Ernest Mario School of Pharmacy

My twelve year-old self bolted out of the Carteret Middle School doors and into the icy cold. I had thirteen minutes to make it across town to the library where I would begin my first job as a tutor. The shiny, slippery ground mocked me as I stepped cautiously forward. It seemed to be willing me to fall, to give up. My father would have driven me had he not been in the hospital or rehabilitation center off and on for the past two years. I continued walking as fast as my legs could safely carry me while I thought about what I would make for dinner, and how I would take care of my seven year old sister now that my mother had to return to work. This unfamiliar process quickly became commonplace. I understood that it was now part of my responsibility to contribute to my family to help sustain us financially. The day described and the subsequent years surrounding my father’s descent into permanent disability impacted my life in a way that I could have never been expected. However, the experiences taught me a great deal about who I am as a person as well as the value of a dollar, the importance of hard work, and the…