koro
Koro has a quiet, steady presence. When he speaks, he pauses, considers, then answers with a calm certainty that feels both grounded and sincere. There’s no rush in him, no need to impress. His kindness is quiet, but unmistakable.
In high school, he balanced Yearbook Club, SGA, campus ministry, two honor societies, and even tried to start a literary and art magazine. Scheduling was chaotic, meetings were inconsistent, and often he found himself with little he could actually do. But he kept showing up. He kept trying. He kept creating.
When he found out he won a Pedestal Scholarship, Koro almost cried. He ran to tell his mom, overwhelmed with relief. College had felt uncertain, not because he lacked ambition, but because the financial gap felt impossible. “This scholarship closed that gap,” he says. “I was like, oh my god, I’m gonna go.” His family celebrated with him, proud and supportive.
Koro has always dreamed of becoming a teacher, preferably an art teacher. Two middle‑school teachers changed everything for him— one in math, one in English — who made him feel capable, who helped him understand his own thinking, who showed him he wasn’t “bad at school,” just someone who needed a different path. He wants to be that person for someone else. His love for art comes from his mother, who created and sold decorative pieces before life demanded he step away. “I really liked watching her work,” he says. “I wanted to continue that.”
And he has something to brag about: he finished a draft of a comic exploring the Guatemalan Civil War, inspired by his father’s untold experiences.
The Pedestal Fund is honored to help Koro step into teaching, into art, and into being the incredible role model that he got when he needed it.