarship Essay

If I were running for student body president, the number one way I’d hope to positively impact my school would be by transforming how we interact with each other. Not through louder pep rallies or longer announcements, but by creating intentional spaces where students actually talk to one another—face to face, without judgment, pressure, or the usual social and digital walls we hide behind.

One thing I’ve noticed is that most students walk the same halls every day without ever really knowing the people around them. I go to a small college, where everyone knows of each other rather than knowing each other. We assume we know someone based on their outfit, their friend group, or their social media presence. Students are so quick to pull out their phone and fake scroll on the weather app to avoid "awkward" interaction or eye contact as they walk by a peer. However, real connection, the kind that builds empathy, reduces judgment, and helps people feel like they belong—doesn’t happen in passing periods or Snapchat streaks. It happens in conversations that feel safe, honest, and human.

That’s why my biggest initiative would be something I call Dialogue Dinners. A Dialogue Dinner is a simple but powerful event: a device free meal, snacks, or dessert shared around tables of students who don’t usually interact. Every table would get optional conversation prompts, some reflective, some fun, some deep—designed to help people open up. Things like: What’s something you wish people understood about you? What’s a challenge you overcame that nobody knows about? What’s one thing that always makes you feel like yourself?

Students could also add their own anonymous questions or topics to keep things real and student-driven. The point isn’t to force vulnerability; it’s to create a space where it feels possible.

I want people to leave these dinners with at least one new friend, or at the very least, an understanding of someone they once thought they had nothing in common with. It sounds simple—talking and eating—but it’s actually one of the oldest and most effective ways humans build trust and compassion. Once you share a table with someone, it becomes a lot harder to judge them.

The purpose isn’t to pretend everyone will suddenly get along. We’re young; disagreements happen, drama happens, people clash. But when you build a school culture rooted in connection instead of assumptions, everything changes. The world can be kinder. Classes feel more comfortable. Clubs become more welcoming. As someone who has grown up in many environments where I've felt excluded and insignificant, students who usually feel invisible start to feel like they matter. Even academic pressure becomes easier to handle when you have a community behind you.

To expand the idea beyond one event, I’d also create “Ask Anything” Cards, which would be short questions posted around the school—on walls, in lunchrooms, even in bathrooms—to spark curiosity and conversation throughout the week. They could be silly (“Which cereal defines your personality?”), thoughtful (“What’s one thing you’re proud of but never say aloud?”), or empathetic (“What’s something you wish adults understood about teens?”). Students could scan a QR code to anonymously submit answers, which would then be displayed around the school. It would remind everyone that, even in our differences, we share common fears, hopes, and humor.

The bigger vision behind all of this is building a school where people see each other as full human beings—not stereotypes, not rumors, not the version of someone they see online. A school where you can sit next to somebody you barely know and not feel awkward, which is so easy in the digital world we live in today. A school where new students, quiet students, and students who feel different in any way can find community without having to beg for it. A school where empathy isn’t something you talk about in assemblies—it’s something you practice.

I don’t want to lead for the sake of leadership. I want to create something that lasts long after I graduate: a culture where connection is normal, not rare. If students spend four years in the same building, they should leave not only with knowledge, but with a deeper understanding of others and themselves.

If I were student body president, my biggest hope would be that students walk away from this school knowing how to communicate, how to listen, and how to show up for each other. And maybe, just maybe, they’d leave with a friend they never expected to have—because one conversation changed everything.