Fall 2026 Winner of the Moving Forward Scholarship

James Siegfried Petersen

We are thrilled to present our biannual $1,000 Moving Forward Scholarship to incoming college senior, James Peterson. James uses his essay to discuss how his incarceration forced him to reflect on his choices as well as his true goals. Since starting his academic journey, James has excelled in his courses and become a mentor to young students.

Read Their Essay Here:

There is a moment I return to often: sitting in a cell, staring at a concrete wall, realizing that every choice I had made up to that point had led me exactly there. I was convicted of trafficking cocaine. I was in the wrong place, with the wrong people, at the wrong time in my life. But what I've come to understand is that "the wrong time" was really just a time when I had stopped paying attention to what mattered most: my family, my passions, my future.

Moving forward, I've learned, is not simply about leaving the past behind. It's about carrying the weight of it honestly and letting it teach you something worth passing on.

When I was locked up, I had something rare and uncomfortable: time. Time with no distractions. Time to sit with myself and truly examine the choices I had made. I thought about my family, the missed birthdays, the worry I put in my mother's eyes, the holidays spent apart. I thought about the hobbies I had abandoned, the things that used to light me up before I got pulled into the wrong circles. I realized that when I stopped pouring energy into what I loved, I left a vacuum, and the wrong things filled it.

What I didn't expect to find in that place was humanity. There were officers who looked at me, not as a number, not as state property, but as a person. They spoke to me like I had a future. That simple act of being treated like a human being, when the world had largely written me off, cracked something open in me. It showed me that dignity is something you can give freely and that it has the power to change the entire direction of someone's life. It changed mine.

When I came home, I made a decision: I was going to attack life with everything I had. I enrolled in community college and earned a 4.0 GPA, not because I wanted to prove something to the world, but because I finally understood what I was capable of when I focused on the right things. From there, I transferred to Kennesaw State University, where the coursework is significantly more demanding, and I have maintained a 3.5 GPA. Every grade represents more than academic achievement. It represents a version of me that refused to stay defined by his worst moment.

Education has given me more than a transcript. It has given me proximity to younger students who are standing at crossroads I once faced myself. I make it a point to mentor those around me, not by lecturing them about avoiding bad decisions, but by treating them the way those officers once treated me: like full human beings with worth and potential. I've learned that telling someone "don't do something dumb" accomplishes very little. But sitting with someone, seeing them, and reminding them that their choices matter because they matter; that lands differently.

When I talk to younger students, I don't hide my story. I share the living conditions I endured. I share the time I lost with my family, time you simply cannot get back. I share the specific feeling of watching life move forward without you. Not to frighten them, but because I know the truth is more persuasive than any warning. And I share what pulled me through: reconnecting with the things I love, leaning into my education, and accepting that moving forward requires honesty about where you've been.

The importance of moving forward is this: it is not a passive act. It is a daily, intentional choice, choosing growth over stagnation, purpose over comfort, and people over circumstances. I spent years letting my circumstances choose for me. Now, I choose.

My goal is to work in a field where I can continue doing what I've already started, helping people see their own potential before a concrete wall forces them to look for it. Whether through counseling, community outreach, or simply being a consistent presence in someone's life, I want to be the person who treats others like the humans they are. Because I know firsthand how little that costs, and how much it can change.

I am not defined by my conviction. I am shaped by what I chose to do after it.