Saidjohn with Laela Sluchevsky, Assistant MEP Estimator, Turner Construction Company, and Co-Managing Director of our Gensler New York office, on being named Chairman of the Board of ACE Mentor Program of America.
By Saidjohn Saidganiev, 2026 WHSAD Graduate, ACE Mentor Program of Greater New York Scholarship Recipient, and incoming student at Syracuse University
Sophomore year, I made a deal with myself. If I wanted a shot at a good college, I needed to build something—an extracurricular base, a resume, a reason for someone to take a chance on me. The first thing that came to mind was a program I had heard about freshman year and completely ignored: ACE.
I go to Williamsburg High School for Architecture and Design. Freshman year, my architecture teacher, Ms. Cumberbatch, stood in front of the class and talked about the ACE Mentor Program of Greater New York— how incredible it was, how if you committed all four years, there was a scholarship waiting at the end. I was sitting in the back, half-listening, already thinking about going home at 2:40. I wanted the easy path. I wasn’t ready.
That moment of inattention almost cost me everything.
Sophomore Year: Showing Up for the Wrong Reasons
When I finally joined ACE in my sophomore year, I’ll be honest—I wasn’t there to learn. I came for the free food. Every time a mentor stood up to present, I put my head down. I was too scared to speak, too scared to take a real leap, so I just didn’t. When the final presentation came at the end of the year—the moment every team builds toward—I didn’t show up. I skipped it entirely because the thought of speaking in front of people terrified me that much.
Looking back, that’s the version of me I’m most glad I left behind.
Junior Year: No More Running
Junior year hit different. AP classes, real pressure, real stakes—I couldn’t coast anymore. I came back to ACE, but this time with a completely different mindset. I wasn’t there for food. I was there to grow, to learn, to actually increase my value. I started speaking up in sessions. I made friends. I wasn’t the most consistent, but I tried, and that mattered.
But everything shifted with one defining moment.
During our team’s practice presentation, I froze. Standing in front of 15 people I had known all year, I turned red, my voice shook, and I fell apart. My mentor—joking but not wrong—said, “It’s ironic how the funniest person is the most nervous.” That line stuck with me hard. If I couldn’t speak in front of 15 people I knew, how was I ever going to present in front of a room full of strangers?
The final presentation came. My hands were shaking. My heart was pounding. But I told myself: I can’t keep running. I have to face it.
When the mic reached me, and my slide came up, I did the only thing I could think of. I leaned into the moment. My first words: “Wow, they weren’t kidding when they said it was scary up here.”
The room laughed. And just like that, I realized—these are human beings. They’re not going to attack me. They’re rooting for me.
I finished strong. And after, when I passed the mic to my friend who was just as terrified, I whispered, “It’s not that bad—you got this.” When his voice started to shake mid-presentation, I gave him a nudge and mouthed, “You’re doing good, don’t worry.” We finished together. That’s what I consider a successful end to my junior year.
Senior Year: Everything Clicks
Senior year brought the heaviest workload yet, and a new pressure I hadn’t faced before: building an architecture portfolio. Keep in mind—I never knew how to draw. I genuinely thought there was no hope. But I kept pushing. I practiced. I reached out to my ACE mentors and my architecture teachers for help. And somewhere along the way, I made a portfolio I was actually proud of.
It taught me something I now believe deeply: if you are truly obsessed with what you want, you will always get it—or something better, never something lower.
That year, I also discovered that my dream school, Syracuse University, had a merit scholarship created specifically for ACE students. The ACE-Syracuse Merit Scholarship. It felt like the universe was pointing me somewhere. I applied Early Decision, stressed out of my mind, knowing my grades weren’t perfect and my drawings weren’t the best—but I was consistent. I was in my third year of ACE. I kept showing up.
Then came the deferral.
That stuck like a needle. I lost almost all hope—keyword, almost. I kept going. I poured my stress into schoolwork. I told my ACE mentors about the deferral, and without hesitation, they offered to write me a letter of recommendation. They had always been in my corner.
Around the same time, the ACE scholarship opened up for seniors. I applied—and honestly got so buried in everything else that I forgot I had even submitted it.
The Emails That Changed My Life
One day, I opened my inbox and saw: Application Status Update.
Shivers down my spine. My whole future in one email. I couldn’t open it. I waited for hours. I was on my way to the gym when I finally decided—I needed to know.
I opened it expecting a rejection. Maybe a waitlist.
Instead: banners across my screen. I got in.
Not only that, but I had received two merit scholarships. One of them was the ACE-Syracuse Merit Scholarship: $20,000 per year, for all five years of the program. That’s $100,000 in savings. I had gotten into my dream school, the school I thought I had no chance at, with scholarship money I earned by simply refusing to quit.
A few weeks later, I checked my inbox again. I had won the ACE scholarship, too.
Win after win—I mean, come on.
But the ACE scholarship came with something I didn’t expect: the option to accept my award at the ACE Annual Scholarship Luncheon and give a speech in front of 600 people. I could have claimed it quietly, without saying a word. Something told me not to.
This was my chance to prove something to myself.
Gotham Hall
The luncheon was held at Gotham Hall. I remember walking in and looking up at the ceiling, thinking—all of this, for me?
When the moment came, I watched the two other scholarship recipients speak before me, both looking down at their papers. I had memorized my speech. I wasn’t going to look down.
My mentor introduced me. I walked up. And instead of fear, I felt excitement.
Six hundred people, all eyes on me. I delivered every word I had memorized, looked out at the crowd the entire time, and didn’t flinch. When I finished, the applause hit me in a way I don’t have words for. For the next 30 minutes, person after person came up to shake my hand, telling me they were shocked by my confidence, my eye contact, and my presence.
This was the same kid who sophomore year, couldn’t pay attention in class. The same kid who skipped the final presentation because he was too afraid to speak.
What I Want You to Take From This
ACE is a free after-school program. It costs nothing to join. You don’t need to know anything about architecture, engineering, or construction to walk through the door. What you do need is the willingness to show up—even when you’re scared, even when you’re inconsistent, even when you come for the free food at first.
Because here’s what ACE actually gives you: real mentors who believe in you before you believe in yourself. Real skills—design software, presentation, problem-solving—that follow you into college and beyond. And real opportunities, like scholarships, internships, and connections that money genuinely cannot buy.
I didn’t transform overnight. It took three years of slowly choosing to show up more than I ran away. But every single time I chose to stay, ACE rewarded me for it.
If you’re a freshman or sophomore reading this and thinking, “that sounds cool, but I’ll do it later,” I was you. Don’t wait. Go to acementorny.org and sign up.
The version of you standing in front of 600 people is already there. ACE just helps you find them.